foodie nyc

Soft Shell Crab, Corn Shoot and Lovage Salad

I ran into the wonders of corn shoots at the Union Square market recently.    The explosive sweetness of corn, along with a mild hint of anise, are packed into these seemingly innocuous, yellow salad greens.    The corn shoots appear innocent enough, but their intense flavors completely shocked and overwhelmed me. 

I recently picked up a lovage plant, as I've always loved the fresh celery flavor of the herb I first tasted years ago while working in the kitchen at 11 Madison Park.  I envisioned dressing the corn shoots with a fruity olive oil, a squeeze of lemon juice and some of the chopped lovage leaves. 

Considering the intense flavor of this little salad, I immediately began thinking of pairing these flavors with a meaty fish like scallops, but then noticed the first soft shell crabs I'd seen in quite some time.   I can't pass up soft shell crab, so I paired the corn shoot salad with a crispy soft shell crab seared in olive oil, garlic and finished with a squeeze of lemon.  (I rarely enjoy soft shell crab with a thick batter coating.  Pan searing allows a very crispy texture, without masking the crab with a thick crust).

The crispy and subtly sweet crab is a great match for the herbal, sweet and explosive flavors of the corn shoot lovage salad.    Every bite made me thankful for the wonders of Spring that will be in my kitchen for the next few weeks.

Related:   My Technique/Recipe for Seared Soft Shell Crab

Top (Executive) Chef

Long time readers have read my detailed thoughts about the unfortunate state of food programming that has slightly tormented me over the past few years.  (You can find my long rants on the Food Network here.)

One of the bright spots in the food television world has been Top Chef.    After season two, I was not only hooked on the show, but I thanked the culinary gods for finally putting food programming on the air that was somewhat entertaining.

Thankfully, my feelings for Top Chef have not changed much as we head into the thick of Season 4.   I still think the show has retained much of its heart and soul and continues to be at the top of my must see TV list.   

But.   

Yeah, but.

What could I possibly criticize about  the current state of Top Chef, considering it's must see TV and it's probably at its peak of popularity?

In a nutshell, I think the move to almost exclusively cast executive/sous/line cooks from high-end restaurants across the country has resulted in a homogeneous set of cooking styles and techniques on the show, resulting in Quickfire and Elimination challenges that serve up dishes from contestants that are all coming from the same perspective - that of the the two-four star, big city restaurant chef.

Let's take a step back.

There's no doubt that the quality of chefs across the board needed an upgrading from Season One.     At some point, it became clear to the viewer that the cute but slightly unpolished contestants with untraditional experiences (caterers, sommeliers, etc) were never going to win the top prize.   And as the seasons have gone on, contestants like Stephen from Season 1 have been slowly weeded out for the likes of high-end restaurant chefs from the culinary capitals of the country.   Sure, maybe  one or two folks with untraditional cooking experience have trickled into the pool (Betty was billed  as more of a caterer in Season 2, as was Micah in Season 3), but they proved to be either total hacks or inconsistent,  further pushing the producers of Season 4 down the path toward selecting candidates from the traditional restaurant pool.

My issue with this approach is based on an observation I've made as a passionate restaurant diner eating and living in NYC for the past ten years.    The high end dining  world  in a  city like NYC has created a restaurant formula upon which all of the current contestants from Top Chef are born and raised.   With all of these chefs coming from the same cooking and food culture, they all have similar philosophies, techniques and ideas.   Their food all has the same polish.   Their plating looks the same across the board.    The dishes that are being churned out each and every episode look very familiar to me.      Why? Because I have seen them all before.    Every Friday and Saturday night while eating out in New York City.

From a food perspective, I'd like to see a seasoned cook with untraditional experience in the mix as well.    Speaking from my own perspective, I can tell you that because I don't have traditional restaurant experience, I would most likely be cooking dishes that seemed a bit different from the rest of the restaurant chef contestants.  Why? I lead a different life from a line cook in a high end restaurant, for starters.   I have the time to travel.  Time to hit all the restaurants that could provide me with a new spark and a new inspiration.   Therefore, I think it would be hard to pin down what kind of food I'd crank out in a Top Chef atmosphere, because that's how I've trained myself to think and cook over the past ten years.   Like any person in any walk of life, untraditional  experiences lead to unique perspectives and talents, which is a philosophy I think Top Chef is currently lacking. 

This is not meant to read like an ad for me to be on Top Chef.   Rather, it makes me wonder what would happen to the level of culinary and entertainment excitement if the producers of Top Chef looked deeper into the culinary community of this country for high quality talent that could present a unique perspective. 

Imagine if an underdog won a Top Chef, or made it to the finale.  Imagine the home cook/caterer/food writer/unheralded cafe owner/Mexican taco truck owner/five room country bed and breakfast owner knocking off a sous chef from Le Cirque?  Imagine an underdog similar to Michael from Season 2 pulling out a stunning upset?  Imagine the buzz and excitement that would follow something like that.   Beyond cooking and food, there would be a whole human interest, underdog story that could give the show the potential to continue being fresh and exciting a few years down the road.

The question that immediately follows is...could this even happen?  I think the answer is definitely yes, it could.   It would be a long shot, but those rare occasions when long shots become reality are the types of TV moments we all crave.    You saw the Giants win the Super Bowl this year, right?

Clearly the producers of the show would have to give a thorough effort to make sure these wild card contestants could compete on a quality level.   Not only would the producers need to comb the country for this untraditional talent, but they'd also have to probably put them through a bunch of technique and cooking try-outs in order to feel confident these wild cards wouldn't take down the quality of the food on the show.   

My solution to all this would be to have one or two wild card cooks with non-traditional experience on the show each season.  In order to maintain quality, Top Chef should hold a nation wide search for non-restaurant chefs.  They would then invite a list of non-restaurant cooks and chefs to a week long competition and put them through demanding challenges as they'd encounter on the show.  After tasting their food over time and seeing them in battle, the judges would select two wild card contestants that they think can and will compete on a level of quality of the restaurant chefs.   

As of now, I worry that the current Top Chef formula of having restaurant chefs battle year after year will lead to one of my favorite shows becoming a bit predictable and generic.   

Hopefully, one of these seasons, a true wild card will emerge and shake things up a bit.

Ham Hock Brussel Sprouts, Rosemary, Toasted Sesame

Before brussel spouts became a trendy menu item in restaurants last year, I wasn't sure how I felt about them.  They seemed a bit one dimensional in flavor, and I didn't consider them an ideal flavor receptor beyond the obvious bacon and pork partner. 

But then the brussel sprout menu trend exposed me to the complex flavors brussel sprouts reveal when they are briefly pan seared and develop a slightly caramelized exterior.  The pan sear adds a depth of flavor that takes them to another level, in my opinion.   

The trick with adding this cooking method to the preparation of sprouts is avoiding the loss of their green color and nutrients (ick..i just pictured this random know-it-all out there smirking at this nutrient comment.  Stop smirking, know-it-all.  And don't send me any more colored graphs about how healthy brussel sprouts are.  Charts + food =  nerdy).   Recently, I decided to cook the spouts in boiling salted water until about 3/4 of the way cooked.  After draining them, they went into a pan with hot oil to develop the sear I love so much.

I'd be willing to wager that 75% of the brussel sprouts that appear on menus involve some type of pork item.    Bacon and pancetta are the obvious choices (and completely delicious, of course).    There's also the added benefit of rendering the bacon and pancetta until crisp, then searing the sprouts in the pork fat. 

But on this given day, I was serving a ham hock soup that you've most likely read about.    OK, ok.   I will not try and deceive you about my hidden intentions of this post.   I really want you to make smoked ham hock stock.    And as an added benefit, I want you to realize that you'll be able to use the tender,  fall-off-the-bone meat from the ham hock stock as an ingredient for another dish.   

I simply chopped the ham hock meat and added it to the pan after searing the sprouts in oil.   To bring out the earthiness of the sprouts, I finished them with a drizzle of toasted sesame seed oil, which I thought turned out to be an excellent flavor combo.   Chopped rosemary and squeeze of lemon rounded out the flavors.

Now go and make a ham hock stock brussel sprouts before the winter gloom fades.

Peanut Butter Dulce and Pork Belly? You Had Me At Hello!

As you may recall, I  asked you to send me your favorite dishes you've recent cooked at home.   As a prize for the winning selection, I'm giving away a free seat to my upcoming Foodie NYC tasting on 3/30.   

I received many interesting and delicious dishes, so this choice was very difficult to make.   Thanks to all of you that sent in your entries!   

But, in a sense, the winner came down to the fact that I may have drooled on my keyboard when I saw Chicken Fried Gourmet's Peanut Butter Dulce De Leche paired with Pork Belly.    Not only did the pairing completely intrigue me,  but the utter deliciousness of Michael's dish speaks for itself.

From the words of Michael himself, via his blog Chicken Fried Gourmet:

I wanted to do something different with the Peanut Butter Dulce De Leche (surprise) and not follow the usual theme of making a dessert.....My first thought was pork belly. The inspiration came from Sam Mason's Tailor, where he does a miso-butterscotch pork belly. As you can tell from previous posts this is one of my favorite meats to prepare recently. I wanted to do just simple flavors with the PBDDL so there is really not a lot of things going on with this dish other than the usual accompaniments.

I started by marinating the pork belly in a mixture of PBDDL, bourbon, fresh garlic and olive oil. I then vacuum sealed it and put it in the fridge for 3 days. From the start the dish was made to be of smaller proportion. Originally we were going to have this on Saturday night with friends where we all made two small dishes. It would sort of be like Tapas but not Spanish themed. Everything was on track till Louisiana’s crazy weather sidelined two of the couples with flu like symptoms. Since I had already spent so much time on the dish I decided to just go ahead and make it the main course.

I wanted to have as few ingredients as possible in order for the PBDDL flavor to come through. I settled on some micro arugula dressed in balsamic dressing with crushed peanuts to top it off. I added a “paint” of the PBDDL under the belly and added 3 drops of balsamic syrup to cut the sweetness of the PBDDL. All day Friday I kept obsessing on if I should add a “base” to the dish..... The 2^nd idea, and the one I went with, was a sweet potato ice cream. It follows a basic ice cream recipe but I add two roasted sweet potatoes then strain before making the custard. Looking back I would have added more sweet potatoes for a more pronounced flavor. It was still good though.

This dish was a hit.   It was filling but not to the point where you felt like you had to save up to go see your cardiologist.   The ice cream played well with the sweetnees of the PBDDL and the savoriness of the pork belly.

To thank Michael for this delicious bit of inspiration, he'll be receiving a complimentary seat to the Foodie NYC 3/30 tasting event. 

Be sure to check out Chicken Fried Gourmet for more pictures of the winning dish here.

Thanks to all those who participated and congrats, Michael.

Rosemary, Ginger, Smoked Paprika Bloody Mary

As certain people in my life know, I'm a little obsessed with the Bloody Mary. 

I always seem to wake on a weekend morning with a crazy desire for the perfect Bloody.  Sure, it's about the flavor.   But it also symbolizes the the celebratory, unburdened sense of freedom I associate with a weekend morning.    

My Bloody partner in crime and I are fascinated with how inconsistent the classic Bloody Mary tastes from bartender to bartender.    Sure, food and drinks are always subjective, but doesn't the classic Bloody always have the same qualities in common?  It's crazy that maybe 4 out of 5 Bloodies we consume don't exhibit all the traits we crave.

What makes the perfect Bloodie for me?  First, there's the balance between vodka and tomato juice.   Many Bloodies I get are overly watery - the tomato flavor just doesn't come through.   After that, it's all about the ingredients in the mix.    I recently caught my Bloody partner in crime looking through the side of the glass, evaluating the ratio of horseradish, cracked pepper and such within the liquid.  Sometimes you can tell if it's going to be a good Bloody just by looking at it.   

Finally, the  balance of flavors comes next.   The squeeze of citrus, the multiple levels of spiciness (pepper, chili, horseradish, etc) and intangibles like freshness (fresh horseradish makes a huge difference, of course) are certainly factors.

So, considering all this, I felt a bit of pressure when making Bloody Mary's one weekend morning.  Could I live up the standard that I felt so adamantly about?  I hadn't really made a Bloody Mary before, so the pressure was on.

To start things off, I couldn't get my hands on fresh horseradish or Worcester sauce as quickly as I needed to whip up the Bloodies.  To compensate,  I thought about how I could replace the peppery heat of horseradish without substituting with more Tabasco or adding cayenne.   Since the horseradish adds a different sort of heat than a chili, I thought I'd opt for freshly grated ginger.   For a bit of that meaty earthiness that the Worcester normally provides, I broke out the smoked paprika - not enough to overpower the drink, but just a pinch to add a depth of smokiness and complexity.

All I did was grate some fresh ginger on a microplane, which after a few batches (!), ended up being an  essential way to avoid taking big bites of ginger.   The rosemary needs to be be chopped as finely as humanly possible, again to avoid the sometimes unpleasant texture of the herb in the mouth.    A very fine dice of celery was a welcomed bit of freshness in the drink, as was the spicy vinegary kick of Tabasco and the fresh squeeze of lime juice.    The garnish, a wedge of candied ginger, added another welcomed addition of aggressive flavor.

P.S. -  My favorite Bloody Mary these days (actually a Bloody Maria) is at the East Village restaurant Mercadito.  I think its outrageous - cucumber muddled with a smoky, chipotle tomato juice and just the right amount of citrus.  Of course, there's Prune...but sometimes the wait doesn't make sense for me.   

Send me a note or comment on a great Bloody Mary I should try in NYC or Williamsburg, and I'll be sure to tell you what I thought.   

I Want to Cook For You (And Serve You Wine)

I sometimes feel guilty that most of the food I discuss on this site is mine. 

OK, I guess I don't.  I mean, it's my site, right?

Just kidding.  I'd love one of your dishes on this site.    Plus, I've done these contests in the past with the hopes of meeting a long time reader in person...and it's worked out well. 

So, I'm giving away a free seat to the upcoming March 30th tasting, which you can read about here.

So what do you have to do to win?

Just submit a favorite  dish you've made at home with a general method of preparation and a few sentences about why you made the dish.  While a photo of your submission is not required, it will count in your favor when choosing the winning entry. 

Entries must be received by midnight on March 16th.  I will announce the winner on this site on Monday, March 17th.

I'll be choosing the winner based on creativity and your ability to make me either drool or laugh,  which believe it or not, is not very difficult to do.  (I drool frequently.)

If you live in another state or cannot attend the tasting on March 30th, you will be given the option to receive a seat to a future event or pass your seat onto a friend that can attend the tasting in your place.

Please send all submissions to me at joe at foodienyc dot com.

Have fun!

Beets Vinaigrette, Cashews, Cilantro Goat Cheese Sauce

When I'm bored (with myself), I make up little challenges to break up my standard routines.   

At the market recently, I gave myself a four ingredient maximum for a salad that I'd serve before  a sobu noodle dish I was making for a main course.

I started with beets in mind and then found myself drifting toward the obvious goat cheese accompaniment.   But rather than incorporate the goat cheese in a traditional manner, I thought I'd puree the goat cheese with a bit of milk, chopped cilantro and lemon juice, creating a bit of a sauce to spoon around the roasted beets.

Roasted cashews and some orange zest would round out the dish, but something was missing from my plan.   I stared at the leaves of the beets greens and the red veins of the stems, wondering if I could juice them and create a beet vinaigrette. 

I pictured a vibrant green vinaigrette made from the beets tops.  But after blanching and juicing them, I came away with a gray, icky looking liquid that I wasn't interested in looking at, let alone eating.

As plan B, I picked up the vivid red beet stems and decided to juice them.   Sure enough, I had the essence of the beet in a viscous liquid that solely needed a whisk of olive oil and lemon juice.   The beet vinaigrette  lent an acidic element that balanced the sweetness of the whole beets and the creamy tang of the goat cheese sauce.

Just like me to turn a four ingredient appetizer into a process, but the results were worth the trial and error, as I now have a new use for beet stems.

Related:   Blood Orange Beet Salad with White Chocolate

Soba Noodles with Tofu, Shitake, Pineapple, Cilantro

One of the single most frustrating aspects about having a passion for cooking is the frequent assumption that cooking is something I do to fulfill my own needs. 

I often hear things like "It's not a big deal, since you love to cook anyway" or "I know you just made a huge dinner for me and friends, but you love it",  or  "I know this was a major effort, but you'd be cooking anyway".   

It's as if cooking is a narcissistic act that solely revolves around fulfilling my passions.   While there is some truth to that, cooks everywhere experience a phenominom once they learn their guests tastes, likes and dislikes.    Cooking for someone becomes thoughtful. 

A friend who adores soup and pho? Hmm, maybe I'll make a rendition of oxtail soup that would have completely different qualities in comparison to pho.   Someone  who loves the clean yet complex flavors of Thai?  Maybe these flavors would be a helpful remedy for her crazy weekend on the road?

What I'm getting at is that cooking is much more than the physical effort of chopping, sauteing and searing.   Beyond the effort,  it can become an extremely thoughtful expression.   Thinking about what flavors or tastes can make someone smile...remembering what ingredients they love and loathe with precise detail...recalling a dish they loved while eating at a restaurant  together.  All of these things are much more than an act of labor.

My point is simply that cooking for someone on a frequent basis becomes much more than a  physical effort.   Believe it or not, sometimes that gets overlooked by eaters everywhere.

Anyhow, I bring this up because that's exactly what inspired me to make this Soba noodle dish (which is the actual point of this post!).   I went to the market thinking about what flavors would comfort someone coming back from a rowdy and sleepless weekend.    She loves the play of sweet, tart and spicy, loves starches like rice and noodles, enjoys the earthy flavors of tofu and mushrooms, and maybe cilantro is one of her favorite herbs.    Done.

I simply sauteed shitakes in olive oil with finely chopped white onion, garlic, ginger and some cayenne.  After the mushrooms cooked down and released their water, I added cubed firm tofu and sesame seed oil and sauteed for a few minutes.   A bit of soy deglazed the pan.   Finally, cubed pineapple, roasted cashews, chopped cilantro and the juice of a whole lime finished the dish.   I added the cooked soba noodles, folded them into the ingredients in the pan, then adjusted the seasoning as necessary.    I added a bit more lime juice and another few drops of soy and sesame oil for balance. 

A delicious and simple dish, which made excellent lunch leftovers the next day.

Sandra Lee Sucks: Coq Au Coconut with Celery Root Puree

My virtual protest of the culinary train wreck that is Sandra Lee comes to you in a variation of the classic French dish, Coq Au Vin.

For this edition of  "I Loathe Sandra Lee", I've decided to show Sandra how to create a proper braised chicken dish.   Sandra created one of the most unfortunate recipes I've seen, unwisely called "Chicken Scaloppini".  She inexplicably suggests that you braise thin, boneless chicken breasts for 4 hours.  To accent her dry overcooked chicken, she suggests braising pre-cooked frozen vegetables and potatoes for four hours, just so you can appreciate how vegetables can turn gray and lose all of their flavor and texture.   Now that's good eating.

I wish I could say I spent a ton of time thinking about how to improve this debacle.   But I didn't need to, because unlike Sandra Lee,  I realized that the  French pretty much mastered the technique for braising chicken long before Sandra even knew how to spell "preservative."

I followed the traditional Coq Au Vin technique for braising chicken, but since I try to live my life beyond the "30% creative benchmark" that Sandra inspires the world to live by,  I chose flavor combinations I thought would add an earthy element to the chicken and the braising sauce. 

After searing the chicken, I added cremini mushrooms, ground curry, garlic and water to deglaze the browned chicken goodness left in the bottom of a heavy pot.   I submerged the chicken in the liquid, brought to a heavy simmer, than placed it in a 350 oven for just a little over an hour (not four!).   

After the chicken is ready, the key becomes turning the amazingly rich, mushroom curry broth into a sauce.   I reduced the sauce for another twenty minutes until concentrated and thicker.   I then finished the dish with coconut milk, adding a creamy spike of flavor.    A bit of lemon juice cuts through the richness and balances the sauce. 

As a starchy compliment to the dish, I boiled and pureed celery root.   I love the fresh, celery flavor the puree adds to the earthy flavors of the mushroom, curry and chicken.   A simple garnish of diced radish and celery leaves adds a burst of fresh flavor and texture.

Chest bumps, Sandy!

Full recipe follows.......

Save the Date: The Next Tasting Is In Sight

I'm very closing to announcing the next set of Foodie NYC tasting events for the weekend of March 28-30.   

Read more here.   

I'm going to be doing a theme for this event, most likely inspired by my upcoming trip to Puerto Rico.    I did an event last year based on my trip to Umbria/Tuscany, which made for a personal and interesting dining experience for my guests.

I'm also thinking of  giving away a free seat to this event by doing a potential contest, like I did with my chocolate tasting event a while ago.

Stay tuned, more to come....

I Still Loathe Sandra Lee: February 2008

It's been a while since I've thought about Sandra Lee.

But one Saturday morning, I couldn't sleep and found myself curled up on the couch watching Saturday morning Food Network shows.   Before I knew it, the queen of semi-homemade popped onto the screen in all her processed glory.    All of the cuddly goodness of this particular Saturday morning suddenly stood still in time, as I heard the dreaded words that sent my mind into a state of perplexed anarchy.   I can almost hear the shrill of her voice now:  "70% Semi Homemade and 30% creativity" and something to the effect of fooling people into thinking you actually made food from scratch.   Dupe your family!  Fool your friends!  Woohoo!

All of this reminded me how much I loathe Sandra Lee.    I get tons of love and hate mail around this subject, and I'd like to clear something up.   I don't loathe simple cooking.   Or meals that take only minutes to make.    What I do loathe is using processed ingredients full of chemicals, artificial flavors and passing it off as homemade cooking to fool your friends and family. 

It's almost like Sandra Lee is stuck in a food time warp circa 1985.    Sometimes I feel like the entire country is moving toward a local food, all natural, fresh tastes better, farmers market mentality.   But every time I feel assured about the food progress of our country,  I'm reminded that there's a single woman out there who encourages us to forget about eating  natural, healthy, local ingredients.

Beyond this, I couldn't help but notice her awful cooking technique. 

An example would be her recipe for "Chicken Scaloppini".   I'm sorry, but this has to be the worst technically sound recipe I have seen in my life.   She suggests that you should buy thinly sliced chicken breasts and braise them with a bouillon cube , Campbell's cream of asparagus soup, and frozen vegetables for 4 HOURS!!!  Not only does this combination sound horrendous to me, the technique for braising is unbelievably wrong.     One does not braise skinless, boneless chicken breasts for four hours! Ever.   No one likes tough, rubbery chicken.  Nor does one braise pre-blanched frozen veggies for four hours - they are already cooked! 

Read some of the comments from people who made this horrendous dish.   They speak for themselves.

This recipe embodies everything wrong with Sandra Lee.    She is literally setting the American food revolution back by 10 years every time she convinces a poor soul to listen to her shitty advice.

On February 18,  the next internet protest of Sandra Lee will occur on this little site.    I will post a recipe inspired by Sandra Lee's "Chicken Scaloppini" recipe.   The only rules:  I will not use processed ingredients or anything semi-homemade in my dish.   I will braise using proper techniques.   I will be more than 30% creative rather than buy bouillon cubes and Campbell's Soup to avoid thinking.

If you are interested in joining me and telling the world how much you loathe Sandra Lee, simply make a braised dish in the anti-Sandra Lee method outlined above.   Send me a photo of your creation by February 17 and a bit of description and I'll feature your protest of Sandra Lee alongside my dish.  If you have a blog, I'll link back to you in my post.

Related:   The I Loathe Sandra Lee Archives

Aglio Oilio, Bastardized

By now, you've read enough about the simple, traditional pasta we always have on Christmas Eve.    Olive oil, garlic, peperoncino, parsley and parm regg make up the dish.   Despite all of the adventures I like to take with ingredients, I can rarely muster the nerve to mess with this dish.

But as part of the post Kate Nash dinner, I said screw tradition. 

The concept and technique for the dish remained the same, but the ingredients were turned upside down.   I started with olive oil in a pan, but rather than infusing with garlic and peperocino, I went with garlic, smoked paprika and a dash of ground cardamom.   After a handful of parsley, the oil stays on low heat for all of the flavors to come together. 

After cooking the pasta to the point of almost al dente, it's added to the oil to cook just a bit more to immerse itself in the flavored oil.   To take this bit of heresy to another level, I finished the dish with grated 5 year old aged gouda instead of the traditional parm regg.   

The smokey, fragrant oil was intense, flavorful and earthy.   I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the aged gouda in the pasta.    It lent the same nutty, salty flavor of the parm regg, but the caramel flavors were an interesting twist. 

Cooking for Kate Nash

As I always say, cooking inspiration can come from the unlikeliest of places.    

Music shouldn't be a surprising source of inspiration for long time readers of this site.     I've sporadically posted the music I listen to in the kitchen.   And last year, I created a dish inspired
by one of my favorite musicians, Andrew Bird, after seeing him in concert in 2007.

For the past few months, I've been completely in love with Kate Nash.    Her songs come across as real, stream-of-conscious stories of her life.  As I watched her in concert on Jan 7,  I couldn't help but admire her ability to be amazingly sweet, yet all of sudden sour, bitchy,  and even slightly unbalanced at the same time.

I've written about my attraction to the bitchy sweetness dichotomy on this site already.    Sure, sweetness is important but there's something interesting about the occasional curve ball that feistiness adds to life. 

In fact,  listening to Kate Nash tell a dude off through witty sarcasm is pretty hot.  I couldn't imagine being told off and feeling good about it, but after listening to Kate Nash do it,  I think it might be possible.   

As I thought about all this at the concert,  I couldn't help but realize I was describing her personality in food terms.

In my mind, a Kate Nash dish would be colorful, vibrant and definitely feminine.  There would be bit of sweetness that would be balanced by a mouth puckering tartness and a hint of spiciness.   

I went to the market looking to re-create the sweet and bitchy flavors I thought about while watching Kate Nash in concert.   Here are the results.

Red Mullet on Banana
Meyer Lemon, Mango Juice
Cilantro Mango Jalapeno Pomegranate Salsa 

I wanted to pair a mild fish with a light, tart sauce and a salsa that was both spicy, sweet and crunchy.   Meyer lemons are frequently described as a cross between a  lemon and an orange, but they're still rather acidic on their own.    I juiced two Meyer lemons with a whole mango.   The mango not only adds sweetness, but adds a creamy body to the Meyer lemon juice. 

Red mullet is an excellent, mild white fish that's a breeze to make.   I cook the fish on a non-stick pan skin down the entire time, solely to create a crispy skin.   I even broil the red mullet skin side up for a minute right before serving, just to further enhance the crispiness of the skin.

I perched the red mullet on a small raw slice of banana and garnished with the salsa, then poured  the Meyer lemon juice around the fish.   The tart Meyer lemon cuts through the richness of the fish, and is balanced by the sweetness of the mango and banana.   The occasional bite of jalapeño adds an unexpected spiciness, while the pomegranate adds a crunchy texture.

Bitchy and sweet, indeed.   

Kate Nash photo courtesy of Rockographer.

Five Year Old Gouda

(ed note:  I have been eating a lot of aged gouda recently, so I thought I'd re-post this from Sept, 2006.   I'm currently eating a piece as I write this, so I thought I should remind you to track some down.)

Needless to say, I am a big cheese lover.  I know that for many of you out there, skipping dessert for a cheese plate is offensive.  But for me, it's essential.  Cheese is certainly my preferred way to end a meal.  In my fantasy world, I would have a cheese cave (like the ones at Artisanal) built into my fantasy dream world foodie temple, as well as an old school cheese cart, which would be stacked with 20 cheeses and wheeled around by a cheese jockey each and every hour I am awake.  (Yes, I just typed cheese jockey. No, I am not intoxicated).

But in the real world, I have about 3 or 4 cheeses in my fridge at all times, Parmigiano Reggiano (aka parm regg) being the constant.  But after a recent meal in which I served a cheese plate with a five year aged Gouda, I am ready to annoint the five year old Gouda to my all time favorite cheese list.

The texture is similar to parm regg, but with larger crystals within the cheese that add a gritty texture to each bite.  The cheese has a deep caramel like color, and indeed a caramel-like taste. There is even a bit of butterscotch flavor and sweetness that balances nicely with those crystal-like bites of saltiness.  You NYCers can find 5 year aged Gouda at Fairway (73/Bway) relatively frequently.  Artisanal has a four year old for sale - I'd be curious to know how it compares. 

Now, back to dreaming about that cheese cave and the cheese cart jockey. Would that cheese jockey have condiments handy as well?  Would he pair wines with his cheeses? Would he make fondue in the winter? Hmm.....

Cocoa Cardamom Cumin Chicken Wings

It's almost embarrassing that this dish was inspired by garlic, ginger soy marinated chicken wings at Japanese restaurant Kasadela.  (For those of you keeping score, this is my second post inspired by a meal there.   You should go...and I should go back!).

Embarrassing in the sense that I wanted to stick to the flavors I enjoyed at Kasadela.   A moist, wet marinade that exploded with flavor in every bite.   But there's something about me that just wants to take an idea and run with it rather than re-create it.

I have been on a recent ground cardamom kick, generally for the first time  in my life.  Powerful yet fragrant, used in relatively restrained proportions and with earthy flavors, it's truly a phenomenal spice.    I immediately thought cocoa would be an excellent match for cardamom, as would the earthiness of cumin.   

I wish I could give you proportions, but I had people over, we were drinking lots of wine and generally being rowdy.    For the first time in a while, I had a camera.   So I did what I had been doing every time I used to cook, take pictures for you (and my memory, I suppose).  I guess I'm saying that proportion memory was not a priority.

I chose not to fry the wings, which was mainly because I didn't want to burn the rub, particularly the cocoa.   I roasted them at 350 then 450 to finish.   They were juicy, bursting with earthy flavors and generally delicious.   In retrospect, I would have given them a brief fry to finish rather than turn the oven heat up, just for that extra crispiness.   But otherwise, they were eaten relatively quickly by my rowdy friends.    Always a good sign....

A Sandwich For A Non-Pork Eater You Owe A Favor

I tend to wince at questions like "What would you eat for your last meal?" or "What is your favorite food?".    That's like asking me if I'd rather  watch Semi Homemade with Sandra Lee or go to Olive Garden and drown myself in Alfredo sauce and unlimited breadsticks.   It's such a tough call.   There's one thing I do know, though.   Pork would be involved in my last meal.   The issue is in what form, really.   

I guess that's why non-pork eaters who aren't 1) vegetarian or 2) religious make me ponder the meaning of life and the future of humanity as we know it.     OK, I kid.   Sort of.

For Christmas dinner, I made a pork roast that was butterflied and stuffed with caramelized onions, fennel, mushrooms and sage.  The next day, I couldn't wait to make a sandwich with the leftovers.   

It turns out a friend decided to do me a huge favor, drive an hour out of her way, and take me back to NYC  after the holidays.    Since she was starving, I thought I'd try and make an amazing sandwich for the ride back the city.   Considering her efforts,  I wanted to make her a sandwich that she'd never have before.   Or maybe again.

But, this is one of those non-pork, non-veggie, non-religious types of people.   Right.

I went rummaging through the fridge and found some shrimp, frozen peas, leftover caramelized onions and last but not least, a chunk of Gruyere.  I would make my Spanish Style shrimp (recipe here) with garlic and paprika, then chop them coarsely.   I wanted a creamy base in the sandwich, so I reheated the peas and pureed them with olive oil.   I carved out some of the insides of the baguette (ingredient to bread ratio in a sandwich is important to me), spread the pea puree as a base, and topped it with the chopped shrimp, the sweet onions and cheese.    Despite the picture above, the sandwich was finished with a baguette top and warmed in the oven. 

My non-pork eating friend and I gave this sandwich an A- .   The pea puree is a perfect compliment to the shrimp, while the sweetness of the onion added a surprise with every bite.   The combination of ingredients was totally unexpected and made the sandwich a fun experiment for a brief road trip.   

Ham Hock Soup, Pastina, Yellow Foot Mushrooms

I had one of my first major cravings to braise in a long time last weekend.    That's odd behavior for me, considering I seem to rush to braise the first time I feel a nip in the air.   

But so far, it's been all about soups this winter season.   There are a few reasons for the change in course.   The first is that I've been told frequently that my soups are one of the best things I'm making these days.  There seems to be some truth to that,   so why mess with a good thing?

The other big reason is that I rarely get my plan together for cooking four hours before I'm ready to prepare dinner.   The comfort food that falls second on my list after braised meats is a flavorful soup.  So instead of braising,  I'll poach a whole chicken for a brodo that reminds me of Italy, simmer mushrooms for a mushroom stock, experiment with veggie and ginger stocks...the varieties are endless.   I recently had a duck stock at Momofuku that I loved, so I need to work that into the mix. 

One of the stocks that's been part of my arsenal for years is a smoked ham hock stock.  I love the smoky, intense pork flavor especially within a clear, unfatty broth.   I posted my recipe for smoked ham hock stock before - it requires little effort and can basically simmer on the stove while you read the paper, watch football or declog your shower.  (Sorry, inside joke.)

You've heard everyone say that homemade stocks are a thousand times better than anything you can buy.   For once, everyone is right - the flavor isn't even comparable in my opinion.  But another major benefit of making stock, in fact one of the most important benefits, is the abundance of good eating that will follow.   It's like the a culinary gift to yourself that keeps on giving.   

For instance, this ham hock stock was used to make a soup with pastina, sausage, yellow foot mushrooms and rosemary.    After a night of leftovers, the stock made an appearance in a green curry and mussel soup, similar to the one I've posted here.     Another thing I like to do after work is to just reheat some leftovers in the soup.    I recently had some leftover brussel sprouts, rice and peas in the fridge - nothing originally intended for soup.   Just a few ladles of the stock turned them into a quick dinner that left me wondering why I wouldn't always have stock in my fridge.    Oh wait....I do.    Nevermind.

Fried Lotus Root with Banana Sriracha

My recently declared focus on Japanese ingredients and cuisine hit an impasse recently.   For starters, the holidays were a bit of  a barrier.   But I also underestimated the breadth and depth of the traditional ingredients that are in the NYC markets.   I quickly found out that my typical spontaneous market visits that lead to the dishes you read on this site wasn't going to cut it in this case.    I need to do a lot more research and come to the market with more of a plan.     So until I get up to speed on making these things humans call "plans", you're going to be seeing Japanese ingredients (that I know) with my own touches.

I recently had a bowl of thin, salty, crispy fried lotus root at a Japanese restaurant in the East Village called Kasadela.    One part of our excellent meal that I won't forget anytime soon was the fried lotus root.   I couldn't help but imagine them as a perfect little bite to start a dinner party.    I imagined a sweet yet spicy dollop of a condiment on each lotus root chip.   I thought about a guacamole I'd been making last summer, only enhanced with some chopped banana for sweetness and texture.  I realized I didn't need the avocado, and would simply add a spicy sriracha accent to the mashed bananas.    I simply chopped the bananas very finely, added a bit of sriracha and lemon juice, and mashed the mixture together with a fork.    The sweet, spicy, citrus flavors almost seemed to enhance the salty, crunchy chips.

The fried lotus root were equally good served like chips, sans condiment.  The key to success with the lotus root is getting them as thin as possible before frying them in a neutral oil (I used grape seed).  A plastic mandolin is the perfect tool, as the thin uniform slices lead to a chip that seems to shatter and crunch at the same time.

When the Eve is the Main Event

There are a few events I look forward to each year, and there's no doubt that Christmas Eve is at the top of the list.   It's probably no surprise to you that I'd describe it as a food and wine extravaganza.   Add the family and traditions that have seemingly been a part of our Christmas Eve since Italians starting simmering garlic in olive oil, it's such a fantastic night for me that it makes Christmas Day seem like a bit of an afterthought.   (I did not feel this way while I was growing up and waiting for Santa to come the next morning, of course.)

Here are some of this year's highlights.   

Before we get too far into this, you need to know that we follow the Italian tradition of eating only fish on Christmas Eve.  We are not hard core seven fish traditionalists, though I would bet that we do have seven varieties over the course of the night each year.   We are pretty consistent about sticking to the fish tradition, which I've come to enjoy, as it's a challenge to keep the main courses interesting each year.  Well, there was the time that Uncle Beef decided to randomly serve braised beef as a main course, in a controversial maneuver that shocked and appalled everyone over the age of forty.   We don't talk about that often.  (OK, we do.  It was pretty funny).   

The other element that never changes is the pasta course, which is the classic Alio Olio recipe that I've discussed on this site before - simply olive oil, garlic, peperoncino, parsley, parmiginano reggiano and a thin cappellini-like pasta (thicker than angel hair, thinner than spaghetti).   It's a classic dish that I end up craving from time to time, mainly because it reminds me of being a kid on Christmas Eve.    Uncle Beef, in the midst of a few " cool down beers" one year,  added diced pancetta to the pasta that led to raised eyebrows and hidden sighs of pleasure.    While I have been fending off such renegade behavior over the years (such as an unfortunate capers episode and the threat of a sardines), I was greeted this year with a plethora of pancetta and a craving for a return to the renegade pancetta behavior of the past.   I don't fight pork fat - I only crisp it with serve it with a smile on my face.   

Before the pasta course, we had a fantastic mussel soup - possibly my most satisfying bites of this year's dinner.    Judy made a great crab stock, which was added to a base of garlic, ginger, onion, peperoncino and fire roasted canned tomatoes.   After the soup simmers for a while, the mussels and a nugget of butter is added right before serving.   The mussels add their juices to the broth, while the nugget of butter balances out the acidic qualities of the tomato.  A last minute handful of tarragon brought it all together.  (Note:  I was too busy to take a picture of this dish, so the photo is from Judy's mussels from '06.  The version I discuss above was soupier than the picture.  That's for those family members keeping  track of such detail...all two of you.)

The other enduring tradition for our Christmas Eve is wine.    Only recently did the wine quality take off to another level, though I believe the quantity consumed has maintained a fairly consistent level best described as...hmmm....generously foolish.   This year's highlight for me was the 1998 Chateau Angelus Grand Cru Bordeaux from St. Emilion.    I had been holding onto this wine for a while and was happy I brought it, but I had meant to bring a Chateauneuf but grabbed the wrong bottle while rushing out the door.   I didn't realize until we got there that I had brought the Bordeaux, thus embarrassing myself continuously by mentioning Chateauneuf throughout the evening.    Good thing I can cook, eh? Well, at least I could appreciate the amazing, herbacious nose of the Bordeux and the long earthy finish.   

Finally, the main course this year happened to be outrageous.   Judy made a whole salmon stuffed with kashi which was moist and delicious.   The other main was based on a post I had written a long time ago - essentially a recreation of an unbelievable cod dish I had a few years ago at a restaurant called BLT FISH.    The cod is marinated in soy, white vinegar and acacia honey, then broiled and roasted.   The exterior crust is a caramel colored golden brown, while the sauce is salty, sweet and rich.  It's so good that I had to fight off this random Jewish dude who keeps showing up to Christmas Eve dinner, or I think he may have chugged it straight from the pot.

Since I take pride in not following recipes and find the  Food Network only vaguely satisfying, a few people found the fact that this dish came from a recipe and from foodnetwork.com a bit humorous.     Chef Laurent Tourandel, the genius who created this recipe, must have made this dish on a Food Network episode, as googled the dish up popped his recipe on the Food Network.  So, in a nod to my duplicitous actions, I offer you the Chef Tourandel's recipe, courtesy of the Food Network - and take zero credit for the idea.   Make this cod - it's a show stopper.

(NOTE:  Missing from the list of Christmas Eve traditions are the fried smelts.  I would describe them for you, but writing about them makes my stomach turn.  Nothing like gagging on little bones and fishy meat...mmmm.)

Primi, Served as Secondi

There are so many little stories and thoughts about my Italian travels that I've been storing in my mind, but found difficult to turn into individual posts.   Instead, I've prepared a few random little primi and serve them up to you as a more substantial secondi.   

The 1984 Ridge

During my time cooking for the Italian chef at his restaurant during the summer of '06,  he'd always serve me a proper dinner at the tables in the piazza before service.  He'd make me the best dishes on the menu, and I'd sip wine and read under the protection of shade from the summer heat.    On one particular evening, he told me to take anything from his wine cellar.   Thrilled, I spotted a 1984 Ridge Petite Syrah.   Surely I couldn't choose a Cali wine while in Florence, could I? But I loved Petite Syrah, and when would be the next chance for me to have one from the 80s?  So I went for the Petite Syrah.

As the chef  brought out a Chianina steak with porcini for my secondi,   an Italian woman my age sitting close by in the  piazza came up to me and said something in Italian.   I smiled and held up the book I was reading, Heat, which was obviously in English.   She smiled and said in English "Are you a chef?".   I told her about the book and how I was essentially doing the same thing as the author at the restaurant we were sitting in front of.  She pulled up a chair and we chatted for a while.   She was impressed with my knowledge of Italian food and wine.   Well, until she saw the Ridge sitting on the table.   When she heard it was Californian, she became oddly skeptical of me.   Why not drink something Italian...in Italy?  Damn.   Busted.   So I grasped at the last straw.    I offered her a glass, hoping this would speak for itself and somehow justify why I wasn't drinking a Brunello.   She smelled, swirled, sipped....and hated it.   Ciaos and air kisses  followed shortly after.   Damn Americans.

Goat Cheese Ricotta

Pecorino, made from sheep's milk,  is the undisputed king of Tuscany.    The idea of  eating something like goat cheese is so foreign to Tuscans, that my guides thought I'd appreciate a meeting with the most novel cheese maker they knew - a goat cheese producer.   He told me of his struggles to survive - how his friends and the locals thought he was crazy and were not very open to trying new cheeses, and the resulting plight to barely make ends meet.   But his goat cheeses were pristine and phenomenal, while his passion was somehow unaffected by his lack of acceptance.   The cheese was more tangy than grassy, but overall, his story was inspiring.   He showed me how to make a goat cheese ricotta that was amazing...haven't had anything like it since.   I wish I knew where to get my hands on some....

Pasta, Unboiled

One day, the Italian chef asks me if I've ever made dried pasta without boiling it in water.   I didn't respond, just sort of laughed.  I have read about cooking dried pasta in red wine, which infuses the flavor and turns the pasta a haunting purple.   But this Chef was very traditional and took a lot of pride in that, so I thought he was joking.    Without really speaking, he throws whole garlic in olive oil on low heat and removes it a few minutes later.   He puts sliced onions in the oil, sweating them without caramelizing.   In the pan goes fresh tomatoes for a simmer, then some red wine followed by a boil.    He throws in dried penne, covers the lid, and serves the pasta al dente, cooked in the sauce, ten minutes later.   Absolutely delicious.  I need to experiment with this approach more often.

Spoiled with Porcini  

I have always loved porcini.   But my experiences with fresh porcini had been spotty.    I had impeccable raw porcini in a salad at Babbo when I first graduated from college that sent me on a huge porcini obsession.   But then, I'd find fresh porcini in the markets that were old, wet, soggy or dried out and past their prime.  After dish upon dish, crate upon crate of fresh porcini  inspection in the Chef's kitchen in Tuscany,  it hurts me to the core to realize that those perfect, impeccably fresh porcini moments are going to be few and far between for me.    Insert pouting face here.

Five Things That Make Me A Better Cook

On my way to work today, I came to the realization that I'd been feeling uninspired in the kitchen and somehow needed to get myself going again.  It led me to begin thinking about some of the key motivations that inspire me.    While not a comprehensive list and certainly more EMO than practical, writing this actually did lead to a new source of inspiration which you'll read about in the upcoming weeks, I presume.

The Reaction

I'd say one of the most motivating and satisfying parts of cooking are those few moments of unprompted joy and satisfaction I see from someone eating a dish I've made for them.     I can sometimes see surprise in their expressions, sometimes a hint of questioning and thought, sometimes a hint of revelation, sometimes the makings of a smile.   There is the rare occasion in which a dish can turn someone from grumpy to upbeat, and those moments are slightly unforgettable for me.  Don't be confused - I'm not talking about accolades or gracious thank yous.  While those are certainly great,  the unscripted and often subtle moments of appreciation are immensely satisfying to me.

Embracing The Potential to Fail

The first thing I started to feel when I began cooking for people was the pressure of serving a dish that didn't seem to be working out accordingly to plan.    At one point, I stopped worrying about the potential of making mistakes.   As you'd expect, the sense of liberation was refreshing.    Cooking for someone is like giving them a gift.    When *most* people are given a gift, they appreciate it for what it is - an expression of thoughtfulness and generosity.    This attitude allowed me to become bolder and riskier in the flavors combinations and dishes I'd serve.    If I gave them something unexpected that wasn't absolutely perfect, they'd appreciate it just as much (if not more).    This attitude change didn't relax my standards at all, but gave me the confidence to focus on seeing the end dish at the end of the tunnel, rather than all of the roadbumps in between. 

Keeping Myself Uncomfortable

I wrote about this when writing about the raw dinner I made recently.   I never aim to settle for being the master of my own domain.   Every few months, I become obsessed with a new ingredient, a new technique, a new cuisine, a new culture, a new cookbook.   And I immerse myself in it.     My next foray will be into Japanese cuisine and ingredients.   I am currently reading Morimoto's new book, which is about to launch me into a new set of dishes to add to the repertoire.    New challenges, new ingredients, new cooking gadgets, new techniques, new restaurants....they all keep cooking fresh and fun for me.

Market Moments

Something magical happens to me when I shop for ingredients.    I begin to envision a dish in my head, then begin to fill in the gaps by choosing ingredients that will balance flavors, textures and create an interesting presentation.    This process is one of those precious times in which I enjoy being alone.   I love cranking music and wandering the market with my cell phone off for a half an hour.   It's a bit of a creative escape for me. 

The Post Dinner Buzz

No matter how I feel before or while I'm cooking, there's one thing that I can always revel in - the post cooking buzz.    The more people I serve, the bigger the buzz.   After doing my events for 50 people, it generally takes me hours to come down.  I need to go out, I need to have a few drinks, I need to talk about the food and the event in detail.    I'm just a huge bundle of energy.    I can't imagine what a rock star feels like after a performance, but I suspect it's similar (and better!).   Rarely do I ever cook and want to hang out on the couch afterward.    And now that I know this about myself, I look forward to the buzz and energy I know will be waiting for me at the end of the meal.   It's a bit thrilling to know that when the last dish is served, I'm going to be an energetic ball of enthusiasm.   

Cooking sans Cooking

I'm always looking for new cooking challenges.   In fact, I like to put myself in situations that make me slightly uncomfortable.   While it can be satisfying to be the master of what I already know, I am always looking to keep myself sharp.   

I've always believed that over time, I'd learn and appreciate as many new genres of cooking as I possibly could.   Over the years, that usually means learning about other cultures, and the food traditions that stem from them.   

But when a few friends decided to do a raw detox for a week, I couldn't help but wonder what type of raw dishes I'd create.   I researched and read as much as I could on the subject until I was armed to create from my newfound knowledge.   But in my research of raw,  I began down the frightening path of reading about "mock" ravioli and a plethora of "dishes" with a"ridiculous" number of "air quotes".   It made me slightly nauseous and raw started to get me nervous.   And slightly pissed.    I thought I may have met my match.

I then started down a different path - one inspired by the Matthew Kenney, Sarma Melngailis  book, Raw Food Real World.    After consulting with my raw dinner guest,  I realized raw milk cheese and raw fish were sometimes part of the diet.     I realized I didn't need to learn to make a special raw menu.  I do it all the time.

Cooking raw didn't mean following or adapting a new style of cooking, or making compromises by creating food with air quotes.   It meant making raw food within my own style of cooking.

Three Salad Tasting with Truffle Honey

I dorked out at the Union Square farmer's market for about 30 minutes, highlighted by the ten or so salad green varieties I tasted.   As I thought about which I'd like to serve for dinner, I realized it would be a shame to mix the individual flavors together.   So I featured three greens separately in order to appreciate and truly taste their differences.  The pea shoots, the mustard greens, and a wasabi like spicy lettuce (forgot the name)  make up the dish.    I mixed each stack of greens with olive oil, salt, and lemon juice.   I served them with a slice of raw milk Parmigiano Reggiano, some dried figs, and a mixture of preserved crushed truffles and raw honey.

Gruyere with Cilantro Juice and Pomegranate (pictured above)

I figured I'd make a cheese course, choosing a year aged raw Gruyere.   The nuttiness of aged Gruyere is one of my favorite things.   I juiced raw cilantro, added a drizzle of olive oil, lemon juice and a garnish of pomegranate seeds for texture.

Salmon, pear, pistachio with vanilla bean vinaigrette 

I was into vanilla bean in a major way a few years ago and I've noticed it's coming back into my cooking in the past month.   I simply sliced raw salmon, garnished it with fresh pear, and drizzle a vinaigrette made with olive oil, lemon juice and a the seeds of a fresh vanilla bean.   Not one of my best presentations ever.   I also thought the olive oil competed with the vanilla, so a  neutral oil would have been a better choice.   But the combo of vanilla bean and raw salmon work very well with fresh pear.   I'll experiment with this again.

Tuna, avocado, jalapeno and pear curry juice

I thought it would be interesting to try consecutive raw fish dishes, but with completely different qualities.   I aimed to make a pear juice with a deep, haunting flavor.  Just of pinch of curry with the pear juice took the entire dish to a different level.   A slight showstopper and possibly the highlight of the meal.

Anyhow, I'm sure a few raw zealots will send me an email telling me that my ground curry powder was made with toasted spices or what not.   Please don't.   While I certainly find the benefits of enjoying all of the nutrients and benefits of eating raw, I generally thought that the entire raw experience was a bit extreme.    Though I guess in this case, extremely tasty.

Turkey Leftover Magic

(Ed:  This is a recycled post from Thanksgiving 2005.   Sorry for the lack of posting here lately - I've lost my digital camera.   A certain slacker I know has tons of my food pictures but has been remiss in sending them to me.   Write me a rude comment below so I can use them as motivation for her).

I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving. 

As you may expect, I did a decent amount of holiday cooking.  My family doesn't really like me to experiment on Thanksgiving, which is understandable (I guess).  So I won't get carried away with pictures of a roasted turkey or mashed potatoes.  Instead, I'll share possibly the best thing I ate over the entire holiday and wine filled weekend.  I made a stock with the turkey bones the day after Thanksgiving, something which I find an absolute must.  Throwing away the turkey bones should be a criminal offense, punishable by a lifetime of Taco Bell gordita consumption. After I made the stock, skimmed it and removed as much of the fat as possible, I decided to make turkey meatballs with finely chopped leftover shreds and pieces of turkey white and dark meat that are always lying around.   I mixed the meat with an egg, parm cheese, parsley and formed them into meatballs.  I seared them in a pan of olive oil and then let them reheat in the turkey stock.  No need to get fancy with this - just season the stock with salt and pepper, toss in your meatballs and a handful of grated parm cheese to finish.

Edit: Cindy's comment below reminded me to p