Aroma Cucina

The To-Do List, and Bonnie Slotnick

We all have them. I have to-do lists with sub-sub categories, from the 'must do today' list, to the 'must do before we leave NY', to the 'before I die' list.
I’m not exactly sure which list Bonnie Slotnick’s Cookbook store was on; the 'before we leave NY', or the 'before I die' list, but as I was zooming down 10th St. on my bicycle, on my way to the library, there it was!
It’s a tiny, narrow store, with very high ceilings, and the books are stacked from floor to ceiling leaving Ms. Slotnick a small spot for her desk. New, used, archaic, historical, silly, professional, international, memoirs; it’s an eclectic mix of culinary wonderment. Two women walked in while I was there, took a look around and backed out, saying they were overwhelmed. Wimps! Slow down for a moment, and savor what is around you!
I scored a Ken Albala book, “Eating Right in the Renaissance”, for only $20! As someone who has lusted, but cannot afford his books, this is a rare treat.
What took me so long to go there?
Bonnie Slotnick Cookbooks
165 W. 10th St.
NY, NY. 10014
Open 1-7 most days.
212-989-8962

Mother's Weekend

Hope it was a Happy Mother’s Day for all of those who celebrated. Our weekend was one of those ‘best laid plans oft go astray’ weekends, and once again I pay homage to the goddess of serendipity!
Saturday we biked from downtown to the far reaches of uptown, stopping to eat BBQ at the Dinosaur BBQ in West Harlem. A street side musician, a funky old building, excellent ribs, noisy tables, and I almost thought I was in New Orleans.
Next we headed to the Guggenheim museum where our eyes opened and minds exploded. The exhibit by the artist Cai Guo Qiang is astounding. If you are in NYC, go see this exhibit; the man’s creative spirit is infectious. Between running with the wolves and playing with explosives, it was pure inspiration.
Saturday night dinner was a calm dinner at home with a chance to catch up with a friend, who is now as intrigued by cocktails and gin as we are. 
Sunday, the official Mother’s Day, became Paella Sunday, with my son and his beautiful girlfriend chopping, dicing and laughing. Is there a better time to be had than when the kitchen is so full of people that you can’t turn around? Not for me. Although being presented with a big platter of fresh oysters is pretty good too!

Started as a simple dinner

It was supposed to be a simple dinner, old friends, new friends, a chance to relax. Somehow it turned into a grand dinner, and I didn't realize how grand until Elaine e-mailed me. What a dinner! What a night!

E-mail from Elaine Tin Nyo:
I had dinner tonight at Jude and Jeff's.
Guests included Wil, Andrew, Deborah and Andrew and Deborah's new kitten, Mouse.
Jude made a lovely dinner of shortribs braised with tomatoes and scented with bayleaves, rosemary and cinnamon, along with sauteed green beans, and Lebanese couscous with citrus rind and a bit of olive oil.
We drank Montepulciano d'abruzzo.
Delicous! We were feeling no pain.
Then Wil pulled out his cheese board and gave us a tour. Petite Billy from Bretonny. Constant Bliss from Jasper Hill (VT), a dry, nutty, washed-rind sheep milk cheese from Catalonia, another cheese with a yellowish rind from the lichen in the diet of the Corsican sheep, and finally a Blue from Oregon with malty overtones. We talk about the various ways a rind is developed. Jude had made a crusty, round loaf of native yeast bread (deriving a yeast mother from the Soho air). Now, fully educate by Wil, we had our way with the cheeses, and we became giddy.
Early in the evening there had been talk about a treehouse of epic proportions built by an army of friends for their now grown son. It was designed by a ship builder on stilts so it could sway with the trees it was build among. One get's the feeling there is always more than enough at Jude and Jeff's table (in every way). And I am enthralled to them for their open hearts and humor because that nourishes me most. I love everyone and every cat at that perfect moment. And then Jude serves the salad of baby arugula, oranges and shaved fennel and we punch through to a higher plane. Someone is sharing stories about almost killing his then five year old son in a kayak. We are talking about the art of affinage. How Pecorino is originally Sardinian. I am convinced and bullied that I might learn to ski in Snowbird this winter. And then Wil who has been standing at the kitchen counter puts a spatula in my face and I lick it. My mouth is filled with buttercream with bits of praline. He has been
plating desserts from Blackhound pattiserie. Suddenly there is a sea of desserts (lots of buttercream and chocolate and raspberries and strawberries) on the table now, along with fresh mangos. After a mouthful of each, I surrender, "I have officially had too much sugar. One more bite and I will be running with scissors." That is when Wil confides about hanging out with the nuns during after school detention. Nuns without their habits on.
There are pictures of Jude and Jeff's house in Umbria. How can I not visit them this summer? By now Mouse is exhausted from a night of climbing new furniture and stalking the two Abbyssinians. And we say our "so-longs."
Here, 140 blocks north, I am in recovery. The skin is stretched tight against my belly. I can thump it like a watermelon. What delicious discomfort.

E.

Good Dumpling House

One of the benefits of living downtown is our proximity to Chinatown, where it is easy to find good eats.  I don’t normally write about restaurants, but our local go-to lunch place, the Good Dumpling House is an exception.  It’s a trifecta: quick, inexpensive and delicious. 
We went in the other day for some of those steamed pork and chive dumplings and I happened to have my camera in hand. Our waiter/cook friend, depending on the day, he can either be chopping away in his chef attire or else he is nattily dressed as the head waiter, saw my camera and realized this was a chance for a little publicity.
The Good Dumpling House is a very modest establishment, but they truly care about their dumplings and the astonishing amount of foot traffic they get is testimony to the quality of their dumplings. And their shark fin soup isn’t bad either!

Good Dumpling House, 214 Grand St. Chinatown, NYC

Soft Shell Crabs

They don’t have soft shells in Italy. But, they are in season in New York, so we are eating them now, before we head back to the Old Country.
Soft shells are supposed to be best when harvested during a full moon, and we’re only at half moon; but these guys we had this weekend, were soft, and plump and juicy and tasty. Served with a little lemon and parsley aioli. Yum.

Everyone has a favorite way to prepare them. What’s yours? 

Home Cured Pancetta

You have to love dinner guests who show up toting a bag of home cured bacon, lardon and pancetta! My dear friend Dario, and new friend Rebecca came bringing the fruits of their labor, and it is indeed wonderful.  There has to be something so satisfying about curing your own pork products, you control how you want it to taste and what goes into it.
When I mentioned to our son that Dario was curing meat in his apartment, Curtis’s first reaction was “ACK! That has to stink.”  But, I’ve been assured that it doesn’t stink, but is in fact, a delicious aroma. 
The first time I thought about curing pork was in 2006 when I read Bill Buford’s article in the New Yorker magazine. The part about getting the pig home on a bicycle sounds just like something that I would try to do.  I’ve carried home some pretty amazing things on my bike, but never a pig.

Happy Dance

We had a houseful of friends and family all weekend long and it was wonderful, so that’s a very good reason to be doing the happy dance. But truth be told, I started doing the happy dance at the Fairway supermarket, where we stopped to stock up for the weekend. Fresh fave beans! Fresh young peas! Little red onions! The vegetables all knew it was spring, and Easter weekend, and they were there and ready to be eaten.  I love my protein, but knowing that good vegetables are there for eating, just makes me happy.

We started on Friday night with those fresh fave beans. Fave is more than one fava bean, at least in Italian. The easiest way to shell them is over steam.  I set up a colander in a pot of low boiling water, and working in small batches, first remove the outer large pod, and then the individual, thick waxy shell around the bean.  They don’t require a long cooking time, and unlike dried fave beans, they are not starchy. They are more like eating fresh peas.  I simply poached them in a little butter and served them along with some itsy bitsy veal chops and a red wine risotto. A fine way to kick off a great weekend.

Celebrities and Roots

Rebecca Traister wrote a thought provoking article in Salon magazine about our waning interest in celebrities. She muses about our loss of interest in Britney, our collective shrug at the antics of The Famous.  At the same time, everywhere you look is an article about gardens, community gardens,  roof top gardens, container gardens, and blogs that even mention turning housing developments back into pastures.
Is there a connection? Are we as a nation actually tired of the trivial and the superficial and now looking to literally put roots in the ground? Planting a garden requires time, energy, you get dirty, sweaty, frustrated and occasionally rewarded. 
Two summers ago, my teen-aged nephew visited us in Italy. He had a ball helping us in the garden; he was totally entertained by the bizarre corkscrew carrots we grew. (Umbrian dirt is incredibly hard and clumped, the poor carrots had to grow their way through the spaces between the clumps.)  But, will that excitement lead to a lasting interest in gardening? Will having a  garden become a trend or a fleeting phase?  How serious are we about turning our backs on celebrity dirt and shoveling some real dirt?
Either way, for me, it will be more interesting to watch this evolve than it will be for me to read yet again about stains on Monica’s dress or Drew’s weight loss.

Aperitivo Anyone?

It’s that time of year again. I smell a little spring in the air and it’s time to think about going back to Italy. What I’d give right now for an aperitivo in the piazza. And a slice of prosciutto. And a little gossip about what’s been going on all winter in Montone. The long dark days are over and some of our friends are already heading back to Italy. We’re like some seasonal herd that feels the mystical pull to return to the Mother Country.
We’ll be heading back soon enough, but in the meantime, I’d sure like a little aperitivo to pass the time.

Poached Lobster

After a month of rough, feed your face kind of cooking, I came back and immediately wanted to make something light, and complex with fresh ingredients. Poached lobster seemed like the perfect dish. I’ve made butter poached lobster and it is heart stoppingly rich and decadent, but that’s not what I was craving. Instead I played with poaching the lobster in court bullion, white wine and a bit ginger, then finished with some fresh lime peel. Served with some basmati rice, it fit the bill perfectly.  Next time I’ll highlight the citrus/ginger combination a bit more and cut back on the bullion, but poaching lobster is well worth the prep time involved.

To poach a lobster: place the live lobsters in the freezer for about ½ hour to 45 minutes, depending on their size. When they are really sluggish, take them out, lay flat on their backs on the counter and using a large, sharp chef knife, cut the lobster firmly down the middle from the head to the tail. Do it quick. Do it clean. It’s kind of creepy because the fins and claws will still be moving but the animal is dead, and lobsters don’t have a central nervous system so you have in fact dispatched the critter with the least amount of suffering.

Separate the tail, claws and body. Reserve the body (you can freeze it) for another use. Drop the tail and large claws into a pot of boiling salted water. Leave in the water for a maximum of 90 seconds. You want raw lobster meat, and it will not come out of the shell unless some hot water is applied.
Very gently remove the lobster meat and keep chilled until you are ready to poach it. Poaching will only take a few minutes, as you don’t want to toughen the meat.

Possible poaching liquids along with combinations I’d like to try:
Pure butter, pure delicious sin
Simple court bullion
Almond milk and finish with some shaved coconut and lime
Ginger broth finished with a little rice vinegar
Duck consommé with a bit of cardamom

You get the idea. Have some fun.