Guilty Pleasure? Nope!

I am not overly apologetic about my love for veal.  I simply like the way the tender white milky meat tastes and feels in my mouth.  That said, I am a symphathetic cook who desires to please my guests.    I have a friend who loves to collect little stuffed lambs.  Cute little furry happy lambs.  I do not serve lamb chops when she comes to dinner.  I have another dear friend who is vehemently opposed to veal....vehemently.  I do not serve Osso Buco or any veal dish when she is coming over.

Now, in the enclave of our home, forbidden protein does not exist.  I will happily cook with it, and enthusiatically eat it.

Last night, I made Veal Marsala over tagliarelle pasta.  Normally, I would make the pasta because I believe in doing so..  But, on occasion Michael will spend some hefty dollar amounts for beautiful imported pasta.  Which, to my delight, was the case last night. Ciprihana Semolina Taggliarelle Pasta, from Venice.  They serve this pasta at Harry's Bar in Venice and at every location world-wide.  It is the closest thing to fresh pasta I have ever tasted.  The perfect mouth-feel. Since Michael bought the pasta, he was in charge of cooking it to perfection.  Delegation; and any foreseeable failure averted.

I dredged two veal cutlets in egg wash and bread crumbs, pan-fried them in an olive oil & butter combination. (For flavor and smoke point).  Grated some aged fontina cheese over the top and placed them in a warm oven to let the cheeze ooze over the crisp edges of the scallapini.  This is not traditional, but it is tasty.

In the same pan, I added blanched pearl onions for thier glisten and shape, sliced crimini mushrooms, slivers of seeded roma tomatoes for a bit of acidity, sliced green peppers for crunch, and minced parsley for color and freshness. (Tomatoes & peppers not traditonal, but...) After everything was carmalized and a bit al dente, I deglazed the pan with marsala wine, a sweet smokey fortified wine from Sicily. (Delazing picks up all the fond that sticks to the bottom of the pan, and becomes part of the flavor in the sauce.)  I let the wine simmer away until it reduced by half, concentrating the flavor.  Added a couple of pats of French Plugra butter for a glossy finish and flavor. 

The tagliarelle pasta was ladled and twirled into large pasta bowls.  I placed the melted fontina coated veal cutlets on top of the pasta and drizzled the marsala reduction and vegetables over the entire thing.  Cracked Tellicherry black pepper & fleur de sel to finish.

It was totally delicious.  The pasta was velvety and toothy, very light.  A perfect nest for the almost transparent  buttery marsala reduction.  The vegetables still a bit crisp, each retaining their flavor and texture.  And the veal? Perfection.   Crisp to the bite, soft, white silkiness on the inside, and porous enough to absorb the sauce.

Guiltless Pleasures should always be encouraged.

Spice

Food is provocative.....sensual.  The ingredients, methods, spices, aromatics, and herbs are all involved in the outcome of any dish.  I love the way exotic spices  look and smell.  They look like what they will  smell and taste like.  They shimmer like paint dust on an artist's palette.

I made a lamb tajine a few weeks ago.  After browning the lamb, adding the aromatics, vegetables, spices, preserved lemon, and stock, I let the tajine simmer away for hours.  A long slow braise, a seductive braise. That is what a tajine does, and  what that tajine did.  It drew me in,  pushed me away, drew me in, and pushed me away. I could taste the smell, almost see the aroma. I was enveloped with it like perfume.....waiting and pulsating.  A tajine takes time.

The tajine braised long enough for the lamb to melt into the vegetables, the vegetables to melt into the stock, and the stock to fuse with the sultry spices.  The smokey, pungent, sweet, floral spiced-stock plumped and swelled the dried apricots and golden raisens until their sweetness exploded into the stew.  I served it over Isreali couscous for it's pearl-ness, topped it with sliced fresh figs, split-open, still joined, and  placed across the top. The sliced  purple skin revealed black-specked rosy pink flesh that gave a fresh bright juicy note to the long braised tajine.  One bite of all of  that smokey, sweet, bitter, bright, and seductive flavor sent me over the edge.

A few days ago, I made paella.  In complete contrast to the languid seduction of the tagine, the paella was a visceral assault to the senses.  Paella dosn't gently simmer.  It crackles and sizzles, uncovered.  Sometimes spitting and spilling over the pan with it's rapid boil.

Once the aromatics, pureed tomatos, and spices were sauteed in the sliced chorizo's red dyed pan-drippings, I added shellfish stock and rice  to absorb the flavored liquid and plump.  A paella cooks longer than you think it should....almost to the burning stage. After adding the reserved sauteed chorizo, I nestled fresh clams, mussels, shrimp,and  sliced roasted red bell peppers into the steaming rice before randomly tossing peas over the top to pop.....specks of jade against a burnt umber golden pot of rice, with shellfish arms reaching through the sticky rice. When the stock was  absorbed,  the crackling burning paella was table ready.  Pan and all.

The carmalized, almost burned, slightly sticky, crunchy crust that forms on the bottom is the soccarat....the prize of the paella.  The hidden aromatic gem. Every ingredient in the paella carmalizes into the soccarat.  Crunchy sweetness. Sexy paella candy.

 In Spain, some people stir it in as they eat, others save it until the end.

I do both.

The Importance of Gummi Bears

I have an unhealthy relationship with gummi bears.  For as long as I can remember, I have craved them.  To this day, when I walk through the candy aisle of a grocery store, I squeeze all the candy packages to see if they are hard or soft.....soft meaning, of course, gummi-jackpot..  I don't really buy them, I just sqeeze them.  I have a particular obsession with pineapple gummi bears, or in non-gummi speak, the clear ones.  Those are the ones I seek out, the ones I eat first.  I NEVER mix two colors/flavors at the same time, especially the pineapple..that would be wrong, blurring the flavors.

Haribo, Trolli, and Black Forrest are the Mac Daddies of the gummi world.  They invented them in the late 1800's and have certainly perfected them.  They are very similar, with some differences.  Haribo are firmer and their red is raspberry, when all the other reds are cherry.  Trolli are gooier and chewier....the way your dentist would love, sticking eternally between and around your teeth.  My dentist, twice a year, implores me to stop eating gummi bears.  Yeah, right!  He needs gummies to send his kids through college.  There, I said it.  I am not at all immune to buying those skanky three-for-a-dollar bags you see in gas stations.  They are, after all, gummi bears.  Any gummi is better than no gummi.  I have a bag of those on my kitchen counter, un-opened.  The minute I open a bag...done.  Bag empty.  I have to be careful.  Rationing is not an option.

Last night, the Faerie Princess posted a photo of a candy bin counter from an area grocery.  It pulled me right out of my wine buzz....sobering, almost.  Candy bins make me dizzy in the same way  breakfast buffets do.  Do I need 2 pounds of bacon?  Do I need 5 bags of gummies?  All of those gummies with serve yourself scoops.  Cute little scoops.  Cute little, how many gummies will it hold, scoops.  When the Hamburg cinemas first opened a few years ago, there was a gummi wall on the right of the ticket takers.  An ENTIRE wall of clear plastic bins full of  individual colors and flavors.  I had never seen such a thing of beauty.  I can still see the one bin filled completeley with pineapple gummies....full of clear, shiny little pineapple bits of happiness.  The sheer thought makes the back of mouth ache.  Jr.Faerie Princess asked me if I had ever had chocolate covered gummies.  WHAT?  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  How could this bit of culinary invention, nay, innovation escape the bounds of my knowing or having?  Then she said they only chocolate-cover the pineapple ones!!! Verklempt, undone.  Where are these "things"? Where I ask?

As a testament to my devotion and love of gummi bears,  I made the ultimate sacrifice last year:  I gave them up for Lent. Heavy boots.  Heavy sackcloth.

It was hard.  It was long.  But, when the bells chimed in Easter at the Great Vigil, I reached into my coat pocket, tore open my secret bag, and had a fist full of gummies...every flavor in one bite.  Heaven!

Foie Gras: Obsession & Too Much Sexy

I Adore foie gras.  It is one of my favorite things in the world.  One of my great quests in life is to find and eat the perfect foie gras.  I prefer pan seared, with some sort of acid or fruit to cut through the buttery fat, cleansing the palate, but would not turn my nose to a Mousse De Canard au Fois Gras, slathered on...well...anything.  I'm not a food snob, really.  I am perfectly happy eating Spaghettio's cold from the can.  However, foie gras is a reason to live. 

I encountered my first foie gras several years ago at The Oakroom at the Seelbach Hotel in Louisville.  After our amuse bouche, a demi tasse of butternut squash soup, the waiter brought my starter to the table:

Pan Seared Foie Gras, with Pumpkin Butter Brioche, Petite Apple, Celery Leaves, Candied Walnuts in a Duck Jus Vinaigrette.

        I know and remember this because I keep a food Journal.
       When we travel or eat out, I take notes.  Staffers think I am
        some sort of critic.  I do it to remember, a  culinary archive.

It was a thing of beauty.  A finger sized sliver of foie gras dusted with Fleur de Sel,  like diamonds sparkling in the candlelight. Sculptural art on a plate.  My knife snapped the perfectly crusted sear, and slid through the buttery rich fat inside.  I took my fork and brushed the foie gras through the puddle of duck jus, pierced an apple, a candied walnut, and ate it....followed by a bite of  pumpkin buttered mini brioche.  Oh My God!  Done.  Over. Complete.  I don't even recall what I had for dinner.  It didn't matter.  And so it began.

A couple of years later on a vacation to Bermuda, we had lunch at La Coquille Harbourfront Restaurant in the Bermuda Underwater Institute of Exploration.  Patio table overlooking the harbour,a  gorgeous sunny day.  I opened the menu and there it was:

Cardamon Crusted Pan Seared Foie Gras with a Port Wine Carmalized Pear and "vin cotto" Reduction.    ( you can't make this stuff up!)

I was nervous. Can it live up to?  Do I cheat on my first foie gras?  Is sex better the second time around?  It was my quest, after all.  Of course, I ordered it.  A sliver of foie gras for lunch!  Dandy.  I did pair it with grilled asparagus, seemed more lunch-like.

It was deivine.  Perfectly crisp and buttery at the same time. The wine reduction, and caramelized pear hit every note in my mouth, bouncing around, exploding.  Great mouth-feel.  The asparagus  brought a delightful coolness to the richness of the foie gras.

I have had other foie gras here and there.  Some were  just, well,  after thoughts from a well intentioned chefs. How can foie gras be an after thought?  A cold sliced garnish to a salad.  A mini slab thrown onto a plate with Captain's Wafers for.....crunch?

A couple of years ago at The Sanderling Resort in Duck, North Carolina on the Outer Banks, I ordered as a starter: 

Pan Seared Foie Gras with a Huckleberry Reduction.  Parmesan Crisps & Toast Points.

  It arrived beautifully plated, almost like an iridescent black pearl.  However it was burned on the underside.  Not carmalized, but charred.  Off putting.  The chef came to the table totally undone, and so contrite that I still have a dear spot in my heart for that foie gras...of what could have been, but sadly wasn't.

That experience has only strengthened my quest.  It, the perfect foie gras,  is out there.  And I will find it, eat it, and savor it.

Why don't I just cook my own?  I don't trust myself.  One second too long in the saute' pan, and you have rendered goose fat.   Hmmm......Pan fried eggs in rendered goose fat, removed, a bit of dijon whisked in, a little vinegar, salt & pepper, emulsified and drizzled  over a frisee salad, topped with the eggs, allowing the yolk to spill into the salad. 

That's another story.

PATE' A CHOUX CHOUX PASTE CHOUX PASTRY CREAM: dumplings?

Ok, so yesterday it was really cold and I wanted some comfort food.  I started thinking about Chicken & Dumplings.  How retro and cozy, just like my grandmother made.  My grandmother didn't make Chicken & Dumplings...she wasn't even a very good cook ( she could make a mean chess pie, though).  But, I thought, I know other people had grandmothers who made Chicken & Dumplings, and that was enough for me to obsess about it.

I had the stuff in the freezer for chicken stock...wings, backs, necks, etc., so I started out.  Got my chicken stock going...full boil, reduced to a simmer, skimmed the scum, and let it go.  It didn't take long for the aroma and sight of this stock  to totally seduce me.  How could I take this beautiful stock and drop biscuit dough on top of it for dumplings?  I just couldn't, not that there is anything wrong with drop dumplings...  I love Matzah, and spaetzel, and every kind of dumpling.  I just wanted more...something special.

So, while the stock simmered away, I flipped  through a few of my hundreds of cookbooks; and  there it was...Keller's Pate a Choux dumpling recipe.  Should I?  Dare I? Did I really really really want to?  Hell yeah.

Pate a Choux is really a very basic pastry dough.  It the same dough that goes into making eclairs, profilteroles, cocktail puffs and gougeres..  These pastries are usually piped onto  baking sheets and baked until "puffed" and golden, split, hollowed out, and filled with all kind of wonderful french things.  But, I was going to make pate a choux for......

dumplings ...Chicken & Dumplings.  This was going to be fun!

Once you begin, it goes very fast.  Mise en Place'is  in order here.  No time during the process.

Water. Butter. Salt. Flour. Eggs. Herbs, if savory. That is it!

Bring 4 Tbl  butter, 1/2 Cup water, and 1 Tsp salt to a rapid boil on medium high.  Dump 2/3 Cup of flour in all at once.  Use a wooden spoon to vigorously stir the mixture.  This releases the steam from the flour.  It will pull away from the edges and start to stick.  4 to 5 minutes of this until a nutty aroma wafts. 

Put the dough into a standing mixture...while hot, very important, and beat on low speed.  Add 1 Tsp of dijon, and 2 tsp of salt and beat until it starts to cool down.  Add 2 eggs, one at a time, making sure each is incorparted before adding the next.  Add finely minced herbs of choice.  I chose fresh thyme. Reserved.

Now, in true Keller-esque fashion, I prepared all the ingredients seperately.  This insures the integrity and taste of each  ingredient will find it's potential.  I diced haricot vert, carrots, celery, pearl onions into like sizes. These were then blanched in salted water & shocked in a salted ice bath.  Reserved.

I then sliced chicken breasts from the bone and  poached them in chicken stock with a  bay leaf and fresh thyme with a parchment cover  for 5 minutes or until just cooked.  Reserved.

For the dumplings, I took 2 spoons, and shaped them into quenelles, scraping from side to side with the spoons  to form the shape., then dropped them into salted simmering water.  6 to 10 minutes until they floated to the top.  Resvered with a slotted spoon.

Assembly time.  The moment.

3 Tbl butter to 3 Tbl flour, melted in a stock pot to make a blond roux.  Just enought to cook out the raw flour taste.  Add the chicken stock and let it thicken until it coats the back of a spoon.   Add 1/2 cup of heavy cream for richness.    Add all the reserved ingredients, stir until heated through.  Ladle into large serving bowls, salt & pepper to taste, parsley to finish..

This is not your grandmother's Chicken & Dumplings.  It is refined, luscious, and decadent.

It certaintly is not My grandmother's Chicken & Dumplings, although I wish it could have been............

Black Eyed Peas

Ok, so we went to a New Year's day brunch potluck at our faerie princess' house today.  Fabulous.  The laughter was contagious.  The joy unbounded. 

Spaulding's bread pudding by Rachel was over the top.  Jason's Pork Loin with a light soy orange glaze was fantastic, moist and tender.  The sweet orange glaze was a perfect compliment to it.

I took some collard greens & ham pot stickers, along with collard greens & ham & marscapone cheese fried wontons.  Made a traditional soy-ginger-mirin-sesame dipping sauce, a  spicy sweet red chili sauce, and a pot liqour pot sticker dipping sauce.

Who would of thought that the bread pudding with spicy sweet red chili sauce could be that unexpectedly delicious?  OMG.....mouth sensation.  It was an accident at first, the meshing of foods on a plate. A pretty damn good meshing.....sexxxxy, as the Princess would say.  Sweet, with a  hint of spice, bouncing all over your tongue, cheeks, and mouth.

AND then there were the black eyed peas.  Never been a fan of them...ever.  I'll eat anything and everything, but black eyed peas just haven't done it for me...until today.  They were so lucsious, creamy, and rich.  Turns out, coconut milk was part of the long long simmer.  A handy secret to bank. The peas were served over lucky black rice, perfectly al dente,  a nice foil to the creamy peas. Beautiful mouth feel.   So, welcome 2010 and a new food that I thought I didn't like.....but now adore!

Isn't it amazing how food can surprise and inspire? 

Resolution:  Keep an open mind and palate.

Faster Than A Speeding Bullet

I do not  spend my spare time being shot from a cannon weilding knives, wearing a toque and chef coat.  I am not faster  than a speeding bullet.  I cook.  I cook alot.  I spend quite a bit  of time cooking for my church.  During a seemingly non stop  cooking session, the nickname canonchef took hold.  Seemed kind of fitting.  Canons can be many things.  In the Church, they are  rules/laws decreed by councils.  There are Canons of literature, Musical Canons ( Pachelbel's Canon), Aesthtetic Canons, Penitential Canons, and on and on.  BUT, what they all have in common is a set of rules...as does cooking.  There ARE rules in cooking, although cooking is much more free-spirited and free-wheeling than ..say...baking. Some things just can't be messed with.  Roux is equal parts fat to flour.  Vinaigrette is one third to three thirds ( depending on preference).  Don't under- cook poultry.  Don't saute' a pork butt for 3 minutes.  Don't boil milk.   Liquid measures and dry measures are NOT equal, and Don't whip cream too long unless you want/need butter....ok ok.. Point made.

I guess my Canonchef nickname means alot to me because of these rules. I am a free-spirited follower of rules....of recipes......of concepts.  Thomas Keller's cookbooks are Canons to cooking.  Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking is a major Canon.  My favorite; and my Canon of Literature ( the first thing I was told in school to buy) is Larousse Gastronomique.  Michael bought it for me $$$$$.  It is always on my counter.  I refer to it daily.

Even when winging it in the kitchen, some principles and rules of cooking should shadow.  But,  always fly through the air as if shot from a cannon. Cook with abandon!; and always remember, you have to know the rules to break them.