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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 post my chicken and meatball brodo dish, created from a similar stock based recipe.  Cindy's right, it's easy and worth the effort to make your own stocks at home, especially on a cold winter afternoon or night.  And even easier, my ham hock stock recipe for a variation.

Fried Egg, Smoked Paprika Mushrooms, Cashews, Cilantro Juice

Of course, I've had the classic runny egg over asparagus dozens of times, with nothing but appreciative bouts of sighs and moans.    But after a recent dinner at Blue Hill, I realized that I've only really experienced the  joys of the runny egg on either asparagus, or as a garnish for a starch.    Blue Hill served a  runny, poached farm fresh egg in what I vaguely remember as a watercress broth.   Vibrantly green, the fresh, herbal qualities of the cress inspired me to consider what other bursts of garden freshness could match well with a runny egg.

Certainly, I needed texture as well.   Something to absorb all of the rich, eggy runniness.   I had a ton of cremini mushrooms on hand.    As they were really the main partner for my runny egg, I kept the 'shrooms whole to add a substantive quality to the dish.    I sauteed them in a bit of olive oil, smoked paprika, cayenne and a touch of garlic near their conclusion in the pan.   I roasted some whole cashews in an effort to add a crunchy texture to the dish.

The Blue Hill inspiration came in at the end, when I juiced a bunch of cilantro as my herbal, garden fresh component to the dish.    I ran the cilantro under very hot tap water for only a minute or two.    Blanching the herbs in a traditional manner leaches out some of the raw,  garden fresh flavors I was after.      I thought about making a vinaigrette with the cilantro juice, but wanted to keep the flavors really pure.     After placing the fried egg on the mushroom and cashews, I simply spooned some of the cilantro juice around the plate, with a squeeze of lemon juice around the cilantro.     The cilantro juice was not overpowering whatsoever, to my surprise. After the runny egg was broken, the yoke, cilantro and mushrooms became a single medley of flavors.    The earthiness of the mushroom and the smoky depth of flavor from the paprika were enhanced by the egg yoke, then accented by the fresh, garden flavor of the cilantro juice.    

Fried Mint Crusted Lamb, Celery Root Cake

I have professed my love for Michel Richard's Happy in the Kitchen  on this site several times.    One particular dish that I found visually arresting in the book was the contrast of rosy,  pink lamb loin crusted with bright green, fried basil.   I decided to give this technique a go, but went with the natural combination of mint and lamb instead of basil. 

The first attempt at crusting the lamb with fried mint was a bit tricky.   As you can see in the pictures, it was difficult to get the crust to adhere to the lamb.   The general process is to fry the mint, puree it with a bit of bread crumbs, then egg wash the lamb and apply the crust.    I chose to sear the lamb, then egg wash, crust it, and finish the cooking in the oven.   Searing it first may have made the crust application more difficult.   But I was apprehensive about crusting the raw lamb and losing the vibrant green mint color while it roasted for a long time in the oven.   Hmmm.

I've yet to perfect the presentation, but it has tons of potential.    The crust adds a crispy texture, and most importantly, explodes with a concentrated, fresh burst of mint with each bite of lamb.

The other experiment here was the celery root cake.    After reading Richard's book, you'll quickly learn about forming an ingredient in plastic wrap, sometimes freezing it to ensure it holds its form. 

Pureed celery root is smooth and silky.    After boiling it, I set out to puree it with a thickener of a blond rioux - butter and flour just cooked together until thick.  I let the mixture cool, formed it into little cakes, then lightly dredged the cakes in flour.   (In retrospect, I would have made the cakes thicker and more compact).    I wrapped them in cellophane and froze them for a few hours to form.    A day would have been best, but I didn't have the time.     I took the cakes out of the freezer and immediately dropped them in oil for a quick fry - just to form them and get them a bit golden.    The inside was warm and soft, the exterior was crunchy and had a nice texture.     The creamy celery root was the sole flavor, which was a nice foil for the lamb yet mellow enough to compliment the intensity of the mint crust. 

I probably could have used a sauce here - maybe something bright and vibrant like a mint oil, or even a simple jus.   The fried shallots were a nice bonus garnish. 

I certainly have not aced this dish or the techniques involved as of yet, but wanted to share it with you regardless.   A work in progress is rarely worth filing away, in my opinion.

Related:    Mint Crusted Tuna  

The Many Lives of Focaccia

I have always been a fan of focaccia.    I think my first memories of eating it were with my Uncle Beef, who also taught me and many others how to make it from scratch.

Out of nowhere,  I've had a few different encounters with  focaccia that really opened my mind to the variations in which it's served.   

Wood Oven Roasted Focaccia

You may recall that I spent a week cooking with a chef in his restaurant outside of Florence.    I had a few completely revolutionary focaccia experiences with him that started this focaccia awakening.    On the first night I arrived to work with Chef Claudio,  I helped him prepare for an outdoor party at his bed and breakfast.    I watched him make the dough for the focaccia, pretty much in the typical way I was used to making it (more on that below).    However, he had an outdoor wood oven.   After watching him make a few, I took over and made the focaccia in the wood oven for the rest of the afternoon.     Rolled the dough.   Dimpled it with my thumbs.   Salt, olive oil, then added it to the piping hot wood oven.   Obviously, the wood flavor made this a focaccia experience that I could never forget.    At the same time, there wasn't that soft, spongy interior that I was used to tasting.   Not bad, just different.

Fried Focaccia

The next day in his restaurant kitchen, Chef Claudio made the same focaccia dough, but this time fried it in olive oil in free form pieces.   He served them warm with salt and sometimes rosemary as bread to start the meal.   Fried Focaccia.    Brilliant.

Three Toppings

Around the holidays last year, Uncle Beef made focaccia for us at home, but somehow I was able to weasel my way into making the toppings.   After laying out the focaccia dough onto a sheet pan and dimpling with thumbs, I then applied three different toppings.    The first was a truffle salt (which you may recall I broke up with a few months ago) and rosemary, but my favorite was whole red grapes gently cooked in balsamic.   A bit sweet, a bit tart and a sprinkle of pine nuts for texture.  The third topping was a mojo - a few varieties of herbs ground with olive oil and garlic in a mortar and pestle.

Crispy, Chewy Pizza

My local pizza place, Muzzarella, has a very crispy, thin focaccia crust that is my go to late night neighborhood slice these days.      The copious amounts of olive oil and the super hot oven make the focaccia pizza crust crunchy and chewy at the same time.  Right on.   

Light and Airy

And finally, on the airy section of the focaccia spectrum, I recently bought a slice of Whole Foods focaccia I saw in their bakery.    No joke, the airy interior was something like two inches thick.    Sliced down the middle and layered with salami, goat cheese and truffle oil, it was an airy, soft sandwich that once again made me rethink the focaccia I had in Italy.   

I'm sure someone will write me a passionate email telling me that there's one right way to make focaccia.  But somehow, I'm concluding the best way is every way.

The base recipe for focaccia is below.

The Base for Ginger, Vanilla Bean Bouillabaisse

I'll never forget the night I had one of my first grown up meals in New York City.    Laurent Tourondel, the LT of the BLT restaurant empire in NYC,  was at the time the chef of a restaurant named Cello.   My Uncle and his friend Joe took me to the restaurant, right around the time I was graduating from college. 

I'd had only a handful of high end meals at that point in my life.  After the dinner at Cello, I realized the immense pleasure that would be awaiting me as I grew into a cook.    I'll never forget the entree I had that night - a classic bouillabaisse.   It was outrageously good.   In fact, I ordered bouillabaisse anytime I saw it for almost a year afterwords, just to confirm what made a great bouillabaisse better than all the rest.

As you've gathered by reading this site by now, I have no desire to make the classic bouillabaisse perfectly.   I've had it and it's delicious.   Instead, I wondered how I can stay true to the classic technique, while adding a flavor profile that was delicious yet captivating.   

The bouillabaisse is all about making a delicately flavored fish stock.    Making a fish stock is not as much of an effort as you'd think.    The fish bones and scraps that it takes to make a stock are often available at your fish market - just ask.    Markets like Fresh Direct have them ready to put right into your stock pot.   A fish stock only needs to simmer for about thirty minutes, so it doesn't take all day to make either.

I love a hint of vanilla bean with a meaty white fish.   Nothing overwhelming, but a bit of the floral, exotic  vanilla bean gently permeates the stock and adds a sense of richness that is striking.   I add a large quantity of chopped ginger to the stock as well, giving it more depth of flavor and bit of that peppery gingery bite.  The rest of the ingredients are expected - celery, carrot and some tomato paste for a pinkish, rosey color.

The recipe for the base of my ginger vanilla bean bouillabaisse follows....   

Strawberry Tomato Gazpacho

In what seems like an eternity ago, I went to 11 Madison Park and had an amazing strawberry lobster gazpacho to open our meal.  It was a confounding gazpacho to say the least - I could certainly taste a shellfish reduction, but the strawberry puree balanced seemlessly with the pureed tomatoes.  Little chunks of lobster and vegetables provided the only texture in the soup.   

While I found the shellfish reduction interesting, I left this technique behind while making a strawberry tomato gazpacho at home.   I found bursting at the seams heirloom tomatoes, which would serve as the base of the soup.    I pureed the tomatoes with some chopped carrots, red onion, a nugget of ginger, celery leaves, salt, pepper, lemon juice and a few chopped strawberries.  The strawberry to tomato ratio is the entire key to success for this dish.   One and a half large tomatoes took only about a handful of  strawberries.   I generally thought about the strawberries as I would an herb.   You don't want to overwhelm the tomatoes with strawberries, so add less and keep adding after tasting. 

An unexpected technique that made this dish was straining the puree.  After removing all of the pulp and chilling the remaining juice, I garnished the soup with a very fine dice of each of the ingredients in the puree to garnish the gazpacho.  I also added some chopped smoked almonds, a nice wedge of avocado and a drizzle of olive oil to finish.

Whatever you do, don't toss the puree pulp once you strain.   I brought it into work and served it as a salsa with chips.   Gazpacho salsa?  Totally works.

Kafir Lime Steamed Halibut, Arugula Ginger Shells

You may remember my recent experiment with lavender infused cod.  On a night when a light dinner was sorely needed, I thought about that lavender steamed fish and decided to steam halibut with a few aromatic leaves of kafir lime.

Kafir lime leaves have perfect qualities for steaming.  Their flavor profile is distinct and potent, yet also lend almost a light, refreshing, floral quality that matches perfectly with a white fleshed fish like halibut.

Steaming with kafir couldn't be easier.   Start with some boiling water, drop a few kafir leaves in, place your seasoned halibut filets in a steam tray above the water (I used a mesh strainer) and a covered lid.   That's it.   

The kafir lime literally permeates every single morsel of the halibut, which ultimately necessitates for little else to  accompany the steamed fish.   I was looking to accent the kafir with herbaciousness and a peppery sharpness.   

I blanched some argula leaves and a few whole chunks of ginger, then juiced them in the juicer I talk about frequently.   After the pasta was cooked, I mixed it with the arugula ginger juice, creating a light yet explosive bed of  pasta for the fish.   I fried some leeks for some  much needed texture. 

In the future, I will consider pairing steamed kafir fish with a very simply flavored pasta or grain.   Maybe nothing  more than a nugget of butter, an herb and a spicy citrus note.   The steamed kafir flavor can certainly be the star of the show - it's that remarkable.

My Underwear Drawer, Pressed and Neatly Folded

Sorry for the delay in getting the results of my recent summer menu experimentations posted.   I've been drinking heavily and pondering the wonders of the legend that is Kenny Loggins.   (If you haven't listened to Foot Loose recently...um...don't.)

So, where were we.   I gave you the results of a brainstorm I had before making dinner for friends, with the goal of showing you how I developed a menu, and how the final results would compare with my original plans.

As expected, I had to adjust my menu based on ingredients available at the market, additional ideas I had while cooking, and finally, the reality that I needed to dial back my own ambition in order to get dinner out before midnight.

My original brainstorm ideas are located here.   All in all, I was happy with where I landed.    Pretty much all of the dishes were tasty, but what I generally look for when cooking spontaneously is to land on a core concept that can be tweaked and refined in the future.   Below is a recap of each dish and how/why the final dish evolved from my original intention.

Bloody Mary-ish Gazpacho 

My original idea was to express a single fruit in four ways.   I went with the tomato, which I realize was sort of obvious.   But the morning of the dinner party, I had a Bloody Mary on my mind.    I decided I would make a gazpacho as the base of the dish, with tons of fresh horseradish, celery and black pepper.    My second texture of tomato would be a yellow tomato gelee.  I'd make a puree of tomato, celery, horseradish and mix it with gelatin and let it cool for a few hours.   Finally, I made a tomato confit, which was essentially sliced tomatoes simmered in olive oil at 200 degrees for about three hours.   Hiding underneath the yellow tomato gelee is a slice of smoked mozzarella.  The smoky creaminess really brought the dish together.   In retrospect, I would have added cayenne to the dish for a spicier note.

Shiso Juice Ceviche 

This idea came to a grinding halt when I  became  beyond pissed and frustrated that I couldn't buy lobster anywhere near my apartment.   So I bagged the shiso, which would have required effort I couldn't muster at the time.    I decided to create little bites of ceviche as canapes for the guests as they arrived.   After buying some fresh salmon and tuna, I went completely off-the-cuff on this one, only creating the combinations in the kitchen just before serving.    For the salmon, I aimed for refreshing.    Salmon and avocado was a natural match, as was a bit of diced cucumber for texture.   Olive oil and lemon juice rounded out the flavors.   

For the tuna ceviche,  I wanted to pair the fattiness of tuna with a drizzle of truffle oil, a sprinkle of Parmigiano Reggiano, and a dice of celery.   I had never seen or tasted these flavors paired with raw tuna, so I was going with instinct on this one.   Italians all over the world most likely rolled in their graves as I presented this dish, but the cheese and tuna really worked.  I thought this was a bit of a breakthrough combination, at least in my world.

Peach Mac and Cheese

I stayed very true to my original idea with the peach mac and cheese.   I made a bechamel with Parm Regg, half and half, a bit of white wine and flour.  After the bechamel came together,  I folded in a fresh peach puree.   I simply combined the mac with the bechamel, covered the top in bread crumbs, more Parm and broiled before serving.   I was incredibly behind schedule at this point, so I didn't give the crust enough time or attention.    The peach added a fruitiness that cut through the richness of the bechamel, but didn't cross the line of sweetness that one would imagine when picturing these flavors in their head.     A crustier texture on the mac and cheese would have added another level to to the dish and made it an ace, in my opinion.   

Lobster Wellington

My original intention was to stick very close to the Wellington in appearance.  I was going to wrap pastry around large pieces of lobster, corn kernels and a lobster mousse.  But again, I was behind schedule and needed to improvise in order to expedite dinner.    I decided to eliminate the construction of the Wellington and do everything a bit free form.   I'd bake the puff pastry separately, make a raw corn tarragon puree, eliminate the mousse and juice corn to act as a sauce for the dish.     The lobster was steeped in boiling water, shells removed, then finished in a bit of butter and wine.   Overall,  the dish was excellent but I was disappointed that I didn't get to experiment with the Wellington presentation.   But like all ideas, being nimble and open to progression landed on a dish that I thought was worthy of the effort.  Corn and lobster is a perfect pairing to me.

I enjoyed showing you the before and after of the planning and cooking process in my bizarrely unorganized world.    Hopefully I can do another post based on this theme before the summer ends.

(PS - Thanks to Laren, Frankie and Mere for the pictures.  I was too involved to shoot the dishes as I usually do).

Original and Related Post:  Showing You My Underwear Drawer

Showing You My Underwear Drawer: Pre-Dinner Menu Brainstorm

I'm feeling a bit feisty today, so I thought we'd try something new on this site.

I recently brainstormed a few interesting  summer focused menu ideas, many of which I've never made, seen or tasted before.   Since these ideas are the results of a brainstorm, they weren't researched at all.   My goal was to let my creativity and instincts form rough menu ideas that could be fleshed out in the future.

For your amusement, I thought I'd show you the output of my brainstorm in advance of me actually making these dishes.   

This Sunday, August 12, I plan to actual make these dishes for the first time.   I'll post pictures and results of the dishes next week.

I think this could be an interesting way for you to see how a dish goes from concept to reality in my world. You'll be able to see how I start thinking about a dish, then see how it evolves into a finished plate.  For instance, you'll see that I may need to make adjustments as I research my preparation techniques and cooking plans.   I will most likely be inspired by other ingredients at the markets.  As I actually cook and prepare the dishes, I may decide to make adjustments based on instinct. 

My hope is that giving you a peek at my starting point will make the final dishes I post even more interesting for you.

Foodie NYC  Menu Brainstorm
A Random Summer Sunday Dinner
August 12, 2007

Four Textures of Fruit

This idea would feature four expressions of a single fruit.  I picture a Napoleon of sorts, with a layer of the raw fruit, a layer of the fruit in the form of a gelee, and then a roasted slice of the fruit.  I'd then create a sauce or loose vinaigrette of the fruit, which will finish the dish.   I will most likely add elements of accenting flavors in the gelee, and maybe garnishes of flavor throughout the dish.  Herbs, maybe a cheese, nuts are all possibilities.   I'll play that by ear as the dish progresses in the kitchen.

Ceviche in Shiso Juice

I want to try and turn fresh shiso into a vibrant green juice as a base for a ceviche.   I love the herbaceous flavor of shiso, and think that a bit of olive oil, citrus and spiciness would be an excellent counterpoint to a mild, super fresh, fatty fish.

Peach Mac and Cheese

Some of you know that I love to make fruit pastas.  It sounds weird, but it makes for a nice dish if executed properly.   My idea is to make a peach bechamel.  The bechamel would be the base for a mac and cheese.   I'm hoping the peach flavor will infuse itself into the pasta and create a fresh, bright, subtle flavor that plays off the creaminess of the mac and cheese.

Summer Lobster Wellington

I want to create a light and modern version of a Beef Wellington.   I envision a layer of charred kernels of corn, then a layer of a creamy lobster tarragon mousse, followed by large whole pieces of lobster.  The entire thing would be wrapped in pastry, with a bit of a lobster and corn sauce around the plate.  This dish has drool worthy potential, but also high potential for error.  Especially concerned about making sure the lobster doesn't overcook when the whole Wellington goes into the oven.

Check back here sometime early next week to see the results.

Goat Cheese Smoked Paprika Wonton, Pear Horseradish Sauce

I had previously been an advocate for using purchased wonton skins as a last minute replacement for pasta dishes like ravioli or tortelloni.

But a few weeks ago, I had my last limp wonton skin pasta dish.   No mas.  In my opinion, the wonton skins are too delicate to treat like pasta and a double layer of wonton skins overwhelms the filling.   I guess there is no cheating dough from scratch.

Wonton skins are still useful, however.   Like, for making...urrr...wontons (it's hard being this smart, people.  Don't be intimidated - you'll get there one day).

I look for a simple burst of focused flavor in a wonton.  I chose to go the creamy, smoky route on this day.  I made a goat cheese, smoked paprika puree by simple adding the ingredients to a food processor, along with a touch of olive oil, a bit of cream and a squeeze of lemon juice.  After forming the wontons, it's really just about frying them for a minute or two until golden brown.

The fun for me came while making a dipping sauce condiment.  On this occasion, I had the wontons already made and in the freezer.   I went to the corner store, looking for a few ingredients for the dipping sauce.   I had $5 on me and wasn't in the mood to visit the ATM, so I  limited myself to only a few inexpensive ingredients.  I saw a perfectly ripe pear and thought I'd make a creamy puree, with the pear providing a base flavor of sweetness.   I figured the texture of the pear would also give the condiment some body.

I thought the spiciness of horseradish would be a natural counterpoint for the pear.   I went home and pureed about half the pear, a heaping tablespoon of horseradish, and a touch of dijon together with a streaming drizzle of olive oil until  the condiment thickened.   The dipping sauce has a bit more body than an aioli or mayo, but it still had a thick enough texture to cling to the wontons when dipped. 

I think the pear horseradish combo is a winner, one I'll certainly explore again sometime down the road.   In fact, this would be a killer spread on a sandwich.   Ah....the beauty of leftovers.

Watermelon, Gruyere, Charred Jalapeno, Mint Salad

I started experimenting with fruit and cheese summer salads while cooking in Umbria last year.  On multiple occasions, I decided to refresh myself in the summer heat by playing with perfectly ripe fruit salads, paired with cheese, herbs and a lingering spicy note for balance.

At a recent cheese focused dinner at Artisanal, a friend openly scoffed at a watermelon, olive and feta cheese salad appetizer, thinking the salty flavors of olive juxtaposed with the sweet, refreshing flavors of watermelon would be a stretch.  I was in the mood for snails in puff pastry on this given night, so I'd have to prove that a savory watermelon salad was worthy some other time.

At the market the next day, I was reminded of those perfect summer days in Italy - watermelon salad, spicy peppers, a bite of cool fresh mint, an unexpected, salty, creamy cheese.  A drizzle of fine extra virgin olive oil, maybe a squeeze of lemon juice rounding out the flavors.  Those satisfying days in Italy were calling at me, thanks to a random reminder from a Manhattan bistro.

I decided to experiment with my choices of cheese and peppers.  Peperoncino was an obvious ingredient while in Italy, but I went with jalapeno on this occasion.  I simply blistered the pepper on the gas flame of my stove for a bit of extra flavor. I wanted a firm cheese, so I went with a cave aged Gruyere.  You know, the kind with those crunchy, crystallized salty bites I love so much.   I decided to make fried ginger slivers, which added a subtle backbone of flavor and texture to the dish. 

The presentation needed to be simple, but at least slightly thoughtful.  I wanted to feature layers of the ingredients, so I chose to serve three neat stacks of the salad on a plate for an appetizer.  A thin slice of  the sweet watermelon is the first explosion of flavor in the mouth, which is quickly followed by the creamy, firm cheese.  The fresh blast of the mint hits the palate and bursts with flavor, while the heat of the jalapeno hits you right at the back of the throat to conclude the bite.   A squeeze of citrus and the fruity drizzle of olive oil is a nice condiment to the dish.

If you're interested in trying these flavor combinations, it's important to consider the temperature of  both the cheese and watermelon. Obviously, the watermelon is best served cold.  Thin shavings of the cheese is slightly important for proportional balance, but it's critical to properly ripen the cheese at room temp.  As we all know, a cold cheese is no one's friend. 

Charred Halloumi and Peach Salad with Crispy Ginger

One of the challenges of being creative in the kitchen is finding inspiration.  After you've been cooking for a while, you'll realize that limiting your channels to the obvious sources can actually limit your creativity.   Restaurant menus, blogs, cookbooks and TV shows are great and all, but sometimes it's the everyday conversations that strike a chord and open new paths.

This is a learned trait, trust me.  Everyone and their mother gives me food and cooking tips.  Mainly, they know I love to chat about food, so it's a welcome topic.  But back in the days of my arrogant youth (2006?), I'd rarely internalize them.  But I realized the obvious.  There's a nugget of inspiration in most things around me, they just need to be extracted properly. 

Take for instance, a recent chat with new blog crush, ACB.  She was telling me about grilled halloumi cheese, which I recalled reading about long ago.  The old Joe would have tried to internalize it, but the halloumi would have slipped into the back ether of my brain moments later.  The new Joe pursues its possibilities straight away, as it might lead to an idea that could motivate me to keep it top of mind.

I thought about a charred, thick hunk of halloumi with a hot, firm interior contrasting with a crispy exterior.  I thought about using the halloumi in a fun! summer! salad!, maybe contrasting the saltiness and creaminess with a charred, fresh sweetness (corn and mint came to mind).  I even envisioned the presentation - a thick circular hunk of halloumi overflowing with charred veggies.

Sure enough, the extra thought about halloumi during the initial discussion made the dish stay in my mind.  I went to the market with this rough idea, but became intrigued with peaches.  I would char peaches, toss them with a chiffonade of mint, and finish them with a squeeze of lemon juice and maybe a drizzle of a mint spiked olive oil to top the cheese.

The best method for preparing the peaches and halloumi would certainly be on the grill.  Since I'm grill challenged here in NYC, I used a flat, non-stick griddle pan.  Simply get the pan very hot, add a touch of olive oil and char the peaches on one side.  I didn't bother cooking them on the other side, as I wasn't looking for limp sauteed peaches.  Remove them from the pan, then do the halloumi in the same method, but charring both sides this time.  Don't season the cheese, as its pretty salty on its own.

I kept the cheese in the oven at 250 while I prepared a few garnishes.  I needed some texture, so I thinly shaved ginger with a sharp pairing knife, as if it were garlic and I were in Goodfellas. I toasted the shaved ginger in hot olive oil for a few minutes, until the slices turned crispy.   I also blanched a handful of mint and whizzed it in the food processor with olive oil, creating a mint oil to spoon around the cheese.  Simply strain the mint from the oil for a vibrant green, mint infused oil.

The saltiness of the halloumi was a perfect foil for with the sweetness of the peaches.  The crispy ginger added an interesting texture and burst of flavor, while the mint and the charred exteriors of the cheese and peaches tied the elements together. 

Lavender Steamed Cod, Cherry Chili Vinegar

I'm a bit of a condiment junky.   Siracha, mustards, olive oils top the list.  But this weekend, a friend made a vinegary, chili, herb laden condiment that I found inspiring.

I thought I'd riff off of the idea and create a white vinegar based cherry and chili vinegar.  I simply pureed fresh cherries with some serrano chili and lots of white vinegar.  I heated the mixture briefly, for only a minute or two to let the flavors bloom. I did not reduce at all, as I didn't want a thick, concentrated fruit driven reduction.  I wanted a loose condiment that balanced fruit, acid and spiciness all in one bite.  I  let the condiment cool and marinate for a few hours as well (of course, it was better the next day).

A natural companion could have been anything gamey or fatty, like duck, foie gras, lamb or pork.  But I felt the need for something simple and healthy and decided that cod would be a nice partner with the cherry chili vinegar. 

I ran into a beautiful bunch of lavender at the market and wondered if the aroma of steamed lavender would impart its floral flavors into a piece of cod.  I simply brought a little bit of water to a boil, added a ton of lavender and added my fish to the steamer.   A closed lid sealed in the aroma and infused the cod with a subtle, floral accent.

Red Mullet, Banana Guacamole, Cucumber Campari

I thought long and hard about whether or not this dish would make it to the Internets.  One side of my brain was impressed with its own resourcefulness, while the other side simply reminded me that THIS DISH SUCKED!

Well, let me clarify.  The crispy, pan seared red mullet paired with the creamy sweetness of the banana guacamole far from sucked.  In fact, they were both delicious together.  But the entire origin of this dish was built around my desire to create a sauce based on one of my favorite spirits, Campari.

This all started while at my favorite place to get a drink, Milk & Honey.   We were debating the merits of Campari (I love it, friend hates it) and asked the bartender to whip us up two drinks featuring the bitter beverage.  I watched as the barkeep muddled cucumber with the Campari and let the flavors marinate for a few minutes.  Sure enough, the bitter Campari had the distinctive underlying flavor of cucumber, which was an excellent touch.  Friend still hated it, of course.

I wondered what it'd be like to muddle the cucumber with Campari and reduce it until syrupy in texture.   Sure enough, the flavors concentrated but that meant bitter beyond belief.   Said friend also hated this dish (yes, I'm a glutton for punishment).

I still wonder whether the idea of a Campari reduction could work.  Maybe the bitterness of Campari could be balanced with the sweetness of a gastrique?  We shall see.....