Aroma Cucina

Next Generation

Can I be a proud auntie for a moment? My newly married niece, who has been my kitchen apprentice ever since the days when she needed to stand on a chair to help, has officially come into her own in the kitchen. We visited with family over the weekend, and my niece Alisha just blew us all away with her beautiful dinner on Friday evening. Gorgeous salads, delicious ceviche, artichoke and spinach dip, the dishes went on and on, so tempting we barely noticed we were eating vegan. OK, the ceviche wasn’t vegan, but we were happy that their diet is ‘’loose’ enough to throw in some scallops!

As beautiful and as delicious as all those dishes were, the happiest part for me was the pride and satisfaction that Alisha took in preparing this food. She’s grown up in a family where food was important, but important because it brought everyone to the table where we could share our lives and our laughter.  And as good as the caper relish was, it tasted even better because of the love that went into making it. Thank you Rhona, Alisha and Erik for a wonderful time, spent doing what we do best: eating, drinking, laughing and loving each other.

Gordon and Grub

I’m a little late with this, but it’s still awesome. A few years ago I was a student at Ital.cook, it’s a Slow Food sponsored school based in the city of Jesi in the Le Marche region of Italy.  To put this in perspective, when I applied for my student visa for Italy, the nice man behind the counter at the Italian consulate declared that I was too old to be a student. I had to show him all the school papers before he would believe me.
Gordon Finn was a fellow classmate, a young, eager, talented chef, recent CIA graduate and just raring to go. We had a large group of Japanese classmates, who either spoke very little English or bad Italian like the rest of us. Gordon decided that he would learn Japanese and at first he tormented us by constantly reading aloud an English-Japanese dictionary, then his enthusiasm took over and we all started picking up some Japanese. He would amaze me during wine classes with his palate, this guy ‘remembers’ flavors, and that’s a gift. Gordon and his friend Roz graduated from Ital.cook and then went on to stage at two restaurants in Italy. They were serious and determined to make good food and restaurants their life.

Fast forward to today, Gordon is working his way up the ladder at Alto in NYC, and Grub Street decided to profile him. Personally, I agree, Gordon Finn is someone to watch (and if you know his history of practical joking, then you also know you need to watch out for him!). Bravo Gordon!

p.s. and thanks to  Dario for this  very special, all Gordon  photo.

Awww...I'm blushing

Woohoo! We're famous! Weinoo gave us a great write up on Gael Greene's blog. We are in the Travel Section, and it even mentions my focaccia!  Scroll down to the bottom of the article for a picture of Montone and the review of Erba Luna Ristorante.  Thank you Weinoo!!

Funny thing about bread, it touches some primal chord.  The bread found in Umbria and Tuscany is usually the salt less variety, and it's an acquired taste. Some people find it more useful as a doorstop than as something you would willingly put into your mouth, but over the years, I've come to understand the appeal of this uniquely flavorless bread.
I started making focaccia at the restaurant, but only on weekends, then I had to start making it every dinner, then twice a day.  It stunned me how popular the bread became. People would ask for the recipe, or ask if I could I give a bread baking class. Focaccia is simple, it'€™s the ultimate no knead bread.
Here is the basic recipe, adapted from my friend Dario'€™s recipe:

Twas' an honor

Our dear friend Stacey recently moved into an amazing apartment and she invited us to come over last night and inaugurate the new stove. Can you imagine how excited and flattered I was to be asked to come and play on a marvelous, brand new Lacanche stove? 

Stacey has that special sense, an ability to recognize happiness and to be grateful when she finds it. Life has dealt her some hard knocks, so maybe that’s why she knows life is fleeting and we should enjoy while we can.  Which is my longwinded way of saying that Stacey is so happy when her kitchen is full of people and noise and the smell of food cooking. It was an honor and a privilege to get that stove fired up last night. We had 5 of the 6 burners going all at once, it was fantastic!  Sautéed chicken, seared scallops, green beans with prosciutto, basmati rice, it was like playing a piano, sliding pots, dialing in the heat adjustments, that stove is a thing of beauty! 

Last night’s dinner was a celebration of all the good things in life. Stacey, may your kitchen always be filled with the sound of laughter, the banging of pots, and the barking of Bentley!

Belly of the Beast

After 17 years, my son is no longer a student. He’s been officially spit out of the coddling student womb and into the ‘real world’.  My heart is filled with pride and not a little jealousy. He is being pitched off a cliff; will he soar, fly, float, drift or crash? My guess is that he will do all of the above because that’s life. Congratulations to all the graduates! Live long happy lives and prosper!
We thought it would be fun to have the graduation party at Curtis’s house. For me, I love the prep time as much as the actual party. We went to Philadelphia on Wednesday to get set up, and the tables and chairs, and helium tank all came on schedule.  At one point, we had 3 generations lined up at the counter, dicing, frying, dipping and slicing, and I thought to myself: this is as good as it gets.  Grandmother, mother, son, all chatting and working in the kitchen, involved and supporting each other. Could I ask for anything better? It’s no wonder to me that people call the kitchen the heart of the house.
Later on, fueled by some mojitos, we blew up 500 hundred helium balloons and made huge balloon arches. It was as much fun watching Mary chase an errant balloon as if her life depended on it, as it was listening to my Mother make vaguely off-color jokes about latex and lubrication. The whole process of creating a celebration is a remarkable bonding experience.

The actual graduation was a classic affair, or as classic as an art student affair can be. Songs sung, speeches made and voila` these students became alumni.

We anticipated about 40 guests for a simple potluck BBQ in the backyard. What we wound up with was a trip to the belly of the beast. What I’m referring to is the ‘college keg party’. Oh my. Over the years, I’ve seen Curtis’s pictures and heard the stories. From my perspective it was an interesting phenomena, I was fascinated by the pong game, and I still  don’t understand the tubing apparatus, but this wasn’t something that I ever really wanted to experience first hand.  What I have learned is that my imagination was spot on….. a college keg party is exactly what you think it is.  My favorite drunk was a young woman whose body kept willowing into various “S” curves. She could no longer stand up straight, but just sort of willowed from spot to spot, managing to crash into counters and toppling glasses and bottles in her wake.  I’m guessing that at the peak hour, which would have been around 2:00 am, there were between 150 and 175 people.  A late arriving soul was seen crying over the beer tap.  It’s a universally recognized symbol that when an empty cup is placed over the tap, the keg is gone.  Now that is something that I’ve just learned. 
I also learned that in Fishtown, there are Block Captains, and they are whom you call to complain to about noise or other disturbances.  Our Block Captain came at around 2:30, and he introduced himself by the name of “Block Captain”, and very nicely asked us to keep the noise down.  These were film students, so we also thought it might be helpful if we turned off the sound and audio system where the films were being displayed on a spandex screen.
By 4:30 am, most of the revelers had gone, leaving behind a living room full of sleeping bodies.
The morning wasn’t as bad as you might think. With the help of some of the kids, we’d made a major dent in cleaning up the night before. The garbage had gone out on the sidewalk, the tables and chairs were stacked, and one by one, the bodies on the floor woke up and went about their business. This was it. The last hurrah, the last college keg party.  Sure, they could go to another friend’s party, but they would be the “Old Ones”, the one’s who had passed over to the other side.  Lauren washed the kitchen floor, Curtis watered the herb garden, and they started the next phase of their life.   And if they get lucky, one day, they will have 3 generations in the kitchen, laughing and cooking together. 

The Perfect Tarte Tatin

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This spring our family has had an unusual number of reasons to celebrate together: a wedding, a sweet sixteen, a milestone birthday and next is an upcoming graduation. I am extremely lucky; not only do I love my family, but I actually enjoy them and look forward to being with them.  To say we are a diverse group would be an understatement, we have artists and an actress, a lawyer, a cook, and a glass blower, just to name a few. We are noisy, chaotic, sometimes loud, and usually laughing. It’s a wacky group that is filled with love and support for each other, and the line between family and friends is an encircling hug.

This weekend was my mother’s birthday, and another chance for us to gather, and share a meal. Because in all these gatherings, mealtime is the time we all sit together and everything else takes second place, it is family time.

We started the meal on Friday. Not literally, I don’t mean that we ate for two days straight! I do have my limits.   We started marketing on Friday, my sister and I heading up to the Greenmarket on Union Square and we began to fill our bags.  This was followed by a long stroll to Little Italy to find some faro and special salumis and finally we took a well-earned stop at little Cuban restaurant in Soho. There we were rewarded by some of the best tasting mojitos.  I said ‘some’, I’m not saying how many!  Our final reward was a pedicure. Oh, the sublime pleasure of a foot bath after a mojito. I highly recommend it.

Saturday was a leisurely day of prepping the meal, writing out the menu, heading to Mom’s house.  

By Saturday evening, we were ready to start popping Proseco corks with my mom and her friends. I had a ball creating, making and serving this meal. I had a ball with my sister helping me every step of the way, my husband was the sommelier, the florist, and the apple slice arranger for the pork roast.  Everyone pitched in, and at one point as I was plating a course, the decibel level of laughter coming from the dining room was a pitch perfect roar. Could you ask for any sound more wonderful?

As the magnificent tarte tatin came out with candles blazing, I realized that my sister had made the perfect tarte tatin. It was conceived in a spirit of adventure, executed with care and shared with love.  Happy Birthday Mom!

Music for the Palate.

Once in awhile, I sit with my partner, and we invent a meal. I don’t mean that we work together in the kitchen, uh-uh, no-no,  let’s not get carried away!   
Last night, we discussed the two poussin (little baby chickens) that I had in the fridge and what should be done with them.  The concept revolved around roasted, spiced poussin, contrasted with pear.  We wanted the sweet of the pear to balance the heat of the spice. That part was easy; the discussion got a little more heated over the vegetables. He was holding out for crunchy potatoes; I made some parsley-garlic potatoes the other night that were addictive, and I think he was craving some more of those.  I thought parsley and garlic weren’t simpatico enough with the spices and the pear. I’m the chef. I won the argument: sautéed parsnips and swiss chard.
The consolation prize was that he got to pick the wine, and he chose brilliantly: a 1993 Gigondas.  We have some amazing goodies stashed away in the wine cellar, and every now and then, for no particular reason, we bring one up and drink it.

The poussin were rubbed with a dry spice combination of: cumin, ginger, Chinese 5 spice, coriander, adobe chili, salt and pepper. They were simply roasted with a whole clove of garlic inside.
The pears were tossed with the same spice rub, sautéed in a little butter, deglazed with some rum and then roasted.
The parsnips were simply sautéed in a little olive oil, and the swiss chard was treated to some onions and finished with a little balsamic vinegar.                           

The result? A waltz for the palate; the spices yielding and dipping to the pears, the parsnips eagerly engaging with the spices, and the chard acting as a friendly chaperone at the dance, giving the other flavors a chance to stand on their own.
The wine was simply amazing. It was a full symphony on the tongue, complex, assertive, but with that wonderful gentility that comes from an old world wine.
It’s not often that it all comes together like this, but when it does, sit back, recognize the moment and savor your good fortune.

Reasons to eat at home.

Reasons to eat-in.

Frank Bruni has written an entertaining article in today’s New York Times.   Seems he needed to vent about the uppity ways of our celebrity chefs.  Seems to me that he hit a nail on the head. First there was the ‘private number’…. If you really wanted a reservation at Balthazar that wasn’t at 5:00 or midnight, you needed to have the private number. Then the rules and regulations for reservations started to get more complex….now, you need a notepad to keep track of how, when and where you need to reconfirm your reservation. Ah, read the article yourself, its pretty funny and has the blog  world and eGullet  entertained.
Here’s another reason to eat in: now you can buy a reservation at some of the top tables. Prime Tables  is a website, "dining club' that will sell you reservations at major restaurants. You have to register on the site,  you don't use your own name for the reservation and it is forbidden to mention that the reservation came thru Prime Tables.  So, if you have a client, that absolutely has to eat at Per Se, your chances just got better. But, is this a good thing for the restaurant industry? Maybe the restaurants can cut out the middle man and just charge you a surcharge for premium time reservations? Maybe they can set up some complex sliding scale of restaurant prices depending on supply, demand and the way the wind is blowing, just like the airlines. Then we can have another industry of websites boasting that they can get you meals at French Laundry cheaper than anyone else. Oh, we could be on to something!

Tapas Night

December 28, 2006
We’ve almost hit maximum holiday food saturation levels. The “pleasure-o-meter”  is listing towards overload. It takes truly dedicated souls to sit down to yet-another-meal.
As it turns out, the spirit was willing, but the flesh needed some air. Translation: I was left with some new cookbooks, the crew needed to go walkabout. It was all good. I raided Lauren’s Tapas Cookbook, Nanci’s Artisanal Cookbook. , went to the Spanish gourmet store, made some friends at the Chinese wholesale lobster store, came home and worked on dinner.

Menu:
Fried almonds: these are way too good. Only make when you cannot resist the call for their oily-almondy-warm-crunchy-saltiness.

Chorizo: warm, toasty rounds of sausagey (yes, that’s a word) goodness

Lime drizzled shrimp: sounded good, but the recipe needs some BUMP

Serrano ham wrapped shrimp: oh boy, this is one of those better than the sum of its parts recipes. A perfect marriage of soft shrimp, crispy ham, tomatoes and capers. Need I say more?

Feisty potatoes: I fell for the name. Roast potatoes served with a roasted garlic aioli sauce and coated in a paprika/chili oil. Hello!

Clams and Pork: This is something I've eaten in Portugal. A truly perfect combination of tiny pork bits and briny clams.

Salt crusted chicken in a Diablo sauce: This chicken is divine. It truly is silky. The flesh is pale, pale, unsullied virgin white, a delicate wisp of flavor that gets boinked on the head by the Diablo sauce.  Don’t get me wrong, Diablo sauce is good, but it was an unnecessary rape of the virgin chicken.
Plus its fun to make. The chicken gets encased in a sort of Play Doh mixture...flour, salt, water, pepper corns, sage and then roasted.

I've posted my variation on this recipe, its fun and a great technique for infusing flavors into the chicken. Salt Crust Chicken

Christmas Eve 2006

 

 

Christmas Eve 2006
Our family celebrates the holiday meal on Christmas Eve. This year, just for the fun of it, I chronicled the events in the kitchen, all day long.  Every hour I tried to record the doings in the heart of the house.

9:20 am. Things are off to a slow start. Last night was the beginning of the gathering of the clan. My sister Nanci, and Pete, her husband came from Portland, Oregon. Curtis arrived with the lovely Lauren and Frankie the cat. My Mom was there. So we had a late evening of talk and wine and laughter and everyone slept in,  getting ready for today.
10:20 Still quiet but the troops are starting to rally
11:20 The coffee pot has been working overtime and Curtis is the only one still trying to stay in bed.  Celery root soup is on the stove. Fava beans are soaking.
12:20  Ahh….the age old tradition of gathering around the computer begins. 
1:20 A group of us gather upstairs to practice yoga. Much to the amazement of the others.
2:20  Steve, Taylor and Jeremy have arrived….and cries of hunger are heard.  A big plate of penne Bolognese quiets everyone down.
3:20  The poor chicken clock is looking like its having a hard day. Celery soup is strained. Dried tomatoes come out of the oven. I open my first present, “Popeil’s Polpo Pulverizer”. It’s a big rock to pulverize the octopus, just what I wanted! Thanks, Uncle Steve!!  Another crew heads out for some fresh air at the lake.
4:40  Its getting harder to move in the kitchen. Troops are lingering, gathering and standing in front of the cabinets. Nanci commands the counter top as she makes some almond candies.
5:20 Lauren whips the cream. Rita surveys the kitchen chaos.  The boys are bonding over a glass of wine and a "Dick in a Box".  If you haven't seen this little gem, you might want to take a peak. It kept the boys laughing and entertained all day, and most of the night.
6:20 Troops are getting restless. The cries of “When are we going to eat?” are getting louder.   The kitchen crew moves into the final phases. Quail stuffed with sausage and chestnuts, resting on a bed of potatoes and fennel. It’s time to open the Brutocao wine. Jeff opens his present from Curtis, a gorgeous hand blown wine decanter that Curtis has made.
7:30 Time to head towards the table. Places everyone.
Amuse: Pureed fava beans with oven dried tomato on toast
            Caviar cream on potato crisp
Soup: Celery root soup with frizzled leeks

Fish courses:  Sauteed shrimp
                     Octopus a al Divina  (tomato based, spicy octopus stew)
                     Sardelle in Saor (sardines with sweet/sour onions, currants and pine nuts)

Intermezzo.  Normally Intermezzo might be a little sorbet to cleanse your palate. In this case, the boys treat us to their rendition of “Dick in a Box”.  In normal circumstances, there should be a warning about “Adult Content”, but in this case, its strictly “Juvenile Content”!

Main Course: Roasted Stuffed Quail
                    Roast Potatoes and Fennel
                    Sauteed Brussels Sprouts (mmmm….brussel sprouts…)

10:25 Desserts!! Deborah treats us to a trio of fantastic tortas! Some  granitas: espresso and cream granita, fennel rum, and campari limonata. Little vin santo jellies with almond candies. This is a serious dessert table.
12:30 am. The ragazzi have gone off to do whatever it is that ragazzi do. And this is the part of the evening, where over a little glass of desert wine, we kick back and figure out how to solve the world’s problems.  Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.