Eddie's: March 2004 Archives

was a cream puff from Beard Papa's. But with my parents and an impatient Todd in tow, it was impossible to justify standing in a line that stretched all the way to the end of the block. (Had I been alone, and not in a big hurry, I would have waited, because I wanted to see if it was worth it.)

So I made some of my own when I got home. I remember making cream puffs for a progressive dinner in college, then filling them with pudding or ice cream. You start by bringing 1 cup water, 1/2 cup butter and a pinch of salt to a boil. Add 1 cup flour all at once, then stir until it forms a ball. Let sit 10 minutes, then add 4 eggs, one at a time, stirring each egg into the dough completely before adding the next. Place heaping teaspoons on a greased or silpat-lined baking sheet 3 inches apart and bake at 400 degrees for 30 minutes. Easy.

It was an OK dessert for my diabetic father, too, because I filled his with sugar-free pudding (the rest of us had regular pudding). For something fancier, I'd make a pastry cream (which is what I bet Beard Papa does).

This seems to be a theme for me lately: produce that presents itself as a puzzle, a difficult safe that one must figure out how to crack. The second artichoke I had, the one I steamed one day then ate cold from the refrigerator the next, made me relent and decide that, dipped in a good vinaigrette, it was worth it. The bowl of plain yogurt and diced fresh pineapple I just had has made me change my mind about what I had believed was a waste of time.

First, the pineapple Todd picked out was pretty green, but I found online that as long as it has some yellow or red at the bottom (which ours did) you can ripen it on your counter, upside down (I think it was NBC's Produce Pete who gave me that tip). It's almost as though the ripeness gradually runs down the pineapple, and over the course of a few days the pineapple turned yellow, from the bottom (which was on top) to the top (I had perched the pineapple on of that tuft of stiff leaves that come out the top).

Once it's ripe, you slice off the top and bottom, then the tough exterior. Then there are all those eyes; I had seen people on TV find the rows of eyes and cut out a row at a time, which I did, then picked out the rest. It's not a quick job, though, whatever TV chefs may say. Mine also had all these little seeds embedded in it, and so I took out as many of those as I could. Then I quartered it lengthwise, cut out the fibrous core and chopped it into chunks.

I diced a bit up and mixed it with plain yogurt: sweet with the tang from the yogurt, smooth creaminess with the juicy, slighty fibrous pieces.

I made this recipe once before, a long time ago, and I think I used broth instead of wine that time. The shrimp produce a lot of juice, too, so you end up with tasty liquid to sop up with a piece of bread.

It's really easy: Clean a bundle of asparagus and snap off tough ends. Cut into 2-inch pieces, then saute for a couple of minutes with two minced garlic cloves, salt, pepper and red pepper flakes. Add 1 pound of shrimp and saute a few more minutes, until shrimp is pink. Add 1 cup dry white wine (I used an acidic pinot grigio) and a squeeze of lemon juice and bring to a boil. Serve in bowls with toasts rubbed with a cut garlic clove. Takes less than 1/2 hour.

We had lots of leftovers after a weekend of company, so we've been eating sandwiches for practically every meal. I don't object, though, because a sandwich can be catered to the individual diner, and that means I get to have whatever weird ingredients on it I want.

Monday night we had smoked turkey sandwiches on 7-grain sandwich bread, and I always add a lot of chutney because I think it goes so well with the smokiness.

Yesterday for lunch I spread salt-cod puree (brandade) on a baguette that I had sliced lengthwise and toasted, then topped it with roasted peppers.

Last night we toasted onion rolls, then topped them with heated, sliced roast beef in the sauce and Swiss cheese, then put them back under the broiler to melt the cheese. I ate mine open-face with more sauce; Todd put the top on and ate it as a sandwich.

I think we're both sandwiched out now, though. Maybe pasta, a quesadilla or a fritatta to keep working on those leftovers.