The Fifth Day

 
You guessed it... today is turkey, Day 5.  Given that turkey, Day 1 is already too much for me, Day 5 is really pushing my limits.  So far there has been a giant turkey leg eaten while sitting down at the table (Thanksgiving), turkey eaten standing up as leftovers in the kitchen, turkey sandwiches, turkey eaten standing up as leftovers in the kitchen (again), and here we are... Day 5.

The most important part of the fifth day is that nothing can taste at all like turkey.  It's fine to have turkey in the meal, but it must be hidden.  And there's only really one good way to do that:  casserole [soup is perhaps a possibility as well, but not quite as effective a hiding place].  So here I am, casserole in the oven, and actually eagerly awaiting my turkey dinner. 

You see, I've figured out that my favorite casserole is the perfect repository for leftover turkey.  In fact, tonight's casserole involves all sorts of Thanksgiving leftovers (extra buttermilk, cheese) and miscellaneous things already present in my cupboard and freezer (canned black beans, tortillas, green chilies).  There's almost nothing better than a meal that requires no preparation, weird ingredients, or run to the grocery store for that last thing you forgot to buy (or perhaps, three trips to three different grocery stores the day before Thanksgiving for the many, many things you forgot to buy).  This casserole is versatile--change the beans to kidney beans, add jalapenos, omit the turkey entirely for a vegetarian meal, add ham.  But I guess that's exactly what casseroles are, versatile, easy, and the only way to make it through the fifth day.

Chilaquile Casserole
Adapted from Still Life With Menu by Mollie Katzen

12 corn tortillas, thawed if frozen
1 can beans (black or kidney), drained and rinsed
1 medium onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, diced
2 cups turkey or chicken, diced or shredded
2 4 oz cans green chilies, drained
2 cups buttermilk
4 eggs
3 cups monterey jack (or mix with cheddar) cheese, grated
1 tsp cumin
1 Tbsp olive oil
salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Grease a 9x13 inch casserole dish or baking pan.

Heat olive oil and cumin in skillet over medium heat.  Add onion and garlic and saute until soft and starting to brown, about 10 minutes.  Add chilies, turkey, and beans and cook, heating through, about 2 minutes.

In a separate bowl, beat together the eggs and buttermilk.  Add salt and pepper.

Tear six of the tortillas into bite-sized pieces and spread evenly across the bottom of the casserole dish.  Top with half of the cheese and the onions/bean/turkey mix.  Top with the remaining six tortillas, also torn into bite-sized pieces and the remaining half of the cheese.  Slowly pour the buttermilk/egg mixture over the dish.  Place uncovered in oven and bake 35 minutes.  Serve hot or at room temperature with a garnish of sour cream and hot sauce for those who desire a little more spice.

More Maligned Vegetables: Brussels Sprout Hash

Although I seemingly derive great pleasure from discovering ways to make much maligned foods taste good, I never thought this would extend to brussels sprouts.  But a few weeks ago I had such an amazing brussels sprouts hash at Leon's, that I actually found myself wanting brussels sprouts again. Of course, the craving could have had something to do with the bacon, but really, I've never wanted a brussels sprout in my life.


As it turned out, I had a vegetarian friend in town the night I finally decided to take on the brussels sprouts, so I had to dispense with the bacon.  But the bacon-free recipe I found made me forget all about it, and I still loved the brussels sprouts.  They might actually make it into my shopping cart on a regular rotation! Or even my garden!  Even my friend was wowed:  "I've got to tell my parents, they will never believe I'm eating brussels sprouts [and liking them]" sums up her reaction to this recipe.   


I've thought a lot about this, and I think what makes this recipe (and the hash at Leon's) so good is that the brussels sprouts aren't whole.  I realize this sounds glaringly obvious, but perhaps my problem with brussels sprouts all along has simply been the preparation.  Thinly sliced, cooked in butter, and mixed with caramelized onions truly works wonders for this neglected vegetable.  So the question remains, why do we ever eat these things whole? 

Brussels Sprout Hash with Caramelized Shallots  
From Bon Appétit (Molly Stevens)
[From Hannah:  My notes and changes are noted next to several of the ingredients.]

Serves 8-10 

6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) butter, divided [I used 4 Tbsp and it was still great] 1/2 pound shallots, thinly sliced [I used two yellow onions instead of shallots since I decided to make this at the last minute and didn't have any shallots on hand] Coarse kosher salt 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar [I used sherry vinegar] 4 teaspoons sugar [I used the full amount but probably would use only 3 tsp next time] 1 1/2 pounds brussels sprouts, trimmed 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil [I used less, maybe 2 Tbsp] 1 cup water   Melt 3 tablespoons butter in medium skillet over medium heat. Add shallots; sprinkle with coarse kosher salt and pepper. Sauté until soft and golden, about 10 minutes. Add vinegar and sugar. Stir until brown and glazed, about 3 minutes. Halve brussels sprouts lengthwise. Cut lengthwise into thin (1/8-inch) slices. Heat oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Add sprouts; sprinkle with salt and pepper. Sauté until brown at edges, 6 minutes. Add 1 cup water and 3 tablespoons butter. Sauté until most of water evaporates and sprouts are tender but still bright green, 3 minutes. Add shallots; season with salt and pepper.

Dining in Maine: Flipside, Brunswick, ME

Good news:  The pizza at the newly opened Flipside in Brunswick rocks.  In fact, it's so good that I anticipate craving several of the well-designed pie creations of Chef Bob Haggerty.

Bad news:  I live in Atlanta.  Therefore, the logistics of getting a slice are a bit complicated.

Until recently, we had few good pizza choices in Atlanta, and although we are getting closer with the addition of Antico, Vesuvius, and others to the dining scene, I still find myself missing 'real pizza', the kind of pizza I could get as a kid growing up in New England.  On the other hand, I enjoy the proliferation of 'designer' toppings and more innovative combinations.  Flipside perfectly masters this intersection of old and new with a traditional crust (although the sprinkling of sea salt is a nice touch) paired with unique, fresh, and local toppings, served at the stylishly restyled restaurant at 111 Maine Street in Brunswick.

I tried several of the pies yesterday at the opening event, and two have the potential to be late-night cravings:  the chorizo, and the bbq chicken.  The chorizo pizza works without much description:  chorizo, mushrooms, cheese.  What is most surprising about my love of the bbq chicken pizza is that, along with Hawaiian-style pizza, this combination is usually at the bottom of my list.  Flipside's is different, and better:  the smoked chicken is perfectly shredded (no weird chicken chunks), the ancho barbecue sauce is smoky and a bit spicy (and not too sweet), and the addition of bacon adds the perfect saltiness to the mix.  Topped with a blend of cheeses, this pizza works.

I should probably disclose that I know Bob personally, so I am not a completely unbiased reviewer.  That said, until now I've never found a slice of pizza worthy of writing about.  I wonder how long until Flipside on the Southside opens--I'll be waiting for it in the ATL.

Summer's End

It's almost cruel of me to post a recipe for peaches now that we have (finally) crept into fall, but this one is so good that I just couldn't wait another 10 months.  And don't wait 10 months to try it--while peaches lie fully in summer's domain, I'm guessing this recipe would be really good with any other thinly sliced fruit, or even a layer of chunky raspberry or other fruit preserves.

This recipe calls for browned butter, something I'd never tried before, and which was a bit trying to my patience, but well worth the results (a non-browned butter version can be found at smittenkitchen.com, the source of the original recipe).  Browning the butter didn't take much time at all, but the whole process made me a bit nervous..."Is this the right color?  Now is this the right color?  Now?  What if I turn around and the whole thing burns on me?  ??  ? ???"  The recipe's instructions actually do tell the tale of browning the butter well, but a few extra descriptors would have helped me.  For example, when the recipe says that the butter will foam, it isn't kidding.  Foam means foam means lots and lots of small bubbles.  I saw the first few small bubbles and thought "Foam, next step please," but they were nothing in comparison with the actual foaming.  When you get to the foam, you'll know it.  My experience with the color changes were similar.  I kept thinking "It's done, take it off the stove before it burns up and you ruin two sticks of butter" when in actuality I was a ways from having browned butter.  So here's my guide to the color changes:  when the recipe says 'clear golden' it means, for lack of a better descriptor, that it is the color of concentrated urine, and when the recipe says 'brown' it means brown.  While I urge you to keep a close eye on the butter and stir very frequently, the pace of the browning is far more glacial than you might think, so relax a little, enjoy making browned butter. 

Do you ever get the sense that I am writing these things as a reminder to myself?

The shortbread was well worth the butter browning experience.  I liked that the shortbread was just barely sweet, which made for a great complement to the wonderful peaches we'd purchased the week before at a roadside stand in South Carolina.  We shared the bounty at a friend's potluck, with plenty of leftovers to go with coffee in the mornings. 
 

Peach Shortbread

From the Smitten Kitchen

[If you don't want to brown the butter, follow the link above for instructions.]

 

1 cup (7 ounces or 200 grams) white sugar
1 teaspoon (5 grams) baking powder
2 3/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons (12 5/8 ounces or 359 grams) cups all-purpose flour (or you can measure 3 cups and remove 2 tablespoons flour)
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon (2 grams) salt
1 cup (2 sticks or 8 ounces or 227 grams) cold unsalted butter
1 large egg
2 peaches, pitted and thinly sliced (between 1/8 and 1/4-inch thick)

Brown your butter: Melt butter in a small/medium saucepan over medium-low heat. It will melt, then foam, then turn clear golden and finally start to turn brown and smell nutty. Stir frequently, scraping up any bits from the bottom as you do. Keep your eyes on it; it burns very quickly after it browns and the very second that you turn around to do something else. Set it in the freezer until solid (about 30 minutes).

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter a 9×13 inch pan, or spray it with a nonstick spray. In a medium bowl, stir together sugar, baking powder, flour, salt and spices with a whisk. Use a pastry blender, fork or your fingertips, blend the solidified brown butter and egg into the flour mixture. It will be crumbly. Pat 3/4 of the crumbs into the bottom of the prepared pan, pressing firmly. Tile peach slices over crumb base in a single layer. Scatter remaining crumbs evenly over peaches and bake in preheated oven for 30 minutes, until top is slightly brown and you can see a little color around the edges. Cool completely in pan before cutting into squares.

Dining on my birthday: Woodfire Grill

I have great friends. 

For my birthday, a group of them got together and gave me a gift certificate to Woodfire Grill, one of several restaurants in Atlanta made famous by the TV show 'Top Chef'.  I'd heard about Woodfire Grill but it is notoriously difficult to get a reservation and to do it right is on the pricey side, so getting a birthday card that said something to the effect of "Appear tomorrow at 7 pm at Woodfire Grill and here's a gift certificate to pay for it" was pretty awesome.

The best way for me to share this amazing evening with you, my readers, is to paste in the thank you I sent to my friends the next morning.  I think this best captures how wonderful the meal was, and the cell phone photos, while terrible and blurry, give you a snapshot of the precision, beauty, and perfection of this meal. 

 ************************************************************
Dear K, T, L, B, A, B, S, S, M, N, 
I know usually I'm all Miss Manners with the real paper/handwritten thank yous, but this year I'm going out on a limb with the email since I have a gazillion photos to accompany my thank you (and I'm only sending you 1/3 of the photos).

Thank you, thank you, thank you for a wonderful dinner last night for my birthday!  Mw and I had a fabulous meal, we loved every bite. For those of you who have not been, Woodfire Grill has a 7-course 'blinded' tasting menu (I resisted asking the waitress about whether they have a double blinded option), where you are at the whim of the chef for your entire meal. Everything is 'slow food', as local as possible and when not local, sourced from small farms or the like.  Dinner was outstanding and fun, photos attached of every course although my phone's camera does not do the meal justice:

1st:  okra (GA) with shrimp (Belize)
2nd:  Point Judith calamari (from RI!) (I did get myself into a bit of trouble here by correcting the waitress for calling it Judith Point calamari, but she forgave me after I explained that I was from Rhode Island)
3rd:  scallop (Nova Scotia) with beets and cabbage (bad photo, sorry)
4th:  veal sweetbreads (VT or WI, depending on who you asked) with charred local peach
5th:  quail (GA) with berkshire pork
6th:  duck breast (too full to remember locale of duck)
7th:  obvious

The meal was accompanied by a perfectly paired 1/2 bottle of champagne and 1/2 bottle of Zinfandel (Sonoma Co!!), the sommelier was amazing and his enthusiasm for making sure that we accompanied the 4th course with champagne was contagious.

We even saw Kevin Gillespie, the top chef contestant who is the owner and executive chef, but sadly he did not come over to wish me birthday well wishes, although the restaurant staff was well-informed of the occasion (thanks, k).  Even across the room I had a moment of celebrity awe (some people think I need to see more real celebrities).

Thank you all again, this was really a special birthday meal, next time you all will have to join me.

1st course

2nd course

3rd course

4th course

5th course

6th course

7th course

Dining on the road: Pannie-George's Kitchen, Auburn, Alabama

I've been told that I am a wee bit obsessed with my new uber-smart phone. It's perhaps true, but my phone is just so useful. For example, on our recent roadtrip to Florida we drove until we were hungry, then I pressed a few buttons, and voila.... restaurant recommendations.  Amazing.  And, we found a great restaurant in Auburn with absolutely perfect comfort food.  Four thumbs up for Pannie-George's Kitchen (that's my two thumbs and Mw's two thumbs, if you are counting).

Pannie-George's is located in a strip mall on the edge of Auburn.  There's nothing fancy about the restaurant:  food is served cafeteria-style, with a limited menu of two or three entrees, a few sides, and a choice of corn bread or a roll.  Naturally, we both chose the fried chicken, mine with fried okra and snap peas, Mw's with fried okra and sliced tomatoes.  We both had the corn bread.

I'll start with the chicken.  Wow.  Really, really good.  The chicken had a perfectly crispy exterior and moist meat, just like fried chicken should be.  Not as good as my mom's (nothing is), but I'll give it a second in my book.  Something about the chicken was similar to my mom's though, so I asked them what they fry it in. The answer?  'Grease'.  Well, that didn't help me so I told them how good the chicken was, just like my mom's and she fries her chicken in Crisco, but somehow that seemed to offend them.  So I can't tell you what they fry the chicken in, but it's darn good. 

The fried okra was about the best I've ever had, especially when topped with a mix of ketchup and the homemade hot sauce, a delightful vinegar-based concoction.  I'm not usually one to order snap peas but these made me a convert.  It was probably all of the butter.  I was so full from the chicken and okra that I barely touched the cornbread, but Mw devoured it for us both, he thought it was about the best he'd ever had (mine excepted of course).

The icing on the cake?  The whole meal, complete with sweet tea, came to $15.07. 

 My plate, pre-devouring it all...

The menu:  the photo is a bit hard to read but the down-home sensibility is clear.

We would have gone back to Pannie-George's on the way home, but they are closed on Saturdays.  So my phone took us to two closed BBQ restaurants before we finally made it to an open, and mediocre BBQ establishment.  I'll spare you the details.

Dining on my birthday—El Veneno Mariscos

Part 1 of a series of posts on the great foods I had for my birthday...

It is incredibly rare that I don’t trust my first impression of a restaurant and go back for a second meal before forming a staunch opinion.  In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever not gone with my gut (no pun intended).   But, although I loved the first meal I had at El Veneno Mariscos, I couldn’t escape the feeling that I had eaten a terrible meal there once before [turns out I had it confused with another restaurant on Buford Highway] and wanted to rule out the possibility that my enthusiasm for the superb shrimp tacos was somehow a fluke.  It wasn’t; I could eat those tacos every day.

If anyone reading this actually decides to go eat at El Veneno Mariscos, don’t be put off by the ambiance.  I’m not sure there is much, although the mariachis at lunchtime do help.  On both visits there has been practically no one else eating there, at most two other tables in a rather large restaurant.  As much as I like a hidden gem, I also like to know that other people actually eat there.  I’m working on both.  And, while the nautical décor complements the theme of Mexican-style seafood, the place is rather dingy and I doubt would ever be confused with a ship or anything remotely near the ocean.  But did I mention the mariachis?  At lunchtime?

At first glance, the menu is also a bit off putting for a lunchtime outing.  Most of the dishes are in the $15-20 range, or more if you get the lobster (the house specialty), which is a lot for Buford Highway dining at lunchtime.   But there are a few more reasonably priced options buried in the menu, and quite good ones at that.

For my birthday, my friend and fellow book tart, B2, took me to El Veneno Mariscos for lunch.  As with my previous visit, we were treated with complimentary marlin ceviche tostadas to start.  In my enthusiasm for the tostadas, I managed to knock over my glass of water onto the tostada, the table, and B2.  The restaurant was kind enough to give me a new one (tostada), which was eminently delicious. Other starters included a basket of chips and a gut-wrenchingly hot but delicious habanero salsa and an order of guacamole, which comes spread across a plate rather than in a bowl, and is just delicious, filled with nice chunks of onion, cilantro, and tomatoes.  For our meal, we both had the shrimp tacos (for some mysterious reason that I have yet to figure out, they are always out of the fish tacos).  The shrimp tacos were fabulous, with several perfectly grilled shrimp, a bit of crema, and a lot of greens on top of two corn tortillas.  I can't recommend these tacos enough, and they were the perfect start to a wonderful week of birthday eating!

Tomatoes

The bounty of the summer tomato harvest is upon us, and it is amazing. On Monday I harvested 9 large tomatoes and 2 dozen cherry tomatoes, yesterday another dozen large and two dozen cherry, not too bad for a patch of only six plants. Despite an infestation of leaf-footed bugs that carefully score the tops of all of the fruit, our biggest problem is that the tomato plants are so big that the plants beside them are shaded. The resourceful cucumbers have solved the problem by growing though the forest of tomato plants, wrapping their tendrils around whatever they can find to steady themselves, but the less mobile peppers are not happy.  This is hardly a terrible problem; the tomatoes are truly amazing.

With the onslaught of tomatoes has come the need for new recipes in order to be able to use them all.  I'm certainly not complaining:  there have been countless tomato sandwiches, caprese salads, sliced tomatoes, all of which are amazing, but at some point the tomatoes outnumbered my ability to use them.  I need recipes that use lots of tomatoes at once.  Last week while doing a long overdue email inbox file/delete,  I came across a recipe for a tomato-basil cream sauce, which seemed like the perfect dish to highlight all of our lovely tomatoes as well as the remnants of some overgrown basil. 

I wish I could give better credit to the creator of the recipe, but unfortunately I’d just saved it as from the ‘Lake Claire CSA’ [Lake Claire was my old Atlanta neighborhood]. This sauce is delectable, so thank you to whomever wrote this recipe. Yum. There really is nothing like a really good tomato sauce made with fresh from the garden ingredients.

Aside from increasing the time to cook the onions, I only made one change to the recipe. Since we didn’t have any heavy cream, I used sour cream, which worked perfectly. I only used 2/3 of a cup of sour cream; the container was in the back of the fridge and much of the sour cream was actually frozen so I used what I could get out. The level of creaminess was perfect and I don't think that anyone would ever have guessed that it was not made with heavy cream.  Also, sour cream is a cost effective substitute for heavy cream (I never would have thought of this, but came across several websites that mentioned this as I googled whether it would be okay to use sour cream as a substitute for the cream).  My only complaint was that the sauce was a bit thinner than I would have liked, probably because I didn’t start cooking until 9 pm and I was hungry and didn’t have much patience for reducing the sauce; this is easily remedied in the future by following the directions. Thinness aside, this sauce was a perfect way to show off the flavors of our wonderful summer vegetables and herbs.

Keep those tomatoes coming!

Tomato-Basil Cream Sauce 

From someone in the Lake Claire CSA

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 yellow onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
3 cups peeled, & chopped tomatoes (to peel, score tops and dunk in boiling water for 45 seconds then in cold water bath and skins will peel off easily) [I used four large tomatoes]
1 sprig thyme
Kosher Salt
Pinch crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 cup chicken or vegetable broth
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
4 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
Sprigs of fresh basil, for garnishing

Heat the oil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the onions and cook, stirring, until soft, about 10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute. Add the tomatoes and thyme. Season with salt and crushed red pepper, and cook until the tomatoes give up their liquid, about 5 minutes, stirring from time to time. Add the broth and tomato paste, bring to a boil, and cook until reduced by 1/3 in volume.  Add the cream and cook until reduced by 1/3 in volume, or until thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Add the butter and basil and stir to combine. Remove the thyme sprigs. With an immersion blender, puree the sauce. (Alternatively, the sauce may be pureed, in batches, in a blender - be careful if the sauce is hot as it may splatter.) Taste and adjust the seasoning and consistency if necessary. Return to the saucepan and keep warm until serving. Serve over pasta of choice.

Roasted Corn Salad

I challenge anyone who says anything other than 'summer' as their favorite season to give me a really, truly good reason.  Yes, the first snow fall is magical and lends winter its five minutes of charm; red leaves and pumpkins are nice things about the fall; spring's floral explosion is a welcome respite from the winter's dreary cold.  But let's consider this rationally:  summer has the best food.  


I've always liked summer best, mostly because my birthday lands squarely in the middle of it, but I've never truly appreciated summer the way I do now until this year.  And it's all because of two 4x12 foot plots of land in my backyard:  the garden.

Before I get into the wonders of my garden's bounty, I must disclose that I lived with a garden for the first 18 years of my life, and didn't like it.  While there are certain things I remember fondly, like the amazing sauce my mother would make from our tomato harvest and freeze for the winter, mostly I remember with disdain tasks such as weeding and picking green beans.

Over the past few years, my feelings towards gardening have slowly changed, starting with a tomato plant or two in pots on my porch, and eventually evolving into the full-fledged garden I have now.  It has been great, and has provided us with something between a trickle and a bounty for several months now.  We started with lettuce and spinach, continued with peas and cabbage, and now our daily harvests include tomatoes, cucumbers, okra, and even a few ears of corn. 

The corn was a 'just to see if I can do it' experiment, and even though the ears have been freakishly small and runty, the corn has tasted as good as any of the best I've ever had.  I turned last weekend's  small harvest into a roasted corn salad.  Like all of my best recipes, I didn't keep exacting records of ingredient amounts, but I don't think you could go too wrong with this.  The secret lies in the addition of a little bit of rice vinegar, which somehow balanced and coalesces all of the other flavors.  Try this salad--the fresh vegetables and herbs combined with the flavor of the grill are a testament to the wonders of summer and will remind you why summer is (or should be) your favorite season.

I still hate picking beans.


Roasted Corn Salad
Serves 2-4 as a side dish

2 ears corn, shucked
1 jalapeno
1 tomato
1 Tbsp red wine vinegar
1 tsp rice vinegar
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp fresh parsley, finely chopped
1 Tbsp fresh tarragon, finely chopped
salt and pepper

Heat grill to high.  Roast corn, jalapeno, and tomato until beginning to char on all sides.  Cool to touch.  Using knife, scrape corn kernels from cob.  Peel, remove seeds, and dice jalapeno.  Chop tomato.  Combine corn, jalapeno, tomato, vinegars, olive oil, parsley, and tarragon in bowl.  Mix thoroughly.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Continued Adventures with Anchovies

It started so innocently, and now I just can't get enough of recipes with anchovies.  I also can't seem to get enough pasta, and have been aided in this summer pasta obsession by a recent issue of Bon Appetit. 


The recipe I'm highlighting in this post will probably disgust most of you at the list of ingredients, as it includes some of the most maligned vegetables I can think of (excluding lima beans).  Cauliflower?  Gross.  Zucchini?  Yuck.  And on top of these misunderstood vegetables, there are the anchovies.  I know, I know, double yuck.  Once again readers, you will have to trust that I know what I am talking about--this dish is great!  I even ate it for leftovers two whole days in a row, and we all know my feelings on leftovers more than once.  Roasted cauliflower is fantastic!  Perfectly sauteed fresh zucchini screams summertime!  Anchovies!  And all of this with croutons on top! 

[Between my garden, job, a summer class, travel, and all of the other things I'm doing, my blog has suffered during the past month. Have no fear, I'm still here, dutifully eating at new restaurants and trying new recipes.  I'll try to keep my infinite wisdom coming in slightly more regular intervals.]

Orecchiette with Cauliflower, Anchovies, and Fried Croutons

From Bon Appetit/epicurious.com

1 large head of cauliflower (28 to 30 ounces), trimmed, cut into 1-inch florets 

8 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided (I cut this down a bit by using less at each step)  

1 pound orecchiette (little ear-shaped pasta) or medium-size shell pasta  

1 1/2 cups 1/3-inch cubes crusty country-style bread  

3 medium zucchini, trimmed, cut into 1/3-inch cubes (about 3 cups)  

3 large garlic cloves, chopped  

7 anchovy fillets, finely chopped  

1/2 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley, divided  

1/3 cup (packed) freshly grated Parmesan cheese plus additional for serving  

2 tablespoons freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese

Preheat oven to 425°F. Toss cauliflower florets with 1 tablespoon olive oil in large bowl to coat. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and spread in single layer on large rimmed baking sheet. Roast until cauliflower florets are tender and beginning to brown in spots, stirring occasionally, about 25 minutes. Cool to room temperature.   DO AHEAD: Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover and chill.

Cook pasta in large pot of boiling generously salted water until just tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally. Drain pasta, reserving 1 1/3 cups pasta cooking liquid. Set pasta and cooking liquid aside separately.

Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in large deep nonstick skillet or large pot over medium-high heat. Add bread cubes and sauté until golden brown and crisp, 3 to 4 minutes. Transfer to small bowl and cool. Reserve skillet or pot.

Add 2 tablespoons olive oil to same skillet or pot and heat over medium-high heat. Add zucchini and garlic and sauté until zucchini is golden brown and crisp-tender, 3 to 4 minutes. Add cauliflower and anchovies and sauté until heated through, 3 to 4 minutes. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Add drained pasta, reserved 1 1/3 cups pasta cooking liquid, remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil, 1/3 cup parsley, 1/3 cup Parmesan, and Pecorino Romano cheese and toss to coat. Season pasta to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Divide pasta among 6 bowls; sprinkle with fried croutons, remaining parsley, and additional Parmesan cheese and serve.

The Best of the Season

For several years in high school and college, I was a vegetarian.  By definition, I did not eat meat; however, this concept was foreign to some of my relatives.  For example, I distinctly remember my (Jewish) grandmother telling me, "But bacon's different."  

Ummm, not really grandma, bacon comes from a pig.  

This memory came to me yesterday as I prepared what I had planned to be a vegetarian dinner, except of course for the bacon.  This recipe was a standout and the perfect way to highlight two of the best fresh vegetables of the season:  peas and asparagus.  And this recipe would have been equally wonderful without the bacon, so to my legions of vegetarian readers, take heart, this one is for you, too!

It is hard to know where to start, there were so many things to love about this recipe.  Visually, the pasta was just gorgeous, with several shades of perfectly cooked green vegetables.  I also loved the high vegetable to pasta ratio, always a plus in the book of those of us who think that pasta is merely a vehicle for sauce (I feel the same way about the role of chips and salsa).  While the recipe has a somewhat lengthy list of ingredients, nothing about this recipe was particularly complicated or time consuming; I didn't change any of timing, take any shortcuts, or accidentally forget anything.  Adding lemon juice and lemon zest to pasta was a bit of a gray zone in my cooking experience, but it was actually astoundingly good and worked perfectly with the basil.  I could go on and on, but the bottom line is simple:  this was really, really good.  And even vegetarian, at least according to my grandmother.

Fettuccine with Peas, Asparagus, and Pancetta
Without modification, from Bon Appetit/epicurious.com 
Serves 4

12 ounces fettuccine or penne 
3 ounces pancetta or bacon, chopped 
1 1/4 pounds asparagus, trimmed, cut on diagonal into 1-inch pieces 
2 cups shelled fresh green peas, blanched 1 minute in boiling water, drained, or frozen peas (do not thaw) 
1 bunch green onions, thinly sliced, white and pale green parts separated from dark green parts 
2 garlic cloves, pressed 
1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese plus additional for serving 
1/3 cup heavy whipping cream 
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice 
1 tablespoon finely grated lemon peel 
1/4 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley, divided 
1/4 cup thinly sliced fresh basil, divided

Cook pasta in pot of boiling salted water until just tender but still firm to bite. Drain, reserving 1/2 cup pasta cooking liquid. Return pasta to pot.

Meanwhile, cook pancetta in large nonstick skillet over medium heat until crisp. Using slotted spoon, transfer pancetta to paper towels to drain. Pour off all but 1 teaspoon drippings from skillet. Add asparagus to drippings in skillet; sauté 3 minutes. Add peas, white and pale green parts of green onions, and garlic; sauté until vegetables are just tender, about 2 minutes. Remove from heat.

Add vegetable mixture, 1/4 cup pasta cooking liquid, dark green parts of green onions, 1/2 cup Parmesan, cream, olive oil, lemon juice, lemon peel, half of parsley, and half of basil to pasta. Toss, adding more cooking liquid by tablespoonfuls if needed. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Transfer to large bowl. Sprinkle pancetta, remaining parsley, and basil over. Serve, passing additional Parmesan cheese.

A Tribute to Anchovies

I already know what you are thinking--Anchovies?  Gross.  Seems to be the predominant reaction when anchovies are mentioned, and a quick Google search confirmed my suspicion that anchovies are, indeed, American's least favorite pizza topping.  But I'm here to tell you that anchovies can be quite delicious and if prepared correctly they lend the resultant dish an incredible richness without the uber-fishy saltiness that they are usually maligned for.  So let's hope for a minute that you are open enough to try something, just once, made with anchovies.  Can I change your mind?

I came across this recipe yesterday as I thumbed through one of the more recent issues of Bon Appetit over my morning bowl of Cheerios.  I was craving pasta (yes, it was breakfast, but I am always already planning dinner before I've started breakfast) and had noted the day before that we had no fewer than a half dozen tins of anchovies in the pantry.   Even though I have always liked anchovies well enough, despite some questionable memories of a pizza buffet in Panama City, Florida with my bargain-loving (and anchovy-loving) grandparents, I will admit to being a bit skeptical of this recipe and what would happen when six whole anchovy fillets were added to a bowl of pasta.  My skepticism was overcome; however, by the desire to try a new and different-than-usual recipe, as well as the impetus to use up at least one of those lingering tins.

As it turns out, something strange and mysterious happens when anchovies are cooked with breadcrumbs and added to pasta.  Something very deliciously strange and mysterious.  Essentially all trace of fishiness disappears, imparting the pasta with a slight (but not overwhelming) saltiness, with a depth that alludes to, but is not at all, fishy.  I would almost bet that you could serve this dish to someone and they would never know it contained anchovies, until of course you had to confess that you fed them anchovies, destroying the ruse entirely and perhaps really upsetting someone who thinks that they don't like anchovies. 

For those of you who still aren't on board with the anchovies, there are a few other reasons to love this recipe.  First of all, it's simple and quick, perfect for a weeknight.  Second, who doesn't love roasted cherry tomatoes (my interpretation of 'baby heirloom tomatoes')? Third, the breadcrumbs are perfectly garlicky and breadcrumbs added to pasta, while perhaps a tad on the carb-heavy side, are wonderful.  And last, the addition of fresh basil (in my case, from the garden!) is the ultimate reminder of the wonders of summertime cooking.

This serves four, but there were no leftovers.  I urge you, give anchovies another chance.

Linguine with Baby Heirloom Tomatoes and Anchovy Breadcrumbs
From Bon Appetit/epicurious.com, with a few small modifications
Serves 4

8 ounces linguine
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
6 anchovy fillets, mashed to paste with 1 teaspoon oil from can
3 garlic cloves, pressed, divided
1 cup coarse fresh breadcrumbs made from crustless bread (use what you have on hand)
1 1-pound container baby heirloom tomatoes or cherry tomatoes (I used a 1-pint container)
1 cup thinly sliced fresh basil (I used 1/2 of that) 
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Cook linguine until just tender. Drain, reserving 1 cup cooking liquid.

Heat 1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil in large skillet over medium heat. Add anchovies and 2 pressed garlic cloves, then breadcrumbs. Cook breadcrumbs until golden, about 5 minutes. Scrape crumbs onto plate and cool.

Heat remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons oil in same skillet over medium heat. Add tomatoes and remaining garlic clove. Cover; cook until tomatoes begin to break down, 3 to 4 minutes. Using fork, crush 3/4 of tomatoes [The original recipe called for crushing 1/4 of the cherry tomatoes during cooking.  The consensus was that the dish would be even better if more of them are crushed, I've amended the recipe to reflect that but have not tried it].  Add pasta, basil, cheese, and 1/2 cup reserved cooking liquid to tomatoes. Toss, adding more liquid if dry. Mix in half of crumbs. Season pasta with salt and pepper.

Transfer pasta to serving dish; top with remaining breadcrumbs and serve.

Things Not to Cook During the Summer

It has been awhile since I've posted a recipe.  There has definitely been some cooking going on, but nothing I've felt inclined to share.  Even when I mentally peruse my list of recipes past, I just have not been inspired to write anything up.  But no fear, I've finally found something worth writing about:  roast beef.

Of course, cooking foods that require a 325 degree oven for hours on end when it's hot and humid out isn't really the smartest thing to do.  But it's hard to argue with culinary inspiration, or with a 3.5 lb shoulder roast that has been thawed in the fridge for a week and needs to be cooked.  So I grabbed the nearest cookbook (Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking), looked up a recipe for a pork roast, turned up the oven and the AC (well, mom, to 78), and started cooking.  I should pause here to confirm that yes, I did say that I looked up a recipe for a pork roast, but in the last paragraph I noted that I was writing about roast beef.  You see, with our meat CSA, the meat comes beautifully wrapped in butcher paper and labeled with the name of the cut, but I'm not always sure what type of meat each cut actually is.  Of course, once I unwrapped it, I had an inkling that it was beef and not pork, but for reasons unknown I proceeded with the pork recipe.  It all worked out in the end, and beautifully.

I'm by far my own toughest food critic, so when I tell you that this is the best thing I've cooked in the last six months, you know it was probably pretty good.  I was really quite impressed with myself on this one.  First of all, cooking a roast, while arguably about the easiest thing ever to cook, was a highly intimidating prospect.  I'm here to tell you:  totally manageable; almost as easy as just throwing it in the oven.  Second, cooking a roast was entirely outside of my comfort zone in terms of the types of food I'm used to cooking.  You know how some things just never cross your mind to cook or how some recipes you always just gloss over in the cookbooks?  This was one of them, and this is yet another reason I love the meat CSA--it forces me to try new things.

Every bite of this roast had me saying "Wow, this is so good, I'm so impressed with myself."  Yes, it was probably a bit (a lot) annoying.  But it was that good.  Despite my deep-seeded fear that beef cooked as pork would be totally dry and tough after two hours in the oven, the roast was perfectly cooked medium-rare and could be sliced with a butterknife.  The onions and potatoes, cooked for two hours in beef fat and juices, were totally decadent and a perfect complement.  And on the side, a salad of beautiful baby greens from our own garden was, of course, astoundingly perfect.

Just one caveat to all of this fawning over my own cooking:  leave roasts to seasons where the outdoor temperature is below 60.  You'll thank me for this.

Roast Beef
Adapted from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking
 
3 lb beef (or pork!) roast, boneless
2 Tbsp butter or cooking oil
1 yellow onion, sliced
2 cloves garlic, unpeeled
4 baking potatoes, quartered (optional)
4 sprigs parsley (can also add thyme, bay into herb bouquet)
1/2 tsp dried sage or thyme
1/2 cup white wine (can also use stock, canned bouillon, or even water)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.  Rinse and dry meat thoroughly.  Heat the butter or oil in a heavy casserole or Dutch oven over moderately high heat. When the fat is almost smoking, brown the meat on all sides, about 10-15 minutes total.  Remove the meat to a side dish.

Pour all but 2 Tbsp of fat out of the pan.  Stir in the onions, garlic, potatoes (if using), and herbs.  Cover, reduce the heat to low, and cook slowly for 5 minutes. 

Season the meat with salt, pepper, and dried sage or thyme, and place into the casserole, fattiest side up.  Cover and heat until meat is sizzling, then place in the lower third of the preheated oven.  Cook about 2 hours, or until a meat thermometer measures the appropriate temperature for beef.  Baste the roast 2 or 3 times during the cooking period with the juices in the casserole. 

When the meat is done, remove to a hot serving platter along with half the onions and all of the potatoes.  Pour the wine into the casserole and simmer for 2-3 minutes over low heat on the stovetop.  Then, tilt the casserole and skim out all but a tablespoon of fat.  Mash the remaining onions and garlic into the juices, then boil rapidly until you have around 1 cup of gravy.  If desired, strain into gravy boat, then serve with the roast.  Enjoy!

Dining in Lusaka, Zambia

Zambia was the 7th African country I've visited, assuming you count South Africa (#5) where I have spent the night at a Johannesburg airport hotel on two separate occasions and have spent a ton of money on souvenirs at the airport, but have never actually been outside of the airport property.  Obviously, Africa is a huge continent and each country is different, but there are certain aspects of Africa travel that are inherent to the experience, so I was both surprised and skeptical when person after person told me how easy it is to travel in Zambia.  Easy just isn't the word I'd usually use to describe Africa travel.  All in all, and excepting a rather amusing bus ride to Victoria Falls, everyone was right--travel in Zambia was decidedly straightforward.  Even the airport was calm and hassle free.  Lusaka was far and away the most bucolic African city I've been in, and although perhaps not a culinary destination, there were enough good restaurants to keep me occupied for a week and a half trip.  Here are some of my favorites.

Marlin
Located inside the Lusaka Club (where there is apparently also a bowling alley), Marlin is some sort of club as well as a restaurant.  Not to be confused with the [Blue] Dolphin Restaurant, the Marlin is best known for their steak.  My coworkers had eaten at the Marlin before, and remembered that one of the cuts of steak was particularly good, but couldn't remember which one, so I ordered the filet (pronounced fil-let in Zambia) and they had the rump steak.  We all ordered our steak in pepper sauce, the house specialty.  The steaks came with chips, as does practically everything in Zambia.  All of it was good, not overwhelmingly, must-have-this-again wonderful, but a very nice steak.  Apparently the Marlin also serves Chinese food, but I did not try this, next time perhaps.

Cedars of Lebanon
The person who recommended Cedars of Lebanon told us that the portions were so enormous that we should only order a couple of things to share, which is exactly what we did.  Well, the portions were a far cry from enormous, but two shared appetizers (hummus with beef, chicken wings) and one shared entree (lamb kebabs, served with chips, see above) later we were sated, and deliciously so.  I could have eaten endless plates of the hummus, and the lamb was incredible.  The dessert menu was the only disappointment of the meal--we ordered baklava, which apparently hadn't yet arrived from Lebanon (!), and for some inexplicable reason there were no other desserts available.  One bizarre conversation with a rotund elderly gentleman who might have been the owner later made us think that perhaps the restaurant had just changed owners, but it was rather unclear.  This was a great meal, and the popularity of this place among expats was clear as evidenced by the large table of 20 Peace Corps volunteers dining adjacent to us, and because we ran into someone we'd just met earlier that day having dinner with her family.


Portico
You know that either 1)  you have good taste in picking restaurants, or 2) there are only a handful of good restaurants in Lusaka when you run into the same person two nights in a row, at two different places (see Cedars of Lebanon, above).  I'm thinking the latter, but for argument's sake, let's pretend the former.  That said, our meal at Portico was arguably the best meal of the trip.  First of all, the ambiance was fantastic--we sat outdoors on the patio, the stars were amazingly bright and we pretended to know the constellations, and when it became too cold (yes, cold), a little charcoal fire was brought over and placed next to the table.  Most importantly, the food was authentic Italian.  We started with a meat and cheese plate, with wonderful imported salamis and cheeses and olives.  For my main course I had pork-stuffed ravioli in tomato sauce; simple, elegant, and delicious.  The best dish, however, was the stuffed calamari that a coworker ordered off of the April specials menu (yes, it was May but even as of May 8 they hadn't yet made the May specials menu).  I wish I could remember exactly what was in the calamari, and can't, but remember a succulent mix of spicy peppers and other vegetables.  Fabulous. 

Dining in the District: Founding Farmers

As I am sure you will be able to figure out from the next few posts (or lack thereof) I've been traveling a bit recently.  Last week (or probably two weeks ago by the time the uber-slow internet connection here actually allows me to post this entry), I was in DC for a meeting.  The best part of going to DC for meetings is getting to see all of my friends who live there, and of course, getting to try new restaurants.

Usually about 5% of each restaurant recommendation I produce has absolutely nothing to do with the food (yes, I'm saying you can only believe 95% of what I say; that's statistically significant).  The things that spark that last 5% range from something kitschy like a giant animal sculpture outside, to a great patio, to the pioneering feeling of being in a complete hole-in-the-wall.  In the case of Founding Farmers, it's the feeling that somehow you totally offset a lifetime's worth of carbon footprints by eating there.  One look at their website says it all:  LEED certified, certified green restaurant, gas emissions offset, local food, made from scratch. Etc.  Etc...  I feel so virtuous just telling people to go there.  All jest aside, however, I really like that Founding Farmers shows that being 'green' can be hip without being stereotypically crunchy-the restaurant exudes a modern flair that belies the fact that everything about this restaurant is sustainably green (to be honest, it's a bit of conundrum for me to say that I like a place because it almost appears not green, but I like the idea that this sort of place can make a convert of the otherwise skeptical).  Other, more esoteric reasons to like Founding Farmers:  it's mere blocks from the White House, and it's in the same building as the International Monetary Fund (there is even a cocktail named after said financial institution; $25).

We started the meal with traditional deviled eggs ($4 for four eggs) and fried green tomatoes ($7).  The deviled eggs were good, with a crunchy dose of celery and a sprinkling of coarse sea salt, but not as good as my mother's.  Next time, I'll try the deviled eggs that come with lobster, crab, and salmon ($14).  The fried green tomatoes had a wonderful cornmeal breading, although I thought the slices were a tad on the thick side for my taste.  Both the goat cheese and green goddess dressings were perfect complements to the tomatoes.

The appetizers were huge, and at this point in the meal we were both already stuffed.  Of course that didn't stop us from having dinner.  I had the lobster bisque, the nightly special, and a the late harvest salad ($7).  B had the veggie burger ($10).  The salad was delicious, a nice mixture of flavors and textures, but I was rather disappointed in the bisque.  While I admired that the chef was tending towards a less-creamy version of bisque, I found that the lighter version lacked cohesion and was rather unsatisfying.  Additionally, there wasn't a single actual piece of lobster in my bowl.  The smaller pieces of what I presumed was lobster puree just wasn't quite standout enough for me.  I did not try the veggie burger, but B said it was quite good.

At this point we were both even more than stuffed but found a little space for the donut holes, which are served with a trio of dipping sauces (caramel, chocolate, and rum-vanilla).  I loved these, especially when slathered in the caramel sauce.  The rum sauce I could have done without, not my thing.

One of the highlights of Founding Farmers is the fabulous cocktail menu, a throwback to all of those drinks that you associate with your grandparents and generations prior.  I ended up not ordering off of this menu, but loved just reading it, and would make a trip back just for the drinks.  Also on the drink menu is what was undoubtedly the most amazing part of the meal:  the ginger ale.  I've never had anything like it before-fresh, homemade ginger ale.  Outstanding, I need to figure out how to make this one at home.

Lastly, it warrants mention that the service was decidedly lacking.  Usually I notice good service more than the lack thereof, but it was really noticeable that our waiter was frequently missing in action.   And, B noted that she's such service has been par for the course on her other visits to Founding Farmers.  Despite the service, however, I really liked Founding Farmers for the solidly good food, the creative drinks and fabulous ginger ale, and the feel-good ethos of eating there.  Who wants to buy me the $25 IMF cocktail next time?

Best Burgers in Atlanta, continued: Holeman and Finch

The last few weeks have gotten the best of me, with friends in town, more friends in town, a conference, and out-of-town travel.  This post has stewing in my account, but I just couldn't get it finished.  I almost never make it to the Buckhead neighborhood, except for shoe shopping and Filene's Basement, but on a Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago I tried what I'd heard was another one of Atlanta's best burgers.   True to the hype, the Holeman and Finch burger was fantastic.  I'm not sure what took me so long to get there; I guess this means I need to go shoe shopping in Buckhead more often (after lunch there was a trip to DSW).

Apparently, part of what makes the Holeman and Finch burger so legendary is that it is sought after commodity.  I only learned this from reading the website after my trip there; at Sunday brunch the burger is freely available.  The rest of the week, only 24 burgers are released a day, at precisely 10 pm, and they can sell out in less than a minute.  It sounds like a rather interesting event, but I'm glad that I was able to get one on the first visit; I would have been sorely disappointed to have finally made it there only to not be able to get a burger.  More about this burger timing can be read on the online menu tab labeled 'burger'.  Any restaurant with a special page on its website devoted to their burger should be taken very seriously.

The Holeman and Finch burger definitely deserves its spot on my list of best burgers in Atlanta.  The burgers are made from in-restaurant ground meat, which I think is very cool and means that quality cuts of meat are used.  Each burger is two patties, with cheese, and served on a homemade bun.  Despite having two patties, the burgers are not obscenely large, just the right size for a perfect meal.  I usually order burgers cooked well, but deferred to the chef on this one; the meat came cooked well, and was juicy and tender.  Everything is homemade, including the  ketchup, mustard, and pickles, and all were perfectly executed.  The fries, also hand-cut, were lick-your-plate-to-get-up-the-last-bits good.  Accompanied by a spicy Bloody Mary, this burger made my day.

My enthusiasm for the burger was also shared by our waiter.  His eyes lit up when I asked him to describe the burger, and he waxed rhapsodic for quite a bit about how wonderful it was, how he wished he was eating one, and so on.  His sincerity and enthusiasm were endearing, and so totally on point that I even offered him a bite.  He declined, but I'm guessing he went back to the kitchen and ordered one for himself.  After all, unlimited burgers on Sundays.

Dining in the ATL: Young Augustine's

Last Saturday was a long day full of cat drama and yard work.  The kind of day that called for good food, good beer, and a respite from having to do anything else around the house.  We decided to venture to Young Augustine's, a new place, well, a reincarnation of an old place, having read earlier in the day that they serve really good pimento cheese.  You know how I feel about pimento cheese.

The food was great, but I am going to start my post by getting out of the one way the one and only issue I have with Young Augustine's:  the name [feel free to skip this small diversion and head to the next paragraph to read about the food].  There's really nothing wrong with the name but for some reason, I just can't keep it straight.  My mouth keeps saying 'Saint Augustine's', and I even typed the same a few times before going back to correct myself.  A certain classics major I know did point out that the name of the restaurant is quite witty and appropriate:  the young Augustine lived a life of hedonism and debauchery before the personal revelation that eventually led him to sainthood.  So, points to the owner for coming up with an interesting and layered name that I will never be able to remember.

Silliness about names aside, Young Augustine's was great!  Like it's predecessor, the Standard, Young Augustine's is a bar/pub/restaurant (now with no smoking!), but while the menu is somewhat close in content to standard pub offerings, there are some pleasant surprises and additions that really make it a standout.  We started, naturally, with the pimento cheese appetizer.  The plate came with a nicely sized scoop of the good stuff, some bread, and an assortment of interesting and perfectly pickled vegetables, including green tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and kimchi.   Yes, Korean fare, at a pub, I love it!  It was all very good (my savvy dining companion told me that the pimento cheese I make is better but I had no complaints), and for a $6 appetizer, the portions were quite generous.  For my entree I had the oyster po'boy ($8) and Mw had the pork vindaloo ($11, I think).  There is nothing in the world I like as much as fried oysters (well, fried clams), and fried mollusks on a menu are always greeted with great enthusiasm.  Happily, the po'boy met my enthusiasm----the oysters were breaded lightly and fried to perfection, and the addition of pickled cucumbers and capers gave the sandwich a nice crunch and tartness.  The only problem--the arugula was actually spinach; if the arugula had been arugula I'm sure the sandwich would have been out of this world good.  Speaking of out of this world good, Mw's pork vindaloo was awesome.  I have have helped myself to a few bites.  The vindaloo was perfectly spicy, and the pork was tender and falling apart like it had been slow-cooked for hours; this dish was delicious.

A few more reasons to like Young Augustine's include the beer list and the service.  First, the beer list...Although a bit oddly organized (for example, it wasn't always clear what brewery something came from), a solid list and very reasonable prices.  Definitely the kind of list that can bring you to a place just to try a few new and interesting beers.  Lastly, the service was outstanding.  Our waitresses were friendly, prompt, enthusiastic about the food, and got everything right.  I think Young Augustine's is going to make the short list of our regular haunts, it's that kind of place.

Dining in the ATL: Crawfish Shack

I rushed straight home from dinner to write this post because tomorrow the NY Times is writing about this place and I wanted to be ahead of the curve by getting there first.  True, I did not eat there first since someone had to fly here and back to get their story, but at least I can say that I ate at the Crawfish Shack before I heard about it in the NY Times.  It's all a matter of perspective, and at the moment mine is thrilled to be beating the NY Times to this.  Of course, everyone else in Atlanta has already written about this place, so in truth I'm not really ahead of anyone.  At all. 

I already had a blog post all ready to go for this evening, but that's going to have to wait until tomorrow.  The irony (well, not irony, but something) is that in the pre-prepared post I briefly discussed my love of fried mollusks, oysters and clams to be specific. Tonight's meal added another layer to that love, as I just finished some of the most delicious fried oysters of my entire life.  For $12, a dozen fried oysters, served with Cajun fries.  When I arrived at the restaurant the very same oysters that were on my plate were in the fish case; upon my order a dozen oysters were carefully selected and rushed to the back where they were shucked and fried.  That's made-to-order fresh. 

My dining companion, who is famous for her ability to find good eats all around Atlanta, had a fish and shrimp basket.  For $6.99, two catfish fillets, four jumbo shrimp, and two sides (red potatoes, corn).  I might have helped myself to bites of most of her meal, everything was great, and the catfish was fantastic, tender, fried to a crisp cornmeal batter perfection.  I'm a bit late for something at the moment or would go into my feelings on catfish, but let it suffice to say that I love catfish and have high expectations for this fish.  In addition to being a great meal, who can argue with the price?  We also shared hushpuppies ($1).  Usually I have a one-limit on hushpuppies--good in concept but rather boring, but I ate three.  They were crispy and the batter was made with onions and some spices that made them very interesting and tasty.

Lastly, since I really am running late to something at the moment [and hence this post is probably full of errors], can I just say how cute and adorable the owner is?  We happened to be served by him, and his enthusiasm for his food and his business is contagious.  He is clearly proud of the business he's built, he's proud to be a 'Grady Baby', and he's committed to serving fresh, high quality food.  I hope everyone I know in Atlanta will check this place out, with such a wonderful attitude I really hope the business is a success!

I wonder what the Times is going to say....?

Deep in the Heart OR Dining in Austin, Texas: Ruby's and Trudy's

Food and otherwise, it has been a nostalgic week, with a quick trip to Austin, Texas for a conference.  I went to college in Austin but hadn't been back in TEN years.  Although a lot of things have changed (like the Drag is now almost all corporate/franchises and is almost actually boring), many of my favorite restaurants are still there and I was able to find a bit of time for a few 'old memories' dishes and beverages.

The site of my first meal, only an hour after I arrived, was Ruby's BBQ.  There are a lot of really good barbecue restaurants in Austin, but I hold a special place in my heart for Ruby's because they catered my college graduation party oh-so-many years ago.   I kept the meal fairly small as I knew more food was on my horizon--a brisket sandwich (with coleslaw on it) and potato salad.  Happily, it was all as good as I remembered, and nothing about the very-Austin grungy interior had changed the slightest bit (if things haven't changed much I can almost delude myself into thinking that it wasn't quite so long ago that I graduated from college).  The BBQ sauce, was, however, different than my recollection, with a more vinegar/Tabasco flavor.  Quite delicious. 

I hold an even more special place in my heart for Trudy's, as Trudy's was the first place I ever ate in Austin, way back when I was in high school and went to visit, and Trudy's was also the location of a rather raucous Millennium New Year's Eve party back in 1999-2000.  Those of you who were also there [might] remember.  In addition to the amazing Tex-Mex cuisine, Trudy's serves up the famous 'Mexican Martini,' a potent combination of I-don't-know-what (like a margarita served 'up' but better and comes with olives) that is utterly drinkable and so intoxicating that there is a 2 per-person limit.  As good as I remembered.   Trudy's also serves a fantastic queso dip made with guacamole mixed in (Queso Especial).  Also as good as I remembered.  For my entree I tried something I had never tried before, the Stuffed Avocado--a fried avocado stuffed with spicy chicken and cheese and covered in Suiza sauce (sour cream/green chili).  Once I put thoughts of cholesterol out of my mind, I was nothing but totally enamored with this dish.  Wow, amazing, one of those dishes I will crave until the next time I can get to Austin to get another fix.

In addition to my two old favorites, I also tried a new place that is my friend A's favorite place, Maria Maria.  Generally not being one for chain restaurants and always suspicious when celebrities in a totally different line of work decide to open a restaurant (Carlos Santana in this case), I was a bit [internally] skeptical about dining at Maria Maria (there was also the fact that I had an endless mental list of restaurants to revisit). But I trust A and since she only moved to Austin recently I wanted to see 'her' Austin (and, she'd patiently driven me around to a variety of old haunts, therefore it was the least I could do to let her pick a restaurant).  So, I was quite pleasantly surprised that Maria Maria was quite good.  The salsa was fantastic (the kind that makes the chips just a vehicle), the quesadilla appetizer was great, and the vegetarian enchiladas very solid. (I was kind of full from all of the salsa by the time I got to the enchiladas.  And, while tasty, I thought the enchiladas needed something to bring them together a bit more; each vegetable inside was nicely done but the filling as a whole didn't quite seem to mesh).  Lastly, the margaritas were tart and eminently drinkable, a huge compliment from me as I ordinarily find margaritas too sweet for more than a sip or two.   For a fancier and a bit pricier Mexican meal, Maria Maria was a great choice.

It was great to be back in Austin, I didn't realize how much I'd missed it.  Good city, good food, cute bats, and the bluebonnets were in bloom. 

Dining in the ATL: Kang Nam (the puffer fish place)

The name of this place is just Kang Nam, but I call it the puffer fish place because there is a big puffer fish on the sign.  Also, because I can never remember the actual name of the place, I find it easiest to refer to it as the puffer fish place.  Everyone I dine there with always knows exactly where I am talking about; we all call it the puffer fish place.  And every time I call it the puffer fish place I remember the episode of the Simpsons where Homer accidentally eats puffer fish and has only a few hours to live.

Kang Nam is a Japanese Korean restaurant or a Korean Japanese restaurant, or something like that.  In essence, you can get sushi as well as Korean food.  I've never ventured too far into the menu, as I am so completely taken by the lunch special Bento boxes (pictured above) that I never want to order anything else.  The lunch boxes are in the range of $8.95-10.95, depending on what meat you have (pictured on the lower right-hand side of box are the Korean spare ribs, I've also had bulgolgi).  At that price it's slightly at the high end of the range for Buford highway dining, but look at all of that food.  From the top left going clockwise the box contains:  salad, tempura shrimp and vegetables, some unknown fried cheese (this portion of the box always varies and is always delicious), the main course (in addition to the ones I've tried, they also have fish and chicken), rice, and half a California roll.  Not pictured (well, barely) are all of the fun Korean appetizers--kim chi, fried corn, and a few other things I can't remember, and the green tea ice cream that comes at the end of the meal.  Definitely a good value, and very good food.  Plus, I derive such enjoyment out of the Bento box format and the sense of adventure that comes from not exactly knowing what is in a few of the wells.  Food with intrigue.

This post is going to be short as the weather is beautiful and I want to get out into the garden for awhile.  Soon I plan to have post after post about the bounty from the garden.  It's taking a bit of work to get there and blogging is suffering as a result, but we're getting closer.

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This post is about Mw's favorite of all of the dishes I make:  Spaghetti Bolognese.  Sorry vegetarians, back to the meat.  Last week marked delivery #2 of our meat CSA and with it came another 10 pounds of various cuts of meat, including some beautiful ground beef, perfect for this recipe.  Yes, I did say 10 pounds of meat.  That's per month, in case anyone is curious, and yes, it turns out that it is kind of a lot of meat.  But it's local and grass fed and so I almost feel like I'm doing the world a favor by subscribing.  Or at least some local farmers, whom I wholeheartedly support and whose vegetable CSA I subscribed to last year (and I would again this year except this year I'm growing my own).  But I digress...

I've written about one of the wonderful recipes in this cookbook before.  The Spaghetti Bolognese recipe originates from the same book, and although I lost the list I used to keep of the meals I cooked Mw and how many times I'd cooked them, I think that I've made this for him more often than any other.  I actually didn't even realize until yesterday that this is his favorite recipe in my repertoire, when he actually asked me to make this for dinner.  I say asked because usually he humors (and appreciates) my out-of-left field culinary whims and it is fairly rare that I hear a specific request.  I take such requests very seriously; I want my diners happy.

Speaking of lists, I wanted to point out to all of my readers that I had a fit of organization and created an index of the recipes I've posted and another of the restaurants I've written about.  Both lists are linked to on the sidebar, and I attempt to keep them updated.  The nice things about these indices is that now you don't have to try to remember what weird title I used for a post to try and locate that recipe you've been wanting to make.  Or, if you aren't sure what you are in the mood for, use the index to help you decide what to make tonight.

Spaghetti Bolognese scores high on the comfort food scale.  This dish also scores high on the easy to make scale, but it does take awhile--the sauce needs to simmer for two to four hours.  I try to allow at least three hours (only about 30 minutes of that three hours is actually spent slaving over the stove), but longer is always better and helps the flavors to marry and deepen.  This recipe is a great way to use up those old bottles of wine you have lying around (occasionally it is possible to have leftover wine).  Don't forget to plan ahead with this recipe though--because it takes so long to make it is really a weekend recipe, and you can't buy alcohol in Georgia on Sundays.  This recipe is also incredibly decadent, but you don't have to eat it all at once, right?  We're having leftovers for dinner.



Spaghetti Bolognese
Adapted from 'The Sharper the Knife, the Less You Cry' by Kathleen Finn

Serves 6-8.  This recipe can easily be halved.

2 pounds ground beef
2 onions, choped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 bottle (750 ml) dry red wine (I often use various leftover bottles)
4 Tbsp tomato paste
1 tsp Italian herbs
1 cup heavy cream (or less if you are feeling guilty)3 Tbsp fresh parsley, chopped (optional)

1 pound spaghetti, cooked and drained

In a heavy saucepan, cook the onions in olive oil until softened.  Add the garlic and the beef, and cook until meat cooks through (no pink) and separates into crumbly pieces.  Add the wine and increase the heat so that the wine bubbles continuously.  Cook until reduced by about half, skimming off any gray foam.  Add the tomato paste.  Cover and turn the heat down to very low.  Cook for at least two and up for four hours, stirring occasionally.  Before serving, add the herbs and cream and cook for another 10 minutes.  Adjust seasonings with salt and pepper and stir in the parsley.  Serve over pasta.