Diary of the Chef's Daughter

A Maine Christmas Dinner Party

2011-12-17T10:13:00.000-08:00

Tonight, I'm hosting my first grown-up dinner party. It something I've dreamed of for years, imagining all the fun ways I would decorate the table (I'd be my very own Martha Stewart) and all of the delicious things I would cook. There would be a lot of laughing and a lot of wine. It would be memorable. In reality, the only laughing I've been doing is out of nervousness and wine has been there to help smooth that out. I am excited, but somehow feel as though it's going to turn into Mr. Bean's New Year Party, with a bunch of chairs (complete with newspaper party hats on the seats) all facing each other in the middle of the room. Running out of hors d'ouvres would force me to grab twigs from outside and dip them in honey. If you've ever seen the episode, you know what I mean.

BUT I have hope. And wine. And a delicious meal to serve from a cookbook that I've fallen head over heels for. Jason and I did a test run earlier in the week to ensure that we could pull it off, and pull it off we did. Now we just need to do the same times three. (That means dinner for six, if you're keeping count.)

First, a little background: Coq au Vin, in short, is chicken in a red wine sauce. Traditionally it is made with rooster (coq au vin = rooster in wine). Working at winery, I was at somewhat of an advantage in that I've gotten pretty personal with some amazing wines. In fact, we're on a first-name basis. This recipe calls for a fruity, dry red and I am using Cellardoor Winery's Monti al Mare, a smooth, chianti-style, medium-body red. It offers up some wonderful flavors without being overpowering. So without further ado, here it is, the recipe for the main course of my grown-up, not-too-serious holiday dinner party:

Coq au Vin

from Long Nights and Log Fires

10 oz. shallots

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

6 large skinless, boneless chicken breasts

3 tablespoons olive oil

5 oz. cubed pancetta or chopped thick-cut bacon

2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

1/4 cup brandy

3 fresh thyme sprigs

1 fresh or dried bay leaf

1 750-ml bottle dry, fruity red wine

9 oz. small button mushrooms

1 tablespoon butter, softened (optional)

3 tablespoons chopped flatleaf parsley

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

a large, lidded skillet

Cut the shallots into even-sized pieces, leaving the small ones whole and halving or quartering the others.

Put 2 tablespoons flour in a shallow dish and season it with salt and pepper. Dip the chicken breasts in the flour and coat both sides. Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large lidded skillet. Add the chicken and fry for 2-3 minutes on each side until lightly browned (you may need to do this in several batches).

Remove the chicken from the pan, discard the oil and wipe the pan with paper towels. Return the pan to the heat and pour in the remaining oil. Add the pancetta and the shallots and fry until lightly browned. Stir in the garlic, then return the chicken to the pan. Put the brandy in a small saucepan and heat it until almost at a boil. Set it alight with a long kitchen match and carefully pour it over the chicken. Let the flames die down, then add the thyme and bay leaf and pour in enough wine to just cover the chicken. Bring back to simmering point, then reduce the heat, half cover the pan, and simmer very gently for 45 minutes. (If you're making this dish ahead of time, take the pan off the heat after 30 minutes, let cool and refrigerate overnight.) Add the mushrooms to the pan and cook for another 10-15 minutes.

Remove the chicken from the pan, set aside and keep it warm. Using a slotted spoon, scoop the shallots, pancetta cubes, and mushrooms out of the pan and keep them warm. Increase the heat under the pan and let the sauce simmer until it has reduced by half. If the sauce needs thickening, mash 1 tablespoon soft butter with 1 tablespoon flour to give a smooth paste, then add it bit by bit to the sauce, whisking well after each addition, until the sauce is smooth and glossy.

Return the shallots, pancetta, and mushrooms to the pan. Season to taste. To serve, cut each chicken breast into 4 slices and arrange them on warmed serving plates. Spoon a generous amount of sauce over the chicken and sprinkle with chopped parsley.

Wish me luck!

Life in Maine

2011-09-08T10:26:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've been around. So many fun things have happened, new chapters of life have started, and I've been busy soaking up all the memories. In a walnut shell, I got engaged, said goodbye to my NY life and hello to a new life up in Maine with my hubby-to-be. Fresh-picked lobsters, wild blueberries, a constant ocean breeze, and no more MTA. We've traded crows in the morning for seagulls. I now work at a vineyard with incredible views and some amazing ladies. It's damn near perfection.

The switchover between chapters was incredibly bittersweet, however. I've never lived more than three hours away from home base. I'm now six plus. I miss home and family tremendously. I miss laughing with my old coworkers. (I suppose Maine life will, if nothing else, make me a better communicator.) But it's exciting and I'm learning so many different things about myself and my and Jason's relationship. I've been cooking up a storm these days since I now have a kitchen of my very own. We have access to so much locally grown produce and poultry up here that it's hard not to experiment on a daily basis.

So, to kick off my return to the blogging world, I've listed some of the recipes that are inspiring me these days:

Herb Cream Cheese Scrambled Eggs (101 Cookbooks) Get the recipe!

Crispy Potato Roast (Smitten Kitchen) Get the recipe!

Salmon With Mushroom Sauce (Food & Wine) Get the recipe!

Maple Huckleberry Coffee Cake (101 Cookbooks) Get the recipe!

♥ D

for my love and our life

2010-07-21T06:58:00.000-07:00

Photo by Kelly Boitano Photography

so we'll live in our old van

travel all across this land

me and you

and we'll end up hand in hand

somewhere down on the sand

just me and you

just as free

free as we'll ever be

just as free

free as we'll ever be

drive until the city lights

dissolve into a country sky

just me and you

lay underneath the harvest moon

do all the things that lovers do

just me and you

just as free

free as we'll ever be

Zac Brown Band - Free

A Possible New Venture?

2010-07-14T14:27:00.000-07:00

A tweet recently caught my eye from New York Times Dining & Wine. I clicked on the link, began to read the article, and immediately had the desire to leave work and go whip up a batch of pancakes. These were no ordinary pancakes, though. Oh no…these were Elderflower pancakes. Sound familiar? No? We are (well, were) in the same boat.

It turns out that elderflower pancakes (also known as Hollerküchle) are a traditional German favorite. And, regardless of the fact that Germany sautéed my beloved Argentina in the quarterfinal round of this World Cup, I am too excited to try out this recipe. Related to the more well-known honeysuckle, the lacey foliage of the elder plant is inserted face-down into the fresh pancake batter as soon as it hits the pan. The pancake is then either traditionally cooked only on one side (and allowing the top to simply “set”) or the stems are trimmed and the pancake is flipped. The wonderfully delightful food art happens when the rougher stems are pulled from the pancake leaving the blossoms themselves intact within the batter.

This seems like a possible weekend project, with two crucial pieces of information to note. First off, it’s mid-July and it seems elderflowers bloom in the Northeast in June. I will keep on the lookout regardless. Second, elderflowers should not be confused with poisonous Queen Anne’s Lace. Ok, got it. Queen Anne’s Lace is bad. Note to self.

Wish me luck!

Daniela

Classic Cuban Mojitos

2010-07-09T12:45:00.000-07:00

If you’ve been in New York for the past week or so, you know about the crazy heat wave we’ve been having. And at street level in Manhattan, the temperatures seem to be multiplied threefold. The subway is a sticky mess, going out to lunch is almost unheard of, and there are mounds of wilted tourists everywhere. On any other normal summer weekend, I would typically spend time investigating refreshing dishes to serve or drinks to concoct. You can imagine my frenzy once the mercury decided to come to a screeching halt at 104°F.

In a desperate attempt to take advantage of the heat-exhausted mint from our garden, I decided it was time to resurrect my favorite classic summer cocktail: the Mojito. No frills here; just refreshing flavor. I use a wooden lemon reamer for the limes as I like the lime juice to be a little pulpy. The other end doubles as a muddler when you’re ready to crush the sugar into the mint.

Cuban Mojitos (By the Pitcher)

1 large bunch fresh mint (look for leaves that are bright green, free of scars, and firm — not wilted like those that are living through the Great Heat Wave)

1 cup organic granulated sugar (such as Florida Crystals)

10 limes, rolled and juiced, plus 1 for slicing

2 cups white rum, chilled, plus extra for adjustments

2 cups club soda, chilled, plus extra for adjustments

Ice cubes

Wash and pick through mint, setting aside three or four particularly handsome sprigs for later. Roughly remove and set aside the leaves from the remaining homely (although still spectacular) bunch; discard stems.

In a large, sturdy bowl (or mortar), add loose leaves, sugar, and lime juice. Using the back end of the reamer (or pestle), begin to muddle the mixture. The texture of the granulated sugar will allow the oils from the mint to seep out. Once the sugar is, for the most part, dissolved into the lime juice, add the rum and the club soda and mix well. Do a taste test here — the sweetness of the sugar or sharpness of the rum should not overwhelm the overall flavor of the drink. If so, adjust with club soda or extra lime juice until it meets your taste.

This batch can be made ahead of time and kept in the refrigerator for up to 2 hours before serving. Add the ice cubes, sliced limes, and sprigs of handsome mint to the pitcher just before serving. If you prefer, you can filter out the original broken pieces of mint leaves before adding said final ingredients.

Cheers!

Moutabal — A Smoky Aubergine Dip

2010-06-30T11:07:00.001-07:00

If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I’ve been ranting about the World Cup and raving about the freshly-made baba ganoush I picked up from Moustache Pitza in NYC’s West Village. Priorities, priorities. Truth be told, Moutabal — the Lebanese equivilant of baba ganoush — isn’t a particularly complicated recipe; it just requires time enough for roasting the eggplants to the point of perfection. Perfection, in this case, being a charred skin that lends itself to the dish’s signature smoky flavor.

Belonging to the nightshade family of vegetables, eggplant is chock full of vitamins and minerals, including essential phytonutrients, antioxidants, and brain-boosting flavonoids. Coupled with extra virgin olive oil (always a winner), freshly chopped garlic, tahini, and lemon juice, this dish is great with homemade whole-wheat pita chips, especially when you just can’t seem to look another can of chickpeas in the eyes.

Moutabal

2 large eggplants (Look for those that are deep purple in color, firm but yielding slightly when squeezed, and avoid those with any tarnished spots or scars)

3 tbsp tahini (sesame seed paste)

3 tbsp freshly-squeezed lemon juice

2 cloves of garlic, peeled and smashed

2 tsp kosher salt

2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, for garnish

Paprika, for garnish

Place eggplants over an open flame, be it an indoor stove top or an outdoor grill, and roast evenly until skin has become black and cracking. Once eggplants are sufficiently charred, wrap in aluminum foil and set aside to cool. Alternately, you can bake the eggplants in an oven set to 375°F for 20 to 30 minutes or until they have become completely soft.

Once they are cool enough to handle, carefully peel off the charred skin. In a food processor, add eggplant pulp, tahini, lemon juice, garlic, and salt, and pulse until well blended. Taste and adjust for salt, tahini, and lemon juice. Chill completely before serving, adding paprika and olive oil at the last minute. Not feeling the paprika? Try substituting with fresh pomegranate seeds (when in season) for a bright pop of color and a sweet crunch.

A Hearty Vegetarian Chili (That Doesn't Require a Slow Cooker...)

2010-06-21T14:33:00.000-07:00

Like some of my previous recipes, this recipe came out of many, many miserably failed (and some not-so-miserably-failed) attempts at creating a yummy vegetarian chili that I would actually like to share. It’s really versatile, as a great summer side (or main!) and as a hearty, comforting stew for those colder months. You can also play around with the vegetables, customizing to your own personal tastes.

Vegetarian Chili

2 tbsp olive oil

1 small yellow onion, diced

4 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1 small eggplant, diced

1 small red or green bell pepper, diced

1 rib celery, diced

1 carrot, diced

1 jalapeño, seeded and diced

1 28-oz can crushed tomatoes

2 tbsp chili powder

½ tsp ground cumin

1 1/2 cups lentils

1 cup 7-grain mix, such as Rice Select’s Royal Blend

1 cup chickpeas, cooked and rinsed

1 cup black beans, cooked and rinsed

5 cups vegetable broth

Kosher salt (if needed)

Heat the olive oil in a large pot over a medium flame. Add onion and garlic and cook until translucent and slightly starting to brown. Add eggplant, pepper, celery, carrot, jalapeño, tomatoes, chili powder and cumin, stir well and allow to cook for an additional 5 minutes.

Once the vegetables have softened and are beginning to brown, add the lentils, grain mix, chickpeas and black beans, and stir well to ensure even coating. Add broth and mix well, bringing mixture to a boil and then subsequently reducing heat to low and simmering for about 30 minutes. Do a taste test about halfway through, adding salt (or a bit of vegetable bouillon) if needed. There is no need for stirring while the chili is simmering; just make sure to check up on the pot every now to see if you need to add some extra water.

Once the time is up (pencils down!), allow chili to sit and thicken for about 5 minutes before serving. Or, better yet, pack that baby up and serve it next day. Yes, this is one of those dishes that’s even better reheated. And don’t forget to have fun with the toppings! I like mine with shredded sharp Vermont cheddar cheese and chopped scallion greens. Ok, ok, and a dollop of sour cream. Yum!

Farro

2010-06-10T15:03:00.000-07:00

If you’re looking for something different to serve up at dinner, take with you to work for lunch, or even to steal a couple of bites from at snack time (that’s delicious and nutritious, of course), whole grains can really add a new dimension of flavor to your typical lineup. A great source of protein, fiber, and complex carbohydrates, whole grains can be an excellent substitute for any white rice dish or even a pasta dish. Their subtle, nutty flavors and wholesome textures can add a fantastic element to any meal.

At first glance, the world of grains might be a little overwhelming. There are many different varieties, ranging from quinoa to wheat berries, and cooking times that can send some running in the opposite direction. Who has time to babysit a pot these days? The truth is, we often forget how important taking the time to cook a well-rounded meal for our families is and, too often, end up forsaking quality for convenience. Thankfully, many companies now offer premixed packages of whole grains, such as Rice Select’s Royal Blend or Kashi’s 7-Grain Pilaf. If you’re new to the world of grains, this is an excellent time to experiment. Over at 101 Cookbooks, über-chic natural chef Heidi Swanson has put together a list of some of her favorite grains, and, frankly, I agree with her choices.

The start of my love affair with whole grains began more with my mother than my father, although my father really refined the recipes. Farro, if you’ve never heard of it, is an ancient grain that is used in many Mediterranean — and, more specifically in our case, Italian — dishes. It has a hearty, earthy flavor, although it must be slow cooked in order to achieve its full potential. It can be used in stews to create heartwarming winter dishes or served cold with freshly grilled vegetables as a light, refreshing summer salad.

Looking to experiment with farro this weekend? Check out Heidi Swanson’s Farro & Herbs recipe before heading over to your local Italian market!

Buon Appetito!

Fish Tacos!

2010-04-24T09:51:00.001-07:00

Fish tacos are one of my absolute favorite summer dishes. Ah, who am I kidding — fall, winter, and spring as well! After falling in love with the fish tacos from Meetinghouse Restaurant in Bedford, NY, I decided to create my own recipe. And after many failed attempts, I finally came up with a version that I really enjoyed.

An important note here is the type of fish being used: Halibut works because it is a firm-fleshed fish. While flounder and sole are some of my favorite fishes, they are a little too soft for this recipe and would not hold up in this dish. Additionally, this recipe is tasty enough on its own, but also goes well with a chipotle cream sauce — the smokiness and fiery nature of the chipotle peppers are a great balance for the sweetness of the pears and the crunchiness of the cabbage.

Fish Tacos!

Makes 4 servings

4 medium fillets wild-caught Pacific Halibut

4 soft taco-size whole wheat flour tortillas

1/4 cup whole wheat flour

salt & pepper, to taste

chili powder (or cayenne pepper), to taste

1 teaspoon light extra virgin olive oil

1 teaspoon butter

1 shallot, diced

1/2 medium red bell pepper, julienned

1 bartlett or Anjou pear, diced

1/4 head red cabbage, shredded

2 large carrots, shredded

Wash the halibut, cut into smaller slices, and set aside. Don't dry the fish completely, as the dampness will allow the flour to stick. In a shallow dish, combine flour, salt, pepper, and chili powder (or cayenne pepper, depending on how brave your spirit is. If you've never experimented with cayenne pepper, do proceed with caution.). Blend well and, one by one, evenly coat the fish with the flour mixture.

In a pan, heat the olive oil and butter over a low flame. Add the shallots and allow to soften, about 1 minute. Turn heat to medium and add peppers, sautéeing for another minute or until just beginning to soften. Add diced pear, toss, and let cook for an additional minute. Set aside.

Add the fish to the pan, making sure that all pieces are flush to the pan. You may need to add a bit more olive oil to the pan if it is a little dry. Cook for about 2 minutes per side, or until nice and browned.

Just before you're ready to serve (or have everyone serve themselves), heat the tortillas on the pan quickly on each side to really bring out the flavor. Using your hands to mold the soft tacos into a dish, add a few pieces of halibut, followed by the peppers, shallots, and pear, and then finally topped off with some crunchy red cabbage and carrots.

Enjoy!

Buckwheat Cheese Straws

2010-04-01T14:11:00.000-07:00

It’s been a while since I’ve posted on here as I’ve been buried among the dead weight of work and winter. And, while it took some time for me to get over that winter-spring boundary line (I’m a snowboarder — this is what happens every year come March), I am completely ready to embrace spring. Winter is packed and put away — it’s time for me to come out of the dusty, stale woodworks and play. (I swear, I did not mean for that to rhyme.)

This isn’t an original recipe. Actually, I can’t say that I will be posting mainly original recipes on here — they’re not exactly easy to come up with on a full-time worker/Maid of Honor’s schedule. But it is an ode to one of my absolute favorite blog sites, 101 Cookbooks. Every time I enter Heidi Swanson’s virtual kitchen, I feel like a kid in an all-natural candy store. She's a published cook book author and an amazing photographer to boot! Seriously, each and every one of you (whoever you are) should check it out. Right now. Yes, I’m serious!

To me, these Buckwheat Cheese Straws are comfort snacking at its finest. I usually make a batch (or two) at a time and store the little “twigs” in a Ziploc bag for future enjoyment. They keep incredibly well and taste just as good as the day they came out of the oven — well, minus the heat.

So off you go, you people, baking and enjoying Heidi’s Web site.

Buckwheat Cheese Straws

1/2 cup buckwheat flour

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour

1 teaspoon fine grain sea salt

1 teaspoon fresh thyme, chopped

8 tablespoons (4 ounces) unsalted butter, cold, cut into 1/4-inch cubes

3/4 cup (2 1/2 ounces) white cheddar, shredded on a box grater

1/2 cup ice cold water

Combine the flours, salt and thyme in a bowl of a food processor. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture resembles little pebbles in a beach of sandy flour (about 20 quick pulses). Alternately, you can cut the butter in using a knife and fork. Transfer to a mixing bowl and toss in the cheese. Sprinkle with ice water and use your hands or a spoon to stir it through and bring everything together into a ball of dough. Flatten the ball into a 1-inch thick square patty, wrap well in plastic, and place in the freezer for thirty minutes.

In the meantime, preheat your oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a Silpat, and place a rack in the middle of the oven.
I find it easiest to work with one half of the dough at a time. Remove the dough from the freezer, cut in half, re-wrap the half you won't be using immediately, and place it back in the freezer. If the dough gets too warm it is difficult to work with. On a well-floured surface roll out the remaining dough into a rectangle roughly 6x12-inches and 1/4-inch thick. Use a knife to cut 1/2-inch wide strips (see photo), each about 6-inches long. Now take a strip of dough and gently pinch it all along its length so that it is easier to roll out into a straw shape roughly 12-inches long. If the dough is giving you trouble, consider chilling it a bit longer. Place each straw on the prepared baking sheet, and repeat with the remaining strips, leaving at least 1/2 inch between each straw.

Bake the straws one pan at a time for about 8-10 minutes, or until the straws look set, and the cheese is golden where it is touching the pan. Flip each straw and bake for another 2-3 minutes on the other side. Keep in mind if your straws are on the thin side, they'll bake in a flash, if they are slightly thicker they will need to go longer. Remove from oven and let cool, they will crisp more as they cool.

Sometimes I bake off half the dough, and keep the other half in the freezer for another day, but feel free to bake all of it - repeating the process with the second half of reserved dough.

Makes about 4 dozen straws.

Onion Soup Gratinée

2010-01-05T18:04:00.000-08:00

These days the temperature in New York has been hovering around 20 degrees, with the wind chill making it feel more like single digits. Mornings have been rough to say the least, and the fireplace has certainly been kept busy. As a bustling holiday season was coming to a close, I decided to make a batch of French Onion Soup — or, as my father kept insisting, Onion Soup Gratinée.

Researching recipe upon recipe I quickly realized that, while they all matched in basic ingredients, each recipe was indeed very different from the next. Cooking onions, beef broth, Gruyère cheese and a french baguette aside, suggestions varied from white wine, red wine, sherry and vermouth to mushrooms, parsley and potato flour. Knowing my own cooking style and personal tastes, I printed out several variations and created my own recipe along the way.

Onion Soup Gratinée certainly is one of my favorite comfort foods, but I've almost always found it to be a bit too salty when ordered out. Creating this recipe gave me an opportunity to tailor its delicate flavor to my liking; likewise, you can play around with different spices and ingredients to personalize it however you like. Be aware, however, that the caramelization process is not a quick process by any means. In order to truly get that creamy onion flavor, you need to cook the onions extremely slowly on very low heat.

Onion Soup Gratinée

Makes 4 servings

2 tbsp butter

3-4 large yellow onions

Kosher salt

4 ounces dry sherry

1 bay leaf

1 quart beef stock, low-sodium

1 can (14-oz.) chicken stock, low-sodium

1/2 cube chicken bouillon

8 slices fresh French baguette

1/2 pound sliced Gruyère cheese (at least 12 slices)

4 oven-proof crocks or large ramekins

Begin by preparing the onions. Cut off both ends and then slice each onion in half lengthwise, from top to bottom. Once you have your halves, begin from one of the flattened ends and cut into thin slices. Set aside.

Go into the bathroom and dry out your eyes with a hair dryer. Stuff a couple tissues up your nose, pop a piece of gum into your mouth, put on a pair of safety goggles, and come back into the kitchen. It's ok — no one's home. If the mailman comes by, matter-of-factly explain that you're fumigating the house for dog-sized rats and that he should keep his distance. Trust me, he'll listen.

In a soup pot, coat the bottom with olive oil and set on medium-low heat. Add onions, sprinkle generously with salt, and toss to coat evenly. Add butter, toss to coat once more, cover and allow onions to cook, undisturbed, for approximately 20-25 minutes. This process will allow the onions to "sweat" and prepare them for the caramelization process.

Once the onions have sweated and released a good amount of liquid, add the sherry and cook on low heat, uncovered, for approximately 45 minutes. Check up on them every so often and you'll notice the unique golden color they begin to acquire while they simmer in their butter-and-sherry bath. Low and slow is the secret.

Now that the onions have acquired a creamy texture, add both broths, the chicken bouillon, and the bay leaf and bring to a gentle simmer. Cook for an additional 30 minutes, tasting every so often to adjust seasonings.

In the meanwhile, drizzle some olive oil in a separate pan over medium heat. Place the baguette slices in the pan and brown on both sides, sprinkling with kosher salt to taste and adding extra olive oil if needed.

Once the soup is done simmering, ladle 3/4 of the way into individual oven-proof crocks. Place two slices of toasted baguette followed by three or four slices of cheese. Place crocks in the oven and, setting to broil, allow the surface to become bubbly and slightly brown.

Remove and set aside to cool slightly before serving.

Mini Mushroom Cups

2009-12-07T20:40:00.000-08:00

If you were to ask me to pick out one type of produce to eat for the rest of my life, I would without a doubt or single hesitation answer mushrooms. While I did not really acquire a true taste for them up until about five years ago, these days I love each and every bite. Mushrooms are extremely versatile, lending their buttery flavor to everything from omelets and quiches to soups and pastas, and play so nicely with many different ingredients.

I made these for Thanksgiving as a little pre-meal snack; the flavors of fresh thyme and pinot noir really team up with the sassy crème fraîche to put a spin on the traditional finger food. Since I use shallots and garlic pretty frequently in my cooking, I dice them ahead of time in a larger batch and keep the reserve in a (well-sealed!) container in the refrigerator with a touch of light olive oil. This way I can spoon out any amount as needed without the hassle of last-minute chopping. The mushroom mixture can be made ahead of time and refrigerated, and the phyllo shells can be kept frozen until needed.

Mini Mushroom Cups

Makes 30

INGREDIENTS

1 tbsp olive oil

2 tbsp butter

1 1/2 lb fresh white mushrooms, cleaned and finely chopped

2 shallots, finely chopped

3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

3 tbsp pinot noir (or other dry red wine)

1 1/2 tbsp balsamic vinegar

3/4 c crème fraîche

2 tsp fresh thyme, chopped

1 tsp salt

1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper

2 packages frozen mini phyllo shells (2.1 oz each; 30 total)

Preheat oven to 400°F.

In a large skillet, heat oil and butter over medium-high heat. Stir in shallots and garlic, sautéeing until slightly transparent. Add mushrooms, toss to coat and, stirring often, cook until edges begin to brown.

Add wine and stir, allowing all liquid to be absorbed. Stir in vinegar, crème fraîche, thyme, salt and pepper. Stirring every so often, allow mixture to simmer until it takes on a thicker consistency.

Spoon hot mushroom mixture into shells and place on a cookie sheet. Bake at 400°F for 8 to 10 minutes.

For Nonno

2009-11-30T17:30:00.000-08:00

Summer is long gone and winter is just around the bend, the smell of snow and burning wood lingering in the air. Labor Day gave way to Halloween and the beautiful fall leaves that once shivered with laughter have made their way to their earthy graves. Thanksgiving has just passed and I though it only fitting to incorporate a nice theme of — well — thanks into this blog post.

I feel that I've been rather absent these last bunch of months, as I take a look here and see that my keyboard has gathered the kind of dust that only comes with the passing of a season in what feels like the blink of an eye. I've been taking a lot more photographs these days than I have been putting my thoughts into words. I don't know if this fits here, but I suppose it's as good a place as any to talk about my grandfather.

I'll never forget the day, about 5 years ago, when I went over for Sunday dinner to find him not feeling well. I'll never forget when we found out he had Parkinson's. I'll never forget the day he went into the nursing home, the day my grandmother realized she couldn't care for him anymore by herself, the day she sold the house full of my childhood memories. I'll never forget the day I allowed myself to fully realize what was happening, breaking down in my mother's arms in the kitchen, absorbing the fact that the day I had been dreading was rapidly approaching. I'll never forget celebrating his last birthday with him on October 11th and then walking into his room on October 18th to visit him only to find my grandmother, mother and uncle standing over him as the priest read him his last rites. I'll never forget telling him about all our amazing memories and that, yes, it was ok for him to go. He needed that permission and I knew it. I'll never forget my grandmother standing over him, pulling his barely conscious body into her arms and saying, "It's time, Berto. Go to sleep now...it's time. I love you."

And I'll never, ever forget getting the call at 2 o'clock in the morning on October 21st that it was finally over.

The next couple of days are some sort of a blur in my memory, clear and yet not. It happened pretty fast as he passed on a Wednesday, the wake was on Thursday and he was buried on Friday. I held my 8 year old cousin throughout the entire funeral mass and burial, her 13 year old brother by my side. I will tell you one thing: when we all arrived at the church, his reaction as they pulled the casket from the hearse broke me. He buried his face into his father's chest and wailed. As we went through the day I watched my whole family — cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews. I studied their faces, watching as the veil of grief settled into their individual features. I looked down at the youngest ones and, all I could think was, I only wish they had gotten a chance to know their grandfather as I knew him, young and vibrant and smart and sassy. Hahaha, what a wise ass! I miss him so much.

This was not the post I set out to write, and yet somehow this is the post that came to be. There's a part of me that wants to erase it all and write about what I originally came here to write, about Thanksgiving and yummy treats and wonderful family, but the bigger part of me is letting this be as is. Because, in truth, this is a post about Thanksgiving, about giving thanks for all that he was to me and all that he still is. Every time the wind picks up and whips through the empty space around me, I know he's there.

Everyone had their thing: my grandmother buried him in his favorite newsboy cap (so typical of an Italian immigrant), my mother put a photo of him as a baby surrounded by his four siblings, mother and grandparents, and my aunt held on tight to his masonry trowel. I wanted him to be buried with the photo book that I had made the previous Christmas, one for him to keep in the nursing home and one for Nonna to keep with her at home. It held pictures of all of us, young and old through the years, with an inscription in the very beginning that read:

Siamo tutti angeli con una sola ala, possiamo volare solo se ci abbracciamo l'uno con l'altro.

We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.

He's there now, buried under the shade of a beautiful and grand oak tree. We've been back several times to visit and each time my eyes find his spot, that hole in my heart burns, like wind on embers, with as much intensity as it did that early October morning. I guess that's how strong a love like that operates.
I love you.

Back to Basics

2009-08-24T14:49:00.000-07:00

Well I have been teetering on the edge of vegetarianism for about a year or so now and, with the exception of fish, I have pretty much cut out all other animals from my diet. Trust me, there are still times when some remnants will surreptitiously make their way into my risotto. My father is known for doing this, as if desperately trying to find ways of feeding his malnourished child from some fictitious third-world country. Have you ever heard of Naboombu? I certainly have not. Well yes, actually, I have. But it’s from a semi-animated children’s movie. Any takers? Anyone? Bueller?

One of the main things I must point out here is that I am not a vegetarian (or pescatarian, for that matter) for ‘typical’ ethical reasons. Yes, I know, the poor animals and all. Listen here, I’m not cold-hearted! I am human, and a very emotional one at that. Yet I had never been a big meat eater to begin with, which is quite the feat when your father is an Argentinean chef. I began with the intention of creating a healthier diet for myself because, truth be told, I simply don’t believe that humans were ever meant to eat animals in the first place. But that is another story for another day.

I certainly do not go around promoting my beliefs or scoff loudly when friends of mine order their double bacon, meaty mcmeat burgers. My choice is my choice and yours is yours and I respect that. And I’m sure there are many out there who will emphatically state, chest puffed out like a proud cockatoo, that being a vegetarian doesn’t necessarily mean eating healthy. And guess what? I wholeheartedly agree. I know all too well that you certainly eat crappy, crappy, crappy even sans animal products — my first bout with being veggie went exactly that-a-way.

Ask anybody who knew me as a child, teenager and young adult: If it was green, I would not touch it. I had a fleeting love affair with iceberg lettuce (which we all know is really a giant science experiment to get water to be solid without the freezing process), and did carrots here and there (but good heavens!Those are ORANGE!). Flash forward x-number of years and here I am! And I’ve come a long way, baby!

So, as to make sure that I did not make the same mistake again, I decided to pay more attention to exactly what I was eating this time around. And in doing so, very quickly realized that I too often stuck to one type of food for weeks at a time. Now, I have always been akin to this little quirk for pretty much my entire life: one week it will be yellow bell peppers, and two weeks later it’s hummus. Not exactly balanced.

Weeks go by, then months, and my initially refreshed and energized system is now dragging. I’m exhausted. My nails are brittle. I’m losing hair. I. Don’t. GET IT! Well, in looking back, I now surmise that I knew the answer all along and it only took some sleuth investigation for things to be come clear. The food that I had been eating was indeed healthy, but I didn’t have the balance my body needed to thrive. And because of this, I was starving my body of some very real vital nutrients. I had been so concerned about finding those foods that provided protein that I forgot about iron. And calcium. And, well, the very detailed list goes on. And herein lies the challenge of many a vegetarian.

I’ve been on a quest during these recent months to start enjoying a diverse selection of Mother Nature's earthly wonders, from one end of the color scale to the other. I get so excited over discovering new, exotic produce that I’ve never laid eyes on before (Buddha’s Hand? Still not sure exactly what to do with it). I love my baby spinach, but I’m also aware of the levels of oxalic acid that could hinder the body’s calcium absorption. And ohhhh lentils and quinoa. Near and perfect proteins and yet, somehow, so delicious.

Mother Nature has provided us with an incredible array of amazing food. The problem is that, these days, the timeline between ground and plate has become too long. There is too much intervention, too much adding and too much subtracting. What once was a perfect specimen of nutrition is now a chemically-altered counterpart. We have fed our bodies simulated copies of the real things and our bodies have adapted to the non-food. I'm pretty sure I could go on for miles here, but the simple fact still remains that we need to get back to basics, back to what Mother Nature intended us to eat. We need to be human again.

A Weekend in Newport

2009-08-24T14:28:00.000-07:00

With a love affair of the New England coastline, my girlfriends and I decided to get together for a weekend in Newport, Rhode Island. We make it a point to get together at least once a summer, since busy schedules and altogether hectic lives tend to keep us separated between Boston and New York. A couple weeks of synchronizing schedules told us that, among the three of us, we only had a weekend to spare. So no flights. No cruises. Someplace simple and grand at the same time.

My girlfriend Sam and I drove up together from New York, meeting our other friend Christina waiting at the hotel. It was a typically humid and partly cloudy late-August Saturday. We had originally planned for sailing lessons, but it seemed that Hurricane Bill had made up his mind and that was subsequently nixed from the agenda. With a quick stroll around Newport’s downtown shopping area, we grabbed some refreshing frozen lemonade at Del’s and some sinfully delicious fudge at Country Kettle (my favorite was the Vanilla Nut), and decided to hop back in the car and go explore.

Newport is very much known for its historic mansions, equipped with sprawling grounds and a delicately preserved sense of American royalty. The drive took us down roads of stone walls and ivy, and we found ourselves sitting in silence as we slowly passed one after the other. The cars, bikers and pedestrians alike all seemed to cower under the shade of the immense elm trees that stood like soldiers guarding their compounds.

Nearing the end of Narragansett Avenue, we decided to park and go investigate another of Newport’s alluring features, the Cliff Walk. We began at The Forty Steps, a breathtaking stone stairway offering a steep descent to the rocky cliffs and crashing waves below. There is a turn at the bottom landing, offering you the opportunity to marvel up close at Poseidon’s (i.e., Bill’s) display of vigor and play — carefully — on the rocky plateaus below.

Emerging from the stone chasm we continued northbound on the path, stopping every once in a while to admire the view and the every so often the enthusiastic surfers braving the crushing swells below. At the farthest point north, the Cliff Walk disperses out onto Memorial Boulevard and we three, sweating and grinning, decided to head to the beach.

Easton’s Beach is typical of New England, rocky and defined, and although the clouds had begun to swallow the sky we were eager to get our feet wet at the very least.

Thoroughly wind-blown and salty, we made our way back to the car and, in an effort to avoid cross-town traffic, decided to take the scenic route along the entire southern coast of Newport. The whole mood of the day felt leisurely, so why rush it now? We had many coves to peer into, many grand houses to discover along that drive.

At the southernmost point of the drive, we turned a corner and the sky seemed to open up in all its glory. Breton Point on its own must be majestic, especially on a clear sunny day. Needless to say, however, we had stumbled upon it at exactly the right moment. A sunset desperately trying to break through a stormy atmosphere. Hues of oranges and blues. Magnificent waves crashing in threefold. In the distance, a lonely sailboat was cutting through the fog. Awe.

We parked and I ran towards the surreal image, towards the onlookers and professional photographers. I took pictures along the way of the black rock patios nestled in the waves that didn’t stand a chance of being remembered by tourists on that day. I was so close to that strange utopia — and then my camera battery failed me.

This was the closest I came to capturing that scene — you can just make out that sailboat. The only thing that consoles me is knowing that a picture would never have done that awesome sight justice.

Later that evening, freshly showered down, blown out and made up, we hit the town for some fresh seafood and Newport Storm Summer Ale. Back into town, traversing the narrow streets of downtown once more, we came upon a happy little — at the risk of sounding like Bob Ross — gelateria and I blissfully concluded my night with a splendid scoop of Cold Fusion’s Maple Walnut.

The next morning, the sun was out and to the beach we were headed. After a brief stop for essential caffeinated beverages and an unintended minor detour, we arrived back at Easton’s Beach. Parking fee paid, we happily made our way towards the sand only to discover that no one was actually allowed on the beach (at the moment) thanks to Billy Boy’s charming combination of killer waves and thigh-high tide. Lifeguard chair #8 had flirted with danger and lost.

Before we knew it almost an hour had passed and we finally were allowed access to the beach. We sunned ourselves for another hour and a half before it was decided that our little beach getaway was truly coming to a close. If it weren’t for foreboding thoughts of traffic-laden Sunday drives on i-95, I would have stayed to see another sunset.

Newport, I miss you already.

One Day at a Time

2009-07-23T13:35:00.000-07:00

Welcome back, me.

I have spent the past couple of weeks weeding through recipes. Well, working and weeding through recipes. Okay, working, mid-summer cleaning and weeding through recipes. Sigh.

In any case, I have been working my way slowly through my collection of recipes that have accumulated from years of printing from websites, snipping from newspapers, and the ever-popular ripping from magazines. They have all found themselves loosely filed (read: stuffed) into a giant hard-cover spiral journal which I had geniously converted into my "recipe book" back in college. Few and far between are the days when I actually muster up the motivation to organize that glorified Trapper Keeper. Pardon me, my 80's are showing.

So in honest efforts to truly get the task done, I have decided to tackle a little bit at a time, day by day. And, in doing so, have discovered how I have changed. Perhaps I have fallen victim to the recently popularized green movement. Perhaps I simply am fine-tuning my choices. Perhaps, oh just perhaps, I have simply become more conscious of the world around me, more sensitive and yet somehow more determined. Perhaps.

My parents have always kept a compost pile, and our garden has certainly expanded its selection to include cucumbers, zucchini, pumpkins, watermelon, leaf lettuce and string beans. I know we've always had a red currant bush, although those perfectly round little berries had always been a little too tart for my liking. We turn off the AC when not needed and open windows throughout the house to, as my father would say, "get some cross-ventilation."

But these days, I find myself thinking beyond and perhaps ahead. Chlorine-free bleach, natural organic sugar, olive oil instead of butter. Organic cotton and glass replacing synthetics and plastics. I'm sure I could keep a running tab of all of the different little changes that occur to me throughout the day. And I know that there are probably people out there that might roll their eyes at this type of, um, stuff. But in all honesty, we are responsible for our own bodies. And I will one day be responsible for some other little bodies. To strengthen. To protect. To fill with the goodness of the world. Because we all know there is enough bad out there.

I believe in whole foods, in pure foods. I believe in fresh fruit and vegetables, more so ones that haven't been subjected to harmful pesticides and chemicals. I don't believe in diets — I believe in being healthy, living healthy. I believe in good old fashioned exercise, but I also believe in yoga and mediation. I believe in strengthening the body and the mind. I don't necessarily believe in religion per se, but I believe in faith and spirituality. I believe in happiness, but I also believe in sadness. Because without heartbreak and despair our souls would never get a chance to grow, strengthen and thrive. Without experiencing the darkness of life, we could never fully appreciate the light.

So as I continue to work, clean, organize and, ultimately, live, I find it appropriate that I leave off here: I believe in balance.

♥ D

For the Love of Food

2009-07-01T11:29:00.001-07:00

I enjoy cooking. No — scratch that — I love cooking. I beam at the thought of preparing extravagant and delicious Saturday breakfasts. I daydream of having friends over for small, intimate dinner parties. Fresh flowers, bottles of wine, delicate aromas of savory herbs and spices. You get the idea. If you're going to drool, please drool with class.

My love for food has not always been such, however. Granted I am the daughter of a chef and most people, for this reason, are convinced that I must have always loved that. Wrong. In all honestly, it was less because my father was a chef and more despite it that I found my culinary roots. To best explain this thought process, please rudely awaken your inner 6 year old child, typically sweet and certainly stubborn. It's dinner time. What are you most looking forward to having? Spaghetti and meatballs? Macaroni and cheese? Ohmigoodness...PIZZA??? No. Sorry. Tonight we will be having filet of sole in a white wine sauce with sautéed broccoli rabe. Right. Ok. I think I'll make my own food, thanks. And that's how it started.

I have come a long way since my coupe de la cuisine. (I also apparently have come a long way from my french classes as well!) I love broccoli rabe (and spinach, and swiss chard, and kale). I drool over the smell of fresh onion and garlic sautéeing in a pan. (It's pretty much one of my most favorite smells in the world.) I had always been known as "She who does not eat anything green — ever." Cute nickname, huh? My grandmother to this day still makes a scene anytime I eat a salad. "Wooooow...I connn bolief it!!" (Meant to read, "Wow, I can't believe it!" — thick Italian accents do not translate well phonetically.) And every now and then I experience moments of clarity and sheer awe that I am where I am considering I was where I was. Now, don't get me wrong...I went through periods where I pretty much ate Ramen Noodles for a month straight. And I love Burger King french fries. But I can certainly do without cakes and cookies and all the other frilly baked goods out there. Apple pies make me shrug my shoulders, even though I've made more than I can count. And muffins don't even get a second glance. Chocolate however, I'm convinced, is an entirely different species of sugary treat altogether. It's pretty much an emotion.

But, oh for the love of food...food food, that is. From the fresh ingredients, to the chopping, stirring, sautéeing and deglazing, to the plate presentation and wine choices, I have amassed a wealth of appreciation and affection for all of it. As I stated earlier, I am not a chef. Would I like to ever be a chef? I'm not quite sure. I have always discussed taking culinary classes with my father, but as far as actually being behind the lines, I've always been hesitant. Hesitant because I know the hours he has always kept...leaving in what felt like the middle of the night as a child (in reality, 5:30 am), coming home sometime around 11 pm, burnt, toasted, fried...as Dom DeLuise says in Robin Hood: Men In Tights, "D-E-D, dead."

So, to commence this great journey of blogdom, I leave off with some quotes starting with the remarkably spunky queen of the cuisine:

"You don't have to cook fancy or complicated masterpieces - just good food from fresh ingredients. " Julia Childs

"The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found." Calvin Trillin

"My doctor told me to stop having intimate dinners for four. Unless there are three other people." Orson Welles

Cin-cin and cent'anni!
♥ D