Fettuccine a Rachel

Two years ago now my friend Rachel and I took a pasta making class together at the Institute of Culinary Education.

A couple of weeks ago, we finally had a chance to put what we learned into practice, using her spiffy Kitchenaid stand mixer.  It was incredibly easy -- much simpler than kneading pasta dough by hand! -- and the results were fairly amazing.  Which is dumb because every single (rare) time I've made pasta from scratch I've ALWAYS said something like "the results were fairly amazing."  And yet, how many times have I made pasta from scratch?  Not enough.  Not nearly enough.

Anyway, Rachel's Kitchenaid definitely wins pasta night.  From unimpressive flour to impressive pasta dough in just a few minutes.

 And following a short rest and some liberal flouring, the rolling went super smoothly as well.

So lovely. Below is the post-cooking version, with apologies for the slightly steamed-up camera lens.

At Rachel's suggestion, we tried Marcella Hazan's famous/infamous (but new to me) tomato sauce.  It's barely a recipe: 

Take a can of whole tomatoes, 5 tablespoons of butter, an onion that you've peeled and cut in two, and a little salt, and throw them in a pot for 45 minutes, stirring and occasionally smooshing the tomatoes a bit.  Remove the onion halves.  Done.

You can see why I was skeptical.  But holy crap was that good.  It makes me rethink the whole idea of cooking Italian food with olive oil.  I insisted on adding a little fresh basil.  I make no apologies for that.

Such a good, simple, hearty meal.  And good fun to make and share it with a friend.

A couple of notes.  Since the sauce is so simple, using super-good tomatoes is imperative.  I hunted around a bit and I think Cento San Marzanos are the ones to beat.  Delicious, Italian, and the can is BPA free, which I look for in cans these days.

Also, the recipe from ICE said to use 100g of flour plus 1 egg per person.  We were skeptical, so we ended up using about 300g of flour and 3 eggs (and a small amount of salt and olive oil and water).  That made a LOT of pasta.  I had leftovers for dinner for most of the week.  I am not complaining in the least, just stating for the record that, yes, 100g of flour is more than enough for 1 serving of pasta.

Finally, I made a loaf of bread, since there might not have been enough carbs otherwise. So here's a picture of that too.

Cheesy Meal

My friends R and S, of the Night of Two Souffles and the 2016 Ottolenghi Dinner, and I had been kicking around ideas for another themed feast for a while now.  S mentioned she'd been wanting to make a feta cheesecake from Honey & Co. and I said, half jokingly, well, we could do an entire meal around cheese.

And then that's what we had to do.

I'd been wanting to try making gnocchi for a long time. I recalled a Cook's Illustrated ricotta gnocchi (or in Italian, gnudi) recipe that sounded fun and cheesy.  Like the insides of ravioli, without the outsides.  Or, "nude" ravioli.

I made the dough, and we did the cutting and cooking together.  It was sticky, and I can't say they were terribly pretty.  And in another strategic error, we were pretty hungry, so I think overly enthused about dumping a whole lot in the pot at once rather than a few at a time. So while the batch you see cooking here turned out great, many of the ones after this ended up a bit clumpy.

Still, though, with a brown butter, shallot, herb sauce, it's hard to find any nits to pick. 

 Here's the final dish.

 

I started with the gnocchi because it was the main event, but for an appetizer we made a very cheesy stuffed mushroom recipe -- melty taleggio, Parmesean, etc., from Ottolenghi's Plenty.  I think I went too easy on the taleggio -- the picture in the cookbook is definitely way more cheesed over than ours turned out.  Lesson learned.  Also, the recipe didn't call for scraping out the portobello, just piling the filling on top of them.  I think it would be better with some scraping out.  So I'll try that next time.  



It must be said though that the stuffing was amazing. I was skeptical reading the recipe, along the lines of "you want HOW MUCH sun dried tomato in there???" But it was rich and flavorful and the leftovers made some tremendous scrambled eggs the next day. Definitely the kind of thing I could see just making and using kind of like a condiment.  I feel like it would improve everything it touches.

There was also a very nice, simple goat cheese salad, which I didn't take a picture of because even in these photo-happy food memorializing times, sometimes I just forget.  And a small cheese plate to start.

And finally the cheesecake.  It was beautiful and utterly light and divine.  I quibble just a little bit with calling it "cheesecake," I think it was more of a mousse.  But whatever one calls it, it was definitely the high point of a very cheesy evening.

One of my favorite things about my annual trip to visit my family is the opportunity to cook stuff I wouldn't otherwise make, for a willing audience of eaters.  For Christmas Eve, that thing was my first ever porchetta.  Hawaiian food culture excels at slow-roasted, super tender pork, but doing it Italian style is uncommon there.  Cook's Illustrated has an excellent recipe, involving a super-herby, garlicky paste, an overnight in the fridge to make sure the flavors get fully diffused into the meat, and a long, slow roast in the oven.

Several things went awry with this, most notably that I misread the pork shoulder we bought; I thought the B/I was a B/L.  Really easy mistake to make, who would label something that way?  But anyway, although a boneless roast would've cooked faster and been easier to carve, that was a small thing in the grand scheme. (And Big Boy, the family dog, got a nice treat in the bone.) Also I got a much later start getting it into the oven than I would've liked, resulting in a late Christmas Eve dinner.  My thanks to the family for their patience.

However, the wait was amazingly worth it.  I wish I always had time to cook like this!  The meat was just, well, perfect.  One of the best pork roasts I've ever had, anywhere.  Tender but not too tender, so flavorful, and the drippings made a phenomenal gravy.  And we had just a ton of leftovers, too.

I roasted some potatoes and onions and made a simple salad to go alongside.  And there was bread.

Like I say, this wasn't a fast recipe, and it was somewhat involved.  But it wasn't hard, and you can't argue with results as tasty as this.  I'd totally make it again the next time I need to impress people with a large hunk of flesh, perfectly roasted.

Ottolenghi Roasted Vegetables & Tahini Cookies

Had friends over for dinner last night and sous-vided (that's a verb by now, right) a pork tenderloin for the second time.  That may become my go-to main course for company.  So simple, cooks perfectly, and it gives me an excuse to show off the immersion circulator.

Anyway, to balance the easy main, I broke out Plenty and made Ottolenghi's roasted vegetables with vinaigrette.

I had an mild disagreement with a friend recently who complained that his recipes are too involved and she finds herself cutting corners when she makes them, with results that are just about as good. To which I say, is that a criticism or a compliment?  In my mind, if a recipe inspires you to combine flavors you might not have otherwise, or try a new technique, then it's done its job. 

I expect that any of us who are good cooks automatically adapt or alter just about any recipe we make.  Add more of a favorite vegetable, substitute away from an herb we're not partial to or don't have on hand. Reduce the salt or butter or whatever. Or change it if something doesn't quite make sense--for example this dish called for 4 red onions, which can't possibly be right--are American red onions way bigger than British ones? Ottolenghi encourages adaptation and alteration -- he usually suggests ways to change or simplify himself in the recipe intros.

Anyway, red onion overload notwithstanding, this is a terrific recipe. I roast vegetables just fine, thank you (in addition to red onion, this combined sweet potato, parsnip, cherry tomato, and a whole head of garlic along with sprigs of rosemary and thyme). But I've never bothered making a dressing for them before. Ottolenghi tosses these with olive oil, lemon juice, capers, maple syrup and Dijon mustard. Which I almost certainly would not have thought to combine on my own, but wow.  So much flavor, and yet without overwhelming the inherent flavors in the vegetables.  I can't wait to try this again, and I'm actively looking forward to tweaking it.  And as with so many of his dishes, it's beautiful--great color and gusto and verve, and half a head of garlic always adds visual as well as flavor appeal.  And it combined super-well with the pork, too.

I did a variation on his spinach salad with dates, nuts, and pita croutons, which I've made so many times I don't even look at the recipe anymore.  At this point, I think I can claim it as my own, or at least a "Joetolenghi" creation.

Finally, because I was feeling ambitious, or maybe because I opted not to bake bread, I also whipped up a batch of his Tahini Cookies, from Jerusalem.

 

Exactly as one might expect, they are peanut butter cookies meet halva, a very shortbready sort of crumb with a really nice sesame flavor. About as simple as could be to make, and yet impressively unusual and tasty just the same.

Sous Vide Chicken Again

 

I'm not totally sure why I'm posting this; I've done sous vide chicken here before, and there's nothing terribly different about this one.  It was delicious, and I do feel like I'm getting even more mileage out of my Sansaire when I get to share (or overshare?) what I've made with it.

How about this:  I did two breasts this time, and made the most amazing salad out of a the leftover one tonight:

 

I think chicken done sous vide-style is even better chunked in a salad that it is eaten as a solid block of protein.  Arugula, cucumber, and some avocado, and a balsamic/ lemon juice/ olive oil/ sumac dressing. Simple components but the sum was just delicious and the mix of textures was very satisfying.  Something I will remember for the next time!

Second Souffle Night--Just One This Time

December 6

This will be remembered as the year of two soufflé nights, for, inspired by the previous one, I had some friends over on 6 December for my first ever cheese soufflé.  Julia's recipe, naturally.  And once again it's hard to believe that something so simple can be so elegant and delicious.

Also roasted some new potatoes and made my favorite salad.  And my friend H. brought over some chocolate pots de creme for dessert, too.

Here's the view fresh out of the oven.  You get a good view of the height in this one.  In the moment I was thinking "God I hope I don't drop it."  Seeing the photo after, I think "God I need a haircut."  But that's a topic for a different, more sartorial, blog.

Anyway, one last "hooray for soufflé!"

Night of Two Souffles

I've known my friend S. for decades--she was a few years behind me at Columbia.  For years know, we've reliably met up every year at Homecoming to watch the Lions lose to whoever they were playing, and catch up.  This year, she and her husband and I got to talking about food. They are totally into bread, and canned a bunch of tomatoes this summer, so we had quite a bit to talk about. And somewhat randomly the topic of souffles came up, and S. said she'd always wanted to make one, and I said I've been wanting to for ages.

And it just seemed to make sense that we'd get together for a Night of Souffle.  S. & R. were kind enough to invite me over to their place.  I brought the ingredients for a chocolate souffle (plus my souffle pan), and they put together a cheese one before I got there.

 

 
So, yes, two souffles in a single meal. Along with a salad and a nice sancerre.  And good company.

What a great meal!  I totally think more people should make souffles more often.  They are easier than you think, delicious, versatile, fairly light, and yet decadent and dramatic at the same time.

In the spirit of full disclosure, the chocolate one got a little over-blown in the oven and started to drip a bit, causing a minor smoke condition partway through cooking.  But it still turned out beautifully and tastily in the end.

Sometimes I cook things and think "well that was a great experience and I never want to do it again."  And sometimes I cook things and think "I can't wait to cook that again!"  This was definitely one of the latter occasions.  Looking forward to the next Souffle Evening.

Dinner at the Metropolitan Opera

A good meal anytime is a joy.  But a good meal when you weren't really necessarily expecting one is especially nice. This is relevant because a few weeks ago, I had dinner at the Met's glitzy Grand Tier Dining Room, a true New York capital-I Institution, and someplace I've wanted to eat for as long as I've been a cultural aficionado in this great city. 

But really, being where it is, I wasn't expecting much out of the Dining Room.  I mean, it's in the MET! People go there because it's part of a night at the opera, not because the food is any good. Also, consider the average age of a patron! Mushy pablum and geritol were about as much as I expected from the menu.

So I was pleasantly surprised, indeed, that the menu had some interesting things going on, and more than that, everything we ordered was really well executed, especially given that they are on a super-strict timetable to get patrons fed and in their seats in the auditorium in time for the curtain.

 

That said, I am compelled to point out the caviar options at the top of the menu, going up to the $135/30g Royal Belgian Osetra. We opted out of a caviar course.

To start, we got the octopus and the chicken liver mousse (with port gelee and fig marmalade..mmmm). I try to avoid eating octopus because I think they're cute and they are undeniably very smart. But they are also undeniably very delicious, so once in a while I give in.

This particular cephalopod was fantastic, a single tentacle, and whatever they did to it left it perfectly cooked and amazingly tender. A little romesco and some herby yogurt were nice complements. The mousse was super-rich--I was glad we were sharing because I think a whole serving would likely have proven lethal--to my ability to stay awake through Act I, if not to my actual life.

For the main, we shared again, going for the Branzino "from the plancha" accompanied by the wild mushroom+leek bread pudding and the corn risotto. The branzino was done to a T, tender and moist and not at all overcooked, and the squash and roasted romaine on the side were very nice as well. And the sauce, not pictured, was a treat. Super fresh salsa verde, bursting with herby flavor.

I love a savory bread pudding! It's like stuffing, but classier. And this one was quite pretty, to boot.

With that, we were off for the first part of Donizetti's "Anna Bolena." But we placed an order for dessert before our departure--  "Otello's Bitter End," the thematic dessert of the season. And, lo, when Bolena was spurned by Enrico Otto and intermission rolled around, we returned to our table to find dessert awaited us as surely as the executioner awaited Anne Boleyn. But much more sweetly.

This, unfortunately, was not a great success. Pistachio cake with "orange blossom water mousse," phyllo, and sesame creme. It's clear what they were trying to do with it-- Mediterranean/ Turkish flavors done in a Western/Italian mode, much like Cyprus or poor Otello himself, trapped between worlds. But in practice the phyllo was spiky and disruptive (maybe it represents Iago??), and the cake+mousse didn't quite come together--kind of a not-so-great cheesecake. Still, I give them credit for trying to tie something into the season's repertory.

In happier dessert news, there's a chocolate souffle on the menu!  I'm all about bringing souffle back (foreshadowing a future post) so was glad to see that.

Finally, all of the staff were just lovely. We felt very well taken care of, and when we had a bit of drama (the woman sitting next to us accidentally took my friend L's coat along with her own) it felt like the whole of the dining room were mobilized to recover it. And sure enough, when we returned for dessert, L's coat was safe and sound, right at our table. Drama averted.

So, consider this one a surprise and a delight. All credit to L., who suggested the Dining Room when she agreed to see the opera with me. After all these years of looking down from on high at patrons having supper there, now I know what it's like!

I'd gladly do it again, and highly recommend it as a way to make a night at the opera even more memorable.

Things I Ate in Norway: Arakataka, Oslo

Last time I posted I had decided I'd group my Norway food stories together by city. But I'm going to prove myself a liar here. The first dinner we had in Norway was definitely the prettiest meal of the trip, and one of the most interesting and tastiest, too. We went to a place called Arakataka, which the Chowhound crowd liked, and which was an easy walk from the hotel, in addition to not being crazy expensive.

The space was beautiful, spare and modern, and the menu was really fun--lots of small plates, so you could assemble your own multicourse menu. We followed their advice and had 2-3 things apiece, plus some Norwegian cheese for dessert.

	First, bread.  Bread in Norway is fantastic!  Dark and multigrainy and very tasty. Good bread for long winter nights. The bread was served on a bed of toasted wheat berries--nice touch!
	And the butter. Norwegian butter is also really good--but then so is all European butter. This was particularly interesting because it was goat, not cow. New to me but very tasty--in between butter and chevre. I really liked the dollop-with-wooden-spreader presentation.
	For my starter I got the spaghetti with bleak roe, which was creamy and briny and wonderful.
	Mom opted for the potato with lumpfish roe and ramson (which is a wild onion relative). It was like a super-sophisticated take on chips with onion dip.
	We all got the same second: the cod with peas and mussels. Beautifully cooked, kind of fish & chips-like?
	I opted for the duck with beetroot and celery for my main. A tiny piece of duck, but again perfectly executed.
	Mom won in the looks department, with the jerusalem artichokes, sea lettuce and oysters. Very pretty presentation--very light (most of the shells are for show, there were only about 3 of them in the dish).
	My sister J. was undoubtedly the bravest or most radical of us, getting the Peppercrab for her main, which was a lot of work! Delicious, not too spicy, but on the messy side for a nice restaurant.

I really loved this place--the menu was kind of perfect for the first day--easy to fine-tune to suit just how much you want to eat, and how adventuresome you're feeling. I'd highly recommend it for anyone in Oslo looking for good, seasonal, modern fare from a pretty creative kitchen.