foodie nyc

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.