Author: MariaDelMar Sacasa

Lunch & Dinner

FINGER LICKIN’ GOOD

This is a recipe that the illustrious Jean-Georges Vongerichten created for Food and Wine. We adapted it to canapé size at school and used shredded osso bucco instead of short ribs. It was served atop tostones and garnished with orange suprêmes and chives. Señor O tasted the leftovers and it was love at first bite.

JGV’s slick sauce is ridiculously easy to make and is highly adaptable – I use pork, because it’s the white meat in this household, but I think it would be equally brilliant if used to shellack that other white meat: chicken. It’s finger lickin’ fantastic, natch. The sweet and tangy orange sûpremes made a comeback as a topping, but I replaced the aforementioned chives with cilantro and piled the whole thing onto freshly made corn tortillas to give it some Latin flair.

See below for the adapted recipe, and visit Food & Wine for the original.

3 lbs. pork loin
Kosher salt
1 C. ketchup
1 C. dry red wine, such as Syrah
1/3 C. red wine vinegar
1/2 C. unsulfured molasses
3 TBSP. dried onion flakes
2 TBSP. fish sauce
1 TBSP. soy sauce
1 TBSP. garlic powder
3 TBSP. seeded and minced chipotle chile in adobo
1 tsp. Asian sesame oil
2 ½ quarts water

In a large bowl, mix the ketchup, wine, vinegar, molasses, onion flakes, fish sauce, soy sauce, garlic powder, chipotle, sesame oil and 1 tablespoon of salt. Whisk in the water.

Generously season the pork loin with salt + pepper. Heat on high a pot large enough to accommodate the pork loin and the three quarts of liquid that you’ll be adding.

Add about 2 tsps. vegetable oil to the heated pot and allow to heat through, about 30 seconds. Add the pork loin and sear, browning on both sides.

Degrease the pot and return browned loin. Add the sauce and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and allow the pork to simmer, covered, until tender (approximately 1 hour).

Once pork is cooked through, remove from the pot and when cool enough to handle, shred. Reserve, loosely covered with plastic wrap or foil.

Bring the sauce to a boil and allow to reduce about two-thirds (about 1 hour). Once thickened, return the shredded pork to the sauce and simmer an additional 30 minutes.

I know – it seems like a long time, but you can either start early or prepare a day in advance. It tastes just as good – and perhaps even better – a day later.

canape
Canapé style.

plated
Home style.

 

Breakfast

BEST BISCUITS EVER

Since childhood, I’ve been obsessed with biscuits. My goal and acme was the biscuits sold at Kentucky Fried Chicken. Yes, the Colonel was my inspiration for years of research and dedicated early-morning baking. At age 8 I started collecting recipes for all manner of biscuits – quick, drop, spoon, cream, baking soda, lard, etc. etc. etc. If I saw a biscuit recipe somewhere I’d copy it down and try out. As a result of my curiosity and quest for the ultimate recipe, I have numerous notebooks and scraps of paper proclaiming “Best biscuits ever!” in a wide variety of handwriting styles – from big, loopy third grade script to mature, all-caps block letters. Regrettably, I’ve moved around quite a bit (I’ve lived in at least 23 different homes – no joke!) and my belongings and personal effects are somewhat scattered. I wish I could go back and compare all of my biscuit recipes to confirm that my current one really is the best ever, but I can’t, so my exclamation points and scribbled assurances will just have to do. Rest assured, though, this recipe totally kicks Colonel butt.

Here are, without further ado, THE BEST BISCUITS EVER.
…At least for the time being.
Yields about 6 biscuits.

1 ½ C. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. sugar
1 ½ tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
¼ tsp. baking soda
½ stick butter, cut into 1” pieces
¾ C. buttermilk or plain yogurt

-Sift dry ingredients twice.

-Blend in butter with fingertips.

-Add buttermilk & stir in with fork just till combined.

-Knead 6 times, gently.

-Pat into an 8” x 5 ½” rectangle and cut into half lengthwise, then into thirds crosswise, or use a biscuit cutter.

-Bake 12 – 15 minutes at 425°F with rack in middle position.

-Serve warm with good butter and preserves.
SWEET VARIATION:
-Add 2 TBSP. of granulated sugar to the dry ingredients and proceed with recipe as directed.
-For a sparkly top, sprinkle a bit of sugar on the shaped biscuits before popping them in the oven.

MAKE AHEAD:
-Prepare recipe as directed, but rather than placing biscuits in oven, cover loosely with plastic wrap and slide into the freezer.
-Once solid, individually wrap each biscuit and store in a Ziploc bag.
-Ready to eat? Preheat oven to 400˚F and bake biscuits about 20 minutes.

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These were actually a variation of the standard recipe, utilizing whole-grain flour, which is why they’re brownish in color. Great (and a good source of fiber!), but I much prefer the original version.

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Sweet Things

RICE IS NOT NICE

Rice pudding has been on my mind lately and decided today would be a good day to make it. Señor O and I had a pretty heavy brunch on Sunday and today’s lunch was also on the hefty side, so no official meal was cooked today, leaving the afternoon open for a simple dessert.

I’ve only made rice pudding once before, the reason being I was pretty grossed out by it in the past; the texture was all wrong. However, riz au lait was part of my culinary school curriculum and it was during Session 19 of Level 2 that I was properly re-introduced to this dessert. I liked it. Lots.

In preparation for this afternoon’s riz au lait, some research was conducted. Joy of Cooking, Julia Child, Doña Angélica, and a number of random websites all cooked the rice in water prior to combining it with milk. My school’s version mixed them from the get-go, then baked for about 40 minutes. Easy enough.

There was no trouble at school, but of course, there was here. At the end of the designated time I pulled out the rice, and to my dismay, it was still drenched in milk. It hadn’t puddinged at all.

I was not smiling. This was supposed to be a breeze.

I moved the dish to the stovetop and decided to revert to methods I’d read about, namely stirring till most of the milk was absorbed. It was at this juncture that the bottom of the pot began to turn nasty and brown. I poured out the swamp rice into a new glass Pyrex and called it quits. I didn’t have another suitable container if this one scorched, so that would have to be that.

A lot displeased and not a little bit chagrined, I made one last, desperate attempt to save – or at the very least conceal – my rice pudding. I put it into a crème brûlée mold, sprinkled it with sugar, and torched it.

My pyrotechnics did the trick, and the rice was delicious, but I’m still bothered. What was meant to be a single-dish, super-easy to prep dessert turned into a major dish pileup. Next time I’m going stovetop all the way. And I might try coconut milk and pineapples instead of vanilla bean and orange zest.

ricepudding

P.S.
The rice pudding was perfectly delicious a day later. It’s cold and refreshing, all vanilla bean-y and citrusy…which has prompted me to print the recipe:

100 g. arborio rice (about 1/2 C.)
1 L. whole milk (about 1 quart or 4 C.)
1 TBSP. grated orange zest
2 tsp. grated lemon zest
1/2 vanilla bean pod, split and scraped
pinch of salt
100 g. granulated sugar, split 50/50 (about 6 TBSP.)
2 TBSP. butter
1 egg yolk

In a saucepan, bring to a boil milk + orange zest + lemon zest + vanilla bean + salt.

Add rice + 50 g. (3 TBSP.) sugar and cover with a parchment paper lid. Finish cooking in a 350˚F oven (45 – 60 minutes — the rice should be tender and the milk absorbed. It may take longer, as in my case, depending on your oven).

When done, add butter + yolk + remaining 50 g. (3 TBSP.) sugar. Remove vanilla pod.

Serve warm or chilled.

 

Uncategorized

GIVE US THIS DAY

Bread is the perfect food. There’s no arguing that – it’s even in the Lord’s Prayer: “give us today our daily bread.” I know I’m interpreting that very literally, but there it is, in black and white.

I used to get my bread at Fairway on the Upper West Side and was pretty happy with it. No additives, no less-than-2{7e75139007ced55322cd19a88b90f170970c9802fa5abc2ce00631fcd14484e3}-of-the-following-impossible-to-pronounce ingredients. When I moved away from the UWS it was, for the most part, back to the bread aisle at the supermarket. There I would walk past Wonder and Sunbeam, Arnold and Nature’s Own. It got to a point where it didn’t really matter what I bought. All of these breads were wimpy and forgettable.

Tired of blah bread, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I’d been to the library recently in search of a Boston cream pie recipe (coming soon!) and along the way found a recipe for honey whole wheat bread in Greg Patent’s Baking in America. Mr. Patent failed to inform this dimwitted reader that perhaps her standard-sized Kitchen Aid (aka Kiki) would be no match for seven cups of flour. I should’ve known it wasn’t, but if there’s a recipe in a cookbook meant for home cooks, I expect it to work with standard kitchen appliances. My little Kiki started bucking like a bronco, and rather than risk breaking her neck, I turned her off and plunked the dough onto the counter. Now I would truly have to take matters into my own hands – I would have to knead.

Kneading was not easy. I’m too short to really bear down on the dough, so I strapped on some heels, but they didn’t help my situation – the heels provided height but not much in the way of support. Back in sneakers, I stood on my tip-toes and tried my best to work the dough, pretending all the time I was Lady Macbeth, outing the damned spot. Sweat started beading my brow and the bile starting bubbling. “I hate Greg Patent!” I muttered. But I kept going. I was scared because the dough was dry and crumbly and for the first few minutes, my labors did nothing to bring it together. It wasn’t smooth or elastic, just an ill-formed, uncooperative lump. To make matters worse, I kept remembering what my old boss W. told me about dough: “It’s alive.” Surely, I was killing it.

GPdough

What a lump.

I continued to fret while the bread was rising. It wasn’t smooth and beautiful, but heavyset and squat. Into the oven went two loaves anyway and without waiting for it to cool I cut a slice and buttered it. It was dense and a little chewy, bland in flavor, and OK at best.

squatloaves

Squat, toad-like loaves.

I’d decided to make bread despite the fact that I had a date the very next day to meet a real baker at a bakery a friend described as “THE BEST BREAD EVER:” Clear Flour Bakery. Clear Flour specializes in the production of French and Italian breads that are real: no additives, no preservatives. My new baker friend D. gave me a tour, which was awesome: Brobdingnagian mixers, about 50 times bigger and more powerful than my dinky little Kiki, imposing deck ovens, buckets of dough, stacks of beautiful frielings and bannetons (round and rectangular molds for shaping and proofing bread), and the main event: bread. There were baguettes, ficelles, olive rolls made with green olives, focaccia smothered with onions, hearty rolls with studded with nuts and plump raisins bearing the very poetic name of Paris night.

bannetons

bigmixers

Big mama mixers.

There is but a small area in front of the counter at it was packed solid at all times. Everyone, staff and visitors alike, were very kind, though, letting me be all interrupt-y with my camera.
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bread2

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I bought an assortment and Señor O and I promptly went about the business of eating it. The ficelle was perfectly crunchy and French, as was its larger friend, baguette. I didn’t get to the baguette till this morning and, swoon, it was so perfect in its simplicity and straightforwardness that I was completely swept away. I spread some good European butter on it and ate away. I also treated myself to a Paris night roll with some apricot preserves I brought back from a recent trip to Rome. I haven’t enjoyed breakfast this thoroughly since I can’t remember when. Thank you, Clear Flour for keeping it real.

perfectbfast

 

 

Breakfast

BANANA FANA FO FANA

Banana bread isn’t a particular favorite in my book, mainly because I’ve either bought or experimented with recipes that were disappointing. The commercial variety inevitably taste over-banana-ed, no doubt because they’re chock-full of additives and artificial flavors. Like fake grape products, counterfeit banana tastes like kiddie cough syrups and other over-the-counter cures. My pickle with the recipes I’ve tested is that they’re usually rubbery or dry as a bone.

Enter Nancy Silverton and her glorious book, Pastries from La Brea Bakery. Looking through her recipes I came across banana nut loaf, and thought, “Hey, if anyone can make a good banana nut loaf, if anyone can redeem it, it’s Nancy Silverton.” So I bought some bananas and patiently waited for them to get nice and black outside. Today, when the bananas, at last, were mature enough, I mashed them up and mixed them in with heaps of chopped, toasted nuts and spices.

bananas
Make sure bananas are really ripe.

chopthenuts

DO chop the nuts with a knife – using the food processor will leave behind uneven pieces and nut powder.

Things got off to a good start, because even as I began chopping the nuts, their toasted scent reached my nose, mingling with the heady aroma of ripe bananas; they were perfectly matched. My skepticism over banana bread waning, I caught myself anticipating a sweet reward, and Nancy delivered. What came out of the oven was darkly tanned on the outside and moist inside. The cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg provided warmth as well as refinement – this banana nut loaf is for grown-ups, a far cry from those cheap attempts you may be used to eating.

BANANA-NUT LOAF
Adapted from Pastries from La Brea Bakery by Nancy Silverton

2/3 c. walnuts
2/3 c. pecans
3 to 4 bananas, very ripe, mashed to equal 1 ¼ c., plus 1 whole banana for garnish
2 extra-large eggs
1 ½ tsp. pure vanilla extract
1 stick unsalted butter, chilled and cut into 1″ cubes
1 ¼ tsp. baking soda
2 ½ tsp. baking powder
¾ tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
¾ tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
Scant ¼ tsp. ground cloves
1 TBSP. Poppy seeds
½ c. granulated sugar, plus 1 tsp. for sprinkling
¼ c. + 2 TBSP. Light brown sugar, lightly packed
1 ½ c. unbleached AP flour

Adjust the oven rack to the middle position and preheat oven to 325˚F. Spread the nut on a baking sheet at toast in the oven until lightly browned, about 8 to 10 minutes. Shake the pan halfway to ensure the nuts toast evenly. Cool, chop coarsely, and set aside.

Turn the oven up to 350˚F.

In a medium bowl, whisk the banana puree, eggs, and vanilla to combine. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and poppy seeds on low, 2 to 3 minutes, until softened. Add the sugars and turn the mixer up to medium, mixing another 3 to 4 minutes until fluffy, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.
Add the flour and banana mixture alternately in 3 batches, beginning with the flour.

Fold in the nuts.

Pour batter into pan.

Cut two ¼” strips from the additional banana, slicing down the entire length. Arrange the two C shapes on the top the loaf, staggered, with the two ends slightly interlocking with other in the center. Sprinkle about 1 tsp. of granulated sugar over the surface.

Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, until nicely browned and firm to the touch.

loaf

The bananas on top were amazing.

slicecloseup

Lunch & Dinner

TURKISH DELIGHT

A few weeks ago I stayed with some friends in Boston and my lovely hostess not only fed me delicious home-made food from her native Turkey, but also gave me a Turkish cookbook. I simply adore collecting cookbooks, and this one in particular was a gem as I had never made anything from that particular cuisine.

As soon as I was back home I tackled lentil soup and, upon the success and popularity it enjoyed with the Mister, moved on to rice pilaf. I love, love, love rice. I had a falling out with it as a child for some reason I can neither remember nor fathom at this point, but nowadays I wish I could have it at every meal. Discovering that rice is as revered in Turkey as it is in my household, made me an even bigger fan of the newest addition to my library and its author, Özcan Ozan, who devotes an entire section to that grain.

Here, adapted from The Sultan’s Kitchen, A Turkish Cookbook (Periplus Editions, 2001) is müceddere or, rice pilaf with chickpeas, green lentils, and caramelized onions. Do try it – it’s perfect for dinner at home but special enough for guests.

MUCEDDERE

¼ C. dry green lentils (1/3 C. cooked)
¼ C. dry chickpeas (1/2 C. cooked)
4 TBSP. virgin olive oil
3 small Spanish onions, sliced (1 ½ C.)
2 tsps. sugar
salt & pepper
1 TBSP. lemon juice
½ C. long-grain rice
¼ C. orzo
2 medium tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and chopped*
1 TBSP. ground cumin**
1 tsp. Turkish red pepper or ground red pepper
2 C. chicken stock
¼ C. coarsely chopped fresh Italian parsley

Soak the chickpeas overnight. The next day, drain them and bring them to a boil in 2 C. of water along with ½ tsp. salt. Simmer for about 45 minutes until tender. Add more water during cooking if necessary. *This can be done a day ahead or early in the morning.

In a separate pot, cook the dried lentils in about 1 ½ C. of water, just until tender. Set aside.

In a saucepan, heat the oil over medium heat and add sliced onions, sugar, salt, and pepper. Cover the pan and cook about 5 minutes, until the onions are tender. Uncover the pan, increase the heat to high, and stir in lemon juice. Cook, stirring, until onions are browned.

Add the cumin and red pepper and cook another minute or two. Next, add the rice and orzo, and cook about two minutes.
Add the tomatoes, lentils, chickpeas, and stock. Season with salt and pepper, lower heat, and cook, covered, about 20 minutes until all the liquid has been absorbed.
Stir in the chopped parsley and let stand, covered, 5 minutes. Serve.

*I only used 2 tsps. of cumin because I was worried the flavor would be overwhelming.
**I find American tomatoes to be completely tasteless, regardless of how ripe they may be. I prefer to use whole, canned tomatoes.
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Sweet Things

FOAM DOMES

I was about two years younger than most of my classmates through junior high and high school. It was a terrible ordeal. While I thought I was mentally and psychologically on par with everyone, I knew for a fact that physically, I was way, way behind. The gawky teenage years were magnified and multiplied, tragically, for me. I had braces and breakouts well into my junior and senior years, and most dooming of all – I was completely flat chested. I had no hope of ever catching up.

High school is far behind and though I remain somewhat impaired in the aforementioned area, I have moved past it. Or so I thought.

Recent activities in my kitchen have shown that I am not as over flatness as I thought. For the past few days I have been on a quest to bake the perfect muffin. Though a firm believer in “it’s what’s inside that counts,” I’ve been unable to turn a blind eye to aesthetics. Why is it that 99{7e75139007ced55322cd19a88b90f170970c9802fa5abc2ce00631fcd14484e3} of these muffins refuse to blossom? I’ve creamed, I’ve smashed, I’ve gently folded, and roughly chopped, but seemingly to no avail. There they are, the woefully prepubescent little things, strewn all over the kitchen counter. And of course, as might have been expected, there is a Barbie to these muffins’ Skipper: one recipe yielded gorgeous cupolas, and try as I might, I cannot get the others to do the same. These weren’t the tastiest of the twelve batches I’ve thus far prepared, but in high school and in life, it’s the tall busty blonde that’s noticed first, and so I continue to bake, searching for a muffin that has both brawn and brains. Should I create this Wonder Woman of a cake, I will post the how-to. In the meantime I remain,

Awkwardly yours,

HH&F

barbie

Barbie
skipper
Skipper

 

Sweet Things

LOVE LETTER TO A DESSERT CART

Many, many years ago, my parents would pick me up from school and take me to a lovely restaurant with an even lovelier view of a lake. Dressed in the dark green plaid jumper that was my uniform, I marched in behind mom and dad as the maître d’ gushed over us all and led us gracefully to what dad had at some point decided was the best table.

This was a fancy restaurant with white tablecloths, ice sculptures of swans, waiters whose shoes shone and smiles sparkled as they poured bubbly water and the fruitiest fruit conga I have ever sipped. A bread basket worthy of kings and queens would carried out moments after my chair had been pushed up to the table and my mouth would water as I gazed at minuature baguettes, flaky croissants, hearty rolls of nut-studded wheat, and long, crunchy grissini. After making a careful and difficult selection, beautiful pale butter ridged like the most perfect seashell would be delicately placed on my plate.

Lunch was usually filet mignon with béarnaise, which I would spoon on without any qualms…all this luxury, just for me. The filet was always accompanied by pommes soufflé, and there was nothing like those golden, crispy pillows of fried potato. I knew I was a lucky girl to be allowed to eat this way.

But, the best was yet to come. Enter The Dessert Cart. Aside from the deboned chicken that I’ve written about time and time again, The Dessert Cart is for me the ne plus ultra. There is absolutely nothing that compares to it. I dream of owning a dessert cart (and a wet bar, but we’ll talk about that later) and loading it up with chic sweetings. The Dessert Cart at this particular restaurant was all wonder and delight: floating islands, baked Alaska, dense chocolate cake, goblets of ripe red berries, sauce boats, and my favorite, profiteroles. Three perfect puffs would present themselves, lightly golden and starting to ooze out ice cream filling, and then, the waiter would pour the hot chocolate sauce over them, coating them slowly and seductively.

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My Mister’s grandmother’s dessert cart.

Travel

FORBIDDEN FRUITS

There are certain fruits back home that are not easy to come by in the US, even in the southernmost extremes of its geography. Some, such as nancite, a cranberry-sized fruit of bright yellow skin and white interior with a gaping belly button that exudes a heady and nauseating stench, I am happy to be safely away from, but others like sapote and níspero I crave. Sapote is rather like an avocado in shape and flesh texture. The exterior of the footballesque fruit is brown an rough, but the inside is buttery, smooth, and rich terracotta orange in color. A glossy black seed is tightly wedged into the velvety flesh. Sapote is for the persevering only, as it will frequently be filled with wriggling white maggots or be ripe to the point of fizzy fermentation. Should you chance on a perfect one, though, you will be rewarded. Decadent, it coats the palate and tongue with buttercream texture and aromas of exotic dark chocolate and mellow spices.
sapote
Níspero skin is also dull brown and coarse, and while its interior is not as rich and smooth as sapote, it does share with it unusual flavors. Níspero is grainy and fibrous, like a cat’s tongue. Redolent of chocolate and moss, it smells of earth dampened by rain, moistened cedar, and secret hiding places.
nispero

Other fruits, like guayaba and jocote were not yet in season, and so I was able only to have the former in jelly form and the latter in preserved from. Many of you are probably familiar with guava paste or guava and cream cheese pastries as the flavor combination is rather popular. I never tire of the taste, perhaps because like Proust’s madeleine, it reminds me of childhood. My mother and I used to have “tea time,” whose fare always consisted of toast spread with butter and jalea de guayaba and topped with a slice of cheese.

jalea

Jocotes bring to mind olives with great big pits. During semana santa (Holy Week) they are available everywhere, their bare-branched mother trees decorated with clusters of the sour green fruits. My grandfather has a farm in Granada and during semana santa huge basketfuls of mangoes and jocotes would be brought from there and lined up down the corridor. I would eat one after the other, wincing as the too sour ones wore down the enamel on my teeth and sucking greedily on the ripe red ones that were a prize to find buried in the multitude. Jocotes en miel are the preserved variation and it is all I could get in early February. If March jocotes recall the hot months, these honeyed bites are bits of waning summer.

jocote

Uncategorized

ROYALE WITH CHEESE

If you were wondering what finally happened at the airport, here it is:

I succeeded in my plan to have a healthy breakfast and ignore BK and McDonald’s. Ignoring BK was east, as there is no outpost at EWR. McD’s was a a feat: you can access it via two counters, one in the main corridor and the second within the actual food court. Also, there is a 12-foot Ronald over the counter windows, smiling his big red smile, arms wide open in welcome, fingers spread out, beckoning! Am quite certain there are subliminal messages calling out to innocent passersby… “Coooooome to meeeee….” Struggling with my inner Greedy Smurf I marched resolutely to my gate.
By 10:00am my stomach was grumbling and I had a bagel, but I thought it was a much better choice than a hashbrown patty.

Once on the plane my sacrifices were proven to be for naught: the lunch trolley rolled down the aisle bearing lunch – a microwaved burger with American cheese in a cellophane wrapper was handed to each passenger. I craned my neck and peeked through the space in the seats in front of me, and, unsavory as the thing looked, I smiled and eagerly reached out my paw when the flight attendant said perkily, “Burger?!”

I was expecting to taste public school cafeteria, but it was, shockingly, a slight improvement on that childhood nightmare.

The best part was the wrapper. This uniquely American creation (its being microwavable was just the icing on the cake) was manufactured by a company whose logo is a little, mustachioed chef by the ultra-French name of Pierre!

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