salmon fillets, 6 oz. each
lemon slices
thinly sliced garlic
salt and pepper
fresh basil leaves
extra-virgin olive oil
French Dry Vermouth or other dry white wine
1.) Fold in-half and cut into a half-heart shape a piece of parchment paper. Each half of the heart should be able to hold one fillet, with about 2 inches to spare along all sides.
2.) In the center of each heart half, line an area the size of your fillets with thin lemon slices.
3.) Place each fillet, skin-side down, atop the lemons.
4.) Scatter garlic slices upon the fish to your taste (don't go overboard!) Salt and Pepper to taste.
5.) Top each fillet with a generous layer of basil. Drizzle with olive oil. Add just a splash of vermouth.
6.) Fold one half of the parchment over the other. Using small, overlapping folds, seal the pouch well around all edges. (Leave room for steam to form.)
7.) Place the pouches on a cookie sheet or shallow baking pan. Place into 450 degree oven in middle rack. Bake for 25 minutes.
8.) Carefully transfer the pouches to individual plates. Serve as is and cut pouches open at the table.
Sandwiches, No Mas!
Today, Jess and I finally grew tired of the sandwiches we’ve been diligently, frugally having for lunch. The weather here in
Recipe: PASTA CARBONARA
8 oz. pancetta
1 lb. linguini
3 eggs, room temperature
½ cup heavy cream, room temperature
1 cup grated Pecorino Romano
1 tbsp butter
¼ cup chopped parsley
- Combine the eggs and heavy cream in a bowl, beating just long enough to thoroughly combine.
- Cook linguini in well-salted water according to package directions or your own good judgment. (Err on the side of al dente!)
- Drain pasta and immediately return to hot pan.* Add butter and egg-cream mixture. Toss the pasta thoroughly, distributing the liquid well, using the heat of the pan and pasta to cook the egg.
- When the sauce starts to thicken and cling to the pasta, toss in the cheese and pancetta. Then toss in the parsley. Add fresh-ground black pepper to taste. Serve immediately.
Lard Ass
A few weeks ago, I did a bad, bad thing.
It was a warm Summer Sunday. Because of the heat and a recent vacation, my partner Jess and I had been doing far too much eating out. We were determined to have a tasty, home-cooked meal. Sundays are typically my day to get creative or ambitious in the kitchen. Jess threw out a couple of suggestions, most of them healthy and all of them a bit upscale. But none of them struck a chord in me.
I had recently been flipping through my new copy of The Joy of Cooking and stumbled upon their recipe for fried chicken. Any good cook who is a native of the Deep South is expected to produce great fried chicken, but it's always been one of my weaknesses. I was curious to see if this Yankee book could improve my Southern culinary skills.
They had a lot of advice and several, slightly different approaches and recipes. But the thing I found most intriguing was their suggested medium for frying the chicken: shortening. My mama always fried chicken in corn oil. Anything she fried (and that was just about everything) she fried in corn oil. I had never questioned her wisdom on this matter, despite her mediocre results. Maybe the corn oil was the problem! I read everything that Joy had to say about fried chicken, and at the very end of the passage on fried chicken, was a footnote: "Also try frying in equal parts butter and lard."
My fate was sealed. In its own, down-home way, this was the most decadent thing I had ever heard of. Luxury for the common man.
I was pretty sure Jess would balk at the butter-lard combo. So in the grocery, I sent him on his way for the vegetables on our shopping list and surreptitiously sought out the lard. Interestingly, I found it in the dairy case, right next to the butter. I had never noticed it there. Shouldn't it be in the meat department? I grabbed the lard and buried it in my shopping basket.
Once back home I headed for the back porch. Our gas grill has a nice, powerful side burner that we sometimes use when we don't want to heat up or stink up the house. This made it easy for me to conceal my strategy. In a big, heavy dutch oven, I melted half a pound of butter and half a pound of lard. What an interesting aroma it had. Did the rich meatiness smell appealing, or disgusting? I actually became nervous. Was I putting our health at risk? Was I a bad person? Once the chicken started frying, my trepidation disappeared. The chicken cooked, releasing its fat into the pig fat and the cow fat (extracted from the lactose that was meant to nourish baby calves.) It was the most heavenly scent of animal carnage I had ever experienced.
The chicken was just as delicious as it smelled. Jess polished off five pieces, stripping every morsel of meat, skin and fat from the bone. When he was done, I told him what I had done. Initially, he expressed concern, but that vanished in a matter of moments. He went back to the kitchen and started picking at the remaining pieces.
It was as evident as the night we met that my man from Vermont could not resist my Southern charms.
It was a warm Summer Sunday. Because of the heat and a recent vacation, my partner Jess and I had been doing far too much eating out. We were determined to have a tasty, home-cooked meal. Sundays are typically my day to get creative or ambitious in the kitchen. Jess threw out a couple of suggestions, most of them healthy and all of them a bit upscale. But none of them struck a chord in me.
I had recently been flipping through my new copy of The Joy of Cooking and stumbled upon their recipe for fried chicken. Any good cook who is a native of the Deep South is expected to produce great fried chicken, but it's always been one of my weaknesses. I was curious to see if this Yankee book could improve my Southern culinary skills.
They had a lot of advice and several, slightly different approaches and recipes. But the thing I found most intriguing was their suggested medium for frying the chicken: shortening. My mama always fried chicken in corn oil. Anything she fried (and that was just about everything) she fried in corn oil. I had never questioned her wisdom on this matter, despite her mediocre results. Maybe the corn oil was the problem! I read everything that Joy had to say about fried chicken, and at the very end of the passage on fried chicken, was a footnote: "Also try frying in equal parts butter and lard."
My fate was sealed. In its own, down-home way, this was the most decadent thing I had ever heard of. Luxury for the common man.
I was pretty sure Jess would balk at the butter-lard combo. So in the grocery, I sent him on his way for the vegetables on our shopping list and surreptitiously sought out the lard. Interestingly, I found it in the dairy case, right next to the butter. I had never noticed it there. Shouldn't it be in the meat department? I grabbed the lard and buried it in my shopping basket.
Once back home I headed for the back porch. Our gas grill has a nice, powerful side burner that we sometimes use when we don't want to heat up or stink up the house. This made it easy for me to conceal my strategy. In a big, heavy dutch oven, I melted half a pound of butter and half a pound of lard. What an interesting aroma it had. Did the rich meatiness smell appealing, or disgusting? I actually became nervous. Was I putting our health at risk? Was I a bad person? Once the chicken started frying, my trepidation disappeared. The chicken cooked, releasing its fat into the pig fat and the cow fat (extracted from the lactose that was meant to nourish baby calves.) It was the most heavenly scent of animal carnage I had ever experienced.
The chicken was just as delicious as it smelled. Jess polished off five pieces, stripping every morsel of meat, skin and fat from the bone. When he was done, I told him what I had done. Initially, he expressed concern, but that vanished in a matter of moments. He went back to the kitchen and started picking at the remaining pieces.
It was as evident as the night we met that my man from Vermont could not resist my Southern charms.
Recipe: LARD ASS CHICKEN
Marinate for 30 min. to 2 hours:
1 Empire Kosher Chicken, Fryer Pieces*
(cut each breast half, diagonally, in-half again to even cooking times with other pieces)
in:
2 Cups Buttermilk
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
Combine in a large, sturdy plastic bag:
2 Cups Flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
A few pieces at a time, toss the chicken pieces in the flour to coat. Shake excess flour from chicken, and place on a wire rack to dry for 15-30 minutes. (This helps the coating set and prevents the crust from falling off--one of the biggest problems I had before this recipe.)
In a heavy, deep skillet (preferably cast iron, preferably enameled) melt over medium-high heat:
1/2 pound Lard
1/2 pound butter, unsalted
(Quantity is not as important as depth--fat should come half way up the chicken pieces.)
Get the fat as hot as you can without scorching and without too much smoke (the lard makes it possible to get this really hot, and the butter will not burn!) The chicken should instantly sizzle when placed in the fat. Touch a piece to the surface to check the temp.
Place the chicken in the skillet, skin/fat side down. Don't overcrowd the pan. Cook the pieces in batches. Cover with a heavy lid, and cook for 10 minutes. Check the chicken after 5 min. Move each piece slightly. If it is sticking, or cooking too fast reduce heat, but try to keep it covered.
Remove the lid, turn the chicken, and cook uncovered** for another 10-12 min. Remove to a baking sheet lined with lots of paper towel. Keep cooked chicken in barely warm oven while you cook subsequent batches. If necessary to maintain the depth of the fat, add more with subsequent batches.
Make an appointment with a cardiologist, and enjoy!
*In the interest of full disclosure, I am not a Jew. But this is the best chicken on the planet, regardless of how you prepare it. Seek it out--it is worth it.
**This is exactly opposite of what my mama taught me. She browned the first side, turned, then placed the lid on to tenderize the chicken. What this did, though, was steam the chicken, causing the crust to fall off.
1 Empire Kosher Chicken, Fryer Pieces*
(cut each breast half, diagonally, in-half again to even cooking times with other pieces)
in:
2 Cups Buttermilk
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
Combine in a large, sturdy plastic bag:
2 Cups Flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
A few pieces at a time, toss the chicken pieces in the flour to coat. Shake excess flour from chicken, and place on a wire rack to dry for 15-30 minutes. (This helps the coating set and prevents the crust from falling off--one of the biggest problems I had before this recipe.)
In a heavy, deep skillet (preferably cast iron, preferably enameled) melt over medium-high heat:
1/2 pound Lard
1/2 pound butter, unsalted
(Quantity is not as important as depth--fat should come half way up the chicken pieces.)
Get the fat as hot as you can without scorching and without too much smoke (the lard makes it possible to get this really hot, and the butter will not burn!) The chicken should instantly sizzle when placed in the fat. Touch a piece to the surface to check the temp.
Place the chicken in the skillet, skin/fat side down. Don't overcrowd the pan. Cook the pieces in batches. Cover with a heavy lid, and cook for 10 minutes. Check the chicken after 5 min. Move each piece slightly. If it is sticking, or cooking too fast reduce heat, but try to keep it covered.
Remove the lid, turn the chicken, and cook uncovered** for another 10-12 min. Remove to a baking sheet lined with lots of paper towel. Keep cooked chicken in barely warm oven while you cook subsequent batches. If necessary to maintain the depth of the fat, add more with subsequent batches.
Make an appointment with a cardiologist, and enjoy!
*In the interest of full disclosure, I am not a Jew. But this is the best chicken on the planet, regardless of how you prepare it. Seek it out--it is worth it.
**This is exactly opposite of what my mama taught me. She browned the first side, turned, then placed the lid on to tenderize the chicken. What this did, though, was steam the chicken, causing the crust to fall off.
It Bears Repeating?
Sometimes you have a meal where every single thing works. All flavors and textures combine and the result is total bliss. My partner and I had such a meal recently at our favorite restaurant in Provincetown, Front Street. A few nights later, I went back with a friend, and while the second meal was very good, there is no recreating a truly special meal. Perhaps that is why I cannot remember what my friend had. Or maybe it was the second bottle of wine that has impaired my memory!
Front Street July 22, 2007
Paul Hobbs Chardonnay, 2002
Tuscan Summer Salad with Arugula, Endive, Tomatoes, Parmigiana Pecorino, and Fresh Corn in a light Balsamic
Zucchini Blossoms
Tea Smoked Duck (off the bone except the leg) in a Green Peppercorn sauce, Polenta, Seasonal Vegetables
Soft Shell Crab with a Lemon Caper aioli, Polenta and Seasonal Vegetables
Lemon Ricotta Cheesecake with Fresh Blueberries
Front Street July 26, 2007
Paul Hobbs Chardonnay, 2002
Tuscan Summer Salad with Arugula, Endive, Tomatoes, Parmigiana Pecorino, and Fresh Corn in a light Balsamic
Fillet Mignon with White-Truffled Baby Gnocchi
Paul Hobbs Chardonnay, 2002
Tuscan Summer Salad with Arugula, Endive, Tomatoes, Parmigiana Pecorino, and Fresh Corn in a light Balsamic
Zucchini Blossoms
Tea Smoked Duck (off the bone except the leg) in a Green Peppercorn sauce, Polenta, Seasonal Vegetables
Soft Shell Crab with a Lemon Caper aioli, Polenta and Seasonal Vegetables
Lemon Ricotta Cheesecake with Fresh Blueberries
Front Street July 26, 2007
Paul Hobbs Chardonnay, 2002
Tuscan Summer Salad with Arugula, Endive, Tomatoes, Parmigiana Pecorino, and Fresh Corn in a light Balsamic
Fillet Mignon with White-Truffled Baby Gnocchi
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