Damn. I've been drowning in green beans this past two months or more. When gardens produce, they tend to produce with a vengeance. So since I'm going to by busy and eating out all weekend, I decided to whip up the 3-4 lbs of green beans I had kicking around in the fridge. (I live alone. That's a lot of beans.)
Well, while in spring a young man's fancy may lightly turn to thoughts of love, in late summer a young girl's fancy is wont to turn to that last remaining chunk of pork jowl. And lordy, am I glad it did.
So I chopped up some small bits and threw 'em in a pan to cook. Thought to add some garlic. Added the beans (in batches, since they were of varying varietals and ages). Lidded that sucker and let 'er braise a while.
I didn't actually eat them hot, since I had already eaten, but just threw them in the fridge for tonight. And lo and behold, what do I find? Sweet jesus. The most delicious accident I've ever made. Some of the beans are caramalized in the pork fat. The extra-porky guanciale has permeated everything. The garlic may not have been necessary, but what the heck. I served them cold, with a drizzle of olive oil, a sprinkling of parm, and a pinch of salt.
Divine. This tastes like restaurant food. Good restaurant food.
Instructions (for a reasonable amount of beans)
1 lb green beans, any variety, trimmed
1 slice guanciale, cubed (or any similarly delicious pork product, though I highly recommend this one, if you can get your hands on it)
1 clove garlic, sliced
salt, to taste
oil, for pan
(parmesan cheese, oil, for serving)
Throw your guanciale in the pan over lowish (low to medium) heat. Stir it occasionally while you're trimming the beans and chopping the garlic.
When the guanciale is as cooked as you like it (think your preferred bacon style), add the garlic. Let 'er cook for a minute, just to begin to colour, and add the beans. (If your beans are all similar, which they will probably be if you aren't harvesting them from my garden, add them all at once. If you are crazy, add them in stages, according to how long you guesstimate they'll take to cook. That said, you're going to braise the hell out of them, so maybe it doesn't matter. In fact, I'm sure it doesn't.)
Add the beans all at once. Mine had water clinging to them, but if yours don't, add a splash of water. Just a splash. Really. Because...
Now you're going to lid the pot and turn the heat down if you need to. Not to nothing, but to it's-ok-to-go-text-your-friend-for-a-while-and-forget-about-the-beans-without-burning-anything temperature.
Mine went for maybe an hour. They're melting and luscious. I highly recommend it.
Eat hot if you want to. I'm sure they're great. But I put them in the fridge for a day, then pulled some out and drizzled oil, parm and cheese on top, and could not believe how amazing they were.
Best part? I've got leftovers.
Showing posts with label Recipes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Recipes. Show all posts
3/13/2010
Pork jowl. Cured.
In the battle of East vs. West, West has won this round.I stopped in my favourite West-end butcher a few weeks ago on my way to a friend's house for a dinner date, and noticed a mysterious pork product hanging from the wall. "What's that," I asked, "not prosciutto." (They were much smaller than haunches.) "No," smiled the butcher, "Guanciale."
Now, I had never actually had guanciale before, but it's been haunting me like a ghost. I keep seeing it referenced in cookbooks as "difficult to find outside of Italy." The cookbooks sigh with pity, look superior, and explain that we mere mortals can substitute bacon or pancetta.
If these are the substitutes, you know guanciale's a winner.
The guanciale (pork jowls, by the way) weren't ready yet. Wouldn't be for a week. Luckily, I've got a standing dinner date in the West end, so I was there the following Monday. Picking up my guanciale. Paying eight bucks for a 2-lb jowl. Crazy.
So that was two weeks ago, and I've only just now gotten around to using my precious pork product. The verdict? Out of this world. Here's what I did (faking my way through a Bucatini all'Amatriciana).
Around 1/3 lb guanciale (random guess - go with a 1/4, go with a 1/2, no worries) cut into little squares or sliced, as you wish.
1 fat onion, sliced thinly (I must insist).
Around 1/2 can tomatoes (for the record, I picked these up on sale at No Frills a hundred years ago, and they're a good choice, with a thick puree).
Dried chillies (I used two, broken into halves).
Around 1/4 cup of cheese - apparently it should be Pecorino Romano, which I usually have (but didn't). All I had on hand was Parmigiano Reggiano. Personally, I think there's no shame in that.
1/3 a package of pasta. Don't feel compelled to use bucatini. I used my obsession, Mafalda corta by Garofolo (highly recommended) (incredibly highly recommended).
Throw your chopped or sliced guanciale into a heavy-bottomed pot (I used a cast-iron dutch oven) over medium or even medium-low heat. Render the fat. Just let 'er go. When the guanciale has released enough delicious fat, throw in the onions. Oh, but if you were frying slices, rather than squares (aka "lardons"), pull them out to slice them. Or not. It would probably be delicious with long strips of guanciale, but I enjoyed mine with little bites dispersed through the sauce. So you want to cook the onions for a good long time, to get them nice and sweet. So cook them for a while, throw in your dried chilli(es) and meanwhile, back on the ranch, heat up your pasta water.
Throw in your tomatoes (and the guanciale, if you had to pull it) with the onions and crank the heat up a little to simmer. This should go on for maybe ten or fifteen. Which is perfect, since the pasta will be cooking at the same time. Then throw in some cheese. Take your sauce off the heat. Taste it. It will be more delicious than you anticipated. Now the pasta is ready. Drain it and toss it in the sauce. Sit down, pour yourself a glass of wine, and enjoy.
2/15/2010
Marcella Hazen, I love you.
When you make Ms. Hazen's minestrone recipe for the first time, just follow it.
By follow it, I mean make the beef stock from scratch (though don't worry if it's just from bones - more than that seems excessive). I mean cook the cannellini beans yourself. Because really? Beyond that? You're not actually doing a whole hell of a lot.
So cook the beans and beef stock one day. After work. Throw them on the stove. It's no big deal - just do it when you're going to be hanging around.
If you're home the next day, cook the soup then. If not, throw the beans and stock in the freezer until you're ready to make her amazing soup (that's what I did today - I'm cooking my way through my freezer).
The rest of it takes not a whole hell of a lot of effort.
First you fry up an onion in butter and olive oil (less than she says - or hell - as much as she says!). Then add chopped up carrot. Then add chopped up celery. Proceed for tomatoes, zucchini, potatoes, whatever. No zucc? Add squash. No potatoes? Add sweet potatoes. Or omit. It's up to you! Just don't try and go too fast and (this is a mental note I need to apply every single time) don't be afraid to add SALT!!!
Once you've gone that far, add your "green."I used Savoy cabbage, as per the recipe, but you could use spinach or rapini or escarole or whatever you want!
Then simmer. For a really long time (2.5 hours - I'm serious!).
Then add your beans. Simmer for another half hour.
Add some grated parm. (If you had a rind kicking around, you should have thrown that in at the beginning, but if you didn't, it's ok.)
Marcella doesn't add pepper, but I do. And I have some particularly fresh peppercorns right now, and they were an amazing addition to this soup (ground, of course).
Damn. I've made this soup (with minor variations) about half a dozen times, and it NEVER fails to impress. I had a huge dinner, and have five more totally reasonable sized portions left. Sweet.
By follow it, I mean make the beef stock from scratch (though don't worry if it's just from bones - more than that seems excessive). I mean cook the cannellini beans yourself. Because really? Beyond that? You're not actually doing a whole hell of a lot.
So cook the beans and beef stock one day. After work. Throw them on the stove. It's no big deal - just do it when you're going to be hanging around.
If you're home the next day, cook the soup then. If not, throw the beans and stock in the freezer until you're ready to make her amazing soup (that's what I did today - I'm cooking my way through my freezer).
The rest of it takes not a whole hell of a lot of effort.
First you fry up an onion in butter and olive oil (less than she says - or hell - as much as she says!). Then add chopped up carrot. Then add chopped up celery. Proceed for tomatoes, zucchini, potatoes, whatever. No zucc? Add squash. No potatoes? Add sweet potatoes. Or omit. It's up to you! Just don't try and go too fast and (this is a mental note I need to apply every single time) don't be afraid to add SALT!!!
Once you've gone that far, add your "green."I used Savoy cabbage, as per the recipe, but you could use spinach or rapini or escarole or whatever you want!
Then simmer. For a really long time (2.5 hours - I'm serious!).
Then add your beans. Simmer for another half hour.
Add some grated parm. (If you had a rind kicking around, you should have thrown that in at the beginning, but if you didn't, it's ok.)
Marcella doesn't add pepper, but I do. And I have some particularly fresh peppercorns right now, and they were an amazing addition to this soup (ground, of course).
Damn. I've made this soup (with minor variations) about half a dozen times, and it NEVER fails to impress. I had a huge dinner, and have five more totally reasonable sized portions left. Sweet.
1/03/2010
Clean-out-your-fridge pasta
For reasons I shall remain mysterious about, I've been madly eating my way through my fridge. For other reasons, I've been eating my way through my pantry and freezer (you can't put more delicious stuff in your freezer if it's already full of other delicious stuff, so you either have to eat what's there or get a deep freeze) (that's next).
Here's what I spotted earlier today:
Pantry: much garlic, many onions, pint of grape tomatoes
Fridge: random roasted squash and sweet potatoes
Looking at these odds and ends, I was reminded of a delicious pasta I made before and decided to roll with it. But I also needed to get rid of all those onions. So while getting my caffeine fix (the burr grinder is awesome, mom!), I chopped up some onions and threw them in a pot with some oil to sweat it out on med-low for several hours (I set the timer to stir every fifteen or so).
By noontime, I've got me a mess of caramelized onions (half of which I threw in the freezer for later). You can see that this is only the kind of recipe that is "quick" if you have half of the ingredients prepped already (but it's all stuff that's easy to do while you're doing other things).
So here's what you do:
Here's what I spotted earlier today:
Pantry: much garlic, many onions, pint of grape tomatoes
Fridge: random roasted squash and sweet potatoes
Looking at these odds and ends, I was reminded of a delicious pasta I made before and decided to roll with it. But I also needed to get rid of all those onions. So while getting my caffeine fix (the burr grinder is awesome, mom!), I chopped up some onions and threw them in a pot with some oil to sweat it out on med-low for several hours (I set the timer to stir every fifteen or so).
By noontime, I've got me a mess of caramelized onions (half of which I threw in the freezer for later). You can see that this is only the kind of recipe that is "quick" if you have half of the ingredients prepped already (but it's all stuff that's easy to do while you're doing other things).
So here's what you do:
- Roast one squash, one sweet potato, and as much garlic as you'd like earlier in the week.
- Caramelize onions (earlier in the day, earlier in the week, whatever).
- Bring a pot of water to a boil. Salt it. Add the pasta (I'm obsessed with Mafalda corta - it's flat pasta, about an inch long, with frilly edges that is totally charming and that takes about eight-ten minutes to cook).
- Meanwhile... chop garlic (or not) and fry it up with your cherry tomatoes (I halved them for kicks, but that's unnecessary).
- When the garlic starts to turn golden and the tomatoes start losing their juice, add the (cold) squash and sweet potato. Actually, you could probably do this at any point. Also, if you've already got your caramelized onions, throw them in at any time. Now your "sauce" is good to go.
- Drain the pasta (reserving some of the pasta water just in case).
- Add the pasta to the "sauce" and add as much pasta water as you'd like (I used about half a cup).
- Add cheese. I juiced it up with a really nice parm I picked up a while back, but if you had goat cheese (the original cheese used in the original recipe) that would work fine too. Manechgo? I can't see why not. Use what you've got (within reason - no blue).
10/23/2009
Oh, Molly.
There are some bloggers who seem to feel that they should be producing Gourmet-magazine worthy meals for every post. Maybe they should. Who am I to say? But what I do know is that the only recipes I have ever made from the lovely Orangette are simple, homely recipes that she seems to feel the need to apologize for.
Please don't apologize, Molly. I love you. I need you.
Now, she's been crazy busy lately, out there opening a pizza restaurant of all things, but I feel that she's still out there keeping an eye on us, because look: despite a prolonged absence lo these many months (due to restaurant-opening mayhem, for which I harbour no ill will), she recently posted the smack-your-forehead-I-can't-believe-how-good-this-is Warm Butternut and Chickpea Salad with Tahini adapted from Casa Moro, which I have now adapted from her.
She posted the recipe on Oct 1. Two weeks later, she saved me. It was fate.
Coming home from Boston to an empty fridge in the middle of the autumn harvest, I picked up a squash on the way home and wondered what I could make. I ambled around the web a bit, searching for recipes, and then thought of Orangette.
She had never done me wrong. A record kale crop and no idea of what to do with it? Kale with a fried egg and toast becomes a staple. Too many carrots and a vague memory of side salads at Montreal restaurants? A modified French-style carrot salad saves the day. And the easiest, most delightful, always in the pantry solution for desperate evenings (or something you'd like to whip up just 'cause it tastes good?)? The dead easy Chickpea Salad with Lemon and Parmesan, though I usually add garlic.
Now, she might not like to think of these as her legacy, but you ask me, she's done all right.
Thanks, Molly. I've made the exquisite butternut and chickpea salad with tahini dressing two times in less than two weeks. I can't get enough (even grabbing bite after bite - after dinner - as I walk by the bowl "cooling" on the counter).
Please don't apologize, Molly. I love you. I need you.
Now, she's been crazy busy lately, out there opening a pizza restaurant of all things, but I feel that she's still out there keeping an eye on us, because look: despite a prolonged absence lo these many months (due to restaurant-opening mayhem, for which I harbour no ill will), she recently posted the smack-your-forehead-I-can't-believe-how-good-this-is Warm Butternut and Chickpea Salad with Tahini adapted from Casa Moro, which I have now adapted from her.
She posted the recipe on Oct 1. Two weeks later, she saved me. It was fate.
Coming home from Boston to an empty fridge in the middle of the autumn harvest, I picked up a squash on the way home and wondered what I could make. I ambled around the web a bit, searching for recipes, and then thought of Orangette.
She had never done me wrong. A record kale crop and no idea of what to do with it? Kale with a fried egg and toast becomes a staple. Too many carrots and a vague memory of side salads at Montreal restaurants? A modified French-style carrot salad saves the day. And the easiest, most delightful, always in the pantry solution for desperate evenings (or something you'd like to whip up just 'cause it tastes good?)? The dead easy Chickpea Salad with Lemon and Parmesan, though I usually add garlic.
Now, she might not like to think of these as her legacy, but you ask me, she's done all right.
Thanks, Molly. I've made the exquisite butternut and chickpea salad with tahini dressing two times in less than two weeks. I can't get enough (even grabbing bite after bite - after dinner - as I walk by the bowl "cooling" on the counter).
6/04/2008
You say aubergine, I say eggplant
With a serious shout-out to Mallika (and indirectly to her inspiration, Bhags), I have to say that this baingan bharta (which I personally call bagnan bartha) recipe is genius. And beginner friendly!!!
I haven't cooked anything really since April or so, and decided to whip up a couple of delicious Indian dishes tonight. I always think that channa masala is quick (it is, don't worry), but when you make bagnan bartha AND channa masala AND brown rice (whole grains, whole grains) AND burn the leftover cumin-scented white basmati from last week, it does take about two hours.
So beginners: Don't try to do too much. One dish. One rice (leftover does me just fine) (except when I burn it) (I don't have a microwave and have to heat it up stovetop-style). You're laughing.
EASY BAGNAN BARTHA RECIPE (From Bhags, via Mallika)
2 large eggplants
1 regular onion, chopped (I like it really fine)
2 really very ripe tomatoes (the extra-cheap-because-they-look-decrepit kind are particularly good)
2 T yogurt
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 inch ginger, minced (or the stuff in a jar, maybe 1 heaping t)
1/2 t mustard seeds
1/2 t cumin seeds
1/2 t fenugreek seeds (methi seeds)
2 green chillies, chopped (not the really really small kind, the medium kind) (you can deseed them if you want, but they're really not that hot)
1 t turmeric
1 t cayenne
a handful of coriander, chopped
salt (be generous)
OVEN (or microwave oven) at 400 degrees.
Poke some holes in the eggplant with a fork, and bake it in the oven for around an hour. You can also microwave it, and it's way faster, but since I don't have one, I can't really guess at how long it would take you. Basically, you want to cook them till they're collapsing in on themselves and gettting all squooshy. Then take them out and let them cool. If you slice them in half at that point, they'll cool faster (obviously).
Meanwhile, back at the farm...
Heat some oil (I used canola), around 2 T. Get things nice and hot and add the seeds. They should pop after a bit, but if they don't, add the onions, garlic and ginger anyway. Let it all cook away till it gets nice and soft looking.
Add the tomatoes, yogurt, and powdered spices (turmeric and cayenne), lower the heat and simmer for about 5 min or so.
Meanwhile, hopefully the eggplant has cooled down enough for you to wrench its delicate flesh from the skin. Discard the skin and add the eggplant to the skillet, crank up the heat to high(ish) and stir. I smushed everything up with a potato masher, but you might not find that step necessary, depending on your own texture issues.
Add salt, to taste (don't be afraid). Stir in your coriander.
Serve with rice or flatbread. A side of channa masala is a nice complement...but you might want to make that tomorrow.
I haven't cooked anything really since April or so, and decided to whip up a couple of delicious Indian dishes tonight. I always think that channa masala is quick (it is, don't worry), but when you make bagnan bartha AND channa masala AND brown rice (whole grains, whole grains) AND burn the leftover cumin-scented white basmati from last week, it does take about two hours.
So beginners: Don't try to do too much. One dish. One rice (leftover does me just fine) (except when I burn it) (I don't have a microwave and have to heat it up stovetop-style). You're laughing.
EASY BAGNAN BARTHA RECIPE (From Bhags, via Mallika)
2 large eggplants
1 regular onion, chopped (I like it really fine)
2 really very ripe tomatoes (the extra-cheap-because-they-look-decrepit kind are particularly good)
2 T yogurt
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 inch ginger, minced (or the stuff in a jar, maybe 1 heaping t)
1/2 t mustard seeds
1/2 t cumin seeds
1/2 t fenugreek seeds (methi seeds)
2 green chillies, chopped (not the really really small kind, the medium kind) (you can deseed them if you want, but they're really not that hot)
1 t turmeric
1 t cayenne
a handful of coriander, chopped
salt (be generous)
OVEN (or microwave oven) at 400 degrees.
Poke some holes in the eggplant with a fork, and bake it in the oven for around an hour. You can also microwave it, and it's way faster, but since I don't have one, I can't really guess at how long it would take you. Basically, you want to cook them till they're collapsing in on themselves and gettting all squooshy. Then take them out and let them cool. If you slice them in half at that point, they'll cool faster (obviously).
Meanwhile, back at the farm...
Heat some oil (I used canola), around 2 T. Get things nice and hot and add the seeds. They should pop after a bit, but if they don't, add the onions, garlic and ginger anyway. Let it all cook away till it gets nice and soft looking.
Add the tomatoes, yogurt, and powdered spices (turmeric and cayenne), lower the heat and simmer for about 5 min or so.
Meanwhile, hopefully the eggplant has cooled down enough for you to wrench its delicate flesh from the skin. Discard the skin and add the eggplant to the skillet, crank up the heat to high(ish) and stir. I smushed everything up with a potato masher, but you might not find that step necessary, depending on your own texture issues.
Add salt, to taste (don't be afraid). Stir in your coriander.
Serve with rice or flatbread. A side of channa masala is a nice complement...but you might want to make that tomorrow.
3/24/2008
Damn, that's good.
What's so good? Fresh pasta with homemade Italian sausage and dandelion greens, with "aged" ricotta (whatever that is).
My version wasn't quite as good as the version I had at a restaurant which shall remain nameless (nameless because it was the most ridiculously awful service I have ever had the misfortune to experience and don't even feel like uttering their name) but whose version served as inspiration. That lunch was divine.
Since I knew I probably wouldn't go back (because of the really appallingly bad service), and since dandelions have been popping up left, right and centre, I felt it was my duty to learn to replicate that dish my own self.
So today, though I had a thousand and one things to do (and no excuse to cook since I have a fridge full of odds and ends), I impulsively hopped off the subway at Pape, dreaming of Masellis. I wasn't sure what I needed to get, but I was sure I'd find something.
Find something I did. A gorgeous bunch of dandelion greens (dandelion purples is more like it). So I hightailed it over to the butcher, grabbed their (to my memory) so-so "medium" Italian sausages (whatever that means) (they do have fennel seeds, so I'm not complaining) and some Crotonese, and sped home. (Incidentally, the sausages were better than I remembered.)
Short pasta with dandelion greens and a hint of garlic and Italian sausage and cheese. (I used the aforementioned Crotonese with some most excellent Romano imported from Windsor, not the nameless restaurant's "aged ricotta." Whatever that means.)
Damn.
My version wasn't quite as good as the version I had at a restaurant which shall remain nameless (nameless because it was the most ridiculously awful service I have ever had the misfortune to experience and don't even feel like uttering their name) but whose version served as inspiration. That lunch was divine.
Since I knew I probably wouldn't go back (because of the really appallingly bad service), and since dandelions have been popping up left, right and centre, I felt it was my duty to learn to replicate that dish my own self.
So today, though I had a thousand and one things to do (and no excuse to cook since I have a fridge full of odds and ends), I impulsively hopped off the subway at Pape, dreaming of Masellis. I wasn't sure what I needed to get, but I was sure I'd find something.
Find something I did. A gorgeous bunch of dandelion greens (dandelion purples is more like it). So I hightailed it over to the butcher, grabbed their (to my memory) so-so "medium" Italian sausages (whatever that means) (they do have fennel seeds, so I'm not complaining) and some Crotonese, and sped home. (Incidentally, the sausages were better than I remembered.)
Short pasta with dandelion greens and a hint of garlic and Italian sausage and cheese. (I used the aforementioned Crotonese with some most excellent Romano imported from Windsor, not the nameless restaurant's "aged ricotta." Whatever that means.)
Damn.
2/26/2008
Porc au lait
Ok, so it's not much of a title, but it is a hell of a dish. I know it doesn't exactly fit in with my schtik, but this is easily the most impressive and wildly popular dish I've ever made. I've made it five times in the past year, including twice over the past two weeks, and it is on the schedule in the near future.
Why so much pork braised in milk, you ask? The answer is simple. It rocks, it takes no preparation time, it cooks while you're chilling (or doing other things entirely), and it really is dead easy.
One caveat: It is interminably long to make. The problem isn't so much with the time (I'm warning you of that going in), but more with the fragrance. I guarantee that you'll find it hard to leave it in the oven long enough. Don't do it! Leave it in!!! It's worth it.
So, Mr. Meathenge's recipe is all you need, but it's so simple, I'll lay it out for you here.
Ok. Don't do this on a weeknight. Take the time, do it right, invite folks over, have a couple of bottles on ice.
Ingredients:
What to do? It is advised that you remove the pork from the fridge to take off the chill, but if you didn't, it would still turn out.
I washed it and dried it. At least dry it. It has to be dry.
Rub it in some s&p. I use a lot of freshly ground p and highly recommend doing so.
Heat butter (lots) over medium to medium-high, depending on your stove, in an oven-proof pan big enough to fit the pork and with a lid. (I have one enameled cast iron casserole and another enameled steel, both of which work just fine.) Throw in the pork DON'T STIR IT AROUND and let it sit for a few minutes (at least five+++). Oh, and pre-heat the oven to around 325. Proceed to brown the other sides of the pork. You're already regretting that this meal will take four or five hours to prepare. Throw in the garlic at any point now. The pork all seared? Good and seared? Good.
Ok, I take it out and add a little milk and scrape the bottom of the pan. Some people call this deglazing. Or maybe deglazing has to be with an acid, I don't know, but you can call this deglazing too. I do.
So you've scraped up the good bits and mixed them in with the milk? Put the pork back in and fill up the pot about half way up the pork. Lid that sucker and throw her in the oven.
Proceed to try to forget about it for an hour or so. Then investigate. Take it out. Stir the milk. I like to turn the pork (but have no idea if this is a help or a hindrance). Re-lid it. Put it back in.
Keep doing this. If the liquid isn't reducing fast enough, take off the lid. It'll be done when the meat is falling off the meat.
That's plenty good, but there'll be some delicious mess at the bottom of the pan. Strain out the fat and keep the curdy stuff. Mix it up with a fork and put a dollop on your pork. That broken sauce is brutti ma buoni. Eat it up.
Why so much pork braised in milk, you ask? The answer is simple. It rocks, it takes no preparation time, it cooks while you're chilling (or doing other things entirely), and it really is dead easy.
One caveat: It is interminably long to make. The problem isn't so much with the time (I'm warning you of that going in), but more with the fragrance. I guarantee that you'll find it hard to leave it in the oven long enough. Don't do it! Leave it in!!! It's worth it.
So, Mr. Meathenge's recipe is all you need, but it's so simple, I'll lay it out for you here.
Ok. Don't do this on a weeknight. Take the time, do it right, invite folks over, have a couple of bottles on ice.
Ingredients:
- 3-4 lb pork - the last two times I used butt, but I used something else the other times. Meathenge uses sirloin. Just don't use something too lean.
- Several cloves of garlic (I used 7 this time)
- Butter - a generous pat (really generous)
- Milk - Homo (that's short for homogenized, for you 'mericans)
- s&p
What to do? It is advised that you remove the pork from the fridge to take off the chill, but if you didn't, it would still turn out.
I washed it and dried it. At least dry it. It has to be dry.
Rub it in some s&p. I use a lot of freshly ground p and highly recommend doing so.
Heat butter (lots) over medium to medium-high, depending on your stove, in an oven-proof pan big enough to fit the pork and with a lid. (I have one enameled cast iron casserole and another enameled steel, both of which work just fine.) Throw in the pork DON'T STIR IT AROUND and let it sit for a few minutes (at least five+++). Oh, and pre-heat the oven to around 325. Proceed to brown the other sides of the pork. You're already regretting that this meal will take four or five hours to prepare. Throw in the garlic at any point now. The pork all seared? Good and seared? Good.
Ok, I take it out and add a little milk and scrape the bottom of the pan. Some people call this deglazing. Or maybe deglazing has to be with an acid, I don't know, but you can call this deglazing too. I do.
So you've scraped up the good bits and mixed them in with the milk? Put the pork back in and fill up the pot about half way up the pork. Lid that sucker and throw her in the oven.
Proceed to try to forget about it for an hour or so. Then investigate. Take it out. Stir the milk. I like to turn the pork (but have no idea if this is a help or a hindrance). Re-lid it. Put it back in.
Keep doing this. If the liquid isn't reducing fast enough, take off the lid. It'll be done when the meat is falling off the meat.
That's plenty good, but there'll be some delicious mess at the bottom of the pan. Strain out the fat and keep the curdy stuff. Mix it up with a fork and put a dollop on your pork. That broken sauce is brutti ma buoni. Eat it up.
2/20/2008
Mis frijoles
This is the very first recipe I ever invented, ever. And I basically invented it from nothing, based on nothing, and it somehow came together. This isn't to say that it wasn't already a recipe in someone else's repertoire, mind you. Just that I am, and always have been, inordinately proud of this recipe. These are my beans, dammit. And I love them.
[I am now so far advanced that I generally make them with dried beans, but if you're to the point that you use dried beans yourself, you'll also be able to (easily) convert these proportions.]
[That said, the main reason, other than flavour, that these beans are so amazing is that they whip up in no time. But that's assuming you're cool with opening a can.]
Check it out:
1 can beans, drained (black, pinto, navy...basically anything but garbonzos, I would think)
1 small onion, chopped (finely)
1-3 cloves garlic, minced (pressed, if you so desire)
2 t cumin
1 t oregano
...and the kicker: chipotles (chopped) to taste (start with one and work up, unless you already know that will be too wimpy for you) (the canned kind, in adobo) (this ingredient is not to be omitted on penalty of excommunication or something worse) (my mom even likes them and she doesn't eat anything remotely spicy) (except Worcestershire sauce)
Plus water
Honestly, this couldn't be much easier. Start to fry the onion, and add the garlic when it starts to go translucent. Sound too precise? You can add them at the same time, or omit the garlic, it doesn't matter. Then, when they start looking a little cooked (read: not black, just clearish to caramelish) add the spices and the chipotles. Today, you can generally find chipotles in the grocery store near the Old El Paso section. If you're feeling really lazy (as I often am), you can just pour in a big slurp of the chipotle salsa--the kind that comes in a tall skinny jar. I use about a third of a jar (the really skinny jars).
Where were we? Ok, you've got the garlic and onion, the spices and chipotles, now add the beans. Stir it all up. Then add about a cup or so of water. Bring it to a boil, reduce the heat and let it simmer. Keep doing this for as long as you want. I mean, you can keep adding water, the beans will just get more and more infused with the nice slow burn you've got there, and the starch will work its way out, and they'll get mushier and mushier (you can also mush them with a potato masher if you want, or leave them whole if you happen to buy a particularly integral brand such as P.C.). If you only add the cup or so of water and let it simmer down, that'll be good, too.
How to serve them? With rice, of course. Got tortillas? Go nuts. Add jalapenos (from a jar, hence no prep). Add cheese (I personally have a horror of the concept of pre-grated cheese, but you certainly could). If you're feeling really fancy you could top it with cilantro, but really only buy a bunch if you're planning on using the rest. You could chop some up and add it to the beans near the end of the simmering. I've done it. It's good. As an extra-special treat, go avocado and lime. You won't regret it.
Oh. And salsa, of course. My preferred brand is Herdez' Salsa Casera (hot, but it also comes in mild and medium). If you want to serve the beans with eggs (preferably between two corn tortillas), I prefer La Costena's Salsa Verde.
So there you have it. Dinner (for one) and breakfast (or lunch) the next day.
Mis frijoles sabrosos. Que rico! (My keyboard is French, and I can't figure out how to set up an upsidedown exclamation mark. Sorry.)
[I am now so far advanced that I generally make them with dried beans, but if you're to the point that you use dried beans yourself, you'll also be able to (easily) convert these proportions.]
[That said, the main reason, other than flavour, that these beans are so amazing is that they whip up in no time. But that's assuming you're cool with opening a can.]
Check it out:
1 can beans, drained (black, pinto, navy...basically anything but garbonzos, I would think)
1 small onion, chopped (finely)
1-3 cloves garlic, minced (pressed, if you so desire)
2 t cumin
1 t oregano
...and the kicker: chipotles (chopped) to taste (start with one and work up, unless you already know that will be too wimpy for you) (the canned kind, in adobo) (this ingredient is not to be omitted on penalty of excommunication or something worse) (my mom even likes them and she doesn't eat anything remotely spicy) (except Worcestershire sauce)
Plus water
Honestly, this couldn't be much easier. Start to fry the onion, and add the garlic when it starts to go translucent. Sound too precise? You can add them at the same time, or omit the garlic, it doesn't matter. Then, when they start looking a little cooked (read: not black, just clearish to caramelish) add the spices and the chipotles. Today, you can generally find chipotles in the grocery store near the Old El Paso section. If you're feeling really lazy (as I often am), you can just pour in a big slurp of the chipotle salsa--the kind that comes in a tall skinny jar. I use about a third of a jar (the really skinny jars).
Where were we? Ok, you've got the garlic and onion, the spices and chipotles, now add the beans. Stir it all up. Then add about a cup or so of water. Bring it to a boil, reduce the heat and let it simmer. Keep doing this for as long as you want. I mean, you can keep adding water, the beans will just get more and more infused with the nice slow burn you've got there, and the starch will work its way out, and they'll get mushier and mushier (you can also mush them with a potato masher if you want, or leave them whole if you happen to buy a particularly integral brand such as P.C.). If you only add the cup or so of water and let it simmer down, that'll be good, too.
How to serve them? With rice, of course. Got tortillas? Go nuts. Add jalapenos (from a jar, hence no prep). Add cheese (I personally have a horror of the concept of pre-grated cheese, but you certainly could). If you're feeling really fancy you could top it with cilantro, but really only buy a bunch if you're planning on using the rest. You could chop some up and add it to the beans near the end of the simmering. I've done it. It's good. As an extra-special treat, go avocado and lime. You won't regret it.
Oh. And salsa, of course. My preferred brand is Herdez' Salsa Casera (hot, but it also comes in mild and medium). If you want to serve the beans with eggs (preferably between two corn tortillas), I prefer La Costena's Salsa Verde.
So there you have it. Dinner (for one) and breakfast (or lunch) the next day.
Mis frijoles sabrosos. Que rico! (My keyboard is French, and I can't figure out how to set up an upsidedown exclamation mark. Sorry.)
11/17/2007
Vive le cassoulet!!
It almost didn't happen. My low-grade illin' coupled with my friend's mother-of-two fatigue almost conspired against us. But somehow I found the strength to stop in at Macelleria Venezia (my new favourite butcher) and pick up the sausages and chicken legs (it wasn't so hard to stop in at the liquor store and pick up the wine, somehow) and we managed to pull it together.
I left work late (due in part to an extended lunch--see my previous post) and only got to Veever's a little after five. Then there were offspring to feed and tread underfoot, mise to prepare, meat to deal with (thankfully, I'm not afraid of sausage and she's not afraid of chicken legs) and a recipe to faithfully follow. (We only diverged when we realized that not only did we not have herbs de provence, but we weren't exactly sure what they contained. We made due with a couple of dashes of basil/oregano/thyme plus extra fresh rosemary.)
The only false note, and it's barely off-key at all, is a mild over salting. But thanks to the old scientific method, I've seen the error of my ways, and this error will not be repeated (the recipe will). (I "salt and peppered" the chicken in the same way that I salt and pepper a roast. The issue here is the ratio of surface area to volume.)
The recipe, found through a simple search for something like, "navy beans recipe blog" or something to that effect, is courtesy of Stephanie (I think) over at Half Baked If she doesn't mind, I'll just post it here, for kicks, because I kind of want everyone that could possibly see this to give her a try.
Now, you may be questioning some of the steps. I understand. I did myself. But just don't. Just follow her recipe. She's done right by me and I swear she'll do right by you. Oh, and her recipe is originally from Chris Kimball's The Kitchen Detective, a book that clearly needs to be added to my library.
Quick Cassoulet
serves 4 to 6
Ingredients:
1 pound dried great Northern or Navy beans, rinsed and picked over
1 small onion, peeled and studded with 8 whole cloves
1 bay leaf
3/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 pounds sweet Italian Sausage, removed from casing and crumbled
6 bone-in, skin on chicken thighs (or 3 legs that have been separated into thigh and drumstick), rinsed and patted dry with paper towels
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
3 medium carrots, diced
4 garlic cloves, finely minced
1/2 cup white wine
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 quart chicken stock
1 teaspoon herbs de Provence
1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary
1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley, for garnish
Method:
Combine the beans*, clove-studded onion, bayleaf, 3/4 teaspoon salt and 10 cups of water in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to maintain a simmer. Partially cover, and cook 45 to 60 minutes or just until tender. Fish out the onion and bay leaf and discard.*
Brown the sausage in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat, breaking up any large pieces with a spatula. Remove with a slotted spoon to some paper towels to drain. Pour off all but 1 tablespoon of the fat. Season the chicken with salt and pepper and brown well on both sides, doing it in batches if necessary. Once browned, remove the chicken and let it sit cool down. Once the chicken is cool enough to handle, remove the skin (no rubbery skin in this cassoulet!)**
Adjust the heat to medium and add the olive oil to the pan. Add the chopped onion and carrot and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft - about five to seven minutes. Add the garlic and cook for an additional two minutes. Add the wine, and stir well to scrape up all the brown tasty bits stuck on the bottom of the pan. Add in the tomato paste and stir to combine.
Drain off the beans and add them to the Dutch oven along with the chicken, sausage, chicken stock and herbs de Provence. Bring the whole lot to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook covered for 20 to 30 minutes or until the chicken is done (when an instant read thermometer reads 165 in the thickest part of the thigh). Add the rosemary and cook for 10 minutes or more until the beans and chicken are very tender. If, at this point, the braising liquid is very thin, simmer uncovered for a few minutes more. Season to taste with salt and pepper.***
Serve immediately with chopped parsley and nice big hunks of rustic bread. Enjoy!
*The book says you can forego soaking the beans, but I soaked mine anyway.(We soaked ours too. Why not?) (Veever actually did this in advance, but there's no reason not to let them bubble away while you're doing everything else.)
**This is the step that I thought was silly. It's not. You get all the delicious chicken fat in the bottom of the pan and this is key. Do not omit this step. I don't care how tempted you are. We take no responsibility for any missteps that may result. Just don't salt the hell out of your poor chicken, like I did. (Incidentally, I had to add a teeny bit of olive oil while frying the sausage. For what it's worth (if you're following this recipe to the letter and all, I don't want you to be scared if your sausage isn't giving off enough fat.)
***We simmered the hell out of it for like two hours. With the amount of liquid this has you adding, it'll just be soup otherwise. You can decrease the amount of stock you add, but I vote for the longer simmer. All of the individual components of our cassoulet positively melted into something considerably greater than the sum of their parts. Oh, and obviously this could go in the oven and that would be wonderful and hands-free. Just adjust to suit your schedule.
Finally, I only got to Veever's a little after five, and I swear to god that dinner was on the table by 7:15, all the interim craziness notwithstanding. We could even have eaten a little earlier. So by no means an impossibility on a weeknight, my friends. All things are possible.
11/12/2007
My apologies to the escarole
The thing is, I have a very complicated relationship with beans. They are an unpredictable beast. But every time I make a batch of dreamy, creamy beans (from dried) I figure I've got them licked.
I don't.
With regards to the infamous case of the cannelini and escarole, I had just come down off of the adrenaline rush of making perfect (but I mean perfect!) garbonzo beans for something else entirely unrelated and for which perfection (in a bean) wasn't even required. So feeling just a little cocky, I'm standing stovefront thinking I can turn a bag full of dried-up, wrinkly old falling-apart beans into something majestic.
That said, the finished product, while hardly majestic, was also less bad than I previously thought. And the dish as a whole is pleasant in a not-much-in-the-house-but-dammit-I-should-really-eat-some-dark-and-leafy-greens way.
But should you want to make it yourself? Do it. Just buy real beans. In bulk, if possible, but at the very least something that's been packed in-house. (Just don't buy anything that comes with a label, unless maybe the label is in a foreign language from a place where beans are revered as they should be.) I guarantee, if a place is taking the time to measure out and package their beans, it's 'cause they're selling them. Don't do it for me. Do it for yourself.
Right. So soak:
1 cup beans overnight or whatever you do.
Drain and rinse and add to a pot with:
1 c stock/water/you know the drill
enough water to cover by 1 in (in a medium-sized pan)
1 small onion (quartered)
1 small carrot (quartered)
2 smashed garlic cloves (smashed like with the side of your knife or a rolling pin or something, not smashed like crushed in a garlic press)
1 bay leaf
1 T oil
salt
Bring to a boil, cover and reduce to a simmer 1-1.5 hrs.
Do this whenever. They'll kick around in the fridge for a couple of days just fine:
1 head escarole
1/4 c oil
3 cloves garlic, sliced
Generous pinch red pepper flakes
s and p, 1/2 lemon
Get ready to braise.
Clean that escarole like nobody's business. They're dirty little buggers. (I love dirty produce.) Rip it into little-ish pieces. Heat oil, toss in garlic just a couple of minutes, then start adding escarole 'till it wilts. Bit by bit. Then add a little s and p.
Now take the carrot, onion and bay leaf from the beans and spoon the beans and their liquid (not too much) into the escarole. Bring to a simmer, cover, adjust to a low simmer and braise about 20 min.
Squeeze lemon, add more s and p if necessary, and drizzle good oil, if desired.
Absolutely serve with bread. Good bread. A baguette from the North Pole, slathered with butter, does me fine.
More later about how, while I aspire to be Rev. Biggles or Mallika or Kevin, I always seem to wind up making pseudo-vegan fare.
I don't.
With regards to the infamous case of the cannelini and escarole, I had just come down off of the adrenaline rush of making perfect (but I mean perfect!) garbonzo beans for something else entirely unrelated and for which perfection (in a bean) wasn't even required. So feeling just a little cocky, I'm standing stovefront thinking I can turn a bag full of dried-up, wrinkly old falling-apart beans into something majestic.
That said, the finished product, while hardly majestic, was also less bad than I previously thought. And the dish as a whole is pleasant in a not-much-in-the-house-but-dammit-I-should-really-eat-some-dark-and-leafy-greens way.
But should you want to make it yourself? Do it. Just buy real beans. In bulk, if possible, but at the very least something that's been packed in-house. (Just don't buy anything that comes with a label, unless maybe the label is in a foreign language from a place where beans are revered as they should be.) I guarantee, if a place is taking the time to measure out and package their beans, it's 'cause they're selling them. Don't do it for me. Do it for yourself.
Right. So soak:
1 cup beans overnight or whatever you do.
Drain and rinse and add to a pot with:
1 c stock/water/you know the drill
enough water to cover by 1 in (in a medium-sized pan)
1 small onion (quartered)
1 small carrot (quartered)
2 smashed garlic cloves (smashed like with the side of your knife or a rolling pin or something, not smashed like crushed in a garlic press)
1 bay leaf
1 T oil
salt
Bring to a boil, cover and reduce to a simmer 1-1.5 hrs.
Do this whenever. They'll kick around in the fridge for a couple of days just fine:
1 head escarole
1/4 c oil
3 cloves garlic, sliced
Generous pinch red pepper flakes
s and p, 1/2 lemon
Get ready to braise.
Clean that escarole like nobody's business. They're dirty little buggers. (I love dirty produce.) Rip it into little-ish pieces. Heat oil, toss in garlic just a couple of minutes, then start adding escarole 'till it wilts. Bit by bit. Then add a little s and p.
Now take the carrot, onion and bay leaf from the beans and spoon the beans and their liquid (not too much) into the escarole. Bring to a simmer, cover, adjust to a low simmer and braise about 20 min.
Squeeze lemon, add more s and p if necessary, and drizzle good oil, if desired.
Absolutely serve with bread. Good bread. A baguette from the North Pole, slathered with butter, does me fine.
More later about how, while I aspire to be Rev. Biggles or Mallika or Kevin, I always seem to wind up making pseudo-vegan fare.
11/11/2007
The best cabbage I ever made
While strictly speaking the title of this post is accurate, it's also a misnomer since it's also the only cabbage I have ever made. I don't know if I'll be making this recipe again, but who knows? Weighing in at almost 4 lb and ringing up for $1.29, it seems like you can't hardly go wrong.Now, cabbage doesn't happen to be a vegetable that exists in my repertoire because it isn't a vegetable that ever entered my home as a kid. I sometimes exaggerate that the only vegetables that came in the front door were either frozen or canned, but it's pretty darned near the truth. Cabbage, rutabaga, parsnip...in my world, these are the exotics. I'm having fun getting to know them. I've officially added cabbage rolls to my to do list, having seen that they aren't as scary as I thought.
The recipe? ("The Best Braised Cabbage Ever" is also care of the lovely Miss Molly Stevens and her braising wonderland) (I'm approximating here)
1 2-lb cabbage, cut into 8 wedges
1 carrot, in 1/4-in rounds
1 onion in chunks
Some olive oil (3 T?)
1/4 c stock
1/4 t chili flakes (this is me doubling her amount)
s and p
Could this be easier? It's ridiculous, really.
Throw the veggies in an oiled baking dish (9x12). Drizzle the oil. Add the stock. Sprinkle the chili flakes s and p. Cover with foil. Slide in the oven (350 degrees). After an hour, grab some tongs to flip the cabbage. (I wonder if this step is necessary). After another hour, tear off the foil, crank up the heat (she says 400, but I broiled it for a bit because I really do like things black) and let everything get all nice and photo-worthy.
I served with those amazing potatoes I made the other time (new this time, rather than fingerling) (the fingerlings were better, but these were still amazing) (I think this may be the only way I make potatoes from now on).
10/21/2007
Mine weren't so pretty
I adore Brussels sprouts. I have since I was about five years old and my family was over at a friend's house having Thanksgiving dinner. I promptly informed my mother that I wouldn't be eating those green balls (what kid is going to like something that looks and smells like Brussels sprouts?), and she just as promptly informed me that I wouldn't be getting any turkey until I ate five of them.
So I did. I ate all five. And then ten. And finished by filling up on Brussels sprouts and skipping the turkey. (Yet somehow failed to become a vegetarian...)
It honestly never occurred to me that you could do anything with Brussels sprouts other than steam or boil them until I saw what Kevin, over at Closet Cooking, did with them.
So go look at his: Brussles Sprouts with Pancette and Parmigiano Reggiano. I didn't bother to photograph mine. I just et 'em.
On a similar (you'll see once you read his ingredients) yet mainly unrelated note, if you're in the GTA, do yourself a favour and go and pay Maselli's a visit. Pick up some of their home cured prosciutto. And try their homemade tomato sauce and let me know how it is.
So I did. I ate all five. And then ten. And finished by filling up on Brussels sprouts and skipping the turkey. (Yet somehow failed to become a vegetarian...)
It honestly never occurred to me that you could do anything with Brussels sprouts other than steam or boil them until I saw what Kevin, over at Closet Cooking, did with them.
So go look at his: Brussles Sprouts with Pancette and Parmigiano Reggiano. I didn't bother to photograph mine. I just et 'em.
On a similar (you'll see once you read his ingredients) yet mainly unrelated note, if you're in the GTA, do yourself a favour and go and pay Maselli's a visit. Pick up some of their home cured prosciutto. And try their homemade tomato sauce and let me know how it is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
