Aroma Cucina

Recipe for Sunday Lunch: Slow Roasted Suckling Pig Leg With Friends, Fava Beans and a nice Chianti.

Carpe Diem! Sometimes you have to seize the moment, and when the local EuroSpin had a suckling pig leg on sale, it just had to come home with me.  And you can’t eat pig leg all by yourself, because wouldn’t that just make you a little piggy?  Which meant we had to invite some friends over, which suits us just fine on a Sunday afternoon. See how one little impulse buy has so many pleasant consequences!

I’ll admit to being a wee-wee-wee bit nervous about cooking my baby pig leg. The butcher at the ‘Spin told me to cook in a little wine and it would be buona!
The Euro Spin  is a chain of grocery stores in Italy, but they use local purveyors and have real butchers.  They also have the most spectacularly dangerous parking lot entrances; there must be a franchise rule that states the entrance to all parking lots is to have a partially obscured view of oncoming traffic. Maybe they’ve done research, and a pounding heart and racing adrenaline are good for business.

Roast meat is an Umbrian tradition, and although I trust the butcher at the “Spin,  in the hands of the wrong Umbrian you get very dry, over done roast meat. Or perhaps, that’s part of the tradition and I just haven’t gotten used to gnawing through a breast of chicken?  

Regardless, I was sticking to my American roots and wanted soft, suckling pig. Which meant a long, slow roast (200F/93C for 4 hours) so the leg could bathe in it’s own fat, and the collagen would melt instead of constrict. I put lots of salt on the  thick skin side, some young garlic cloves in slits in the meat, laid the leg on a bed of dried fennel stalks and bay leaves, sprinkled some fennel pollen over the leg, added a few good sized glugs of white wine, and sealed the  roasting pan shut with aluminum foil and a promise not to peak until at least 3 hours had gone by.  I confess I got a little nervous when I couldn’t smell anything after 3 hours, but when I lifted the aluminum seal, there was the leg, all plump and juicy.  About 15 minutes before serving the ‘miaiolino’ I cranked up the heat and browned the skin. This was more for eye appeal, because I really didn’t think any of us would be gnawing on baby big skin when the meat was so tender.

But, man does not live by pig alone, so we needed some side dishes.
Artichoke soup: this is a soup you do not want to make. (Note the soup theme: one you can’t have, one you can easily make and this pain in the neck soup that would be fine if you had unpaid slave labor).  Gently simmer about 8 chopped and cleaned small artichokes, toss in a carrot and some celery and let simmer for about an hour. Puree the bejeezus out of the vegetables and you’ll get a thick, fibrous soup-paste. Yum. To turn the soup from fibrous to velvet, you’ll have to push the soup through a tami or drum sieve. Even with energetic music pumping, rubbing artichoke soup through a tami is just not my idea of a good time. Although the results were lovely served with a juicy lemon slice and some good olive oil.


Cavatelli pasta with spring vegetables. The first step is to make some cavatelli pasta, which is quicker and easier than it sounds. Make a basic fresh pasta dough (2 parts flour, 1 part egg). Let the dough sit for half an hour while you tami that damn artichoke soup.
When you are ready, roll the dough into a long cigar shape, cut off little coin size blobs of dough and press and roll the pasta pieces down the nifty little cavatelli board into little ridged, sauce catching cavatelli. Cover and refrigerate until you are ready to cook them.

For the sauce, caramelize a batch of sliced red onions in white wine, taking care not to let them pass the point of caramel into cinder which is what I almost did! Clean some fava, shell some peas, chop some tomatoes, toast a few pine nuts, toss together in a sauce pan with the cooked pasta and you have cavatelli primavera.

For additional side dishes, invite generous friends who can cook and come bearing romano flat beans with pancetta and tomato and spinach studded with cumin seeds.

Pour some of that nice Chianti, relax and enjoy. That’s what Sunday’s are for.  And being reminded that the next Sunday is now 6 days away, just seems so unfair.

Eating Alberto Il Magnifico: from beak to tail.

Alberto Il Magnifico was a capon, raised with loving care and surrounded by our growing appetites.
In case you are wondering, a capon is a castrated rooster. According to Wiki, the Romans ‘invented‘ capons as a way to get around grain rationing for chickens. Those crafty Romans would snip the little testicles off their roosters, feed them grain and they would grow to be twice the size of a chicken.  And here is your word for the day: caponization. Yup, that means snipping off of the balls. Now, use it in a sentence and report back.

Our friend Paddy struck a deal with me one extremely hot evening in July: he would raise the capons, and I would cook them. Seeing as how I was getting the far better part of this deal, we shook hands and Paddy raised Alberto from scruffy chick to Il Magnifco status.

Last week, the phone call came: it was time for Alberto to serve a higher purpose.
Put sentimentality aside for the moment. It costs money and time to raise birds; it’s been raised to be eaten, and there comes a time when the investment must pay off. If you are of the sentimental type, don’t name the animal. We cried for weeks when it was time for Cream Puff the bull to be made into short ribs.


Alberto was dispatched quickly with one shot, so there was no fear, anxiety or adrenaline rushing through his body. Paddy’s beautiful wife Tita did the plucking, and I must say, she is a master plucker. Not a stray pin feather to be found. (Jay..are you paying attention?)

Alberto was handed off to us in a plastic bag in a parking lot. What an ignoble setting for such a magnificent bird; he should have come to us on a silver platter surrounded by cooing doves who spoke of him in soft tones. Actually the plastic bag worked just fine because we’d never be able to fit a covy of doves into the trunk of my little roadster. In fact, poor Alberto had to ride home wedged in the front seat between my legs because he couldn’t fit in the trunk.

Paddy and I had gone back and forth on how to roast him, and we finally settled on a Renaissance-inspired glaze of honey and spices with a shot of whiskey.

Alberto was given a soothing brine bath for about two hours to let the salt do its magic and seal in the juices. I stuffed the cavity with a small, sweet orange and bunches of thyme, rosemary and sage from our garden. The skin was generously salted and Alberto was ready for roasting.

In the meantime I roasted some potatoes, made a fennel gratin, a large green salad and heaps of artichokes, so that Alberto would have plenty of company on the dinner table.

About half an hour before Alberto was done, I began painting him in 10 minute intervals with the glaze until his skin turned a dark, crackling mahogany color.

There were many glasses of wine drunk in his honor and we still sing his praises.
His bones were turned into broth, the left over scraps of meat were fed to our appreciative feline friends Niccolino and Raffaello.

Since then we’ve had capon broth risotto, and a most outstanding tortellini in capon broth, the spices from the glaze still wafting through the soup in a tantalizing way.

Spiced Honey Glaze
1/2 cup honey
1/4 teaspoon strong cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon all spice
a few scrapes of nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon powdered ginger or a few slices of fresh ginger
4-5 juniper berries
1 chili pepper
1 shot whiskey

Over low heat, melt the honey and add the spices and chili pepper, let simmer for 5-10 minutes. Add the whiskey and let simmer for another few minutes until the glaze is dark and thick.

Let the bird roast until nearly done and then pull it from the oven and paint the glaze over the entire bird. Repeat two or three times until you have a dark crust on the bird.

Alberto, you were and always will be Il Magnifico!

Dinner Power & A Beer Can Chicken

While our son was growing up, we worked crazy long hours. I’m not complaining, just stating a fact. One other fact of our life is that we always ate dinner together. Even if it meant me riding my bike home from Gleason’s Boxing Gym like a mad woman to get to Gourmet Garage before it closed, then making dinner by 9:30; that’s what happened at our house most every night.
I don’t think any of us ever really thought about it too much; it’s just the way it was. We watched a movie together while we ate, checked to make sure homework was done. Regular stuff.
Dinner has always been our connection time and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. We were creating bonds; just enjoying each other’s company at the end of the day. Nothing unusual about it; until you consider all the people I know who don’t eat together. Apparently that’s the trend. And that’s sad and crazy.

Fast forward about 6 or 7 years...Curtis is all grown up and living in Philadelphia. Last weekend he invited me over for dinner..no occasion, just dinner. I get a text message: “Oysters?”  Hell yeah! Who can turn down that sort of dinner invite??   “Beer can chicken?” came the next text. Well, I was a beer can chicken virgin and I thought it was time to see what all the fuss was about.

The oysters were superb: plump, full of brine, sweet. And washed down with a pink Cava, and chili pepper flecked mignonette, just about perfect.

But things got interesting when we pulled the beer can chicken off the grill. I didn’t know what to expect; how could a chicken be on the grill for so long and still be moist? Apparently that’s the miracle of the beer can, it literally steams and infuses the chicken with flavor. I know. I know. I’m late to the party. I’m not a beer drinker, so the whole idea seemed sort of....college frat boy.

It’s not. It’s a jumping off point for me to start exploring steaming foods. Recently I scoffed at someone on Mouthfuls asking about steaming a chicken. “Why would you want to?”, I asked.  I’m imagining pale white, flavorless meat.
Then I listened to Paula Wolfert extol the virtues of Moroccan style steamed foods. And finally, faced with a blackened beer can that had been extracted from the chicken, the light bulb went off.

I want to line up 4 or 5 chickens and do a taste test experiment. Would Guinness make more of a statement than Coors Lite? What about earl grey tea and ginger? What about wine and herbs? Is there a way to get a crispy skin on a beer can chicken?

So, do me a favor. Save up your empty beer cans, send me some, you keep some, and let’s have some fun experimenting!

PS It’s a good feeling to know that we’ve passed on the dinner gene to the spawn of our loins. Dinners are good.

Authentic Montone Mexican

What does ‘authentic’ mean? People exult in finding an authentic Indian restaurant, or Chinese or Mexican or Italian, but what does that mean?
Bufalo mozzarella, shipped to the US, is absolutely made in Italy, but by the time it gets to the States..it’s old mozzarella. Wouldn’t it be more true to the Italian spirit to find a good local mozzarella maker and eat super fresh cheese?  I think so.

The reason people travel is to experience new places, new flavors. If you eat a delicious  linguine made with clams from the Adriatic while you are in Italy, then go back home and make the dish with clams from the North Atlantic, is the dish no longer authentic? The recipe is authentic, but the ingredients aren’t from the Adriatic. More importantly, does it matter? Not if it’s delicious.

Which means the Montone-Mexican dinner John and Libby made on Sunday night was completely authentic in spirit because it was delicious, casual, noisy, festive and did I mention delicious?

Jeff shook up some frosty cold Margurita’s on the roof, just as the sun went down.

Hand made tortillas, made from masa carried over from the States.

A richly flavored pork and guajillo chile stew, accented with charred tomatoes and onions. YUM.

Saffron rice and black beans. Green and red chili peppers from our orto, stuffed with a mild Italian caciotta cheese and prosciutto...surely that’s Mexican in spirit?

Was our dinner authentic? If Mexicans enjoy a tasty, casual, raucous dinner...then our dinner was Mexican in every respect.

Roasted Quail & Spiced Peaches: A Recipe from the Gods

Our knowledge of flavor is the sum of all things we have ever tasted. A recipe is not a free standing list of ingredients and instructions; it’s the result of experience, memories, and desire.
You are never, ever alone in the kitchen.

There is always a noisy crowd of tastes clamoring for attention, like a Greek chorus in the background. Last night they were chanting, “You love chili peppers. Jeff loves chili peppers. Spice tonight.”

 On the other side of the kitchen is experience and memory. LIke salt and pepper, they work in tandem: always there, always needed.  I thought of how well chili peppers play with sweet, like two friends running down the street, sometimes one leads, sometimes the other.

And finally, there is the great goddess Serendipity, and she controls the random fact that you have a lot of ripe peaches on hand, and some quail, and both need to be eaten.

I have another kitchen god, a benevolent, but demanding, randy little fellow who keeps an eye on me. I don’t know his name, he’s sly that way, but watches over all the comings and goings, and smiles the most when the kitchen is humming with noise and people.

So, you see? You’re never alone in the kitchen. Which is my long winded way of explaining how we ate Roasted Quail with Spiced Peaches, and Chili Crusted Potatoes for dinner.
I heeded the chili siren song, and paid homage to Serendipity, so all was delicious in our house last night.

Roasted Quail & Spiced Peaches
4 quail, cleaned, washed and ready
1 t of “Ras el Hanout” *see note
1/2 t of powdered chili
2 gorgeous, full, ripe, juicy peaches, cut into slices.
1 drizzle of olive oil
1-2 dried chili peppers (optional)
1 knob of butter
1 glug of whiskey.

Preheat oven to 350F/180C
Lay the sliced peaches on the bottom of a small roasting pan. They should cover the bottom of the pan.
Combine the Ras el Hanout spice mix, chili powder, and salt and rub the quail on all sides.
Place the quail on top of the peaches.
Roast until the quail are done, brown and crispy on the outside and the juices run clear when you tip the bird over. Approx 30-40 minutes.

Remove the birds from the roasting pan and keep warm.
Place the roasting pan, with the peaches on the stove and reduce the liquid. If the peaches start to fall apart, remove them from the sauce. 
Taste the liquid, if you like more heat, add 1-2 crushed, dried, whole chili peppers.
Reduce the cooking liquid until you have only 2-3 tablespoons of liquid. Add a short glug of whisky, cook for 1 more minute, then swirl in the knob of butter.
Arrange the quail on top of the roasted peaches and serve with sauce on the side.

*Ras el Hanout, or Rasel Hannout is a North African blend of ground spices. Spice shops make their own variation and the one that I use has: ground anise, fennel, allspice, cardamon, clove, black pepper, cinnamon, coriander, cumin, ginger & nutmeg. It’s the kitchen sink of aromatic spices and is widely considered to be an aphrodisiac. Use generously.

Chili-Crusted Potatoes
2-3 medium potatoes, cut into thick wedges
1/2 t chili powdered
1/2  t smoked paprika
1/2 t salt
2-3 cloves of garlic, peeled and sliced
Olive oil

Wash the potatoes, cut into wedges and par boil in salted water for 3-5 minutes.
Add the sliced garlic to the boiling potato water right about a minute after the potatoes have come to a boil. 
Drain.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and mound the spices on the paper.
Place the drained potatoes and garlic slices on the mound, and using the paper, roll the spuds around until they are coated with the chili/salt mixture. Spread the potatoes out in a single layer, drizzle with a teeny tiny amount of olive oil and roast until crispy. This will take about 30 minutes, or about as long as the quail takes to roast.

Serve with a smile and remember to thank the God, Goddess and Chorus for keeping you company.

Buon’Appetito!

Seared Pork a la minute!

 
A pork chop is like a blank canvas. Seasoned with a sprinkle of salt and a twist of pepper, it’s the perfect foil for creating a meal of the moment, or as zee French say, “a la minute”. That’s an expression that has fallen out of style, but I wonder why. What is more contemporary than making a quick sauce from ingredients you have on hand, in the same pan you cooked the pork chop? Quick, economical, inclined to be seasonal; I say it’s time we resurrect ‘a la minute’ cooking.

Getting back to that pork chop: pork is a chameleon meat. From prosciutto to bacon, from roast pork to pig foot, there is no part of the pig that isn’t revered by someone. Pork has the capacity to change its texture and flavor with very subtle enhancements.

Take salumi for example; they are all made pretty much the same way:  grind the meat to varying  textures, add a few seasonings, hang to dry. But change the humidity, or add a little bit of fennel, or wine,  and the flavor changes radically.

I think that’s why I love pork so much; how can you tire of something that is so versatile, you could eat it for a year and never make it the same way twice?  A ‘mixed grill’ on a menu in Umbria means mixed cuts of pork, with the very daring chef adding a piece of .... chicken!

Last night’s a la minute inspiration was:

Seared Pork with Artichokes and Aioli Pureed Potatoes.

2 pork chops, with the bone in and a bit of fat
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
5-6 artichoke hearts, roughly chopped
1 good shot of grappa
1 T butter
1T mustard
Squeeze of fresh lemon juice

Salt and pepper the pork chops. Heat a saute pan until it’s good and hot. Do not add any oil to the pan, just drop the chops in and let them saute until they form a little crust, then turn the chops and cook until done. A 1/2” chop will take about 5-7 minutes.

Remove the chops from the pan and keep warm.

Turn the heat down and add the artichoke hearts, garlic, mustard and stir,  allowing the garlic to soften but not burn. Add the grappa and cook until it disappears. Remove the pan from the heat and add the butter, swirling until it melts. Squeeze a good squirt of lemon juice into the pan. Taste and adjust if you need more salt or pepper.

Spoon the artichoke sauce over the meat and enjoy!

For the aioli potatoes, I had some leftover smoked paprika & garlic aioli. I made the pureed potatoes like I normally do: boiled and then pushed through a ricer with a tiny bit of milk. When I served the potatoes, I made a hole in the middle and filled it with the aioli.  You know, like when you were a kid and you made a mashed potato swimming pool and filled it with gravy? Same idea, only the pool wasn’t so deep, as a little aioli goes a long way!

Buon appetito!

Cooking with Mangoes: Crispy Chicken & Mango Salsa

Rich, sweet, silky mango paired with chile spiked, crispy skinned chicken. It’s a perfect study in contrasts: sweet v. salty, crispy v. silky, sweet v. sour. It’s not a knock down, it’s a love fest.

Still in the throes of Duc Tran’s Asian Fusion Confusion, I came home from Austin with a  taste for mangoes. But, mangoes paired with heat and spice.

You should know, that in 4 days in Austin, I had a cumulative 8 hours of sleep, so Delirium may have been my muse. Turns out she can be such a lovely muse.

Crispy Chicken & Mango Salsa

Mango Salsa
1 perfectly ripe mango
1 fresh shiso leaf
Chopped garlic, ginger, onion
Dash of hot sauce
Fresh lime juice

Cut the mango into small cubes.
Thinly slice (julienne) the shiso leaf.
Finely mince a tiny bit of garlic, onion and ginger, add a small amount of hot sauce or  chili pepper.
Toss together and moisten with fresh squeezed lime juice. You don’t want to cover or mask the sweetness of the mango, you just want to boost it.
Let the mango salsa sit for at least 20 minutes or the time it takes to cook the chicken.



Crispy Chicken
1-2 butterflied, boned, chicken legs

Dry rub: Equal parts salt, adobe chile, and smoked Spanish paprika

Preheat oven to 390F/199C. Use the convection oven option if you have it.

LIne a roasting pan with parchment paper. Lay the boned chicken legs on the pan and sprinkle with the dry rub.

Roast for about 20 minutes. Finish for the last 1-3 minutes under the broiler to crisp the skin.


Serve on a warm plate, with the cool salsa and have a fine time tonight!  I’d recommend a light, fresh red wine like a grenache to make the dinner sing.
Buon appettio!

Rastafar-Asian Fusion Confusion

 Asian fusion confusion on a pork chop! Inspired by Vietnamese chef Duc Tran, who is the epitome of fusion. The guy has worked in Texas, Latin America, New Zealand, Australia, Europe and Japan and has two world class restaurants named after Mangos in Hoi An Viet Nam. That’s enough to confuse anyone.

He’s going to be in Austin at the IACP conference and as I’m introducing his session, I thought I’d do a little research. He’s my kinda chef and this video is what inspired last night’s Asian Confusion pork chop dish.

In a small bowl of fresh lime juice I macerated: a dry chili pepper, sliced garlic, and sliced ginger. Then I added a few shots of soy sauce, rice wine vinegar and a squirt of chili sauce.  I dry pan seared the pork chop and then finished the sauce with a good shot of brown rum and a swirl of butter and topped with pistachio nuts. Oh yeah!  

It tasted like Asia meeting Jamaica. Lime juice loves rum, lime juice loves soy and ginger, so it’s not a stretch to pull it all together.  That’s why I love to travel; you never know what surprises are in store. And you know I worship at the altar of the Goddess Serendipity! She’s always been good to me.

Have a good week everyone!
Wishing Jeff and Raffaello  a “buon viaggio” as they go back to Montone to check up on our orto, and maybe take a little motorcycle giro.

 I’m planning on tasting some earth shaking BBQ in Austin and hoping there will be some other tasty surprises!

Kitchen Wizard's Secret Weapon for Divine Dinners

What is the emergency, go-to, secret weapon that I try to keep in my fridge at all times? And it’s not ketchup, although mustard takes second place. First place goes to:....Veal Stock!

If Merlin the Magician waved his wand in your kitchen, he would give you this Secret Weapon.  It’s the painter’s white canvas, it’s the keyboard to your computer, it’s  butter on your toast, the magic in your saute pan.

Michael Ruhlman compares it to turbo charging your Mitsubishi... your kitchen is now faster and more fuel efficient.

It’s a flavor bump, adding depth and intensity to a sauce. It’s the umami bridge that literally blends the components of your dish together.

There is a toll to be paid in order to enjoy all this fast freedom: you need to make some veal stock.
I hear you.. where can I find veal bones? At your butcher, you should be patronizing a butcher anyway.

They’re expensive compared to chicken bones. Correct! But, you’ll get extensive use from the bones, it’s worth the $$.
It takes hours to make it. Correct again, but it’s not like your standing next to the oven, frozen in time, while the bones are roasting. Stop whining.

The How-To of Making Reduced Veal Stock Kitchen Magic:
4-5 lb veal bones
1 large carrot
1 large onion
3-4 ribs of celery
Peppercorns,  salt, vegetable oil, herbs(rosemary, thyme, sage)
1/2 can canned tomatoes
4-5 good sized glugs of white wine, enough to cover the bottom of the roasting pan

In a large roasting pan, lay out the bones and lightly salt and pepper them. Roast the bones for about 1 hour at 350F/180C. Remove from the oven when they are toasty brown and the smell is intoxicating.

Meanwhile, roughly chop the peeled carrot, celery and onion. Add a little vegetable oil to the bottom of a large stock pot and add the chopped vegetables, another sprinkle of salt, a small palmful of peppercorns, and a bit of rosemary and thyme.
Saute until the vegetables are a  little burned, this caramelization adds color and flavor to the broth.
Add the roasted meat bones to the stock pot.
Using white wine, deglaze the veal bone roasting  pan, dissolving all the tasty browny bits and add the wine and meat juices to the stock pot.
Add enough cold water to the stock pot that you cover the bones.
Lightly simmer for about 2 hours. That means little bubbles gently swimming to the top of the pot. Skim off any of that icky foam.
After two hours,  first remove and discard the bones. Then strain the stock through a fine mesh colander and pour the strained stock back into the pot. (It’s much easier to strain the stock if you pull the big bones out first, less mess and less weight to deal with.  Reserve the bones for a worthy dog.)

Add 1/2 cup canned tomatoes, turn up the heat to a slow boil,  and start reducing the stock.
 After boiling for about an hour, strain the liquid once more and move to a smaller pot. Continue reducing until the stock liquid  become thick enough to coat a wooden spoon, and the boiling bubbles look like syrup.
Reducing time will depend on how much water was in the stock pot to begin with and the temperature you are using to reduce the stock, but plan on a few hours.
Be careful, because at this syrupy stage, you could burn your precious elixir and that would be a real drag.
When you have the stock reduced to about 1 1/2 cups of liquid, carefully pour it into a very clean jar.
Let it cool, then refrigerate the stock. The fat will come to the top and you can remove it later.  What’s left, is Veal Kitchen Magic.  It will keep in your fridge for 3-4 weeks; just be sure to use a clean spoon every time so no other food particles can contaminate it and encourage mold.


What to do with Veal Kitchen Magic:
Saute a a piece of pork, a piece of codfish (yes, it works very well with a meaty fish), chicken breasts, turkey bits. Whatever protein strikes your fancy. Remove the protein from the sauce pan, keeping the meat or fish on a warm plate, add flavoring like chopped mushrooms, a splash of wine and a teaspoon or so of Veal Kitchen Magic to the saute pan. Swirl these ingredients around in a pan, voila!,  you have your sauce a la minute.

Pork chops with green peppercorns: Once the pork chops are cooked, add green peppercorns, mustard, your veal kitchen magic and a shot of whiskey to the pan. Cook for 45 seconds, remove and pour over the pork chops.

Lemon Chicken breasts: Remove the cooked chicken breasts from the pan, add veal kitchen magic, a glug or two of white wine, deglaze the pan, finish with the juice of a fresh squeezed lemon. Add capers if you are feeling happy.

Codfish Delight: Remove the codfish from the pan. Add chopped mushrooms, veal magic, lots of fresh pepper, a little white wine. Cook until the mushrooms are soft, finish with a squirt of lemon juice.

It all builds off the basic saute and stock. It’s like a painter’s white canvas,  it’s like playing jazz in your kitchen. It’s your secret weapon.
This blog post was inspired by a class I gave on Saturday. I hope you guys had as much fun as I did!

Fried Food Extravaganza: Crispy Bunny

Let’s face it. Fried food tastes good. A few times a year I need a fried food fix and I don’t think it’s the end of the world.

Preparing a fried food extravaganza takes a little planning, but if it’s done right, you only have one pot to clean and some collateral splatters.

Safety first. Organize what you are making so that the counter is clutter free and you aren’t grabbing for something. Get your mise on. “Mise en place”: having all the ingredients ready and laid out before you heat the oil. Long hair, floppy sleeves and the cat laying in the middle of the kitchen floor...they all have to go.

Arrange your ingredients in fry order: protein first, then arrange to have the most delicate items fried last.

Our recent fried feast was: rabbit pieces (better than chicken!), potatoes, onion rings and artichoke hearts.

Prep:
The rabbit: cut the bunny up into smallish pieces and soak in milk. Pour 1/2 cup of flour, some salt, pepper and lots of fennel pollen into a plastic bag. Drain the rabbit pieces, put them in the bag and shake to coat. Lay the floured bunny bits on a plate.

The potatoes: Thinly slice and soak in a bowl of cold water. Change the water at least twice. The excess starch will wash off leaving you with a crisper slice.

The onions: Thickly slice and separate into chunky rings.

The artichokes: I had frozen artichoke hearts in the freezer because it’s National Frozen Food Month and I wanted to be patriotic. Blanch the frozen hearts in boiling water and drain.

The batter: Take about a cup of flour and whisk in just enough cold water to make a batter that has the consistency of heavy cream.  Whisk an egg white to stiff peaks and add to the batter.

The Fry:
In a deep pan, like a Dutch oven, add enough vegetable oil that the rabbits bits will be submerged.  Heat to 350F. Use a thermometer. If the oil is too cold, you’ll end up with soggy fried food, if it’s too hot you’ll incinerate the outside and have raw meat on the inside.
 
Working in batches, fry the rabbit until golden brown. Keep warm in a hot oven. I set the oven at 350F just to be sure the rabbit was fully cooked. Remove from the oil when done, drain on a paper towel and keep warm in the oven.
Fry the potatoes for about 2-3 minutes, until they turn slightly translucent. Remove from the oil and drain. Don’t worry, they’re going back in for a second fry at the very end. That’s the secret to extra crispy: double fry.

The onions are next. Divide the batter into two batches. For the onion batch add a good shake of smoke pimento and hot chili powder to the batter. Coat the onions and fry until golden brown. Drain and keep warm in the oven.

For the artichokes you could add some zested lemon peel to the batter or a little chopped mint or both. Fry until golden brown, drain and keep warm in the oven.

Give the potatoes a second fry. They will cook much faster so work in batches and keep an eye on them so they don’t burn. Remove, drain and add to the fried food platter.

Generously salt everything on the platter. Finish with zested lemon peel and some finely chopped parsley.

Open a beer, a bottle of chilled white wine and enjoy the feast.

And for those Pulp Fiction fans, not only does fried food taste good, but pork chops taste good, bacon tastes good...! Enjoy. In moderation. Of course.