I am still stuffed

We learned some important lessons this Thanksgiving.

Number one: French press coffee makers do indeed whip heavy cream into glorious submission:


Number two: Homemade appetizers still don't get eaten unless they are a) decor for bloody marys (celery, cheese, olive, sausage, surprisingly appropriate) or b) macarons (espresso and salted caramel, explosively delicious):


Number three: Turkeys cooked in a roasting rack do sometimes look like torpedos:


Number four: Eight Thanksgiving servings are always smaller than eight regular servings. We would all have to eat like this:


(and then some) to eat all of this:



(I still don't know where Ted's sausage-walnut-sage stuffing went. It was delicious, I promise).

Happy Thanksgiving!

For the first time in three years, I will not be cooking a turkey or manning a kitchen on this, the best of Thursdays. Instead, I am whipping up some winter squash soup, cranberry sauce and a pecan pie, traveling across southeast to eat with a smaller group of friends. Relaxing and somewhat strange, I'm sure that it will still be a deliciously gluttonous evening.

Whatever your plans today, travel safe, eat well, and laugh. A lot.

Curry Paste and Dried Fish

Andrew has an awesome Thai cookbook. He stole it from his mother’s house over summer, brought it back to Portland, and our house hasn’t been the same.

This particular cookbook makes the Slow Food movement look like MacDonald’s. The author–David Thompson–having found himself in Thailand by accident some years ago, decided that its cuisine was … maybe the best thing ever. He did some serious reconnaissance, found a bunch of ancient recipes, and went from there. Thai Food is as fat as a dictionary and contains a recipe and Julia-esque length explanations for everything from fermented fish paste to coconut ash pudding.

Andrew’s been experimenting with many of its curry recipes (and they have all been absolutely fantastic) since August, but it wasn’t until this weekend that he, Rosie and I put together a full-fledged (and painfully authentic) feast. Rather than sit here and describe each dish for you, here’s the meal in images:


The night before, Andrew fried up a shallot relish in left-over duck fat. Seriously, this was probably one of the best things I have ever eaten. We recommend using long beans as relish-consuming vehicles:



Rosie (along with a bit of pounding help from Stephen) painstakingly shredded a green papaya for a salad–funky, fishy, and totally addictive:



I cracked open a young coconut (hopefully there will be pictures of this to come–Andrew took them and we can’t find his camera cable) and cooked it up with freshly picked wild chanterelles, chicken, game hen stock, deep fried garlic and thai basil. Not the most photogenic, but still yummy:


I also made the requisite coconut rice:


The highlight of the meal was certainly the Andrew’s steamed fish curry. I’m not totally sure what all went into the curry paste, but it was green, lemon-limey, and super-tasty. The best part of the curry, though, was the way that the fish (we used cod because it had the green light from Monterey Bay) melted into the sauce. It wasn’t fish in curry sauce at all–it was curry-fish with an almost pudding-like consistency. So. Good:


You’ll notice the well-constructed banana-leaf bowl in which the curry steamed:


This was Stephen’s major contribution to the feast. He just wanted me to tell you that.


No feast is complete without dessert:


Okay, pulut hitam (black rice pudding) is not exactly Thai, but it’s one of my favorite desserts and has coconut and palm sugar in it just like everything else we ate.


So full. So satisfied. I should eat real Thai more often.

To-Do Lists / Fruit, Spice, Party

I am a fan of lists. I make them for just about every slightly-larger-than-small task; sometimes they are even color-coded. This I learned from my mother, and I’d like to think that my list-making skills have a lot to do with how well I did in college. This said, here is my to-do list for you, reader, now that it is July and hot outside.

First, use up that extra fruit and make dessert. There’s something about hot weather that begs for fruity desserts. Don’t get me wrong, I love chocolate, but it’s not quite as satisfying on a 90°-plus evening.

This cherry-peach-almond clafoutis (adapted from, you guessed it, A Platter of Figs) was pretty killer. Almost custard-like in its filling, this confection really highlights the sweetness and texture of the fruit. And you can experiment with different fruit selections – I like to combine like fruits (stone fruit with stone fruit, or berry with berry, but I’m sure anything fresh would work beautifully).

Second, eat spicy food. It may seem counter-intuitive on a hot day to fill your body with capsaicin, but it really is satisfying. I’m not quite sure what it is – there’s got to be a reason why so much spicy food comes from hot parts of the world (Southeast Asia, anyone?). Maybe it’s because if your insides are burning up, the outside temperature doesn’t seem quite so hot.

Or maybe it just tastes good, like this dinner from Woodlands in Charlotte, NC. I went there with my parents, one of my mom’s friends from college, and her husband. Unfortunately there is no picture of the beautiful appetizer plate, but this is what we shared for dinner:

(Starting at the top, going clockwise) Kadai Bhindi (Okra), Palak Paneer (Spinach and Paneer, a yummy Indian cheese), Aloo Gobi (Potatoes and Cauliflower), Baigan Bharta (Eggplant), and Dal Tadka (Yellow lentils). We ate this with the requisite rice, onion naan, and raita. All of it was awesome, all vegetarian, and all spicy. If you’re ever in Charlotte, you should definitely visit (don’t be discouraged by its location in a less-than-picturesque strip-mall neighborhood or its extremely bizarre service).

Third, have a party. And cook a lot of food. It helps to have graduated from college, or to have someone else graduate, or accomplish a similar feat, but having a party just to have a party is great fun too. For my party, I invited 50 or so friends, family, and family friends over to celebrate, drink, and eat what I like to call Italian tapas. I had some help from my family, especially with the set-up (thanks!!), but this was definitely the largest cooking endeavor I had planned and executed largely on my own. It was definitely a rush, and I would definitely do it again (especially since everyone seemed to love the food).

Arugula and Fava Bean Crostini

Tomato and Garlic Crostini (from A Platter of Figs)

Charcuterie: Prosciutto di Parma, Coppa, and Salami from the Dekalb Farmer’s Market

(No photo: Olives, Artichoke Hearts I marinated myself, and Roasted Red Peppers)

Leeks Vinaigrette and Balsamic Marinated Radicchio with Ricotta Cheese

Asparagus Salad with Basil and assorted fresh Summer Peas

Orzo Salad with Tomatoes and Herbs

Pork Meatballs with a Tomato and White Wine Sauce

Abbracci Cookies

I took most of my recipes and ideas from Bon Appetit/Gourmet/epicurious.com, and, since I was cooking so much, I didn’t modify them as much as I usually do. Instead of re-printing recipes, I’ve provided the links for your reference. I did, however, put my own spin on the meatballs. Here’s my version:

Pork Meatballs with Tomato and White Wine Sauce
(Adapted from the A16 Cookbook)

I’ve scaled this back down to the original recipe size. If you are really dying to make about 175 meatballs, feel free to multiply the numbers by three and you’ll end up with about what I made.

For Braising Liquid:
Olive Oil
salt
½ onion, diced
1 garlic clove, finely minced
fresh oregano, chopped
fresh thyme, chopped
dry white wine
28 oz. diced San Marzano tomatoes
chicken stock

For Meatballs:
2½ lb ground pork
kosher salt
about ½ teaspoon dried chile flakes
about ½ tablespoon fresh oregano, chopped
4 oz. freshly grated Parmesan (at this point in my day, I was in a hurry, so I gave the cheese a pretty rough grate, but it would probably be better to grate as finely as possible)
1 lb. stale bread, cubed
1 onion, diced
1½ cloves garlic, chopped
½ bunch parsley, chopped
½ lb. ricotta cheese
a few tablespoons milk
4 eggs

I made the braising sauce first, so it could have time to cook and meld flavors. To prepare it, heat a tablespoon or so olive oil over medium heat in a Dutch oven (you’re going to stick all of your meatballs in here after they’ve browned, so make sure it’s big enough–5-7 qt. should be about the right size). Sweat the onion with a bit of salt. Once it has softened, add the garlic, oregano, and thyme. Sauté for about 30 seconds, or until the herbs are very fragrant. Add about ½ cup of wine and rapidly simmer until it no longer smells like alcohol, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the tomatoes with their juices and bring back up to a simmer. Cover, lower the heat, and cook for at least 30 minutes, or until all of your meatballs are ready.

To make the meatballs, preheat the oven to 400°. Mix the pork with a generous amount of salt, the chile flakes, oregano, onions, garlic, parsley, and Parmesan. Mix by hand gently, just until uniform. Put the bread cubes in a food processor and chop until you’ve got fine bread crumbs (You can also do this in a plastic bag, with a hammer-like object, but it’s a lot more work). Add the bread crumbs and the ricotta to the meat mixture and mix, adding milk as needed until everything is moist and blended. Add the eggs and mix just until the eggs are incorporated.

Form the mixture into balls, a little smaller than golf balls, and place onto an oiled rack on a roasting pan. You can place them very close together, but make sure that they don’t touch. Roast for about 10-15 minutes, or until browned. I had to do this in about 7 or 8 batches, and I placed the browned meatballs in a bowl until all of them had been browned.

Once the meatballs are browned, add them to the braising liquid in the Dutch oven, stacking gently if needed. If the liquid seems too low, add some chicken stock until the liquid reaches, but doesn’t cover the top layer of meatballs. Bring back to a simmer, cover, and cook over low heat or in a 300° oven for 2-3 hours, or until cooked through and very flavorful.

Allow the meatballs to cool as much as possible in the liquid and remove them to a serving platter. Turn the heat up to high, and bring the braising liquid back to a boil. Cook until the liquid has reduced by half, skimming off fat and residue as you go. Once the liquid is reduced, strain through a fine mesh sieve (Chinois, if you have it), and return the strained liquid to the saucepan. Reheat right before drizzling over the meatballs.

On extraordinary eating: Sel Gris / Safeway cake

Ever since Daniel Mondok’s shiny bald head graced Willamette Week’s restaurant guide last year, I had been pining to dine in his restaurant, Sel Gris. From its namesake (a grey French sea salt) to its seasonal “bistro” style food – it seemed to be the ideal Portland fine dining experience. It took a while to get there – college students can’t easily afford a meal that easily comes to $50-60 a head (if you’re eating and drinking properly) without tip. And the reservation policy, rare in Portland, makes it near-impossible for the spontaneous Let’s go out to eat trips that most frequently make up my dinners out. I thought about taking my parents there when they were in town, but the small size and super-hip vibe didn’t seem right somehow.

But then, we went. Somehow we were squeezed in (almost) last minute for an early dinner on Saturday, ending up at a table as far away from the open kitchen as possible, delightful nonetheless. Despite its not-much-larger-than-a-closet size, Sel Gris didn’t seem to have a bad table in the house. The sun shone through the ceiling-high windows, reflecting off the steel beams of the interior, making the room almost sparkle.

The buzz of excitement led me to forget not only my camera from my house but also Matt’s camera from the car; however, the small size, close proximity of our neighbors and constant wait staff attention would have made photography uncomfortable. So you’ll have to make due with my words.

We started with the Ris de Veau, veal sweetbreads with “bacon and eggs” – a semi-poached egg encased in batter with bacon bits on the top – and an herb oil. Smaller and daintier than the sweetbreads I ate at Paley’s, these were wonderfully rich when eaten with the runny yolk and fragrant oil. Matt was impressed (he hadn’t had sweetbreads on their own) and was struck by their pungent complexity.

Following the appetizer, I had the soup special – a puree of asparagus and green garlic, poured tableside over sautéed morels and fried onions. While the presentation was beautiful and the body of the soup was deliciously fresh and delicate, I wasn’t sold on the incorporation of the fried onions. The contrast between crunchy and smooth could have been nice, but the soup was so hot that I couldn’t eat it until the onion batter had dissolved into mushy globs at the bottom of the bowl. Next time, perhaps caramelized onions, or simply crispy ones, would be better.

Matt had the asparagus salad with smoked trout, prosciutto, an aioli, and a number of other ingredients. Despite its heavy busy-ness (it probably would have been a better match for a pasta entrée than what Matt actually ordered), the salad was a tasty combination of smokiness and fresh snappy green flavor.

For my entrée, I had the lamb prepared two ways – braised and a quickly grilled rack – served with chickpeas, favas, and a root vegetable puree. The lamb was tender and fragrant, and both methods prepared perfectly. But it was nothing terribly special. Not like Matt’s dish – the duck served with foie gras, artichoke hearts, and peas. Up until this dinner, my duck experience had been limited to bad Chinese restaurants. Overcooked, greasy, stringy. The duck on Saturday, however, was marvelous. Served almost rare, with the crispy, fatty skin on top, it was like slicing into a petit filet, but with the flavor of the best dark poultry meat. Bites containing bits of fat and foie were the best – rich, buttery, satisfying. I am now a duck convert.

And, finally, despite being underwhelmed by the dessert selections, we decided to order the Napoleon. Bright local strawberries were layered between crisp pastry and crème pâtissière for a clean and fresh end to the meal.

The next night (my last in Portland) came with the goal of eating up all the fresh vegetables I had bought the other day when I lost self-control at New Seasons. Matt and I invited Ted and Emmeline over, and we chopped, sliced, and stir-fried our way to dinner. Unfortunately there was no leftover desserts needing to be eaten, and so we scoured the internet for a bakery open late on Sunday nights.

It turns out there is no such place.

Well, at least there is no such place that doesn’t turn into a bar past dinner, and, given Matt’s embarrassingly young age, we were stuck with what seemed like the worst case scenario – Safeway. After fantasizing about Papa Haydn and Piece of Cake, Safeway cakes sound like hell. Artificial, dry, chemically. But they are cakes just the same. Emmeline and I decided to split the “Giant Artisanal Carrot Cake” and Matt and Ted ate some chocolate cherry concoction.

As it turns out, carrot cake is a good choice. Despite the very long list of ingredients, it lacked that grocery-store cake aftertaste and was surprisingly moist and flavorful. Our biggest complaint was the improper ratio of icing to cake, but that is easily remedied with a little self-control. And compared to the boys' dry, flavorless chocolate thing, it was close to great.

Our lesson? Always get the carrot cake.

The Meat Project

It started with Nicky’s USA.

A couple weeks ago, Isaac suggested that we go check out this butcher near Burnside that supplies meat products to nearby restaurants. Of course I couldn’t pass up such an experience, and, assuming that he knew what he was talking about, I enthusiastically agreed. It wasn’t until last week, once our families left, that we actually began to plan the trip.

We decided to go last Wednesday, and the night before got together to look for ideas. Isaac left a post on my Facebook wall: let's look through my A16 cookbook tonight if you have time. A16 is Isaac’s favorite (perhaps the only book he uses?). It is beautiful, and holds many recipes for many types of meat. But I had just bought A Platter of Figs and was eager to look through it as well. In fact, I had been eying one particular spring recipe involving lamb that I wanted to try out. So I grabbed a pile of my books and headed over to his house. We sat down and thumbed through a few pages. Our conversation went something like this:

Let’s make lamb Isaac. It’s my favorite meat to eat once it gets warm. Tastes like summer.

I hate lamb.

Come on. It’s delicious.

I’ve been wanting to try this goat recipe [points at a recipe from A16]. What about that?

It’s braised. It’s too warm for braising.

I love braising.

I suggested a couple of other things, including the lamb from Platter of Figs, but Isaac kept coming back to the goat. Not really wanting to pick a fight, I conceded, and we moved to the Nicky’s website to check on prices.

Goat is too expensive. Don’t know why, but for the cut we wanted, it was going to come to something like 50 dollars. Neither of us wanted to pay that much. Isaac sighed.

Lamb was cheaper. And a good substitute for goat in the recipe. Yes! I thought. Just what I wanted! We agreed to go the next afternoon, leaving enough time for a proper salt of the meat before the party on Saturday. It seemed like a great plan.

Isaac and Matt picked me up the next afternoon and we drove into the bowels of the Southeast industrial district, passing warehouse after warehouse. When we finally located Nicky’s, we saw that there was no storefront, no real entrance save for the loading docks. We drove around the block and parked. Isaac pulled out his iPhone to call them, but first looked more carefully at the website: No walk-in orders. $125 minimum. Whoops. So much for Nicky’s USA.

Next resort: New Seasons. Their meat is still very good, usually local, and butchered in the store. After two checks in the back of the store and a conversation with the butcher, we finally got what we wanted – 5 and half pounds of on-the-bone lamb shoulder.

We lugged it back to my house, cut into the fat, and salted the hell out of it:

On Saturday I went to the Eastmoreland Market for San Marzanos (they are one of the few places that sell the good ones) and other goodies, and then we trekked up to the Portland Farmer’s Market for last minute vegetables – asparagus and chard:

I don’t know how I feel about the PFM – there are certainly lots of things to see and eat, but it’s a bit overwhelming. I tend to prefer the smaller markets, like Moreland or Milwaukie, where you can remember which stand had the freshest strawberries and the greenest greens. The food we bought was delicious, but I’m sure I could have gotten just as good produce from somewhere less stressful.

Anyway, we spent the next few hours cooking and cleaning – I got the lamb in the oven and worked on four different pizza appetizers:

Red Potato Pizza with Leeks, Manchego, and Arugula

Basil-Walnut Pesto Pizza with Sun-dried Tomatoes, Garlic, and Parmesan

Gorgonzola Pizza with Cremini Mushrooms and Cherry Tomatoes

Asparagus Pizza with Parmesan, Basil, and Garlic

Isaac went on a beer mission and then cooked the chard with a tomato-anchovy sofrito to serve with the lamb. Some of the guests generously brought other things to eat as well, like Robin’s killer cardamom caramel brownies:

Everything tasted awesome. The lamb especially. Cooked slowly for four hours in a mixture of its own rendered fat, tomatoes, garlic, rosemary, and cinnamon, we probably couldn’t have gone wrong. We couldn’t move it out of the pot without the roast completely falling apart. It even converted a few non-lamb eaters, Isaac included, and disappeared in a matter of minutes.

(chard dish in the foreground, lamb in the background)

Lamb Shoulder with Tomatoes, White Wine, and Rosemary
(adapted from A16)

5 ½ pounds on-the-bone lamb shoulder
about 2 tablespoons kosher salt
¼ cups olive oil
3 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed with a knife
2 sprigs rosemary
2 cups dry white wine (we forgot to buy this, so we used a left-over pino gris, which worked alright)
28-oz San Marzano tomatoes
½ teaspoon cinnamon

The night before cooking, make a series of cuts in the shoulder, especially in the top layer of fat, and rub the kosher salt all over the lamb. Wrap the lamb in a plastic bag and put it in the fridge.

The next day, take the lamb out to come to room temperature as you prepare the rest of the braise.

Preheat the oven to 275°. Heat the olive oil over medium heat in a 5-qt (or larger) Dutch oven. Add the garlic and cook for 5-10 minutes, until soft and browned. Add the rosemary and the wine. Bring to a simmer and reduce the wine almost completely (this can take quite a while – be patient). Walk by the stove several times and smell. It’s awesome.

Once the wine is reduced, add the tomatoes and cinnamon. Bring to a boil and then remove from heat. Squeeze the lamb into the pot and spoon some of the mixture over the top. Cover with the lid and stick in the oven. Let the meat braise for 3½ to 4 hours, or until the meat is super tender and falling off the bone. Again, I recommend checking on it every hour or so, just to pull off the lid and smell.

Once the meat is done cooking, move the pot to the stove. Take the lamb out the best you can and remove the meat from the bones and return it to the pot. Stir everything together and serve to a group of hungry post-college students.