Kitchen541

Authentic Alsatian kitchen linens

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 03:37:00 +0000

When cleaning up your kitchen after your latest feast of home-grown and locally-sourced ingredients, why must you dry your pots and pans with towels from an Indian sweatshop? It makes no more sense than cooking frozen shrimp from China, which by now have probably been re-engineered to eat corn. Instead, pick up a few kitchen towels from www.definitivelinen.com, where you can purchase authentic, handmade Alsatian products that are as beautiful as they are functional. Maybe you won't outfit your entire kitchen with them, but a couple will go a long way, especially as decorations. They're environmentally friendly, the way they have always been because they are hand-made and screen-printed in Alsace, the eastern region of France that has changed hands several times in history between France and Germany.

Figs

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny) — Thu, 28 May 2009 15:28:00 +0000

In keeping with the small and passionate trend of eateries in Boston, Figs at 42 Charles Street is a delicious place for thin inventive pizza cooked in a brick oven. With my friend Suzanne, we did a 1/2 & 1/2 order, a perfect deal for us as our tastes are quite different. Her half was figs and prosciutto - rich, sweet and savory. My half was caramelized onions, country ham and thinly shaved slices of asparagus - pretty much my dream combination. We made the mistake of ordering the crispy asparagus appetizer as well (asparagus crisply fried in breadcrumbs) and pretty much ate ourselves into a lovely stupor. A single pizza is far more than even two very hungry people could eat, but again so worth it. My only complaint is the wonderful brick oven is directly next to their small bar where the red wine is stored. There is no way this can be good for the wine and I found myself ordering a glass of white.

Neptune Oyster Bar

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny) — Thu, 28 May 2009 14:51:00 +0000

Neptune Oyster Bar at 63 Salem Street has the sweet luxury of being one street away from the popular and very tourist area of the North End. Its amazing what one street can do, our party of four felt instantly welcomed and part of the neighborhood. Neptune does not officially take reservations, but thanks to our hotel staff we were able to hold a table for our first visit. But even if we had to wait, it would have been worth it. Customers and staff alike held an obvious passion for food. Always on the lookout for scallops, I had their perfectly pan seared scallops with a fresh pea puree and couscous lightly touched with truffle oil. There was also a sample of east and west coast oysters enjoyed, and according to my friend Deb, they were the best oysters she's ever had. I tried one and it tasted like the ocean, and although this is not my taste I understand its a good sign for oysters.

There are many more dishes to try at this restaurant and the specials (seared tuna, fresh crabs, fried oysters) seem to endlessly rotate. But most impressive is the passion for fresh seafood and great service. You are guaranteed a food experience with every visit.

Parkin' the car in the Havard yard!

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny) — Thu, 28 May 2009 14:45:00 +0000

Our kitchen continues to grow on the east coast! As I'm living out of a hotel for six months (film life is odd at times) and unable to really cook, I'll be exploring the Boston restaurant scene. No more doing the dishes for awhile!

A splash of Tuscany in the California springtime (Limoncello for the layman)

noreply@blogger.com (Alex) — Sat, 09 May 2009 19:32:00 +0000

This entry will be revised and completed over the course of the next week. (picture is of a half-recipe)

Unfortunately, not even our NY counterparts can pop over to Italy whenever they need a classic refreshing spring/summer drink (though they do better than most), so here is an original Italian Limoncello recipe to hold us all over. (Ironically this actually does require a trip to Italy, or at least some country that sells 100% pure Italian Alcohol that isn't available in the US).

What's required for a full recipe (can be easily halved):

1 1L bottle of pure Alcohol (from Italy preferably.... buy in quantity and summon friends to do so as well)

10 Eureka Lemons - the freshest and thickest skinned ones possible.

Up to 350g Sugar

1L Water

3L Sealable glass jug (see picture)

1L Sealable glass jog/bottle to store and serve from

Step 1

Peel the lemons using either a paring knife or a potato peeler, which I think is easier. Just remove the yellow part of the skin, make sure not to include any of the white pith as it will make the Limoncello bitter. Place all the skins in the 3L jug and pour the 1L bottle of alcohol over them. Seal and shake vigorously to coat all the lemon. Place in a cool dark place like a cabinet and let sit for 5 days making sure to shake it at least once a day as the alcohol soaks in all the lemon flavor. The rest of the lemon is not needed so make lemonade or freeze the juice.

Step 2

Now it's time to combine tings and make the final Limoncello (it's been 5 days). First measure out 1L of water (the same amount of water as pure alcohol used) and measure out approx 250g of sugar. [If you used very sweet lemons like Meyer then use less sugar, maybe 200g, but it's all a matter of taste, trail and error. You can use up to 350g of sugar if you enjoy it more syrupy and don't like the alcohol taste or much less if you like it to be more pungent]. Put the sugar in a small saucepan with about 200ml of water. Over very low heat just melt the sugar - do not go all the way to the clear point, just dissolve it nicely into the water and set aside for a moment.

Next strain the lemons out of the glass jar and into a bowl that can hold twice the volume. While the lemons are still in a strainer, pour the remaining water over them to rinse off the remaining alcohol (save the leftover lemons to use for many other things like drink toppings or in desserts). Pour the mixture back into the now empty 3L glass jug and then pour in the warm melted sugar mixture. Seal the jar and give it a good strong 20 second shake. - finito!

Store the Limoncello in the freezer; I recommend decanting smaller portions of it into 750ml or 1L bottles to serve from. Chianti bottles with the straw on he outside are nice because you can hold them easily when frozen.

Salute!

NY is back

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Fri, 08 May 2009 02:23:00 +0000

Oh no, NYC will not be pushed off the page! I just had to give up my California license plates, which I'm not happy about. So, I retaliate by re-staking my claim with this nice Sunday breakfast we had recently at 15 East.

Arrabbiata Dopo Lavoro

noreply@blogger.com (Shane) — Tue, 05 May 2009 06:01:00 +0000

Since it's rare that I get home from work anxious to prepare anything to usual 541 standards (especially when it's just me) I'm gonna try to make note of some dishes simple and spontaneous enough to fend off the delivery guy's Pinto, yet servable without apology. This is a Patricia Wells recipe that is gratifyingly tasty for a meal you can make with stuff on-hand.

For 2:

Rigatoni, Penne, or other Tubular Pasta

1/3 cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil

4 cloves Minced Garlic

1/3 tsp (generous pinch) Red Pepper Flakes

14oz Whole Peeled Tomatoes (half a large can), pureed

1/2 cup Italian Parsley, snipped

Sea Salt

Black Pepper

Put a medium pot of pasta water (with salt) on high right off the bat, and add noodles as soon at it boils; it'll be ready to serve as soon as they're done. Mince the garlic, and in a pan large enough to hold the noodles, sauté in the olive oil with the red pepper and a little salt. Puree the tomatoes (quick work with a hand blender), and add them to the saucepan when the garlic is just golden brown. Simmer the sauce uncovered, stirring occasionally, until it thickens up (roughly the same time as the pasta is done) and add salt and fresh ground pepper to taste.

Wash and stem the parsley while the sauce reduces, and locate scissors for it. When the pasta is just shy of al dente, drain it briefly and mix into the sauce, then cover while it absorbs the sauce until al dente (heat low or off). Finish the parsley prep by snipping it with the scissors into a coarse chop; Wells notes that this will release its flavor as well as a knife or food processor without the clumping. Mix in the parsley when its done, sparing just enough to sprinkle on each serving.

Short Ribs Braised in Chimay Ale

noreply@blogger.com (Jenny) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 19:38:00 +0000

Sometimes when you're learning to cook you need to feel bad ass. Enter the braised short ribs a la Zuni Cafe, a great restaurant in San Francisco.

This recipe started out with a visit to the Whole Foods butcher counter where the ribs were cut across the bone into 2 in thick slabs by a wonderful power saw. Back at home, they were trimmed of nearly all fat, very important as any excess fat becomes like jelly in the braising process. Then the ribs were rubbed in sea salt (3/4 tsp per pd) and tucked overnight in the refrigerator.

FOR 4 SERVINGS:

2 1/2 pds Short ribs, cut across bone/trimmed/salted overnight

Salt

1-2 Tbls Mild Olive Oil

1 1/2 pds Yellow onions, cut 1/4 inch thick

2 Bay leaves

A few whole white peppercorns

Handful diced mushrooms (called for dried wild in water, but regular mushrooms worked fine)

Up to 1 cup Beef Stock

Up to 1 cup Chimay Ale

1/4 Dijon Mustard

Warm oil in a 3 quart saucepan over medium heat. Wipe your meat dry, then brown on the three meaty sides about 4 minutes per side. Pour off excess fat.

Rearrange meat bone side down in the pan. Here I switched to a large creuset pan because the original 3 quart pan was too crowded, next time I'll brown in the same pan. Add the onions, bay leaves, peppercorns, mushrooms, and equal parts stock and Chimay ale. Watch how much liquid you add carefully, it should only reach a depth of about 3/4 inch to your 2 inch ribs. I only ended up using about 1 1/4 cups of liquid total.

Bring to a simmer, cover and cook over low heat for about 2 hours. Check several times to assure you are only at a simmer. Turn the meat each time you check. Meat is done when fork tender. When done, prop the pan uncovered at a slight angle and let rest for 5 minutes.

Turn on Broiler.

Skim the fat that has collected (reason for angling pan). Season the remaining juice as needed. Then brush the short ribs with the Dijon Mustard, I pushed aside the onions as needed. And place the pan under the broiler about 5 inches from the element, to brown the mustard and glaze the remaining onion stem about 5 minutes.

We served the ribs over a pile of buttermilk mashed potatoes and a side salad of lettuce, apples and mustard vinaigrette. It's a committed recipe but with a little patience you'll have delicious results.

Just F*ing Good Waffles

noreply@blogger.com (Alex) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 19:16:00 +0000

This is a favorite weekend-morning recipe of ours so it is a fitting new addition to the Kitchen541 blog. We call it F*ing Good Waffles - it is a recipe that has survived and been updated taped to the inside of a kitchen cabinet... and now we share it with you.

Whisk together in a mixing bowl:

2 c. flour

6 tb. sugar

1 tb. baking powder

1 tsp. salt

and then add:

1 stick melted butter

2 eggs

1 1/2 to 2 cups milk (don't let it get too runny, it should remain thick batter)

3 tb vanilla (or more if you like)

that's all there is to it - now cook with your trusty 50 year old waffle iron and serve with any toppings (i recommend Nutella and strawberries) that you'd like.

cheers!

And we're back

noreply@blogger.com (Kitchen 541) — Thu, 26 Mar 2009 05:40:00 +0000

Henceforth Kitchen 541 will be returned to its rightful place here in sunny Sothern California.... though there may be the occasional entry from New York or washington DC... time will tell. Cheers!

Eggs mimosa / deviled eggs

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 21:29:00 +0000

For those who run even later than the perennially late (see below), this may be for you. Devil eggs the night before, and all you have to do in the morning is eat them - easy!

Simply boil several eggs for 10 to 12 minutes, stop them cooking in cold water, peel, and cut in half horizontally (the short way). Remove the yolks, being careful not to damage the whites. Trim the white halves so that they stand nicely on their own. Mash the yolks together with a small quantity of mayonnaise or butter until you have the consistency of a creamy paste. You can also add paprika, cayenne, or any other spice you like. Season with salt and pepper. Now spoon this mixture back into the egg-white halves, and garnish with parsley or capers. Refrigerate, and then eat in the morning, or serve as an hors d'oeuvre.

Soft-boiled eggs and buttered toast

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 20:36:00 +0000

It may seem obvious, but this is a great breakfast for those who are perennially running late in the morning. Just drop however many eggs you like in slowly boiling water and remove them after 3.5 to 4 minutes. Toast some bread, butter it, and cut it into 1-inch slivers to dip into the runny eggs. Great alone or with bacon.

Scallops in pea season

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 15:17:00 +0000

With scallops and fresh peas available at the market, this is an excellent combination. It is fast and easy, as long as you can find the ingredients very fresh. Frozen peas would work as well, and you could omit the bacon, but this is definitely the best version I have tried.

Scallops can be quite expensive, around $14-20 per pound for good ones. However, especially as an appetizer, you only need about 3-4 per person, more for small scallops. When buying, make sure there is no milky residue pooling around the scallops in the display. You want never-frozen scallops that have not been soaked in a preservative liquid. Just ask the fishmonger.

Scallops with fresh peas and bacon

Ingredients:
Scallops, 1/3 lb per person (freshness is essential here)
Fresh peas, about 1 lb per person
Bacon, 1/4 lb
Spring onion (1), finely chopped
Butter
Salt/Pepper

1. Shell the peas, and boil them until tender (about 3 minutes). Drain, then toss with 1/4 tablespoon butter in a bowl. Cover to keep warm.
2. Meanwhile, chop the bacon into small pieces and cook in a pan over medium heat. Just when it is barely cooked and the fat slightly translucent, add the bacon to the peas. Add pan fat to taste. Stir in the minced spring onion. Cover to keep warm.
3. Pat dry the scallops and season lightly on both sides with salt and pepper. In a pan wide enough to accommodate all the scallops without crowding (or in a smaller pan in two batches), melt a generous amount of butter and add several tablespoons of olive oil. When the pan is very hot, sear the scallops quickly, about 1 minute per side or less. If working in batches, cover the first batch while working on the second; scallops cool quickly.
4. Arrange the scallops atop a bed of peas. Serve immediately.

From Farm to Table with Duck Confit

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Tue, 04 Dec 2007 04:15:00 +0000

With all the talk of food-miles, organic ingredients, and other frequently empty rhetoric concerning what we eat, we easily become distracted from one of the central measures of naturalness in food. The distance from farm to table – related to the idea of “eating local”, but different – is important. It has more do with feeling ingredients in your hands, touching the plants and animals we eat, than with where the farm was. In a time when most meat is sold in neat shrink-wrapped packages under fluorescent lighting, there is something primitively attractive about holding a whole duck in your hands, feeling its meat and fat and joints, and separating it into pieces yourself.

It’s easy to forget that we are eating animals. Preparing a duck for confit will remind you. Confit, the process of gently cooking duck pieces and then preserving them in their own fat, is a rich and ancient way of preserving meat into the winter months. Delicious by itself, it is also a halfway point to cassoulet, a classic French stew of meat and beans that ranks as perhaps one of the richest meals imaginable. Confit requires duck pieces, and with the notable exception of breasts (magret), good duck is rarely sold other than whole.

Beginning with a whole 8 or 10-pound bird splayed out before you on a cutting board, you can feel the layers of fat, attached but loose enough to slide across the meat when pushed. Using a cleaver or a sturdy knife, the limbs come off with resistance, a sharp blade slicing easily through the flesh but resisting against the bones and sinewy fat. Depending how you cut the bird, the familiar pieces begin to take shape: thighs, breasts, wings. The back, the neck, and especially the spine are less familiar, and may make your stomach turn slightly if you’ve never separated a duck before. Even a chicken is clean, or at least familiar, by comparison. Trimming the excess fat with scissors, it is important to save all of the fat — it is a delicious and extremely useful ingredient in many recipes, including confit. As tradition shows, almost every bit of the animal is useful, at least for stock.

At this point, the memory of neat vacuum-packed breasts from the store takes on a more realistic hue. We are killing and eating animals, no doubt about it, and that is honorable. But is it honorable to do it without ever feeling the spine snap in your hands, the inner organs spilling out on your cutting board? Even if you don’t cut up your own ducks routinely, which is reasonable and understandable, having done it once brings you that much closer to the idea of “natural” food. Buying organic cage-free eggs in a store, while positive, does not challenge you. It doesn’t spur the thought process that, while uncomfortable for a moment, will likely leave you even more dedicated to eating meat than you were before. Taking a duck from whole bird to individual servings will do that. Aside from butchering the bird yourself, it is in some sense the quickest, truest path from farm to table.

Steaks in a Pan: Not For the Plebes

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 06:08:00 +0000

Meat-loving apartment-dwellers, when not fantasizing about rooftop grills and indoor ventilation systems, are often at an impasse when it comes to preparing steak. Pan-frying steaks might seem a little plebeian, an unfortunate last choice, but it’s not. Remember that some of the most classic French steak presentations – steak au poivre, for instance, or steak with shallots- are cooked in a pan. An added benefit is that the cuts the work best in a pan- skirt steak and hanger steak- are also some of the cheapest.

Eschew the fancy cuts of meat— the strip steak, the filet mignon, the rib-eye. Instead, head to a serious butcher or quality meat store and buy prime skirt or hanger steak. Prime skirt tastes far better than regular grocery-store meat, and, because the cut is so inexpensive, will probably cost the same or less (around $10/pound). Then, take the money you save over a few preparations of the stuff and buy a suitable stove-top steak pan. Make sure it is heavy cast iron, such as Le Creuset or Lodge. The pan matters- make sure it is heavy.

How you cook the steak is up to you. Steaks should be at room temperature, pre-seasoned with salt and pepper. I like a mixture of butter and oil over low heat, turning once and removing when fairly rare (red at the center). Low heat allows a caramelized crust to form, enhancing the flavor and prolonging the time in the pan without overcooking. Others prefer searing heat and very short cooking time, which creates a thicker, tougher crust that traps more moisture inside for exceptionally juicy steak. Either way, you can use the remaining fat in the pan to prepare a sauce. Try adding minced shallots, waiting for them to caramelize, and then deglazing the pan with red wine- in other words, using wine to loosen all the bits that stick to the pan. Reduce for a minute or two and you will have a beautiful, simple sauce to spoon over your steaks.

One accessory that helps keep your stove clean is a splatter screen, which rests over your pan as you cook and prevents grease from escaping the pan. This simplifies cleaning and helps keep pan-frying simple.

With a good pan and some practice, you might not miss your grill so much after all.

Review: Eleven Madison Park during Restaurant Week

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Thu, 26 Jul 2007 21:29:00 +0000

Eleven Madison Park
11 Madison Ave, at 24th Street
(212) 889-0905

It is said that societies can be judged by the way they treat their lowest citizens. I think the same can be said of restaurants. If Eleven Madison Park fawns all over me— a young, bargain-hunting Restaurant Week lunch patron— they will fawn all over anybody.

And fawn it does, the staff of course but also the room itself. Stepping into this soaring art-deco space, beautifully framed by towering windows and elegantly simple décor, feels like arriving at a spa. A gentle murmur of voices, punctuated by an occasional laugh or clinking glass, warms a room that might otherwise feel cold but very elegant. In contrast to the dark woods and rich colors of Gramercy Tavern, for instance, Eleven Madison Park feels more formal, more decadent. The polite and efficient welcome reflects the service in general: polite, attentive, and largely invisible.

Seated with my friend at our throne— a two-person table spacious enough that it could easily seat four— I draw no scorn when ordering the $24.07 prix-fixe Restaurant Week menu. The level of service is identical to the last time I ate here- a corporate dinner for four that cost at least $500.

My big-eye tuna tartare appetizer is excellent, and I have never seen such perfectly diced cubes of carrot and celery, scarcely bigger than grains of sand. The simplicity and precision of the dish are impressive. But the salmon entrée outdid even that: tender chunks of the fish slipped away with the mere touch of the knife, the thin breaded “skin” on top adding a richer touch to the mild fish. The combination is sublime. And all around this artful concoction is a pool of “white tomato foam,” which sounds gimmicky but comes across as a wonderfully light, creamy tomato sauce. It’s like eating a cloud.

Desserts are restrained and perfectly respectful: bittersweet chocolate moelleux (warm chocolate cake) with a raspberry filling, peach clafoutis with sorbet. But at this point I almost don’t want to eat them, for fear of losing that salmon taste in my mouth.

And remember: I’m paying $24.07 for this. Granted, the normal lunch menu is closer to $70. But if Eleven Madison Park can raise salmon and tuna tartare to these heights, imagine what they can do with foie gras, lobster, and truffles. As the proverbial Low Citizen, I am more than satisfied with the humble offerings. But I want to go back, and move up in the world.

Oui, on mange des hamburgers...

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Thu, 26 Jul 2007 21:25:00 +0000

It’s simultaneously frustrating and exciting to talk to un-initiated French people about hamburgers. On one hand, they make declarations, Jose Bové-style, about the pitiful state of American food, and you have to listen to it. On the other hand, you get to prove them wrong.

Enter the Blue Smoke burger. This is no secret, and for cause. It is simply exceptional, perfectly medium rare, served relatively plain with a steamy pink core and a slight smoky taste. The brioche bun puts the normal rubbery sandwich-sleeve to shame. And it only sets you back $10. I mean, 7 euros. And it’s nothing like “MacDo.”

Escaping the Recipe: A Tutorial

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Wed, 27 Jun 2007 21:16:00 +0000

So you like to eat. But can you cook the way you like to eat? Recipes can get you started. They are useful, but they probably won’t make you into the kind of cook who can improvise beautiful food with whatever is fresh, or on hand. For that you need technique and practice.

I am not a chef, but I understand your predicament. And I will help you through it. My goal with this tutorial is to get you making food immediately with minimal directions- I will give you guidelines, and you shape the dishes as you wish. I want you to get excited about what you can already make so that you will be ready and willing to tackle more formal learning resources, such as the books I list below.

Starting now, you can break your recipe addiction.

Start simple
Don’t start with a 30-layer smoked-salmon terrine with salmon roe sauce. It is tremendous effort, and although you might labor through the recipe and produce something good, it probably won’t teach you much. Start with simple food. This will help build your confidence and you can begin serving genuinely good food immediately.

For instance, buy some fresh tomatoes. Slice them, arrange them nicely on a plate, add a little kosher salt and olive oil and maybe a drizzle of balsamic vinegar. Extremely easy- and, if you have the right tomatoes, extremely good.

Or, pick up a bulb of fennel. Remove the stalks, peel off the dirty outer layer and discard, and slice the fennel into thin rounds. Arrange them on a plate, sprinkle with salt and pepper and a little bit of olive oil. Maybe shave some parmesan strips onto the top. This is a fennel salad, which is a great snack or a part of a complete meal.

If you have some good bread, such as a baguette or a crusty loaf of some kind, cut it into rounds or slices about half an inch thick, or thinner if the bread is dense. Toast it in a toaster or under the broiler in your oven, and while the slices are still hot rub a peeled garlic clove on each slice, flavoring each slice as much or as little as you like. Top with diced tomatoes and salt and pepper. Voila: bruschetta. You could also add lemon juice, olive oil, capers, onions, or any other flavor. It’s up to you.

With all cooking, but especially with simple raw dishes like these, quality of ingredients is of utmost importance. Buy the best you can afford- it makes or breaks the dish.

Invite some friends over for a drink, and surprise them with some simple food like this served alongside. They’ll be happy, and their compliments will build your confidence and you will feel in control of the kitchen. Now you are ready to move on to more substantial dishes.

Move on to peasant food
Notice that I haven’t given you any measurements or recipes so far, just guidelines. This is all you need for now. You can make real food without recipes. And it is through this kind of experimentation that you will teach yourself how to cook.

When I say “peasant food” I’m referring to simple country-style dishes such as those in Italian, Turkish, Provençal and other cuisines. You are probably familiar with some of these: pasta caprese (fresh tomatoes and fresh buffalo mozzarella), yogurt dill soup (tarator). This food is easy and satisfying, so we will focus on it now. It is perfect for everyday meals, whether for one person or for many.

To start, in a large salted pot of boiling water, cook some penne pasta until al dente (slightly firm to the bite, usually a minute less than the package recommends). Drain in a colander, and toss with chopped fresh tomatoes, chopped fresh buffalo mozzarella, chopped basil, olive oil, salt and pepper. It is important to use fresh mozzarella, not the harder deli kind that comes wrapped in plastic. Fresh mozzarella, preferably from buffalo’s milk, usually comes in a plastic tub and is partially submerged in water. It has a light, airy flavor, and it makes the dish.

For a heavier pasta, cook some penne until al dente. Meanwhile, roast 3 or 4 red peppers under the broiler in the oven, then place them in a closed paper bag for a few minutes to self-steam. Next peel, de-seed, and cut them into strips, saving as much of the juices as possible. In a skillet or saucepan, lightly brown some diced ham in butter and oil. Add some cream, about ¾ of a cup. Let thicken a bit, then add the red pepper strips and their juices. Make sure to taste before salting, as the ham might be salty (and the peppers too if you bought them pre-roasted in a jar). Throw in some peas, or maybe some other green vegetable. Season with pepper and, when the sauce seems to have come together to your liking, toss with the pasta and some grated parmesan. Grate more cheese over the top and serve.

To make a simple soup, mix a couple cups of plain yogurt with a cup or two of water. Mash two or three garlic cloves with a couple teaspoons of salt, preferably with a mortar and pestle, and add to the soup. Peel, deseed, and chop a cucumber and add that along with a handful of minced dill. Finally, toast a handful of walnuts in a skillet over medium heat until fragrant, and add them to the soup. Refrigerate the whole mixture until cold. This is a classic Bulgarian yogurt soup called tarator, which is eaten in various forms across the Mediterranean and the Middle East. You can also make it with strained (drained) yogurt and no water, in which case it becomes a cold yogurt salad.

These instructions are starting to look more like recipes, but they’re really not. Just be careful not to oversalt or use too much raw garlic, and the rest is up to your taste. You can modify these ideas as well- leave out the cream, add some onions- and make them your own.

One more idea I’d like to share with you doesn’t fall under the category of peasant food, but it’s in the same spirit of simple and satisfying food. This one is inspired by the famous submarine sandwiches of Marina Subs in San Francisco. Simply slather a sandwich loaf with yellow mustard (yes, yellow mustard) and a small amount of mayonnaise. Add slices of provolone cheese and toast under the heating coils in your oven. Next, put sliced raw (vidalia or red) onions, chopped lettuce, a couple tomato slices onto the loaf. Slice at least one, and up to one and a half, peeled and pitted whole avocados into lengthwise strips and, using a chef’s knife to hold the sandwich open, slide the avocado inside. Finish with salt, pepper, olive oil, and rice vinegar. This sandwich is guaranteed to impress.

Try roasting a chicken
Does this idea scare you? It shouldn’t, because it’s easy, which makes it a good confidence-building exercise. Buy a whole chicken, preferably a free-range variety with all the skin on. Remove the giblets, rinse the bird in the sink, dry it, and cover all sides liberally with salt and pepper. Slide your fingers under the skin, separating it from the meat but not detaching it completely, and insert whole sprigs of herbs such as thyme and rosemary in any combination you like. Preheat your oven to about 350 degrees. Heat a couple tablespoons of vegetable oil in a large ovenproof skillet or pan and then put the chicken in the pan. Cook at a low sizzle for about 8 minutes or until nicely browned, resisting the temptation to shake them pan- the bird will brown better if you don’t disturb it. Flip the bird and cook for another 8 minutes or so. By now there should be some nice juices in the pan, commingling with the oil. Add some mini Yukon gold potatoes or new potatoes to the pan, rolling them around so they are covered in the oil and juices. Stick the whole pan in the oven. After about 10 minutes, put a chunk of butter atop the bird and let it melt all over the meat. Roast in the oven for a total of about 30-35 minutes or until done, basting occasionally. When you remove the bird, you may need to continue cooking the potatoes until done. Carve, and serve with the potatoes or other vegetables alongside.

People will be impressed. Just try to resist telling them how easy it was. You can roast almost anything the same way, including steak. Just check doneness frequently and be careful not to overcook. This basic roasting technique will expand your repertoire immensely.

Now you can try your recipe books
Finally, after a little experimentation, you can go back to your recipe books. Hopefully now you can focus more on the techniques and flavors and combinations you discover, and less on the step-by-step process. Remember that all recipes are just guidelines- you can always modify them. The best home cooks do. Just read through it a couple times, think about how it will all work, and then don’t look back.

At this point, there are several books that will help you develop your skills. They’re more like cooking textbooks than recipe collections. Tom Colicchio’s Think Like a Chef will break your recipe addiction, teaching you some basic techniques you need to invent your own food- roasting, braising, and others. Jacques Pepin’s Complete Techinques is a dry but immensely useful text that lays out the basic building blocks of French technique, including such seemingly obvious things as how to dice an onion or a tomato. He also includes an excellent primer on stocks and sauces.

Now, go cook! And keep your eyes off that recipe.

The best cappuccino in New York?

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Mon, 25 Jun 2007 16:51:00 +0000

Via Quadronno, 25 E 73rd St. at Madison Ave., (212) 650-9880
Café Grumpy, 224 W 20th St. between 7th and 8th Ave., (212) 255-5511

I know. This is a futile exercise. I cannot possibly visit every café in New York City multiple times, divining who conjures up the most decadent milky foam. Cappuccino is serious business. For this reason I feel obligated to steer you towards the best two spots I have found.

The first is my perennial favorite, Via Quadronno on the Upper East Side. Tucked into a long, narrow space on a very bourgeois tree-lined block around the corner from the Frick Collection, this “restaurant” is basically a glorified coffee-and-panini outpost. Skip the sandwiches- granted, they are excellent, but far too expensive. We’re focusing on the coffee here- specifically, the cappuccino. Low, oversized straight-sided cups filled to the brim with sweet foam almost as thick as whipped cream. Soft coffee flavor and a drink so balanced you don’t need sugar. Nobody will ask you if you want low-fat milk: you don’t. As you perch on one of the tiny stools in the front area, sipping your perfect $4.50 drink and watching plasticized socialites squeezing their way past to eat salads in the back room with their friends, you will be glad you came. Take a moment to appreciate the almost-completely-authentic Italian café ambiance by the front door. The only thing that throws off the scene is the apparent staffing caste-system, where the waiters are for some reason all Asian. The service is surprisingly friendly given the neighborhood, and the coffee… well, you know how I feel about the coffee.

The second spot is Café Grumpy, in Chelsea, which comes in a close second. The cappuccino here is less expensive- $3. Again on a tree-lined street, this bright, simply-decorated space is dominated by the shiny chromed espresso machine, whence the magic originates. The cups are smaller here, more the size of a traditional cappuccino, and the foam is nearly as good. “Foam art” also features here, and on several visits I never saw the same pattern more than once. The quality of the coffee and the appealing simplicity of the surroundings are matched by warm, friendly service. The low counter makes watching the action possible. The barista works with speedy perfection, tamping and pulling shots, tossing those deemed unsatisfactory. I am inspired. I go home feeling confident I can do what I saw him do.

My cappuccino is not half as good.

Review: Casa Mono & Bar Jamon

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Sun, 13 May 2007 05:11:00 +0000

Casa Mono & Bar Jamon
52 Irving Pl., New York, NY 10003
(17th and 18th St)
212-253-2773

Since living in New York, I sometimes feel like the world is shrinking. Take Casa Mono, a microscopic tapas restaurant on Irving Place, just south of Gramercy Park. You won’t have to duck on the way in, but the ceiling is the only aspect of this room that is not freakishly cramped. Shifting left and right to avoid rubbing your rear on peoples’ faces, after a minute or so you will, with any luck, have squirmed your way over to your table. This isn’t unusual in Manhattan, but at a Mario Batali restaurant?

But as long as you know to expect it, the ultra-cramped atmosphere is part of the charm of Casa Mono. It buzzes. Sparkly glasses and shiny silverware stand out decadently against the dark tables and room, and the grill in the open kitchen hisses. When your neighbors overhear your conversation (and believe me, they will), they’ll likely shower you with hints and suggestions. “Order the pan con tomate,” suggests someone to my left, referring to simple slices of airy, crispy bread rubbed with garlic, crushed tomatoes, and oil. “It pairs perfectly with the jamon.” He’s right. I’m amazed how tasty these basic ingredients become, a simple but sublime combination. Spicy, oily peppers come later, their bitter edge a welcome counterpoint to a richly sweet duck foie gras. Very raw slices of steak, served with orange mermelada, provide some weight towards the end of the meal. Still, it takes quite a few of these plates to fill us up.

If sitting down in this environment doesn’t sound appealing, how about standing? Bar Jamon, Caso Mono’s little-brother outpost right around the corner, shares the same kitchen. Stacks of baguettes beckon from the street and wine bottles fill every possible nook inside. Be warned: Bar Jamon makes its bigger sibling look voluminous. Still, waiters manage to squeeze through the incredibly dense room, ferrying trays of some of the same delicious plates you would expect next door. Fancy young people perch on tall stools around two bar-like communal tables and socialize, consuming conspicuously more wine than food. No reservation means you can drop in unannounced. And it will make your tiny apartment feel positively spacious.

Review: Pera Mediterranean Brasserie

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Tue, 24 Apr 2007 23:11:00 +0000

Pera Mediterranean Brasserie
303 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10017
(212) 878-6301

With dangerously high expectations, my heart was racing as I stepped into the soaring, elegant main room at Pera, the new Turkish grill restaurant in the shadow of Grand Central Station. An avid fan of sister-restaurant Kösebasi in Istanbul, widely considered the definitive modern Anatolian grill restaurant in Turkey, I was thrilled at the prospect of eating so well in my new backyard of Manhattan. But is it really possible to recreate such unique tastes and dishes in an entirely different part of the world? And given that Pera bills itself as a “Mediterranean brasserie” instead of a “grill restaurant” like its elder cousin, will the chef adapt the cuisine to our American expectations (shudder) or simply show us the way it is meant to be?

My impression is somewhere in between, but happily it seems not much has changed. We order the tasting menu ($46 each), the closest approximation to the Kösebasi experience. Discrete, elegant waiters begin immediately to flood our table with meze (small-plate appetizers) such as variations on whipped-eggplant caviar , cacik (spiced yogurt), hummus, and gavurdagi (cold salad of tomato and pomegranate juice). These are standard Turkish fair, well executed, and they set the stage beautifully for Pera’s specialty: grilled meat, and lamb in particular. Clearly pleased so far with the meal, I turn to the nearly invisible waiter and explain, “I have eaten many times at Kösebasi in Istanbul and have been waiting impatiently to eat this food in America.” He beams.

Next come kebaps, steaming, arranged like sushi on a smooth platter. Not drowned in sauces, but seared beautifully over an open flame as delicately as pieces of tuna, and served naked with only paper-thin bread sheets reminiscent of mushu pork wrappers. The meat flavors shine through with hints of smoke and explosions of spice. Miniature meat-pizza-like concoctions called pidette – which have an interesting but odd taste that reminds some diners of old beef– are noticeably “softened” in flavor for the American palette. The minced-meat adana kebap, on the other hand, is every bit the original: crispy and soft at the same time, packed with flavor and bursting with spice. Golden nuggets of grilled chicken are simultaneously so crispy and soft that I don’t even realize what I am eating. Clearly, someone here has grilling down to an art. The flavors are so subtle that even a dry white wine (Sancerre in this case) pairs beautifully with the lamb.

A second visit revels some inconsistencies in service, with a less knowledgeable waiter who has little patience for our group of five. It is quite a chore to order the tasting menu for all but one person. This time we perk up the meal with several glasses of raki, the classic Turkish anise-flavored grape brandy. Despite the less polished service and the ordering issue, my impression is the same: this is a great meal, and a special restaurant.

Bottom line: Discover what lamb can become in the hands of a skilled Turk. And bring a date, because the restaurant is beautiful. Pera could work equally well for a business dinner towards the front of the restaurant, which feels grander than the more romantic rear corners near the open kitchen.

Review: Mizu Sushi

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Thu, 19 Apr 2007 03:07:00 +0000

Mizu Sushi
(Flatiron district)
29 E 20th St (Between Broadway & Park), New York
(212) 505-6688

Vancouverites swear that five dollars buys you a heaping platter of sushi. I don't believe it. Regardless, Mizu Sushi in the Flatiron district is not expensive by Manhattan standards- two of us ate generously for about $60. Whether you live across the street or you take the subway, arriving here is a pleasure. Do you walk up from the Village, the Empire State Building framed perfectly by the ornate pre-war buildings of 5th avenue? Or exit the subway (I still struggle not
to call it the metro) at Madison Square Park or Union Square?

Mizu is relaxed, the sushi fresh and plentiful. The loudish pop music is a bit odd, but trust me (and I'm no Top-40 fan), it's entertaining. The relatively plain room, tucked in the bottom of an elegant brownstone, is bustling with women- almost entirely women- out with their girlfriends for an early Tuesday dinner. If you plan to go out later, this is a great place to begin the night.

Standards such as California rolls and the sashimi platter ($23) were excellent, and the chicken teriyaki was good but unremarkable. The only disappointment was the ebi (sweet shrimp), which were small and a bit shriveled, although still tasty. Service is efficient and minimal, which I prefer, but on busy nights they do rush customers a bit.

By the way, Mizu does not take reservations, so expect to wait a few minutes on busy nights. But given the crowd, it would be a pleasure- friendly young people abound and you'll make some new friends with whom to continue your night.

Bottom line: Recommended for a casual dinner or a spontaneous sushi fix, or as a jumping-off point on a Thursday or Friday night. A refreshingly unpretentious, simple Japanese restaurant.

The Rationale

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Tue, 10 Apr 2007 22:44:00 +0000

For some reason everything I wrote was showing up in Hindi. Glad I fixed that problem.

What's the point of writing about food in New York? Aren't there a bunch of other people doing it, people with more time and experience and probably a lot more money, people who have seen and tried everything and who can give you their sage advice? Of course, but that's exactly my point- I am not those people. What I can do is give you the perspective of a normal person, with a normal schedule and a normal income, who just happens to really like food. And I have enough perspective that i think I can provide an informed opinion. And if I don't, then tell me- this is the internet, after all, so you're free to spray profanity and I'll never be able to track you down and put a spike through your heart. So no worries.

From now on I plan to post my opinions, with a bit of explanation for each, about places I find in New York City. In the meantime, here's a quick list of places I've tried and enjoyed so far but haven't reviewed in any detail:

Flatiron/Gramercy district:

-Georgio's of Gramercy, on 21st between Broadway and Park. Cozy, unpretentious, very good reliable Italian. The bartender, Chris, makes a mean $5 white russian during happy hour, 6-7pm weeknights.

-Gramercy Tavern, obviously. Classic and great, and it makes me think of those wonderful Napa-inspired restaurants in California, such as Oliveto in Oakland. Sit in the front ("tavern") area. You can't afford the back (the "restaurant"). And even if you can, considering it's the same kitchen, I can't imagine it's that much different.

-Eleven Madison Park, on Madison Square Park. Soaring 1920's spaces and very refined food at a very high price. Creative franco-American cooking with such delights as a foie-gras macaron amuse-bouche with black truffles, and confit of suckling pig. Sublime- as long as someone else is paying.

New York City, new home of Kitchen 541

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Tue, 10 Apr 2007 04:46:00 +0000

The number 541 has taken on new meaning. 541 new recipes to try? New restaurants? Dollars to spend in a single evening carousing around this city ridiculously rich in culture, cuisine, and opportunity? The team is down by two- only one blogger/foodie/gourmet/cook/explorer/opportunist remains- but that only means I'll work harder. I promise to report here what I experience- and judging by my first month in New York, this is going to be a long, long blog. Thank you and NAZ DRAVE! -Andrew

Enter il Negroni

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew541) — Mon, 17 Jul 2006 08:04:00 +0000

I couldn't travel to Napoli this evening so instead I made a negroni. Mix equal parts gin, Campari, and sweet (red) vermouth. Either shake with ice or stir. Serve in a martini glass or other cocktail glass.