Leftovers again?

From meatloaf and mashed potatoes into comforting Cottage Pie

Last weekend’s blizzard* had us cooking up a storm of our own.  We used the opportunity to work through and turnover the stores in the pantry and freezer.

On Saturday night, we had meatloaf and mashed potatoes and green beans (from a can…what can I say?!?!).  There was a decent amount of all three leftover.

Tonight, on the eve of the next storm, I decided to turn Saturday’s leftovers into a quick Cottage Pie. 

I set the leftovers on the counter and eyeballed the amounts of each.  Where I was pretty sure I could make the meat and beans comfortably fill an 8″ by 8″ baking dish, I wasn’t as confident that the mashed potatoes could be stretched far enough to adequately cover the filling.  Rummaging around in the cabinets, I found two individual sized covered casseroles that would work nicely.

Since the reheated meatloaf might be a little dry, I decided to add a little moisture to the mix.

I made up a cup of beef bouillon (we always keep a jars of bouillon base on hand…beef, chicken, and usually vegetable and lobster as well) and set it aside.

In a small pan, I sautéed about 1/3 of a cup of diced carrots in a tablespoon of olive oil.  After about six minutes, I sprinkled two teaspoons of all purpose flour over the carrots.  Reducing the flame to med low, I continued to stir as the flour coated the carrots, absorbed the oil and cooked just until it took on a little color.  Then I added about a 1/4 cup of the beef broth to the pot and whisked it in. Once it started to thicken, I turned the heat to low and let it simmer slowly.

Turning my attention to the meat, I crumbled the remaining meatloaf into a bowl.  Then I added the left over green beans and mixed it in.  Next, I removed the pan with the carrots and now thickened sauce from the stove and stirred the contents into the meat and beans mixture.  It looked like it could use just a little bit more moisture so I stirred in another two or three ounces of the beef broth…just until the mixture glistened.

The two individual casseroles, I sprayed with a little PAM , and then spooned the divided meat mixture into them.

I took the mashed potatoes and spread half of it over the meat mixture in each of the dishes. 

The casseroles were covered and placed on a baking sheet…just in case of any spillovers…and placed in a pre-heated 375 degree oven for 20 minutes.  At the end of that time, the covers were removed and the dishes placed under the broiler for about 5 minutes, just until the mashed potatoes started to brown a little bit.

Out they came…two individual cottage pies, made from leftovers in less than an hour.

*In the United States, the National Weather Service defines a blizzard as sustained winds or frequent gusts reaching or exceeding 35 mph (56 km/h) which lead to blowing snow and cause visibilities of ¼ mile (or 400 m) or less, lasting for at least 3 hours. Temperature is not taken into consideration when issuing a blizzard warning, but the nature of these storms is such that cold air is often present when the other criteria are met.[1] Temperatures are generally below 0 °C (32 °F).

I don’t believe that here in Trenton it technically ever reached blizzard status as defined by the National Weather Service, but it was a decent amount of snow accompanied by some strong winds.

Hamburger dreams

With the remnants of the last snow storm still covering the backyard, another double digit dump of frozen precipitation on the way and the grill hunkered down under it’s cover in a corner of the patio, it’s not exactly the time to be thinking about grilling hamburgers.

Yet I am.

I can blame it, in part, on two recent trips to Checkers in downtown Trenton.  The South Warren Street eatery is a favorite lunch “date” for Ann and me when she can break away from the phone and computer.  The burgers are grilled to order and served either on a roll or stuffed into pita bread. 

But my burger jones was really fed by Mike Colameco’s show this past weekend.   If you are not familiar with this show, it’s a half hour, documentary style show the features an ingredient, restaurant or food group.  Most often shot in NYC, the show occasionally goes afield to locations in Europe.

Anyway, this past weekend, our local PBS station reran an episode about hamburgers.  It started at Pat LaFrieda Wholesale Meats, a meat provisioner that grinds blends to chef’s specifications for a variety of New York eateries.  From there, the show moved into the kitchens of a half dozen or so establishments offering top of the line burgers in and around Manhattan. 

There was talk about which cuts of beef made the best ground beef; philosophies on the best accompaniments and condiments; and a variety of French fry and onion ring styles as side dishes.

It all looked good and made me hungry.

Half way through the program I found myself fantasizing about a nice grilling party featuring burgers made from meat ground fresh here at home; Nice hard rolls from a local bakery; great slices of Jersey tomatoes at peak ripeness; and accompanied by potatoes and onion rings fried to order.  A cold beer or two and the laughter of good friends sharing a meal on the patio as the sun sets.

A fantasy I’ll have to wait to act on.

It’s snowing again.

Zuppa di Ceci

Today Ann and I joined two friends for a “burgers and beers” lunch at a downtown spot.   Since we had a larger than usual lunch, we wanted something lighter for dinner.

Soup came immediately to mind.  But I’m not all that thrilled with canned soups.  The day’s schedule didn’t leave time for a big, made from scratch production so I threw a dart and checked out one of my favorite cookbooks, Marcella Hazan’s The Essentials of Italian Cooking.  I had a sense Marcella might have a suggestion.

If I haven’t already talked about Marcella, she is to Italian cooking what Julia Child was to French cuisine. Before “Molto” Mario Batali or Lidia Bastianich, Marcella was setting the bar high for American’s who wanted to learn authentic, classic Italian techniques for food preparation. 

Hazan’s first book, The Classic Italian Cookbook: The Art of Italian Cooking and the Italians Art of Eating, was published in 1973.  My soft cover copy is tattered and worn from use.  And my hardcover copy of Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking (her first two books combined and updated in 1992) is starting to show wear and tear as well.

Thumbing through the soups I decided to try Zuppa di Ceci (Chickpea soup).

It sounded good, would take less than an hour and I was pretty sure we had everything needed already on hand.*

Indeed, the soup was easy to put together from basically healthy ingredients.  It was satisfying without laying heavy on the palate or the stomache. 

Marcella didn’t let me down.

Here’s my take on her recip. Keep it handy and the ingredients in the pantry and I think you’ll agree: quick, easy, satisfying.

Zuppa di ceci

Zuppa di Ceci (Chickpea Soup)
Serves 4 (as a starter, 2 as the main course)

• 1/3 cup olive oil
• 4 whole cloves of garlic, peeled
• 1 1/2 tsp finely crushed rosemary leaves
• red pepper flakes to taste (optional)
• 2/3 cup canned Italian tomatoes (about 4 tomatoes), roughly chopped, with their juice (up to 1/3 cup of additional juice).
• 1 19 oz can chickpeas
• 1 cup beef or vegetable broth
• freshly ground pepper to taste
• salt, if necessary

1. Place oil and garlic in cold, medium-sized sauce pan. Saute over medium-high heat until the garlic is well browned. Remove garlic and discard. 

2.  Add the rosemary (and the red pepper if using) to the oil, stir then add the chopped tomatoes with their juice. Cook over medium heat for about 20 minutes or until the tomatoes separate from the oil.

3. Add the drained chickpeas and cook for 5 minutes , turning them in the sauce. Add the broth and bring to a boil and cover and keep at a steady, moderate boil for 15 minutes. Taste and correct for salt and add freshly ground pepper. Serve hot. (We hit each bowl with a touch of freshly grated pecorino romano. But the soup is good without it.)

*Actually, I didn’t have any canned, whole San Marzano Italian tomatoes or chickpeas in the cupboard.  But I knew I was heading out on errands and could easily locate the needed ingredients.  I’ll be sure to keep those items in stock going forward.

80 days/eight nights

After our trip to Italy in 2007, we became quite enamored of limoncello, the sunny, lemony digestive native to the Amalfi Coast.

Online research showed that making limoncello was simple.  Set some lemon peels to steep in either grain alcohol or vodka. Strain out the peels and add some simple syrup. Bottle, chill, drink.

The only difficult parts were having the patience to properly peel the lemons (you don’t want any of the white pith…it imparts an unpleasant bitterness) and the wait for the steeping period to finish.  Every one of the recipes and process descriptions I came across in my initial search said the infusion must sit for from 30 – 40 days in order to extract the full load of essential oils from the peels.  There was an underlying assumption that the longer the infusion sat, the better the end result.  It played into the romance of making an artisanal after dinner drink in small batches as in “the old country.” 

“This,” everyone said, “is the ‘traditional,’ ‘authentic’ way to make limoncello.”

After filtering out the peels and adding the simple syrup, I was directed to let the mixture mellow for anywhere from a few days to over a month before chilling and consuming.

So, on December 31, 2007, I put up my first batch of limoncello.  I used Meyer lemons and a mixture of grain alcohol and 100 proof vodka.  And I dutifully began to count down the 40 days.  Occasional checks showed the peels turning pale as they gave up their color to the spirits, which took on a pleasing yellow tint. 

My life got quite busy as spring arrived. The infusion sat until early April before I could get to the next step.  A check of the peels showed that they had indeed turned brittle as the oils were extracted from them. According to all accounts, this was as it should be. 

I was half way there.

For the next step, I made a up a large batch of simple syrup with 16 cups of water and 16 cups of sugar.  Here again, recipes varied as to the ratio of sugar to water in the syrup.  Not wanting the end product to be too sweet, I opted for the 1:1 ratio.

The infusion was filtered to remove the peels and the strained liquid was mixed with the syrup.  Back down to the basement it went for another 40 days that turned into more like 80 as my spring stayed quite busy.

Finally, it was time to bottle. The limoncello went into 1 liter swing cap bottles, one of which went immediately into the freezer for chilling.

By now we were into mid-June, just a year after our last sip of limoncello as a night cap in Roma.  One Sunday evening after a fine dinner on the patio, we pulled that first bottle out of the freezer and poured a couple of glasses.

“Sweet lemon goodness with the peppery punch from the alcohol,” was how I described it in my notes on the project.  It was good.

Encouraged by the success of the first batch, I immediately set about making a second. This time I used the standard Eureka lemon.  And I played with the sugar syrup using a higher water to sugar ratio.  Results were still good.

Subsequent batches were tweaked here and there; sometimes a mix of vodka and pure grain alcohol, sometimes all pure grain; organic lemons; regular lemons; lighter and lighter ratios of simple syrup.

They were all good, just different.

On Halloween of this past year, we had two couples over for a hands on lesson in making limoncello. 

The six of us got together for dinner just after New Years.  We tasted the finished product just after New Years…slightly ahead of the 80 day production schedule.

During the interval between starting the infusion and adding the simple syrup, I happened to catch an episode of Alton Brown’s Good Eats show on the Food Network.  In three minute segment  near the end of the program (go about 7 minutes into this clip), he described a process for making limoncello in a week. Due to some distraction or another, I didn’t catch all the details of the process, but I was sure he said seven days. 

Alton Brown’s Seven Day Limoncello

• Zest the rind from two pounds of lemons and place in a non-reactive container with a tight fitting lid.
• Add 750 mL of 100 proof Vodka
• Seal, shake well to mix. Place in cool, quiet place out of direct light for seven days.
• Make a simple syrup of 2/3 cup water with 2/3 cup sugar. Let cool to room temperature.
• Strain lemon zest out of infused vodka into another container (the empty vodka bottle works).
• In large container, mix simple syrup with strained vodka infusion.
• Bottle, chill, enjoy.

Back to the internet I started searching specifically for limoncello recipes that could be completed in a week’s time.  Amongst others, I found this one  (note the word “Authentic”):

Recipe from Ron Carducci. Ron says, “I have relatives in Italy and they make limoncello the same way it is made all through Italy. Additionally, almost without exception, every limoncello I order as an after dinner digestive in ristoranti all over Italy, is made and tastes pretty much the same (I speak Italian and I ask the chefs how it is made and they almost always give me a recipe that varies only slightly from the one I am including below).  It is made with 95% pure grain alcohol, lemons, and simple syrup. That is it! The same is true for arancello. One bonus feature of the legit Italian recipe is that it only takes one week to make. 

Folks from the Amalfi coast that I have spoken with (that’s where it originated) tell me that legit limoncello, when you sip it straight, ice cold and without ice (Italians never put ice in their limoncello), should be very lemony, and smooth but have a “jolt” in the middle of it; i.e., a spreading warmth with a friendly kick. Recipes made with vodka, not Everclear Alcohol, are smooth but do not have the jolt. Plus, the vodka taste is alien to the Italian limoncello taste. Try this recipe – you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”    

---

Authentic Italian Limoncello1 liter (1000 ml) of Everclear alcohol

10 medium to large lemons

1 1/2 liters of water (6 1/3 cups)

3 pounds of sugar (6 1/2 cups)

Wash the lemons with a vegetable brush and hot water to remove any reside of pesticides or wax; pat the lemons dry. Using a potato peeler, take all the lemon rinds off of the lemons so there is no white pith on the peel. Place the rind-peelings in a large container with the Everclear alcohol.  Cover the container and let it sit for seven days. 

On the eight day, strain the peels from alcohol; discard peels. 

In a large saucepan, make a simple syrup by combining the water and sugar; let it simmer “fast” for 15 minutes.  Let simple syrup cool to room temperature. Add to alcohol. 

You are now finished and can drink it right away. 

NOTE:  This same recipe works for arancello also. Use 10 large oranges.

Makes about 2 1/2 liters.

So, what could I do but try it…with a couple of small changes.  I picked up a dozen lemons at the supermarket (if 10 are good, 12 must be better, right?) And I only used 5 cups of sugar rather than the 6 ½ cups (I just don’t like it too sweet).

I started the infusion on Monday morning, the 18^th of January.  I made my simple syrup up just before going to bed on the 25^th so it would cool down overnight.  On Tuesday, the 26^th, I filtered the infusion and mixed in the syrup.  Then I bottled it.  A sample of the warm limoncello indicated a drinkable result.  The proof came later that night when we cracked open a bottle that had been in the freezer for about 11 hours. 

Three of us tasted samples from the 1 week batch and a prior batch made with the 80 day method.  Since I poured the liqueurs, I knew which sample was which but did not reveal that information to the other tasters.  There was a difference in taste, but we all agreed that the “short cut” version was the more pleasant of the two and certainly better than just “ok.”

Now, I fully recognize that this was far from a scientifically sound comparison.  To be completely proper, we would have to make two batches as nearly identical as possible save for the length of the steeping time.  But this is an artisanal craft.  There are bound to be some fluctuations in process and product from batch to batch.

The taste test

The real question being asked was, can you make a satisfyingly drinkable limoncello in 1/10^th the time?

We say, “Yes.”

Jersey Street Gumbo

Jersey Street Gumbo with Chicken and Kielbasa

Saturday night was the 12th annual Awards Banquet thrown by the Jersey Street Community Association. 

Of all the civic and fundraising events we attend each year, this is truly at the top of the list. 

The Jersey Street neighborhood lays snug up against the Hamilton Township border, tucked away between Lalor Street and Broad Street.  Once known as the Goat Hill and the Buckthorne neighborhoods, the area was sort of the Hungarian/Slovak side of Chambersburg (Trenton’s Italian section). The narrow streets are lined with typical row homes of those who worked in the wire mills, rubber factories, and potteries that edged the neighborhood.

A year after the Jersey Street Community Association was founded, they held a banquet to celebrate their accomplishments, prepare for the coming year and thank those non-residents who contributed to their progress.

The tradition stuck and became an annual event. Late every January, the group gathers at the Holy Cross Post #417 Catholic War Veterans Hall on Grand Street.  It’s a cozy venue for a charming evening of fellowship and goodwill and recognition of those who have contributed to the community’s ongoing work. 

The menu is oh so very Trenton: pasta (most often the ubiquitous “pencil points”) and meatballs, roast chicken, kielbasa and sauerkraut, roast pork and more.  And, after the buffet service is over, the guests are invited/encouraged to fill up the provided ”to go” containers and take the leftovers home.

Seriously!

How many banquets have you gone to where you get to bring the leftovers home?!?!

We’ve attended all but the first of these banquets.  It took me a couple of years to get over the novelty of being able to bring home the leftovers but then an idea occurred to me.  If I grabbed some of the roasted chicken and kielbasa and took it home, I had the fixings for a Trenton spin on chicken and sausage gumbo.  

Add a little roux, some trinity (onion, bell pepper and celery), some stock to leftovers, simmer and you’re there.

Like the banquet itself, the gumbo is not fancy, just comforting; something warm to look forward to on chilly winter days. 

Jersey Street Gumbo*

• 1 cup of mahogany colored roux (see note)
• 2 cups of chopped onion
• 1 cup of chopped sweet bell pepper
• 1 cup of chopped celery
• 2 cups dry white wine 
• 6 cups chicken stock
• 2 cloves of garlic, chopped
• salt, pepper and cayenne pepper to taste
• 1 pound kielbasa cut on the bias about one inch thick
• 3 ½ – 4 cups cooked chicken

Heat the roux in a heavy bottomed sauce pan over medium heat until very hot (stir frequently so it doesn’t burn and turn bitter).  Add the chopped vegetable and stir.  The roux will seize up.   Stir until the vegetables soften.  Add the wine and stock and stir to incorporate well.  Bring to a boil then reduce the heat to keep the soup at a simmer.  Stir in the garlic, salt and black and red peppers (to taste). Add the chicken and sausage.  Cook until the meat is warmed through and the gumbo has thickened nicely.

Serve in a bowl over hot rice.

* You don’t have to wait for the Jersey Street banquet leftovers to make this dish.  Grab a rotisserie chicken and some smokey, garlicky sausage from your favorite vendor and you have the fixings for your own version.

NOTE: a good roux is key to a good Gumbo.  In a heavy pot heat 1 part lard or vegetable oil until hot.  Stir in an equal part of flour so that there are no lumps and keep stirring.  You want a dark, mahogany colored, roux.  It will take about 45 minutes of stirring.  Don’t let the roux burn or it will be bitter. There are other methods of preparing a roux: in the oven, the microwave, etc. but in our experience, nothing gives you a better product than the tried and true method of stirring over medium high heat.  ehow link 

Roux

Most often, a roux is made as the first step of making a gumbo.  You add the chopped up trinity (onion, celery, bell pepper) to halt the cooking of the roux.  You can make the roux in advance.  Once the desired color is reached, carefully transfer the roux to a metal bowl and stir for about 10 minutes until the heat has dissipated and the cooking stopped.  The cooled roux can be refrigerated for a few days or frozen for future use.   Be sure to return the roux to room temperature before adding to your gumbo pot where it will be heated, while stirring, until it’s hot enough to start sautéing the trinity upon the addition. 

Salumi

Warning: if you are a vegetarian, vegan or even a meat eater who would rather not think about the where and how certain items come to table, skip this.

As noted previously I have become interested, some would say obsessed, with the art and craft of curing meats. 

It began with a desire to make a pancetta less salty than some I have purchased.  My online research led me to the book Charcuterie by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn. That in turn has led me to Ruhlman’s blog as well as Bob del Grosso’s A Hunger Artist, amongst others. 

Guided by the info in the book and the experiences of other bloggers I have plunged into the world of curing, drying, smoking various forms of animal protein for later consumption, much to the chagrin of my ever tolerant and patient wife.

 Along the way I have had some successes and a couple of failures.  No matter the outcome, I have pressed on…not in some Julie/Julia parallel, but in an effort to learn more about the foods I like. 

At the very least I hope to deepen my appreciation and understanding of what it takes to make excellent bacon, pastrami or sausage.  And if along the way I produce some tasty consumables so much the better.

Spurred on by the non-toxic results of my efforts so far I decided to attempt larger projects involving longer curing and drying times. 

A sale at the local grocery store prompted me to purchase a piece of beef eye round to turn into bresaola.   

At the same time, I picked up a small pork loin roast to turn into a version of capicola. Commercial capicola is a product that I often find lacking in flavor.  Traditionally, a pork butt (aka Boston butt, pork shoulder butt) would be used, but for this trial, I wanted to try something leaner and a little smaller…hence the pork loin.

 The process for both products is very similar.  After trimming the cuts, a “cure” is applied to the meat.  A second dose is applied a week or so later. After another week, the meat is rinsed of the spent cure and seasonings, dried and prepared for hanging in a cool spot to slowly dry and age.

Photo by Mark Stradling

 

 The beef was trimmed of all silverskin and external fat.

 

 

In both cases, I scaled down the recipes from Ruhlman’s book and set about the process.

For the Bresaola, I prepared a mixture of salt, garlic, and juniper berries that was ground to a paste and rubbed all over the eye round.  I then slipped the roast into a plastic bag and placed it in the refrigerator for ten days.  Every other day or so, I would redistribute the seasoned curing mix evenly over the meat and flip it.  At the end of that period, I removed the meat and discarded the bag and any accumulated juices.  Another dose of the cure was applied to the beef before placing it in a fresh bag and returning it to the fridge for another week or so.  Again, I would massage and flip the roast every other day. 

Photo by Mark Stradling

The cure and seasonings are rubbed onto the beef.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The copicola was processed in much the same way as the bresaola only the seasonings were added after the curing process but before hanging to dry.  I used  a basic cure of salt, sugar and sodium nitrate. (The sodium nitrate will, over time change to sodium nitrite and provide some protection against the growth of the bacteria resposible for botulism.  It is perfectly safe in the small amounts used in the curing process.) 

Photo by Mark Stradling

Photo by Mark Stradling

Left: the pork loin has been trimmed and weighed.

Below: the curing mix will be rubbed into the pork.

 

 

 

 

 

Both products were put into separate baggies and refrigerated for a week and half.  Every other day or so, I would massage and flip them to make sure the cure is evenly dispersed.  After nine or ten days, the meat was removed from the bags, rinsed and dried.  Another dose of the seasoning/curing mixes were applied and then the meat went into new bags.  The massaging and flipping ritual was repeated every other day for another week and a half.

After almost three weeks…the meats were removed once again from their respective bags, rinsed and dried. 

Photo by Mark Stradling

This capicola was going to be seasoned according the “sweet” recipe in Charcuterie.  I actually prefer a hot (spicy) capicola, but upon consulting with friend Mark it was determined that the sweet cure would allow a fairer judging of the process than the hotter version. 

Photo by Mark Stradling

After the cured pork loin was rubbed with the seasoning mix, I inserted it into a natural beef casing.

Photo by Mark Stradling

Photo by Mark Stradling

The capicola was then tied and readied for hanging.

The Bresaola was also tied with butcher’s twine in preparation for being taken to the basement to hang in a cool, dark, spot until done (looking for about a 30% weight loss or 21 days, whichever comes first). 

Photo by Mark Stradling

The bresaola and capicola were hung in the basement on December 30, 2009.  It was expected to take about three weeks for them to dry cure to completion.  Upon weighing them on January 12, they showed the expected 30% weight loss.  I let them hang a couple of more days just to go a full two weeks.

The speed with which the meats lost weight was due to the lower than ideal humidity in the drying area.  This was reinforced when we cut in to the bresaola and capicola.  You could tell by the rosier, softer centers that the outside of the meats had dried too rapidly.

Still, the meat was done, and not at all unpleasant to eat.  The bresaola I probably wouldn’t change a thing on except to do a whole eye round instead of the half I used for this trial.

Bresaola anyone?

The capicola was a bit too salty.  I suspect that came from too liberal a use of the curing mix.  Again, the pork loin was smaller and leaner than a pork butt,  I think that usinge a larger, fattier piece of meat, along with a more judicious hand on the curing mix, would mitigate the saltiness somewhat.

 

Capicola sliced and ready to eat.

 

I will definintely work on finding a way to increase the humidity level in the curing area for the next round of experiments.

Mushroom soup

The sugar plums that recently danced in my head seem to have settled around my waist for a long winter’s nap.  The inevitable (at least for me) holiday bloat has achieved maximum proportions and now it’s time to get back to some more healthy and moderate eating habits.

 

With the weather having turned cold again, soup sprang to mind.  So I decided to try my hand at a hearty, satisfying but healthy pot of mushroom soup.

 

This was not going to be a rich and fat filled cream of mushroom soup as envisioned by Campbell’s, Knorr’s or some other commercial mass producer.  Rather I was looking for something a tad lighter in calories yet flavorful enough to satisfy. 

 

Mushrooms are, in and of themselves, quite nutritional.  They are rich in the B vitamins, Potassium and Selenium; low in fat, high in fiber; and the provide all the required amino acids to be considered a complete source of protein.  And they taste good…not a claim that can be made by every healthful food.

 

Search around your pantry, the fridge and the cupboards.  You probably have all you need to whip up a batch of mushroom soup:

•  Fresh and/or dried mushrooms
• Shallot, onion and/or garlic
• Butter and/or Olive Oil
• Stock of some sort
• Salt, pepper and maybe some fresh herbs (parsley or thyme) 

Here’s what I used: 

• 8 ounce package of fresh “Baby-Bella” (Crimini) mushrooms
• 1 cup of dried “woodland” mushrooms
• Two large shallots
• 1 Tbs. Butter
• 2 Tbs. Olive oil
• 1/4 cup Dry fino sherry
• 1 sprig Fresh thyme
• 1 quart Mushroom stock 

I began by soaking a cup of the dried mushrooms in two cups of boiling water.  Then I went about gathering the rest of my ingredients so that, by the time I was ready to add the reconstituted mushrooms, they had been soaking for 20-30 minutes.  You could omit the dried mushrooms and just use all fresh mushrooms, coarsely chopped.

 

Over medium high heat, I melted about a tablespoon of butter in a four and a half quart sauce pan.  Before the butter melted completely I added about two tablespoons of olive oil to the pan.  This raised the smoking point of the butter a little, kept the whole recipe a little lighter and added another level of flavor. You could use all butter or all olive oil.

 

With the butter/oil mixture hot, I added the minced shallots and sweat them until tender, but not caramelized. I’m very fond of shallots but if you don’t have some on hand, a 1/4 up of chopped onion and a clove of garlic could be substituted.

 

I tossed a couple of whole sprigs of fresh thyme and some fresh ground black pepper in with the shallots and stirred. If you have dried thyme on hand instead, you could add it later when you add all the stock.

 

Coarsely chop the fresh mushrooms and add to the pot.  Stir occasionally until browned and cooked down.  I drained the dried mushrooms and reserved the liquid.  Once the fresh mushrooms had cooked down a bit, I stirred in the dried ones.  At this point, I removed the thyme sprig from the pot.

 

I took a quarter cup of Fino sherry and stirred it into the pot, taking care to gather up any of the fond and stir it into the liquid.  A cream sherry might have been better, but the Fino was what I had on hand and open; a Marsala might be good; or any red or white wine you enjoy would probably work as well. Once the pot was deglazed, I added the reserved mushroom soaking liquid being careful not to let any of the grit that had settled out get into the soup pot.  I then added a quart of boxed, organic mushroom stock (chicken or vegetable stock would work just as well). 

 

Reducing the flame to low, I used an immersion blender to puree the contents of the pot.  If you don’t have one of these culinary magic wands, you can use a food processor or blender.  Just be sure to cool the mixture first to avoid a messy and potentially dangerous eruption.

 

Once pureed, add salt and adjust seasonings to taste.  Reheat and serve.

 

It’s a simple, tasty and healthy tonic for whatever ails you.

Sweet Traditions

Ceci cakes (left) and Pizzelles (right)

Christmas and New Years have come and gone but the pounds added from gorging on holiday treats will be here for awhile.

While I certainly went overboard on portions at holiday meals, it really is the sweets that do me in at this time of year. The cookies are overly abundant but my real weak spot is for two particular treats that only seem to come my way at years end.

The first holiday favorite is pizzelles.

Pizzelles are considered one of the oldest cookies. It is generally believed that they originated in the Abruzzo region of Italy in ancient times to mark an annual celebration. Initially baked over an open fire with relatively simple but effective irons, the early pizzelles often were proudly embossed with the family crest or some hint of the village of origin. Over time it became tradition to use pizzelles to celebrate any holiday or festive occasion, but inevitably there are pizzelles for everyone at Christmas and Easter.

Pizzelles are certainly available year round and are even available on grocery store shelves. But only homemade will do for me and it’s at Christmastime that I really start looking for them. Fortunately for me (unfortunately for my waistline) both my sister and a good friend make them and see that I don’t go without this powdered sugar dusted treat.

The other favorite Christmas confection I favor is the Ceci (chee cheh) cake. The closest I can come to describing them is a fried ravioli made from a sweet dough and a fudge-like filling incorporating a mixture of pound cake, chopped nuts, raisins and cocoa moistened with honey. The namesake ingredient, ceci beans (chick peas, garbanzo beans) are mashed and incorporated into the filling. It sounds odd, but the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.

For whatever reason, this treat is only prepared and served for the Christmas holiday. My father’s aunts and cousins’ wives all made these, but only in December. I’ve honestly never encountered them outside of the family and no other time than the year end holidays. (Coincidentally, there is some evidence that my family came from the same Abruzzo region that gave us the pizzelles.  Is it possible my preference is genetic?).

I don’t remember when my mother first started making the ceci cakes but I know that it has become a tradition that I help her each year. For the past few years my sister and niece have joined Mom and me for the two or three hours spent baking, joking and reminiscing. It’s the one event that can definitely ignite my usually smoldering holiday spirit.

Ceci Dough

• 5 lbs. Flour (Start with about 3 1/2 lbs flour & add as moisture allows)
• 6 Eggs
• 1 1/2 cups Vegetable shortening (melted)
• 1 1/2 cups Sugar
• 1 1/2 cups Water

Roll out dough, cut and fill like you would ravioli. Deep fry (375 degrees). Sprinkle with confection sugar.

Ceci Filling

For 5 Lbs. flour mixture use:

• 1 1/2 lbs. Pound Cake
• 2 cans Chick Peas crushed
• 5 rounded Tbs. Powdered Cocoa
• 2 1/2 cups Chopped Nuts
• 1 lb.  jar Honey (heat to pour)
• Sugar to taste
• 1 box White Raisins

In a large bowl or pan mash the chick peas. Add crumbled up pound cake, cocoa and finely chopped nuts. Mix well. Add heated honey and mix completely.

===================================================

We’ve made some adjustments over the years. Now we use just 2 lbs. of flour and about half of all the other ingredients. And we’ve taken to frying them in an electric skillet instead of a deep fryer until they are a nice golden color. This yields us about seven dozen ceci cakes.

And it just wouldn’t be the holidays without them.

Making do

Sometimes things just don’t go according to plan.

 

That doesn’t mean all is lost.  In cooking, as in life, adapting and adjusting is key to success.

 

For instance: A couple of weeks back, I got an email from Bobolink Dairy an artisinal bread and cheese making operation in Vernon, NJ announcing the availability of some whey-fed pork for sale.  Besides the bread and raw milk cheeses (of which their traditional cave aged cheddar is a favorite in this house), Bobolink also raises grass-fed beef cattle and pigs fed on the whey leftover from the dairy operation. (check out their online store here)

I’ve previously tried some of their pork chops and found them quite tasty.  When I saw that they had some fresh pork belly and pork jowls available, I thought I’d order some.  The belly was either going to be bacon or pancetta.  The jowl would be my first attempt at guanciale…a traditional Italian cured meat used for seasoning pasta sauces and such. 

Guanciale in the making

My enthusiasm was attenuated somewhat by the fact that the pieces of meat I ordered were smaller than I had hoped.  No matter, I thought, I’ll adjust my plans to fit what arrives.  The jowl I did cure for the guanciale.  It’s currently hanging to dry for anywhere between one and three weeks.

The two pieces of pork belly are about three-quarters of pound each.  Too small to turn into pancetta but the right size for testing the recipe for sweeter cure that included some maple syrup.  The plan, was to smoke the cured pieces over some maple wood to enhance the maple character.  Alas, when the day came to smoke the pork, we were in the middle of a snowstorm and the thought of tending the grill for even a couple of hours in the winter weather was unappealing. 

 

The cured meat would hold for up to three days in the fridge, but I was going to have to do something with it. I opted to finish the bellies in a 200 degree oven.  It’s essentially the same process (low and slow) as the smoking…minus the smoke.  The finished product won’t be quite as tasty as the smoked version, but it will give me a better chance to evaluate the flavor of the cure itself.

Latkes

Grandmom's menorah

We were halfway through Hanukkah this year when I got around to making my annual batch of latkes.  This is something I do in honor of my grandmother, Bessie Cohen Carlucci. 

Grandmom may have married into an Italian family and adopted many of the foods and traditions of that culture, but she maintained some of her Jewish traditions as well.  Every year the holiday decorations in her house on Ferry Street included an electric menorah that was lit for Hanukkah. 

When we were dealing with my late Aunt’s estate a decade or so ago, I was thrilled to come across that menorah in its original box. I kept it and have it still.   But even before that, I had picked up a brass menorah in a shop in Indianapolis because I wanted to keep the Hanukkah tradition going.

So one night every year, I would find myself cooking a brisket and preparing a batch of potato pancakes.

It’s a shame that I only think to make these wonderful treats once a year.  They really are tasty and deserve to appear on the table more often.  And I could use the practice.

Cooking, like any skill/craft requires repetition if one wishes to become proficient.  Certainly that is the case with my latkes.

Now I am not referring to the tarted up potato-turnip-duck fat versions.  Or ones made with sweet potatoes.  We’re talking plain old potato pancakes.

I’ve tried a number of versions from cookbooks, newspaper articles, and consults with family and friends. My results have varied from poor to mediocre.  Since the recipes are all so similar, I have to assume I am the inconsistent factor.

The important thing is I keep trying.

The basic recipe is the same: grated potatoes, some grated onion, drained of as much water as possible, seasoned with salt and pepper and bound with beaten egg.  Some add matzo meal, or chopped herbs.  Make patties, pressing out still more moisture, and fry in oil. 

Simple, right?

Or not.

Things I’ve learned over the years…

•  Use the proper type of potato.  This year I used Yukon Golds.
• Strain as much water from the potato mixture as possible before adding in the egg and other ingredients.
• Press the water out of the patties after shapping them and before slipping them in to the oil
• As with all frying, keep your oil hot and don’t crowd the pan with too many latkes at once.

I did find an interesting tip that I applied to this year’s batch. It came in an email from the people at America’s Test Kitchen(see the recipe below). 

After grating the potatoes in the food processor, switch to the regular steel blade, add back half of the grated potatoes to the bowl along with the onion and pulse until you have a uniform crumbly mixture.  The idea is that the mixture of shredded and coarsely chopped potato gives the latkes a softer center, somewhat reminiscent of the Irish boxty.   

I did get a little “fancy” in that I swapped a touch of chopped, fresh rosemary for the scallions in the recipe.  I happened to have rosemary sitting on the counter from another culinary adventure earlier in the day and figured, “why not?”

We decided that this batch of latkes was pretty good.  And that we needn’t wait and have them only once a year.

I think Grandmom would approve.

Thick and Creamy Potato Latkes

Makes approximately 14 3-inch pancakes.  

Matzo meal is a traditional binder, though we found that the pancake’s texture does not suffer without it. Applesauce and sour cream are classic accompaniments for potato latkes.

Ingredients

• 2 pounds Yukon Gold potatoes or russet potatoes, peeled
• 1 medium yellow onion, peeled and cut into eighths
• 1 large egg
• 4 medium scallions , white and green parts, minced
• 3 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves
• 2 tablespoons matzo meal (optional)
• 1 1/2 teaspoons table salt
• Ground black pepper
• 1 cup vegetable oil for frying

Instructions

1. Grate potatoes in food processor fitted with coarse shredding blade. Place half the potatoes in fine mesh sieve set over medium bowl and reserve. Fit food processor with steel blade, add onions, and pulse with remaining potatoes until all pieces measure roughly 1/8 inch and look coarsely chopped, 5 to 6 one-second pulses. Mix with reserved potato shreds in sieve and press against sieve to drain as much liquid as possible into bowl below. Let potato liquid stand until starch settles to bottom, about one minute. Pour off liquid, leaving starch in bowl. Beat egg, then potato mixture and remaining ingredients (except oil), into starch.
2. Meanwhile, heat 1/4-inch depth of oil in 12-inch skillet or sauté pan over medium-high heat until shimmering but not smoking. Working one at a time, place 1/4 cup potato mixture, squeezed of excess liquid and pressed into 1/2-inch thick disc, in oil. Press gently with nonstick spatula; repeat until five latkes are in pan.
3. Maintaining heat so fat bubbles around latke edges, fry until golden brown on bottom and edges, about three minutes. Turn with spatula and continue frying until golden brown all over, about three minutes more. Drain on a triple thickness of paper towels set on wire rack over a jelly roll pan. Repeat with remaining potato mixture, returning oil to temperature between each batch and replacing oil after every second batch. (Cooled latkes can be covered loosely with plastic wrap, held at room temperature for 4 hours, transferred to a heated cookie sheet and baked in a 375-degree oven, until crisp and hot, about 5 minutes per side. Or, they can be frozen on cookie sheet, transferred to zipper-lock freezer bag, frozen, and reheated in a 375-degree oven until crisp and hot, about 8 minutes per side). Season with salt and pepper to taste and serve immediately.