Recipes & Cooking: February 2004 Archives

Todd said a funny thing when we sat down to eat these souffle-like cakes, "It's amazing. One instant they're not there, the next they're there." It's a thought I often have when I make something quick out of simple ingredients. You take all these components and combine them to create something entirely different. I whipped these up after we finished dinner, so that speed might have contributed to Todd's temporary awe.

The recipe was from Everyday Food, but I altered it to make just 2 servings, which was kind of difficult because that was 1/3 the recipe. (What's 1/3 of 1/2 cup? I know it's 1/6 cup, but how do you measure that out? How many tablespoons is that?) First I separated 1 egg and whisked the yolk with 2 generous tablespoons of sugar (less than EF instructed, but I wanted a tart, not-too-sweet cake). Whisked in 2 teaspoons flour, then a teaspoon grated lemon zest and 1 tablespoon and 1 teaspoon lemon juice. While I was doing that, Todd beat the egg white to soft peaks with a pinch of salt. Folded the whites into the lemon mixture, divided it between 2 greased ramekins, then baked it in a water bath at 350 degrees for 15 minutes, or until the tops are brown (the recipe said 20 to 25 minutes, though; I'm thinking my new oven runs hot).

The cakes form a top souffle-like layer with a lemon custard layer underneath (if you were trying to make a souffle you'd wonder what you did wrong). But it's good: as you scoop down through it, you're coating the cake part with the warm custard. I would make it more lemony next time.

I've been trying to use my pasta maker a lot, so about every other week I'll make pasta on a weeknight. Last night I rolled out the pasta kind of thick in the machine, then cut it into squares by hand for a really rustic look. A generous 3/4 cup flour and 1 egg make good-sized portions for two people.

Todd really liked the "condiment," as he called the sauce, so here it is: While the pasta was resting (before I rolled it out) I opened a 15-ounce can of stewed tomatoes, drained the juice and cut the tomatoes into large chunks. Sauteed a large minced garlic clove in some oil, then added the tomatoes, some oregano, salt and a couple sprigs of thyme (odd, I know, but I had it and wanted to use something fresh). Put that over low heat while I rolled out, cut and cooked the pasta, then tossed it with the cooked pasta and scattered some feta over the top.

I've been trying to use my pasta maker a lot, so about every other week I'll make pasta on a weeknight. Last night I rolled out the pasta kind of thick in the machine, then cut it into squares by hand for a really rustic look. A generous 3/4 cup flour and 1 egg make good-sized portions for two people.

Todd really liked the "condiment," as he called the sauce, so here it is: While the pasta was resting (before I rolled it out) I opened a 15-ounce can of stewed tomatoes, drained the juice and cut the tomatoes into large chunks. Sauteed a large minced garlic clove in some oil, then added the tomatoes, some oregano, salt and a couple sprigs of thyme (odd, I know, but I had it and wanted to use something fresh). Put that over low heat while I rolled out, cut and cooked the pasta, then tossed it with the cooked pasta and scattered some feta over the top.

It must've been all the discussion yesterday about growing up on a lot of prepackaged foods that made me reach for the pouch of Lipton's Smoked Chipotle Rice, orzo and rice with a mild chipotle flavor, for dinner last night. I had been to the launch of Lipton's new Southwest flavors a couple of weeks ago, and this was a new product sample. I think it was not too bad with all the additions I made to it.

I followed the instructions on the package, bringing to a boil 1 3/4 cups water and the rice mix. I added some things, though: frozen peas, chicken shredded from a roast I did last weekend, pimientos. Once the water's boiling you cover the pot, turn down the heat and simmer for 7 minutes. At this point I tasted and added some ground chipotle, for heat (adding another layer of redundancy to "smoked chipotle"), and ancho chile powder. Let it set to thicken the sauce. It was so fast, leaving me plenty of time to lie on the sofa watching TV. Is that what speed and convenience give me? More TV-watching time?

It must've been all the discussion yesterday about growing up on a lot of prepackaged foods that made me reach for the pouch of Lipton's Smoked Chipotle Rice, orzo and rice with a mild chipotle flavor, for dinner last night. I had been to the launch of Lipton's new Southwest flavors a couple of weeks ago, and this was a new product sample. I think it was not too bad with all the additions I made to it.

I followed the instructions on the package, bringing to a boil 1 3/4 cups water and the rice mix. I added some things, though: frozen peas, chicken shredded from a roast I did last weekend, pimientos. Once the water's boiling you cover the pot, turn down the heat and simmer for 7 minutes. At this point I tasted and added some ground chipotle, for heat (adding another layer of redundancy to "smoked chipotle"), and ancho chile powder. Let it set to thicken the sauce. It was so fast, leaving me plenty of time to lie on the sofa watching TV. Is that what speed and convenience give me? More TV-watching time?

I was alone for dinner last night, which made it the perfect night for butternut squash, which Todd does not like (surprised?). I found an itty-bitty squash at Natural, cut it into cubes, tossed it with olive oil, salt, pepper, herbs and chunks of chicken sausage and roasted it in a 450 degree oven. Stirred it once, but only took it out after the smoke set off the alarm (which just sends me running to close the doors to the kitchen, since the smoke detector is in the hallway and is just barely out of my reach, even when I'm standing on a chair). Drizzled on some balsamic at the end. Simple and simply good, although it didn't feel like a complete meal on it's own.

I had never eaten, nor prepared, an artichoke. I've had canned and bottled artichoke hearts, marinated and not, but I'd never eaten a fresh, whole one: pulled off the leaves layer by layer, dipping them in mayonnaise, melted butter or vinaigrette, scraping the fleshy part of each leaf with my teeth, until at last you reach the inedible choke and the payoff, the heart. The people who describe it to me are usually rapturous or nostalgic with the adventure of wading through all those rough leaves to find the delicate, and appropriately named, heart.

Having steamed and eaten my first artichoke (with both garlic butter and lemon vinaigrette for dipping), I'm ambivalent. I enjoy the adventure, the big messy pile of leaves that overtake your plate as you eat down, down to the end, but I'm not entirely sure about the flavor. Green and mild, the flavor of the flesh was kind of masked by the accompaniments. Todd started eating them plain, which was a better way to actually taste spring in it. As we reached the center, the tips of the leaves became entirely edible, revealing the satisfying texture that we would find at the heart, firm but without a crunch. I think maybe after all the work for so little payoff, the heart feels like a motherlode.

When I was thinking about writing about our visit to Q, A Thai Bistro, I realized the two dishes I really wanted to mention, Todd's whole roasted sea bass and the cabernet-pear tart we shared for dessert, don't really seem very Thai. Although maybe roasting a fish whole is a traditional Thai preparation. I'm not sure. It was an impressive presentation, though. (I was a little jealous.) The fish had crispy skin and came with a hot and sweet garlic sauce.

The cabernet-pear tart was interesting. The cabernet part seemed to be a thin layer of cabernet gelatin on top of the tart, which consisted of a dense almond-flavored cake with chunks of pear. I'm intrigued by the possibility of making wine-flavored gelatin. Maybe I'll look for recipes, or experiment. Not entirely sure it's a great idea, but who knows?

Anyway, it seems odd to be able to drop this much money on Thai food in my neighborhood. It's a nice place, but it still seems a little pricey (which is probably why we haven't been there more than twice).

We made dinner at home on Saturday and I wanted to do something special, so I made two different mashed potatoes: sesame potatoes and chipotle sweet potatoes. I had sesame potatoes the first time I ate at the Biltmore Room, and they were pretty easy to recreate at home. I used one baking potato and one all-purpose, since that's what I had, and peeled and boiled them as usual. Then I added chicken broth and mashed with a potato masher, going for a silky consistency. Drizzled in some sesame oil to taste, and added some salt and pepper (but just a little, because I really wanted sesame to be the primary flavor, which is why I didn't use milk or butter, either). For the chipotle sweets, I just mashed boiled sweet potatoes with chicken stock and added chipotle powder. The two contrasting colors looked pretty on the plate.

For V day this year I made a really simple chocolate tart that I thought was fantastic, from the Bittersweet cookbook. It's a shortbread-type crust with a set chocolate custard filling that has a flavor deepened by espresso powder.

To make the crust, melt 1 stick (8 tablespoons or 1/2 cup) butter in a large bowl, and add a pinch of salt, 1/4 cup sugar and 3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract. Stir in 1 cup flour (the recipe said the dough is really soft, but mine wasn't even dough at this point so I probably added another 1/6 cup). Pat the dough into the pan (mine's a 10-inch pan, and the crust is thin in it) and bake for 20 minutes in a 350 degree oven (until the crust is golden brown).

While that's baking make the filling by mixing 1 cup heavy cream, 3 tablespoons butter, 1/4 cup cocoa powder (either natural or Dutch) and 1/2 cup sugar. Stir over heat until thoroughly mixed and bubbles start to appear along the sides of the pan. Take off heat and stir in 1 1/4 teaspoon espresso powder and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla (I thought of steeping half a vanilla bean but didn't want to waste a bean on something that has a primarily chocolate flavor). Right before the crust is finished, whisk the hot milk into a slightly beaten egg, a little at a time to temper the egg. Pour the filling into the crust, turn off the oven and pop the tart back in for about 10 minutes, until the center is set but still jiggles slightly. Cool on a wire rack. The recipe said serve warm or at room temperature, but we also liked it the next day straight from the fridge. It cuts very cleanly.

For V day this year I made a really simple chocolate tart that I thought was fantastic, from the Bittersweet cookbook. It's a shortbread-type crust with a set chocolate custard filling that has a flavor deepened by espresso powder.

To make the crust, melt 1 stick (8 tablespoons or 1/2 cup) butter in a large bowl, and add a pinch of salt, 1/4 cup sugar and 3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract. Stir in 1 cup flour (the recipe said the dough is really soft, but mine wasn't even dough at this point so I probably added another 1/6 cup). Pat the dough into the pan (mine's a 10-inch pan, and the crust is thin in it) and bake for 20 minutes in a 350 degree oven (until the crust is golden brown).

While that's baking make the filling by mixing 1 cup heavy cream, 3 tablespoons butter, 1/4 cup cocoa powder (either natural or Dutch) and 1/2 cup sugar. Stir over heat until thoroughly mixed and bubbles start to appear along the sides of the pan. Take off heat and stir in 1 1/4 teaspoon espresso powder and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla (I thought of steeping half a vanilla bean but didn't want to waste a bean on something that has a primarily chocolate flavor). Right before the crust is finished, whisk the hot milk into a slightly beaten egg, a little at a time to temper the egg. Pour the filling into the crust, turn off the oven and pop the tart back in for about 10 minutes, until the center is set but still jiggles slightly. Cool on a wire rack. The recipe said serve warm or at room temperature, but we also liked it the next day straight from the fridge. It cuts very cleanly.

I know, there's a group out there saying, "What does 'leftover wine' mean?" But this recipe is really worth the cup of good red wine it uses. It's a recipe that I adapted from Epicurious.com because I didn't have all the ingredients it called for. I had tried one of my birthday wines, the one from the formerly Cote-du-Rhone region of Gigondas, and wanted to give it a spin in some food.

First I soaked pieces of day-old French bread (crusts on) in whole milk for 10 minutes (I'd guess 1 1/2 cups of bread to about 1/2 cup milk). Meanwhile I finely chopped half a white onion and a handful of fresh parsley. Put a little less than a pound of ground beef in the food processor, then added the onion and parsley, 1 egg, the soaked bread (omitting any milk that wasn't soaked up), dried sage, salt and pepper. Processed it all until it was a consistent paste (this took awhile and was kind of difficult, as the processor was really full; I think I'd put the bread on the bottom next time). Formed into 2-inch meatballs and baked in single layer in a glass baking dish at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

Tossed the baked meatballs with a light dusting of flour, then panfried them in butter and olive oil until they were brown. Then I added a mixture of 1 cup wine, one small can tomato juice and some chicken-stock paste to the pan, stirring to get some of the stuff on the bottom of the pan. Brought to a boil and bubbled for about 20 minutes, until the sauce was nice and thick. Sprinkled with more parsley. I served with bread, but the recipe from Epicurious suggested mashed potatoes, which I think would be even better. The sauce is fantastic, rich and winey, with a concentrated flavor.

This was a recipe from Food and Wine, but in the magazine the fish is baked on top of thin slices of potato and tomato that have already been baking for a while. By getting rid of that I made this a pretty quick dish.

Sunday morning I smashed two garlic cloves and about a third of a jalapeno, minced, with some salt in the mortar. Added a couple tablespoons of olive oil, the juice of half a lemon, cumin, paprika and chopped fresh cilantro and stirred it all together. Spread half of that over the non-skin-side of a 1/2-pound striped bass filet and put it in a baking dish in the fridge. When we got home for lunch, I popped it in a 475 degree oven for 15 minutes. Served the extra charmoula on top; I think the fresh herby-crunchy-spiciness was key to the dish. It made just enough for Todd and me.

Todd had suckling pig at Bar Pitti last night, and it was like nothing I had ever tasted before. The meat was so white and mild, and the texture was so soft, almost like it wasn't even meat. I can't come up with a way to describe it; maybe like biting into a bread dough that you've just finished kneading. It made me a little sad, though, because it was so clearly young flesh. It's odd; I don't have the same qualms about veal.

I have to say, too, that this is one of the most welcoming restaurants I've eaten at. The waiter was friendly and casual, and explained everything in detail. Two of our party were about an hour late and had told us to go ahead and eat without them. The restaurant needed the table we were at for a party with reservations and seemed a little anxious about serving our friends, but they were very apologetic and nice about it.

It must be the season for these because I've been seeing them everywhere. They're really very striking-looking, and don't taste very much like oranges. In fact, I kind of find the taste a bit insipid, like cherry flavor or fruit punch. From the outside they look like orange, some like oranges with a blush. I think the red flesh is beautiful but would rely on something else for flavor. (Although maybe if you reduced the juice you'd end up with something surprising.)