Aroma Cucina

Linguine & The Art of Vongole

Twenty years ago, Napoli Restaurant was a classic spaghetti joint on the corner of Spring and Sullivan streets in Soho, NYC. Actually, it was ‘our’ spaghetti joint back in the day when we were living cheap and going out didn’t require a mortgage to buy a bottle of wine.

Spaghetti with clams was a favorite, and the hardest decision was whether to have it with a white or red sauce. The restaurant sold so much of this dish that the place actually smelled like it; in fact the block smelled of spaghetti and clams. I don’t remember any shells, so the clams probably came from a can or the freezer.

Remember...I said this was ‘back in the day’ before we all realized that the only decent clam to be eaten had to be raised in the wild and hunted down by a fisherman named Guy. (And you know the fisherman’s name because now all the clams are tagged with their origins, the date and time of capture, if the clam struggled or gave up willingly and the fisherman’s name, age, and Facebook page.)  Yeah, I’m all about truth in labeling, but back in the prior millennium...who knew to even ask where the clams came from!

Flash forward to the new enlightened us who live in Italy and have eaten many clams, preferably picking them up at the port from the fisherman, with a cold bottle of local wine in the shopping bag. Here’s the time warp part: eating linguine alle vongole at the Italian seaside is probably cheaper than those dinners at Napoli. See, life isn’t always cruel.

Things you should know about making linguine alle vongole:
 

• The type of clams you buy really doesn’t matter. It will affect the cooking time and flavor, but buying fresh clams from a reputable fish monger is what is important. The clams should be tightly closed and smell of the sea.  For my taste, smaller clams are better, but not too small or you end up spending all your time picking out itsy bitsy pieces of clam meat from the shells while the pasta gets cold, and some one else just might eat more than their share!

 

• You can mix different types or sizes of clams, but you’ll need to add them to the pot at different times because over cooked clams taste like...flavorless rubber. Not that I’ve eaten a lot of flavorless rubber, but you get the idea. Clams are cooked when they open, in fact, as soon as they open, so timing matters. (And of course size matters, but that goes without saying.)

 

• Garlic is friend of linguine alle vongole. Adding cream or cheese to the dish makes Italians gag and is viewed as a crime.

 

• Use dried pasta, not fresh pasta. Although eaten all over Italy, lunguine alle vongole’s foundation is southern Italian, and they use dried pasta.  Fresh pasta usually has eggs in it, and this would also produce the gag reflex in any good southern Italian.

Making the linguine alle vongole:

1. Set a big pot of pasta water on to boil.
2. Decide if you want red or white sauce. I can’t help you with this decision. Both are good, sometimes you just have to choose. 
3. Give the clams a rinse and check to be sure all the little guys are still closed tight. Discard any clams that are open and don’t close when touched. You only need to scrub the clams if they are big and the shells feel gritty. Ideally you want to keep as much of the sea water inside the clam as possible.

White Linguine alle Vongole
1/2 kg or 1 lb of small clams
1-2 cloves of garlic
1 anchovy filet
White wine, olive oil, parsley, chili pepper


When the pasta water has come to a boil, salt the water and add your linguine.

In a sauce pan big enough to hold the clams and all of the linguine, add a generous glug of olive oil and warm the oil over medium heat.

Here’s where personal taste kicks in: if you like a mild garlic flavor,  just peel and crack the garlic clove before adding it to the pot. If you want a strong garlic flavor, finely chop the garlic. The finer the garlic, the stronger the flavor.  Now toss in one or two roughly chopped dried chili peppers or chili pepper flakes, and the anchovy filet.

You do not want to burn the garlic, but you want to flavor the oil, so tip the pan to make a puddle and let the garlic, chili pepper, and anchovy sizzle in the oil.
Pay attention! There is a valuable lesson here.... it means you stand over the pot and keep an eye on the garlic without getting distracted, and it has the extra benefit of you looking like you totally know what you are doing.

Add a small splash of white wine, no more than a half glass. It may look like you are being cheap with the wine, but the truth is the clams release a lot more juice than you think, so go easy on the wine.    Now add your clams, cover the pot, and turn up the heat.

By now your pasta should be in the pot about five minutes, or half way to being done.
After one or two minutes, when the clams are starting to open, add a ladle full of the pasta water to the clam pot. Drain the pasta and add to the clam pot. Finish cooking the pasta and clams together. In a perfect world, you want the pasta and the clams to finish cooking at the same time. This comes with practice. There is no way a recipe can tell you this because I don’t know what size clams or linguine you have. Learn to listen to your inner voice, and if you don’t have an inner voice, then cook with a friend and the two of you will figure it out.

Finish with some finely chopped parsley, a good pour of olive oil,  and a generous bit of ground black pepper.


Red Sauce for Linguine alle Vongole
Tasty, but not as common as white. In fact, it's probably an American-Italian invention, but who cares because it tastes good. Do everything as above, only substitute tomato sauce for the white wine. Double the amount of sauce, so instead of a half wine glass of sauce, use a full cup of tomato sauce.

A word about eating spaghetti with clams: For god’s sake don’t sit there with a fork and pick out the clams. Pick up the clam shell with your fingers and suck out the clam. Clam shells taste good! OK, if you’ve got a boatload of clams on your plate and you want some in every forkful, then go ahead and fork out the meat and mix it up with your spaghetti but don’t let me catch you eating each and every clam with your fork!

And one final secret: keep mixing the pasta as it sits in the pan or bowl (We like to eat it out of the pan because it keeps the pasta hot longer and I have this really beat up old pot that allows us to pretend we are grizzly fisherman hanging out by sea). The bottom of the pot is the best part as the pasta has soaked up all the juices.

Bon apetito and thanks to Kris Rudolf for asking me for the recipe for her blog Delicious Expeditions! I’ve been making this regularly for years and just hadn’t really thought about the details.  Enjoy!

The Mad Men of Le Forna

Surely there are plenty of mad women in the village of Le Forna on Isola di Ponza,  but it’s the mad chefs of Le Forna that captured our hearts and stomachs. From crusty pizza to oily, inky black spaghetti, to delicately fried fish, to impressive apertivi, to a feast on a boat, these men know how to cook!
Il Maestrale
Via Chiesa
Le Forna, Ponza

This is Chef Maurizo’s restaurant and it’s the unofficial town hub for locals. Maurizio can keep an eye on the traffic outside his kitchen, so he’s ready when the fisherman comes to drop off the anchovies, the lady who salts them comes to pick up and drop off, the beer man shows up after being delayed on the mainland for 2 days by bad weather, a boat captain who needs a translation for his advertising (but really just wants to hang around and talk), the guy who builds awnings that Maurizio has declared an artist, and the occasional group of tourists who just enjoy Maurizio’s company. (That would be us!) Going for a swim meant walking by Maurizio’s, which meant we were offered something to eat or drink every time we went by. This is sincere from-the-heart hospitality at its finest. Not to mention that an ice cold Prosecco tastes exceptionally good after hiking up the steep steps from the sea.

Maurizio is also a mad scientist when it comes to liqueurs. He  brewed up a batch of a thick boozy licorice liqueur that would make our Finnish friend Kevin give up his beloved Panda candies and move to Ponza. Kev, forget the Ullr and come to Ponza!
Another time Maurizio was brewing up ‘myrtille’, a sort of herbaceous blackberry digestivo that is perfect after a meal.  Maurizio kindly gave us a bottle to take home, and we’re doling out our last precious sips of Ponza.
Come to Il Maestrale for the excellent pizza and fish, but you’ll keep coming back just to visit with Maurizio.

La Marina
Cala Feola
Le Forna, Ponza
This would be my fantasy restaurant. A shack, stuck into the cliff rock, right on the sea.  A kitchen filled with good music, loudly clanging pots, a barefoot cook, sometimes a dog, and always a few children. Eccentric, eclectic, and absolutely delicious. Because it’s so hard to find (you either have to find the right foot path and walk down about 150 steps, or come by boat) it feels like a private social club.  Not the stuffy club scene, but the grubby sea wolf and wench club.

I have no idea who owns the kitchen or is actually in charge; it seems like a loose confederation, but there is clearly serious attention being paid to cooking the food. The dude who takes the orders must sit down with you and explain what is available that day. Even his young apprentice Franceso needs to sit with you, and if you don’t know the type of fish that is being offered, they will happily draw a picture of the fish.
There is no reason to come here for a quick bite, it’s a place to linger, relax, enjoy the people watching and mangia bene. The menu changes every day, with super fresh fish and lobsters a speciality.

We had already met one of the chefs, called Mangia Fuoco, up at Maurizio’s, so the first time  we walked in we were greeted with a bellowing “Hey New York!” and that’s pretty much the way we were greeted each time we went back. If you care about strict restaurant rules, this is not the place for you. If you want to eat ginger flavored tuna tartare, an incredible plate of fried fish, spaghetti sauced with the strange but super delicious rana pescatrice, or a tomatoey moon fish appetizer, then this is the place for you.
Relax, enjoy, let time drift by and be happy it is summer time in Ponza.


TripAdvisor says they take reservations, but I sincerely doubt that. I think someone there might have a phone, but your best bet is just come and hang out.

Fauno
A Boat ride to Palmarola

One of the best day trips to do is to take a boat tour over to the spectacular small neighboring island of Palmarola. There are a number of boats that do this, but our loyalty belongs with Captain Francesco and his boat, Fauno.

Why is Captain Francesco mad? Because no one else will thread the needle between the razor sharp volcanic rocks like Francesco. He’s a confident daredevil, maybe a pirate and a show off, but always extremely careful.  His boat tour will wander around the Ponza coves and grottoes for awhile. He likes to get up close and personal with Grotte di Pilato (Pontius Pilate’s Caves...and yes Pontius hung out here, and Nero was born on the island. This island has some serious history.) Then he heads over to the marvelously awesome volcanic island of Palmarola. There are swimming stops, always different because of the weather and wind, and when you are good and hungry, he makes lunch. His wife makes the pickled zucchini and eggplant that come on top of the bruschetta, a very hard crust of bread that is dipped in sea water to soften it before being served. This is followed by an excellent pasta dish, sometimes made with swordfish eggs and finally some coffee. It is absolutely perfect.

He lives up in Le Forna, and you can buy a ticket from the little Everything Shop on the main drag in town, or you can just meet him in the port. The boat leaves promptly at 10:30 and gets back when Francesco feels like coming back (usually around 5:00 pm).  It’s the best bargain in town.
Marlin Bar
Main Street, Le Forna
(I’m sure the street has a real name, but it doesn’t really matter)

The Marlin Bar is right at the curve in the road, before the bus stop, and down a few steps. Mind your head if you take the direct route and step over the benches to find your seat on the little outdoor patio.
Devilishly handsome Clemente is the resident mad bar man and this guy knows how to do aperitivi!
The cocktails come out on pieces of beautiful olive wood that Clemente has created. The drinks are surrounded by all sorts of treats: spicy olives, pickled vegetables, soft balls of fried cod, every day it was a different feast.
He also makes one of the best mojitos this group has ever tasted, perfectly balanced between rum, lime and soda water.
Everyone shows up at the Marlin sooner or later, including my favorite dog, Johnny. It’s  an aperitivo oasis after a hot salty hike up from the sea.
La Tartaruga Bar
“Cornettaria”
Le Forna

Almost across the street from the Marlin is La Tartaruga and it’s more of a traditional Italian bar. Serving Neapolitan style pastries and cornetti (cornetti are croissants, but Italian style.) with excellent coffee in the morning, and switching over to light bar food and drinks in the afternoon. Flat screen TV’s play music videos, soccer matches and sometimes the news, and everyone stops there at least once a day.
 
The barmen aren’t really mad, they are just madly efficient and good at what they do. This bar is hopping, people come in waves, and Fabio and Andreas just roll along taking care of everyone.
We were there long enough to watch the transition from early tourist season into nearly high season, so some new barmen joined the ranks. I’m sorry I don’t know your names, but hats off to you as well, because La Tartaruga was always the best place to start our day. And the people watching isn't bad either! 

Quick Tips: Le Forna is the largest village outside of the port town. It's perched high on the hills and has terrific hotels, restaurants and access to the sea by foot. There is even a sandy beach over by La Marina. Access to the island is by ferry or yacht. If you are taking the ferry, you can depart from Anzio, Terracina or Formia, but Formia has the most options. Take the public bus instead of your car, driving is hair raising and parking is impossible.There are plenty of taxis at the port to take you to your hotel.

We’re back on the mainland now, back in Montone, and getting back into the swing of things, but I sure am missing the Mad Men of Le Forna!

Crossing the Border into Culinary Crazy Land?

How far would you travel for a superb lemon? Would you consider giving up eating shrimp after tasting fresh red shrimp and knowing this is the best you’ll ever have?  Is the market your first stop in a new place even when you only have a hotel room and no kitchen and you feel as though you’ve been denied entry to Paradise? Do people still tell stories about that time in Puglia when you bought out half the fish market and invited a boat load of strangers to dinner?  Do you hang around in coffee bars and restaurants eavesdropping to hear what people are cooking? Do you keep track of when peaches are at their peak in different regions of Italy?

When do you cross the line from culinary traveler to Culinary Crazy? 

In Italy, there are as many types of lemons as there are tomatoes. On Ponza, they are a commodity item. Like salt, sugar, coffee, you have to have some lemons on hand, and you may as well buy different sizes because you will need different amounts of lemon juice or skin. (Which makes total sense, and you have to ask why the convenience of packaging uniform sized lemons ever trumped the need for big and little lemons.)

The gamberi rossi (red shrimp) on Ponza are the sweetest shrimp I’ve ever eaten. (Then again, I was eavesdropping at lunch today, and a fisherman was bragging that the best shrimp come from the nearby island of Palmarola, so more research is needed!) We gilded the lily the other night when I served the shrimp in a brandy broth. I started by steaming the shrimp in a tiny bit of wine and oil; then removed the shrimp to my only serving bowl. Reduced the cooking liquid, added some Roman brandy, garlic and chili pepper, reduced again, and finished with a knob of butter and a squeeze of lemon. If I never ate shrimp again, I’d have this memory to keep me going. We had a serious discussion about whether we’d ever be able to eat frozen shrimp again. I think that means we’ve crossed the border into Culinary Crazy Land.
Which got me to thinking, what’s the point of “Culinary Travel”? It’s an Official Trend, a Buzzword, right? Jeff and I could probably be the poster children for Culinary Tourism, but I’m still wondering if this hasn’t all gotten a bit precious. 

Unless you are living next door to us, you don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of replicating our shrimp dish. Can’t be done. Sorry. Mi dispiace.

Yes, the ingredients and the prep are important. And maybe you can find some good shrimp, maybe even fresh ones. But you didn’t spend all day at a rocky beach, and come home salty, thirsty, and hungry. Your husband didn’t make you a lemony tart Last Word cocktail that you sipped while watching the boats come into our cove for the evening. This is all part of the prep, it’s the mind prep.

I’m not trying to make you jealous. I’m just saying I brought a whole different set of experiences and expectations into the kitchen when I made dinner.  And trust me, this is no state of the art kitchen! Its a four burner Ikea stovetop that has two settings: OFF or SCORCH. The only way to bring the temperature down is to take the pot off the burner. And I’d kill for a pot lid that actually fit the pot.
So when we set dinner down to eat, we were already giving ourselves bonus points for wringing a decent dinner out of that damned stove top. That’s part and parcel of culinary travel as far as I’m concerned. It’s about conquering a quirky kitchen, and remembering to forage for bit of wild fennel on the way home; it’s not just a recipe you can replicate at home.

If blue tinted lights can bring down crime, why wouldn’t a view of the sea enhance flavor and your appetite? 

Sure you can take home some new ideas, like the marinated eggplant, that’s popular around here. The eggplant is cut into fine strips, soaked in vinegar for a few hours, pressed to remove the vinegar, then stored in sunflower oil along with a few specks of chili pepper. Serve on a boat, on a sunny afternoon, after a good snorkel swim when you are wrapped in a wet towel. We practically licked the jar clean.

Maybe the whole point of culinary travel isn’t travel at all. Maybe it’s about slowing down and recognizing that what you have in front of you, right now, at this moment is unique.   You can tell me about it, and I can imagine what the flavor is like, but I can’t have any of it unless I’m sitting right next to you, sharing that coffee or bowl of cherries...or whatever it is you are munching on. 

And that’s just fine. Go out. By all means never stop traveling. To have a good time, you don’t need to be Anthony Burdain, paddling a canoe down the Amazon, in search of a fish that might eat your cameraman. You just need to ‘be’ in the moment. Savor, enjoy, remember to tell stories. As far as we’re concerned, this is what makes getting up in the morning an adventure no matter where you are. 

Recipe for Wonderful: Summer Shrimp & Zucchini Spaghetti

What is a summer shrimp? It’s shrimp that are eaten when the sea is at your doorstep, the air is hot, and the wine is chilled.

Essential Ingredients:
1 small Mediterranean island
1 well kept medium sized villa with a view of the sea
2-3 weeks of vacation time

Pasta Ingredients:
500 g of fresh, red shrimp
1/2 onion, chopped
1/2 small zucchini
8-10 small ripe tomatoes
2-3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 cup of white wine or Prosecco left over from last night’s dinner

Preparation:
In the morning, go out in search of the perfect coffee bar. This is a critical step. It’s important the barrista gets to know your coffee order so if there is a crowd at the bar, he already knows how you like your coffee and you just need to raise an eyebrow to place your order.

This gives you time to discuss the meaning of life, what to do during the day and to watch what people are buying at the fishmonger’s truck outside the door.  I already had my heart set on the ‘gamberi rossi’ (red shrimp) so it was divine confirmation when the fishmonger brought a plate of the raw shrimp into the bar as an apertivi to be shared and eaten ‘crudo’ (raw).

Yes. Raw shrimp. If the shrimp have never been frozen, still wrapped in  the scent of the sea, and are beguiling red, it does seem like a pretty good idea.

When it is time to eat, meander into the kitchen, fill a pasta pot with water and figure out how to turn on the stovetop.
Now chop a small white onion. Cube a small zucchini. Using a pan big enough to hold the spaghetti and everything else, sauté the vegetables in olive oil for 2-3 minutes until they soften and snuggle. Pour in the wine and let that simmer for another 2-3 minutes.

Quarter  or halve your tomatoes depending on the size. Be sure to pop at least one of the tomatoes in your mouth while you are quartering them so that you know what they taste like. Chop 1-2 cloves of garlic. You can taste that too if you are so inclined.


By now the salted pasta water has boiled and your spaghetti is 2-3 minutes away from being done. Add 2 cups of the pasta cooking water to the zucchini and onions. Drain the pasta and add to the zucchini pot, adding the tomatoes and garlic and mix well. Cook for 1 minute.  Add the shrimp and cook for another minute, mixing well. You really only want the shrimp to be heat kissed.  Now serve the spaghetti ‘in padella’, or in the cooking pan. While it looks romantic, the truth is the villa didn’t come with a serving platter. Oh well, the hardship we must endure.

Serve with a smile and a good box of chilled white wine!
A note about that Mediterranean island: we are having a group meeting to determine if we will disclose our location...or keep it a secret.

Fish, Flowers & the Art of Frying

Fried fish tastes goooood.
Fried flowers taste goooood.
Hey, sewer rat may taste good, but I wouldn’t know ‘cause I wouldn’t eat fried food.*

I know fried food has a bad rap, but it tastes so good. Would it be alright in moderation? Would it be alright when there are sparkling fresh little tiny fishes in the market and the zucchini flowers are prepubescently perfect?

Surely ,if god didn’t want us to eat some fried food now and then he never would have invented oil.

So, with complete joy, and not a shred of guilt, I’ll tell you our lunch story.

We buy fish on Wednesday because that’s when the fish man cometh to Umbertide.
We’re sandwiched between two seas: the Adriatic and the Mediterranean, both a mere 2 hour drive,  and we only get fresh fish on Wednesdays. After 10 or 11 years of living here, you accept this as the way it should be.
We’ve been going to the same fish stall for 10 or 11 years, but in the past year, the owners seem to have passed the stall onto the next generation: a young woman and The White Boy.
The White Boy used to work in the butcher section of the EuroSpin grocery store. He got his name because he looked as if he spent most of his life living in very dark places where the sun did not shine. I fantasized he was in a rock band, or was a suave vampiro, but he also seem to spend an awful lot of time collecting enormous, vivid hickies, so its hard to say what he did to earn his pallor and love bites.

Well, lo and behold, The White Boy is now working at the fish stall and he’s turned into a royal pain of a hustler.
Me: “I’d like that orata.”  My orata is 12 euro a kg.
White Boy: “But you would like this orata so much more.”  White Boy’s orata is 25 euros a kg.
Me: “No. I want this orata.”
This goes on for another 2 or 3 minutes and we settle on the 18 euro a kg size orata.

Every week we have to go through an exchange like this. Yesterday it was how many sole I wanted to buy. I wanted two, I got three. And a handful of little whitebait fishies.

The zucchini flowers come from a new, young girl at the market, her stall is in the corner by the wacky Sicilians. She’s more expensive, but has beautiful quality vegetables. And she doesn’t try to hustle you. Win-win in my book.

The wacky Sicilians deserve a blog post all of their own. They’re something like a cross between the Marx Brothers and the crew from O’ Brother Where Art Thou. Yeah, I know, confuses me every time I buy vegetables from them.

By the time we get home from the market, it’s blinding hot and lunch time. Why! It’s a perfect time to start heating up bubbling oil!
OK. There is a downside to frying food: hot bubbling oil. For one thing, it’s costly. It’s also really hot, tends to splatter, and involves clean up. Right there we have found the incentive to not fry food on a regular basis, but only as a special treat. God does work in mysterious ways to keep us on the path to good health.

Properly frying food so that it is shatteringly crisp, not greasy and properly salted, is an art. It’s part dance as you glide from bowl to pot to strainer to plate; you need to move smoothly, gently...think ballet, not the twist. You need to be alert to the sound as the oil bubbles, the smell that tells you its time to turn the fish or the flower. (It’s a subtle light brown smell; you feel the first tingling of a burn odor that registers at the very back of your palate.)

As much as timing matters, so does fry sequence. The most delicate flavor goes in first, the strongest goes in last.

The oil also matters. I use a canola-sunflower mix for the flowers and the whitebait. The sole gets extra virgin olive oil.


The coating certainly matters.
You need to make the batter by feel, not by quantity of ingredients.
First step: whip an egg white into stiff peaks. If the egg is at room temperature, it will whip up very quickly.
In a small bowl, add some flour. Slowly, bit by bit, add some cold water. Whisk the mixture, dissolving all the lumps , until you have the smooth consistency of thick yogurt or sour cream. Very gently fold in the egg white and a tiny pinch of salt.

Flowers first. Wash the flowers and lightly coat with the batter.

In a deep, wide pan, heat the oil to 350F/180C. I use a thermometer. I’ve done this a thousand times and could probably tell the heat by holding my hand over the oil, but hell, I’ve got a nifty ray gun thermometer** and that’s far more fun and more accurate.

Shaking off the excess batter, slide the flowers into the hot oil. Turn the flowers gently when you see the beginnings of brownage.  When you have a good crispy coating, but still pale blonde, remove the flowers, holding them upside down so any oil or steam will drain out of the flower and place them in a wire strainer.
Now, here is a fry tip that will change your life: don’t place the fried food directly on paper towels to soak up the grease. Instead use a wire strainer, with some paper towels below the strainer to soak up the mess. You get a much better drain all around the fried food, instead of just the part that’s touching the paper towel getting all soggy.

Saute the sole. Heat a very small amount of olive oil. Lightly coat the sole with flour and a pinch of salt. Over medium heat, saute the sole until the fins are crispy. Gently turn the sole and cook on the other side.

While you are doing this, crank the heat on the flower oil to about 375F/190C. Quickly, and gently return the flowers to the oil. This is the secret of the double fry that produces a shatteringly crisp crunch. This is a fast process: 15 seconds per side and back into the strainer. Lightly salt the flowers and if you are in the mood, sprinkle a little chile powder on them..they love to get dressed up in a little spice.

By now the sole and the flowers are done. Arrange them on a warm plate.

Coat the whitebait in the remaining batter and as much as it is possible, shake off the excess batter and add the fishies to the hot oil individually. It’s not easy because they are slippery little buggers that want to clump together, but try your best. 15 or 20 seconds per side and they are done. Drain in the strainer, add a bit of salt, give them a shake to distribute the salt and add them to the platter.


Sprinkle the platter with finely chopped parsley and zested lemon peel. Serve with wedges of lemon and a good, cold, crisp white wine.


Now, buon apetito..with no guilt, because you sure as hell are not doing this every day!

*Apologies to Jules & Vincent, of Pulp Fiction fame
** It’s not really a ray gun, this is a digital thermometer that you can buy at any scientific appliance outlet. Also makes an exceptionally entertaining cat toy, and you can check the surface temperature of just about anything..the floor, the inner ear of your husband....really, it’s a wonderful gadget.

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!

High Altitude Chopped

I’ve got at least 20 years of experience under my belt, or in my ski boots, whatever the case may be, but I still think high altitude cooking is a royal pain. The Lodge at Snowbird is 8100 ft above sea level, which means water boils at around 185F. It means the little white Zolfino beans that I lovingly carried all the way from the Italian village of  Anghiari, that usually cook in 45 minutes, are still rock hard 2 1/2 hours later.   It means pasta that should cook in 16 minutes was done in 8 minutes. There is no rhyme or reason.
It’s not that temperatures don’t mean the same, but is a rare steak rare at 140F, or is it bleeding red, or that funky grey overcooked color?
  Do you know anything about Snowbird? It has a reputation for being a tough, rugged, testosterone mountain, but in reality, it’s a tough, rugged, testosterone mountain. The ratio of men to women is roughly 750 to 1. Maybe I’m exaggerating. I refer to the hot tub as being a “man tank” bubbling away with tired man flesh. The occasional women who show up are ogled like pin up girls from the 1940’s. There is a certain tough girl glamour for those of us who ski with the boyz. Connected to the hot tub, is a large heated swimming pool and that’s where our clan usually gathers, and the conversations range from the weather (it’s an obsession), the conditions in Mineral Basin, did you hear the avalanche bombs this morning,  and what’s for dinner.
The ‘what’s for dinner’ part of the conversation is always the most serious. Fresh food ebbs and flows depending on if anyone has gone down into the valley to shop, or has someone passed along some mountain stash, or is it time to break out the frozen vegetables? If we tap into Kevin’s stash of canned goods, then things are dire.

 It’s like playing an endless game of Chopped. In your mystery basket tonight you have: 1 package of scallops, 2 boneless pork chops, 2 cajun sausages and 1 orange bell pepper and an onion. Too easy!  Cut up the pork and sausage into bite size pieces. Thinly slice the onions, thickly slice the pepper and saute the ingredients until done.
Remove from the pan and add a few chili peppers, chopped garlic and quickly sear the scallops. Finish with a zap of soy sauce and hot sauce. Toss together. Finish with finely chopped fresh basil and serve over rice.

For last night’s finale dinner, we started with one tri-tip steak, but the party was too big for just one tri-tip, so we added shrimp to the mix. The last bit of fresh broccoli needed to be eaten. Salad greens were a distant memory, but we had celery in abundance. And there was a last minute request for couscous. So here it is, dinner made in 30 minutes.

Sear the tri-tip. Have staff open all the windows and doors so we don’t set off the smoke alarm. It’s good to be the Queen of the Kitchen with a minion of hungry men willing to do  my bidding.
While the tri-tip is searing, chop the broccoli and thinly slice the last of the ginger.
Give a trusted kitchen companion the super sharp mandolin and let him slice the celery for the celery and blue cheese salad. Keep a close eye on the companion so that we don’t wind up with finger salad.
In the shrimp pan add all the remaining garlic cloves in the house, a few chili peppers, a small glug of olive oil, a knob of butter, a bay leaf, a few shots of hot sauce. Turn the heat on medium low.
Add the remaining frozen peas to the boiling couscous water, add some Vadouvan spice that you had forgotten all about, add the couscous, turn off the heat. One dish done.
Saute the broccoli. Realize the men folk are wolfing down almonds. Grab a handful and chop them up to finish the broccoli.

Turn up the heat on the shrimp pot.

Check on the tri-tip which is resting comfortably.

Toss the shrimp (with their shells on) into the pan and toss vigorously. Complain loudly that there isn’t enough heat. It’s good to get a disclaimer out there early. No one is listening anyway. Hit the shrimp with a good sized glug of cognac.  Remove the shrimp from the pan, add another knob of butter and let it melt and mingle with the spices. Add a few more shots of hot sauce, a couple of squirts of Worsteschire sauce and the rest of  lemons left over from the cocktail making frenzy that went on while you were cooking.

Slice the tri-tip, drizzle generously with truffle oil and sit down with the gang.

Serve. Eat. Laugh a lot. And that’s what high altitude mountain cooking is all about. Sort of makes cooking at sea level boring, doesn’t it?
I’m already missing the clan, but I’m  certainly happy to be a member.

Side Stripe Shrimp Ceviche

Super sweet, tender, tasty, side stripe shrimp, why haven’t I met you sooner? If I knew I had a steady supply of these babies, I’d be planning all sorts of experiments with them.

There isn’t much info on side stripe shrimp, and after a glass of wine, it isn’t even easy to say side stripe shrimp three times fast. Latin name: Pandalopis dispar. I have no idea how that is pronounced and shouldn’t there be an ‘e’ at the end of dispar? What’s up with those Latin guys...cheap with their vowels if you ask me.

The side stripe comes from the northern Pacific and are farmed off the BC Pacific Coast although they do turn up in small quantities in Oregon and Washington. Generally considered to be sustainable, but there is conflicting info.

Rant alert:  What is it with the fish conservancy groups?
Why do they make it so hard to figure out if something is ok or not? Yes to yellow fin tuna if it is pole caught. How am I supposed to know if the fish at the market is pole caught?? If you ask, you know the fish guy is going to tell you whatever you want to hear. Sorry for the rant, but if it takes me 45 minutes of trolling on the internet and I’m still confused, whats a normal person supposed to make of the situation?  (I’m thinking googling side stripe shrimp for over an hour makes me just a wee bit obsessed.)

With side stripe, the general lack of info  seems to stem from the fact that, because it is such a small harvest, there isn’t much info. The biggest problem seems to be damage done by bottom trawling. So you are on your own here; they seem generally OK and I’m going to run with that.   Rant over.

Poached Side Stripe Shrimp Ceviche  (adapted from this Williams Sonoma recipe)
 2 lb side stripe shrimp
1/2 cup of ketchup (yeah...ketchup...we had to go out and buy some!)
1 large shallot, minced
1/2 red onion, minced
Juice of 2 limes and 1/2 lemon
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1/2 t salt
Chili pepper and hot sauce to taste
1 cup of white wine

Finishing Touch
1-2 ripe avocados
juice of 1/2 lemon and a few pinches of salt

Technically this is not a ceviche because the shrimp are cooked, oh so quickly and gently, they barely noticed they were being poached.

Peel the shrimp and discard the shells & roe. Or freeze the shells & roe and use for your next batch of fish stock.

In a blender, add the shallot, onion, garlic, chili pepper and whizzz until they are minced. Add the lemon juice, salt and ketchup. Taste. Add hot sauce to get the heat where you like it...remember the heat will intensify as the shrimp marinate. 

In a small saucepan, bring the wine to barely a simmer. One or two bubbles rising. Add the shrimp, stir, count 30 seconds and remove from the heat. Strain, but reserve the juice which will be the most amazing pink strawberry milkshake color. Freeze it for the next batch of fish stock or if you need a shrimpy flavor boost in another dish. I used it in the sablefish chowder. Excellent stuff.

Combine the shrimp and sauce and chill for at least 2 hours.

When it is time to serve the shrimp, dice the avocado and toss with the lemon juice and a pinch of salt.  Serve a mound of shrimp next to a few spoons of avocado.

Serve it alongside the shrimp ceviche with lots of tortilla chips. Watch out...because you know someone will go into the kitchen, dig up the bowl with the left over sauce and start scooping it up with the chips and then be shamed into sharing with everyone else. Another alert: that may well be you! (or Jim....)

Sablefish Fisherman Style & Superbowl Chowder

Joe at Gotham Seafood may have thrown down the gauntlet, but I do believe we rose to the sablefish challenge.

In case you are wondering, fresh sablefish is a cod fish is a butterfish, is a fine, fine tasty fish.
One of the highest in omega3 fatty acids, it’s also richly delicious and healthy to boot.

On Night One we had our Black Sablefish done up as a ‘brodetto’,  Veneto Fisherman Style.

Fish Stock:
2 medium carrots
3-4 stalks celery
1 medium onion
Salt, Pepper, Bay Leaves
Olive Oil
All the fish trimmings (head, tail, fins) and the shrimp shells

The Sauce:
2 cups of fish stock
1/2 cup white wine
4-5 peeled garlic cloves
4T butter

The Finishing Touch:
1 lb side stripe shrimp
parsley
2 cloves fresh garlic
juice of a lemon
glug of white wine

Prep: Cut off the head, tail and fins. Cut the body into large steaks.
Make a fish stock with the fish trimmings.

Fish Stock:
Roughly chop the carrots, celery and onion and saute in a few tablespoons of olive oil. Add about a quart and a half of water and the fish trimmings. Simmer for 1/2 hour, then strain and return to medium heat and reduce by half.

The Fish:
Dredge each fish steak in salt and peppered flour.

In a large saucepan, add a few tablespoons of olive oil and the peeled cloves of garlic. Saute the garlic until it is dark, dark brown and remove from the pan and discard. I know, tossing garlic doesn’t sit well, but this bitter burnt garlic. Feel better?
 Working in batches, saute the steaks. When all the steaks are done, place in an oven proof pan and keep warm in the oven.
In the saucepan, add 1 1/2 cups of the reduced fish stock, and the wine, and futher reduce by half and pour over the fish. Keep warm.

The Finishing Touch:
Peel and roughly chop the side stripe shrimp.
Finely chop the parsley and garlic together.
In a small saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the shrimp and parsely/garlic and cook for only a few moments, until the white of the shrimp turns from translucent to milk white.

Pour over the top of the fish and serve.  A loaf of crusty bread for dunking wouldn’t be a bad idea, but let me tell you, there is no crusty bread to be had in Snowbird..or maybe in all of Utah.

What to do with leftover sablefish?

Superbowl Chowder
All the leftover sable fish, picked clean of bones and skin
1 large onion
2 T butter
2-3 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into small cubes
2 cups of milk
2 cups of frozen corn
salt, pepper, smoked paprika & hot sauce


Finely slice the peeled onion and gently, slowly, lovingly saute the onions in the barely melted butter. Think of melting soft onions gently relaxing and giving up their oniony goodness into the air.  Add the cubed potatoes, leftover fish with all of the sauce & juices, liberal amounts of pepper, corn and simmer for about 30 minutes. Add the milk and cook for another 10 minutes.   
Taste and add more salt and pepper if necessary.  Serve with a dash of smoked paprika and hot sauce on top. 
A good winter chowder even if you aren’t watching the Superbowl.

Mussel Soup with Lemon Saffron Aioli

Fish soups are called ‘brodetto’ in Italy and every Adriatic coastal town has their own version. Brodetto di San Bendetto is flavored with green tomatoes, Brodetto di Porto Recanati with saffron, alla Fanese with tomato puree, and in Ancona with puree AND fresh tomato.  I don’t live near the coast, I like the French Provencal style of fish soup and I don’t have to play by the rules, so here is Brodetto di Montone.

Warning: it is messy to make, it takes time, the words slow, fast and easy do not appear anywhere within this recipe. However, the words delicious and worth the effort do appear.

The soup has three parts: the soup base, the crunchy garlicky toasts, and the saffron aioli.

Soup Base
1/2 kilo or 1 lb of small, whole fish
1 chopped carrot
1-2 stalks chopped celery
1 chopped onion
4-5 plum tomatoes
1 cup tomato puree
1/2 cup brandy
Salt, pepper, olive oil

1/2 kilo of mussels, or shrimp or clams

Saute the carrot, onion, celery in a few tablespoons of olive oil in the bottom of a soup pot. A little brownage is OK, but not too much.  Add a 1 1/2 liters of water to the pot, bring to a boil, and toss in the whole fishies.
Now, if you can’t get an assortment of small fish, get whatever non-oily fish that you can find that still has it’s head on, or at least has bones. Under no circumstances use frozen fish fingers. Bones are flavor. If you use a fish filet you wont’ get the the depth of flavor. Oily fishes are too strongly flavored, so avoid fish like salmon or mackerel.   Let simmer for about 20 minutes and then turn off the heat.

While the stock is cooking, make the aioli.
 
Lemon Saffron Aioli
1 medium egg, yoke only
1 cup olive oil
Saffron threads
Juice of 1 small-medium lemon
1 T mustard
1 medium size HOT chili pepper, minced
3 cloves garlic, minced

In a heavy bowl, add the egg yoke, mustard, garlic and chili pepper.  In a little dish, steep the saffron in the lemon juice.  Now, slowly, slowly, in a thin thread, whisk the olive oil into the egg yoke, mustard, garlic & chili pepper. You are making an emulsion, so the oil must be incorporated fully before you can add more oil. You’re not making that much, so don’t bother with the food processor, a little whisking is excellent aerobic and upper arm exercise, quite whining. If the sauce breaks, which means it doesn’t look like mayonaise, it looks like oil globs in a sea of egg yoke, consult Harold McGee for repair instructions. When you are finished adding the oil, whisk in the lemon juice and saffron.

Store the aioli in the fridge while you finish making the soup.

Strain the liquid from the soup and put it back in the soup pot. What is left in the colander is the vegetables, the fish meat and bones. Pick through the pile, reserving the meat and vegetables, tossing out the bones and skin. This part is yucky, messy and hot. Get over it.

Put the fish meat back and vegetables back into the soup base and then either using a stick blender or a regular blender, puree the soup, adding in the tomato puree. Return to the heat, add the brandy and let it gently simmer. The soup is done. Bravo! Brava!
 Crunchy Garlicky Toasts
1 stale baguette
2 cloves garlic
1/2 or more of a HOT chili pepper
1 T Oregano
1 T fresh chopped parsley
1/4 cup Grated parmigiana cheese
1/4 cup olive oil

Slice the stale baguette...if you only have a fresh baguette, slice it and stick it in a warm  oven until the pieces are hard.

Blend all the other ingredients until you get a fluffy, mousse like consistency.  Spread a bit of the mousse on each slice of bread and bake at a medium oven heat 300F/150C until the mousse is brown, melted, bubbly.  Take out of the oven and let cool. Make more than you think you should because these disappear immediately. 

When you are ready to serve the soup, toss in the mussels or shrimp or clams or whatever you want. When the mussels or clams are open, serve immediately with the toasts and the aioli.


The soup base freezes well, so make a big enough batch that you can freeze it and then you can have this delicious, worth the effort soup, anytime you want. Buon’appetito!