Italian – Food Woolf

Mint and Basil Pesto with Avocado Oil Recipe

Wonderful, unexpected things can come into your life and change you in an instant. An intoxicating scent. A random act of kindness from a stranger. A new ingredient.

Lately, I feel as if I’ve had a front row seat to a show of lovely and surprising moments. Unpredicted things reveal themselves to me and demonstrate in delightful ways that life lived with an open heart and open eyes can turn out to be truly extraordinary.

One such incident of unexpected treasures came in the form of a bottle of Bella Vado avocado oil. The oil’s flavor is unmistakably derived from ripe avocados and has the ability to uplift the taste of a salad, an omelet, or even a handmade pesto. Ever since I started using it has changed the way I approach making lots of my every day meals. I never expected I’d find a flavor revolution in such a small bottle.

I discovered this unexpected treasure earlier this year at the first annual Big Traveling Potluck. I received two bottles — avocado oil and an avocado oil with jalapeno — in our event swag bag. I had never seen avocado oil before — it’s no wonder, Bella Vado is the first avocado oil maker in the US — so I had no idea what to expect.

Continue reading “Mint and Basil Pesto with Avocado Oil Recipe”

January 11March 14

Chicken Liver Crostini Recipe

I stopped eating meat at seventeen. The bloody grease on the flat-top grill of my summer job was the initial motivator for my abstinence. Then a documentary about the abuse of our planet and suffering of feed animals sealed the commitment. I didn’t cook or eat meat for fifteen years after teenage resolution.

More than a decade after I swore off meat, I was hired to be part of the opening team at steak house in Los Angeles. During training, I decided to taste meat again for the first time in fifteen years. I put a thimble-sized morsel of dry aged steak in my mouth and felt my body chemistry change almost instantaneously. The warm and juicy meat, the aroma of smoke and earthiness, the fully rounded flavors of the steak made me tingle. I felt my face flush. I felt alive. I began to feel I needed to look past my politics and chew.

It took me some time to figure out my carnivorous stance, but thanks to a greater understanding of my role in the food chain, how to balance my consumption and be responsible and informed, I am able to make educated and ethical decisions at the butcher’s counter.

Mindful Meat Eating

My diet isn’t focused on meats–I eat mostly vegetables and grains–but when I do purchase chicken, beef, lamb, or pork, I purchase the meat from trusted sources.

I do my very best to maintain the same political and ecological views of my vegetarian years by seeking out humanely raised, free-range animals fed on a healthy and appropriate diet by small producers. I shop local butchers (Lindy and Grundy are a pair of bad-ass female butchers in Los Angeles who foster close relationships with their local purveyors) and, whenever possible, I buy directly from the people who raise the animals and slaughter them. I want to know as much about what I’m eating and what impact that purchase has on my local economy and planet.

Continue reading “Chicken Liver Crostini Recipe”

May 18January 4

Fava Bean Puree and Spaghetti

Fava beans are a lot like life: it takes a lot of work to get to the really good parts.

First there’s a pod to deal with. Peel back the zipper-string that keeps the pod sealed tight, open up the green shell, and inside you’ll find the precious fava beans nestled inside. But the work doesn’t stop there. There’s still a heavy, protective skin to remove before you get to the precious kidney-shaped nuggets of delicious emerald green. What a luxury fava beans are; I marvel at their simple elegance every time.

Lately, I can’t help but admire the wonderful little things about my job at Mozza.

It took countless years of shedding through inconsequential restaurant positions to find a job studded with rewards. I pitched the notion of the power of a flashy title and began to celebrate the good, humble work of service. I zipped past months catering, peeled back the years of meaningless beer-tap pulling, and stored away my management jobs, to uncover the simple joy of waiting tables and making drinks at Osteria and Pizzeria Mozza.

Nancy Silverton, Mario Batali, and Joe Bastianich’s world-class restaurant is a place where there is no such thing as a meaningless job.

From the prep cook shelling fava beans, the dishwasher cleaning off plates, the receptionist taking calls, the pasta cook dropping fresh pasta into the boiling water, the waiter explaining the menu, to the chef in pristine whites calling out orders —we all make a difference to the experience of everyone that steps into the restaurant.

Continue for a delicious Fava Bean Puree and Pasta Recipe »

December 21January 3

Delicata Squash with Browned Butter and Sage Recipe

One of the best things about being a gastronome and a restaurant professional at an award winning restaurant is that my work environment is a constant source of inspiration. Some of the dishes we serve at the Osteria are incredibly complicated and require hours to prepare. Other menu items are based on grandmother’s traditional recipes. The simple, classic dishes that haunt me the most. They compel me to tear off my waiter’s uniform, get into my home kitchen, and cook.

A new contorni (that’s Italian for side dish) went onto the menu last week. Ever since that first pre-shift bite of the buttery sweet squash with browned butter and sage, I’ve been obsessed with the need to figure out how to duplicate those warm, sweet flavors.

Lucky for me and my culinary obsessions, the Delicata squash contorni is a rather simple one to make, and requires only basic cooking techniques.

Continue Reading for a Delicious Delicata Squash with Browned Butter and Sage Recipe! »

August 21

Thick as a brick chicken

There are little stories we tell ourselves to make it past the little things we do that might not be so noble. The guilt associated with a late night ice cream run is easily assuaged by the internal voice of you deserve it and who’s gonna know?

Then there are other little lies we tell, like when you bump a car on your way out of a parking space and the voice in your head tells you, it’s not your fault. They were parked too close. Cut in front of someone in line and the voice barks, what’s their problem? Why were they dawdling?

In the world of blogging there are plenty of white lies people tell themselves to get away with certain things. Why can’t I write about this box of food they gave me? Who says I have to say I got it for free? The borrowed phrase, the lifted post, the stolen photo it happens every day. Writers, bloggers, and photographers stumble upon instances where strangers with a need for content have taken what they want without regard for others. Who’s gonna care? I’m not making money off this blog. Perhaps people steal content out of pure ignorance, but maybe people know better and convince themselves otherwise, with their own set of little white lies.
I like to think of myself as a somewhat intelligent person. But sometimes, I think my brain is as thick as a brick. Things that are obvious to some people take me a while to figure out. Which is why, when I started blogging, I decided to spend a lot of time reading up on what other bloggers did and how they thought things should be done.

I was uncertain on the rules of what was proper and what was not. If a story inspired me to write a post I wasn’t sure if I needed to link back in order to acknowledge how they motivated me. Maybe I didn’t use their words, but their ideas inspired me. Isn’t that a kind of borrowing? There were recipes I tried out and modified, but I wasn’t sure how to proceed. I wasn’t sure how much of the recipe was theirs and how much of it was mine. I searched the internet for information that would educate me on what was fair and reasonable, and what was considered downright wrong.

Thick as a brick

Over time I began to understand the basics. I learned:

—Don’t use any photographs that aren’t yours (unless the photographer says it’s okay).
—Attribute recipes to the original source, even if the recipe is modified.
—Link back to stories and sources that are referenced within the text.

Okay, so those are some pretty obvious rules, right? But then why did Saveur Magazine use (steal) one of my photos without asking for my permission? Why did they fail to give me proper attribution? I look forward to getting the answer from their online editor (to be continued, I hope), but I can only guess the writer that contributed the story told himself a little white lie that putting the name of my blog and offering no link was attribution enough. Should I be mad? Yes. Have I learned something? Yes. We all make mistakes.

I recently stepped into a bit of an ethical mud pie when I started work on a freelance article. I didn’t see it at the time, but the story was too close to my personal life to write about it. It took a serious nudge for me to realize–light dawns on marble head!—that I had written a biased piece. Once I saw how flawed my choice was, I was embarrassed. I told myself a little white lie about how my proximity had nothing to do with the story and I believed it. I was ashamed at my own lack of judgment and my ability to see the truth. I felt like I had kicked myself in the chest.

It took me a while to dust myself off and get my thick as a brick head on straight, but I think I have a much better understanding of what I need to do. There are easy to understand rules of etiquette of online writing, and there are slippery slope ethical issues that blur and bend the more you look at them. Freebies, bias, and lack of transparency are all issues that require thoughtful consideration, daily. I can’t allow myself to get caught up in the rush to tell stories without contemplating all the potential pitfalls.

As someone that has publicly stated a desire to uphold a higher standard in on line writing, I should know better. The thing is, I am flawed. I am like every other human out there, I make mistakes.

In the world of what’s right and what’s wrong in writing—both online and on the page—there are a whole lot of in between areas and spots that come in and out of focus. The topic of ethics in social media, self-publishing (blogging) and journalism is a constantly morphing. Maintaining a code of ethics requires time, thought, and lots of soul searching.

It’s easy to have high ideals. But actively upholding all of those ideals is something much more difficult. We are flawed individuals. Mistakes will be made. Whether or not we learn from those mistakes is our choice.

“May he without any fault cast the first stone,” a famous religious figure once said. I say, take more than a moment to consider if you’ve told yourself a little white lie before you hit publish.

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Thick as a brick chicken (AKA Chicken al Mattone)
Inspired by a recipe from Sfoglia Restaurant as published in this month’s Bon Appetit

1 3-pound chicken
1-2 tbs of kosher salt
2 lemons, juiced
3 tbs olive oil
4 tbs chopped parsley
2 garlic cloves, chopped
fresh rosemary
black pepper

special equipment
a tinfoil wrapped brick

Using a sharp pair of kitchen scissors, cut as close to the back bone–from the butt end of the bird to the neck—as possible. Repeat the process on the other side to remove the back bone. Reserve the back bone and neck for stock. Rinse the bird and dry thoroughly with paper towels.

Using a sheet tray, open the chicken up like a book–making sure to put the cavity of the bird down onto the tray. Drizzle the bird with half the juice of the lemon, the sliced garlic, rosemary (2 sprigs worth, removed from the twig) 2 tbs of olive oil and 2 tbs of parsley. Cover and refrigerate over night.

When ready preheat the oven to 400º. Sprinkle the chicken with a tsp. of kosher salt and black pepper. Heat the remaining olive oil in a skillet over medium high heat. When the oil shimmers (and isn’t smoking) add the chicken, skin side down (this will take a little adjusting of the legs of the chicken). Cook until golden brown or approximately 6-7 minutes. Place the tinfoil wrapped brick onto the chicken and place in the oven in the middle rack. Roast for thirty minutes. Remove brick and chicken from the oven. Flip the bird over and replace the brick on the chicken. Cook for another 15 minutes or so—or to the point that an internal thermometer reads 165º. Remove the chicken and its brick from the oven. Place the chicken on a platter. Drizzle chicken with the remaining lemon juice and remaining rosemary. For an extra kick sprinkle with hot chili flakes.

March 28November 14

A Beet Recipe for My Mother

I became mortal last week. One phone call and one letter took away that lingering innocence of youth and reminded me that no one, not even myself, can live forever. Here, in the center of my being, is the undeniable understanding that every moment we have is precious; every morsel of food is important; and nothing is to be overlooked.

The phone call was from my mother. She just got the news that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Then, in what felt like seconds later, I received a letter from my doctor. My blood tests came back abnormal. I have high cholesterol.

The news effected me in unexpected ways. When I spoke with my mother, I found zen-like calm, hope and positivity for my mother’s recovery. I felt oddly at peace, without fear and satisfied with the idea that we will find a treatment that will heal her. And then, in the privacy of my own home, I openly mourned the loss of bacon in my life.

Goodbye Guanciale

My off-the chart 250 cholesterol number on the doctor’s letter read like a foodie death sentence. The letter suggested in detail I “replace butter with olive and canola oil…Replace red meat with fish, poultry and tofu…Limit foods with high cholesterol.”

I started freaking out. No more fearless consumption of fennel sausage pizza at midnight? No more bacon draped hamburgers for lunch? No chicken liver bruschettas as a quick mid-day snack? What about those yolk-dripping bacon and egg sandwiches I love so much? No more gobbling up the frosting-heavy corner piece of birthday cake?

I paced my apartment. I was a vegetarian once. I could do it again, right? But now that I know what I know, how could I turn my fork away from all those great foods I’ve come to love and build my whole life around?

The cure for cancer

It’s been days since we received her first diagnosis. There’s still so much we need to find out. But in the meantime my mother and our collective family have been doing our share of internet research. My mother doesn’t care much for “traditional” medicine. She fears the mainstream medical line of thinking and clings to the old ways of healing.

My mother says she can cure herself of cancer with the power of raw food. She says that with lots of whole grains, flax seed oil and raw fruits and vegetables she can bring healing to her body without the use of chemo. There are other people—beautiful young and thriving people like Kris Carr of crazy sexy life–who say such things are possible.

The idea of clean living through a wholesome, locally sourced diet of fresh fruit and vegetables makes sense to me. I’ve seen the awesome power of food. The farmers’ market is my church. But what I don’t understand is HOW raw food can heal cancer. Is the cancer that my mother has responsive to such dietary changes? Will she need other helping factors to make the cancer go away? Will she need estrogen therapy? Chemo?

These are questions that will take time to answer. There’s still so much to learn. In the meantime, I offer this recipe for my mother. Because it’s her favorite dish from when she visited Pizzeria Mozza. And she asked for it.

Mom: I know this isn’t a raw dish. But I did find a way to incorporate some flax seed oil and the flavors of the beets make me feel so alive. I know it will do good things–for both of us.

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Beets in Horseradish
Inspired by a dish at Pizzeria Mozza
Makes 2 servings

1 small bunch of baby beets (golf ball sized)
1 tbsp flax seed oil
1 tbsp fresh horseradish
2 tsp white wine or champagne vinegar
1 tsp Dijon or whole grain mustard
Salt to taste

Preheat oven to 425º. Rinse beets well, dry. Place on a sheet pan and tent with tin foil. Roast in oven for 30-40 minutes, or until a knife easily slices through the beets’ center. Let beets cool.

When cool enough to touch, slip the skins off with your hands. Roughly chop the beats into small chunks. Should be about 1 ½ – 2 cups. Put beets in a mixing bowl and drizzle with the flax seed oil. Toss to lightly coat the beets. Using a wooden spoon, gently mix in horseradish, vinegar and mustard. The beets should have a slightly creamy look to them. Taste. Add salt, if needed. Adjust for taste.

Serve cold or room temperature. Perfect as a side dish (literally), since beets have a way of coloring everything they touch!

March 3January 4

(Italian) Restaurant week in Boston

With plane ticket fares through the roof it’s impossible to hop a plane to Italy every time you get a craving for pizza or homemade pasta. And thanks to lean times, even eating a slice or a plate of pasta locally can seem impossible. But thanks to restaurant week, dining establishments across the country are offering deep savings to budget conscious diners to entice them to eat out.

No matter what kind of food you are craving, if you are lucky enough to live in Boston you can take part in this year’s restaurant week. From March 15-20th and March 22-27th Boston restaurant week participants will offer great money saving meals (multi-course meals for just $20.09 for lunch and dinners for $33.09) to cash strapped foodies looking to step out.

Participating in this year’s restaurant week is one of my new favorite North End restaurants, Daily Catch. Located in the nation’s oldest Italian neighborhoods, The Daily Catch is a family restaurant that has been in business since the early 70’s. This tiny, twenty-seat Italian restaurant specializes in fresh-off-the-pier seafood. Known primarily for calamari and Sicilian pastas served in the sauté pans they were cooked in, the Daily Catch offers hand-made specialties to Hanover Street regulars and visitors alike.

What you’ll find at the Daily Catch

Squeeze into a table and you’ll be just inches from the closet-sized open kitchen. No matter where your table is you will have a front row view of the hard working chef as he prepares every dish while he harangues the knowledgeable (albeit harried) server. But not to worry, a steaming pan full of perfectly cooked pasta topped with fresh clams or calamari is enough to distract you from the restaurant employees’ drama.

Start the meal with a Moretti beer or a crisp Italian vermentino and an appetizer portion of fried calamari. A touch of lemon is the only condiment needed to season the perfectly tender and lightly breaded squid. Though the Daily Catch has a very nice Italian beer and wine selection for its minuscule size, don’t expect the server to pull a pair of wine glasses from a non-existent shelf. In what must be a space and dish-washing saving measure, all beverages are poured into plastic cups.

All dishes are made to order and served in the pan they were cooked in–which practically guarantees the pasta is prepared for every diner with extra care. Seafood at the Daily Catch isn’t overworked or overly dressed up. Every bite is full of briny flavor.

Standout favorites are the fresh fish of the day, linguine and clams in olive oil and garlic and squid ink pasta Aglio Olio made with a flavorful seafood ragu made with ground calamari.

The Daily Catch
323 Hanover Street
(between Prince and Richmond)
617.523.8567

If you’re craving dessert

If you’re looking for an authentic Italian pastry, stop by The Modern for a freshly-piped ricotta cannoli and a frothy cappuccino.

Beautiful Wine, Amazing Selection

And speaking of deals, while you’re in the North End be sure to visit the city’s oldest wine shop V. Cirace & Son, Inc.. Since 1906, the Cirace family have sold an extensive collection of imported wines, spirits and culinary delicacies. Homey and welcoming, this family wine store features Italian wines, liqueurs and digestives.

Maybe even more impressive than their Italian wine selection, however, is Cirace’s free Italian reference guides that present customers brief write ups that include regional insights and maps, varietals and culinary specialties for each of Italy’s wine diverse wine regions. A perfect resource for any wine drinker looking to save some money, V. Cirace’s wine resource guides are not only free but are the invaluable crib sheets for learning Italy’s complex wine regions and grapes.

V. Cirace & Son, Inc.
173 North Street
Boston, MA 02109
Tel: (617) 227-3193
Fax: (617) 227-6941

January 29

Eggs al Forno Revisited

Open most refrigerators in America and you’re likely to find an egg.

As food groups go, the egg is one of our most versatile ingredients. Prepare it simply, dress it up with common or elegant ingredients, manipulate it with good technique; the versatile egg has the ability change into something completely unlike itself.

An egg can be a snack, a meal, a condiment or a building block for something grand. In the home, an egg is a culinary hero. In professional kitchens, a poorly prepared egg can be a career killer. In my case, the egg marks my relationship with cooking.

Early in my days of cooking, I mangled even the simplest preparation. Later, I simply advocated my egg-cooking duties to boyfriends and feigned ignorance. A handful of years ago I gathered my courage and began cooking eggs with an experimental attitude. Now, after a year of serious cooking and culinary studies, I see a dozen eggs as an opportunity to step up to the stove and prove what I’ve learned. Sometimes, my eggs turn out to be really, really good.

This Eggs al Forno dish (Italian for baked eggs) is a recipe I developed after tasting a baked egg on toast that my friend Bryant Ng (former Chef of Pizzeria Mozza) pulled from a pizza oven. Though simple, the dish has all the bells and whistles: creamy soft eggs, crunchy fresh bread, the smoothness of a great olive oil and zing that only a well-made cheese can offer. Eggs al Forno is an effortless show stopper that requires great ingredients and a chef’s confidence.

I submitted this recipe to La Brea Bakery* and recently learned that they decided to feature it on their website recipe page. I include the recipe here with these suggestions: Hand select your ingredients: a great bread (wedge from an artisan bread like a sourdough, pullman or herb are good choices), a flavorful melting cheese (preferably Fontina or medium bodied sheeps milk cheese), a good finishing olive oil and maldon sea salt. Throw some prosciutto or bacon on top for some extra bacon love.

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Eggs al Forno (Baked Eggs) For Two

2 miniature casserole dishes (6×4 inches)
4 eggs
1 tablespoon butter, softened
¼ of a La Brea Bakery Demi Baguette or regular sized Baguette (any variety), cut into 4 1-inch thick slices
¾ cup Fontina or mild cheddar cheese, grated
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan
¼ cup olive oil
Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven 500°F. Meanwhile, rub the inside of each mini-casserole dish with a portion of softened butter. This will prevent the ingredients from sticking to the dish. For each individual serving, place one or two slices of bread (in a single layer) on the bottom of the butter-lined casserole—making sure the bread fits snuggly—adding or trimming if necessary. Drizzle the bread with one tablespoon of olive oil. Then, add a sprinkling of half the grated Fontina cheese. Gently crack two eggs, adding them to the layer of grated cheese. Drizzle with one more tablespoon of oil. Repeat process for the other dish.

Place the two casserole dishes in the oven (you may place a cookie sheet underneath to protect your oven from bubbling ingredients) on the middle rack. Bake until eggs are set, about 10 minutes. Carefully remove the casseroles from the oven. Top each serving with one tablespoon of Parmesan and a pinch of salt and pepper.

Using oven mitts, carefully place each casserole onto a dinner plate topped with a folded cloth napkin (this will ensure a more stable surface for the hot dish to rest on). Serve immediately, making sure to warn your loved one of the dishes’ hot temperature!

Full disclosure: I do freelance copy writing for La Brea Bakery’s marketing department.

January 7November 14

Butternut Squash Gratin, 2009 Revisited

If a face can launch a thousand ships, what power could a butternut squash have? Turns out one baked butternut squash from Tuscany topped with melted sheep’s milk cheese had the power to change my life.

Flash back to more than a year ago. While on my honeymoon in Italy, my newly minted husband and I stopped for a late lunch in the town of Montepulciano at a tiny restaurant named Osteria Aquachetta.

Among the many Tuscan dishes we sampled, it was a simple side of fresh-from-the-hearth butternut squash with melted sheep’s milk cheese that made us return for dinner several hours later, only so that we could taste the contorni again. The flavors of sweet, caramelized squash united with the oozing, nutty and tart layers of sheep’s milk cheese in a combination of flavor so powerful, I found myself reconsidering everything I knew about food.

Quite simply, when I took that first bite of butternut squash gratin, I saw God. As I relished in the simplicity of the dish—the tender orange meat layered with gooey rounds of sheep’s milk cheese–I could see in perfect detail just how lucky I was to be alive, to be in love, and to be eating as well as I was. In this culinary aha moment, I knew that my time had come to use my craft as a writer to document each and every great meal.

A FOOD WRITER IS BORN

After that fateful meal, I returned home with a new perspective. For the first time I could remember, I began thinking about food as an art form I could master. I put away my novels and began reading cookbooks. I studied the knife skills and cooking techniques of the restaurant’s chefs. I took note of every prep cook’s secrets (like how they de-boned salted anchovies under a steady stream of cold water). I mustered my courage and asked my culinary hero (and boss), Nancy Silverton, for detailed culinary advice about how to perfect this recipe.

After multiple attempts, I settled on a simple recipe with good ingredients that proved to be as close as I could get to the original dish I sampled at the Osteria Aquacheta. I posted the recipe on my newborn blog and moved on.

photo by White on Rice

Since posting that first recipe in November of 2007, a lot has changed. I cook differently. I make meals with confidence. I cook with growing understanding. Cookbooks are my friends but not my sole confidants.

The following recipe is a tiny reminder of all the things I learned in 2008. Where I once was stymied by a lack knowledge, I now have the vocabulary and a growing skill set to know where to look for answers. Though I may still be a padawan learner, I am on the right path.

My updated Butternut Squash recipe has texture and another layer of sweet, nuttiness from fresh pistachios. The crunch of breadcrumbs, the sweetness of the squash, the salted nuttiness of the sheep’s milk cheese and the unifying flavors of the pistachio nuts makes this dish my favorite dish of 2009.

photo by White on Rice

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My 2009 Butternut Squash Gratin

Find the longest necked butternut squash you can find for this recipe. Reserve the seed-holding cavity of the squash for another use.

2 Butternut Squash necks, cut into 3/4 inch rounds
½- lb Pecorino Fresca, cut into ¼ inch thick slices. (Idiazábal, a Spanish hard cheese made from the milk of the long-haired Lacha sheep is a good substitute. Grate, if the cheese is too hard for slicing)
½ cup olive oil, with extra for drizzling
½ cup home made bread crumbs*
1/4 cup chopped pistachio nuts
Maldon sea salt, to taste
Freshly ground pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 375. Peel the squash, cut into uniform rounds. Toss the butternut squash with oil in a medium sized bowl, making sure to coat the rounds with oil. Arrange the squash rounds in a medium-sized casserole dish, allowing for some layering. Pour the remaining oil over the squash. Bake in the oven for approximately 30 minutes, or until the squash is tender enough for a fork to pierce the meat, but not buttery soft. Remove from oven and set aside to cool. This step can be done in advance.

Once the squash is cool enough to touch, begin layering slices of cheese between the rounds of the butternut in the casserole dish. For individual portions, stack two or three butternut squash rounds on top of each other with layers of cheese in between.

When finished layering, sprinkle the entire dish with bread crumbs, then top with the chopped pistachio nuts. Drizzle lightly with olive oil to moisten the breadcrumbs. Finish with a sprinkling of Maldon sea salt and black pepper. Bake at 375 for another 10-20 minutes, or until the cheese is melted and the squash is soft.

If you desire, turn the oven to broil to caramelize the top of the gratin. Put under the flames for just 2-3 minutes. Serve. Add additional seasoning or red chili flakes if spice is desired.

*Grind left over bread (or toasted fresh bread) with a food processor until a mildly course texture. Add 2 tablespoons of chopped parsley and a hearty pinch of Malden sea salt. Toss. If bread is soft, spread onto a cookie sheet, drizzle with a touch of olive oil and toast in oven (250-300°) until a light, golden brown. Store extra breadcrumbs in an air tight container.

October 30

Penne tre colori: Something wonderful from almost nothing

Penne tre colori, originally uploaded by Foodwoolf.

Desperation inspires an act of innovation

Whenever my refrigerator is empty, I see an opportunity to make something from nothing. Like the generations of women before me that created culinary masterpieces from scraps, I see possibilities in my limited larder.

With nothing but a container of leftover penne, a head of purple cauliflower, and a handful of steadily wilting radishes to inspire me, I let the ingredients dictate my recipe.

Never having sautéed a radish before, I heavily salted the vegetable (as I do when serving it raw on buttered bread), sliced it in thin rounds, and sautéed it in butter. I was delighted to discover that cooking mellowed the radishes’ sharp bite and offered a lovely earthiness and delightful color to the simple dish. The cauliflower’s sweetness was coaxed from a simple sauté and a generous dose of salt and pepper.

This dish is not only simple but incredibly beautiful and satisfying; it will be a standard in my cooking repertoire, regardless of the status of my larder.

Penne Tre colori
Serves 2

1 head of purple cauliflower (regular cauliflower will do, but it won’t look as pretty!)
1 small bunch of breakfast radishes (red, pink and white radish), thinly sliced rounds
3 tbsp olive oil
1 clove of garlic
½ bag of penne pasta (cooked)
1 tbsp butter
Sea salt
Pepper
Finishing olive oil (about 1 tbsp)
pinch of chopped tarragon

Clean the cauliflower, removing outer leaves (if there are any) and the bottom of the stem, leaving at least 2 inches of the cauliflower’s trunk. Slice the cauliflower vertically from stem to florets, about ¼ inch slices. Don’t worry if the florets break apart.

Slice the radishes in uniformly thin (1/8-inch) slices.

Heat a small sauté pan over medium high heat with 2-½ tbsp of olive oil. Using the back of your knife, bruise the clove of garlic. Add to pan, let cook for 1 minute. Add cauliflower and let sauté untouched, for 3 minutes, or until it is nicely browned on one side. Toss to allow cauliflower to cook on the other side. As both sides brown, turn down flame and cook. Keep on flame until the cauliflower is cooked almost all the way through, about 10-12 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Remove garlic clove and set cauliflower aside in a warm and covered bowl.

Meanwhile, another sauté pan, heat over medium high heat. When hot, add the butter. When the butter melts, add the radishes and a generous pinch of sea salt and grated pepper. Taste for seasoning. Sauté until soft, about 3-5 minutes. Add the pinch of chopped tarragon and toss.

Add the remaining ½ teaspoon of olive oil to the warm (and empty) cauliflower sauté pan. Once the oil is heated, add left over pasta (if using left-over, dry pasta) and reheat over low flame until warm (about 4 minutes). If using fresh from the pot pasta, simply drain. Add hot pasta to a warm bowl with sautéed vegetables. Toss.

Add ¼ cup to ½ cup grated Parmesan to pasta, toss. Taste pasta for seasoning, adjust if necessary. Plate in warm bowls. Finish with a drizzle of finishing olive oil and a pinch of sea salt. Serve immediately.

“Blessed are those who expect little. They are seldom disappointed.”

—Tony Hillerman

June 3

Say Cheese

For some people, cheese is just a food. For others, it’s an addictive substance.

Cheese lovers hover at cheese counters and unconsciously paw at the glass that keeps them from aromatic wedges of Parmesan, stinky rounds of French triple creams and pungent British blues. They’re the people that actually eat the cheese samples at Whole Foods. Normal people may go to a cheese shop and ask to speak to the cheesemonger–but cheese addicts go to cheese counter and ask for “the pusher”.

I am one of those people. My name is Brooke and I have a cheese problem.

Confessions of a Cheese Lover

It’s sad how much money I’ve spent on goat, sheep and cow’s milk cheeses. With the ridiculous cost of gas, I’d rather go easy on the environment (and my cheese buying budget) and walk a mile to the store and back, just so I can get a great wedge of cheese. Considering my commitment to the creamy stuff, I recently decided I should learn how to make it. Maybe not a great idea for a cheese lover (addict) like myself to do, but besides being a great learning experience, I could save some serious money while I’m at it.

Maybe making my own cheese a bad idea for someone like me. But after getting my first taste of home made cheese I have to say, how can something so good be bad?

After doing some tentative research on-line that offered me disappointing results, I stumbled upon some chefs making cheese at the restaurant I work at. Low and behold, in my very own place of culinary work, I learned that cheese making didn’t need to be difficult. At all.

Thanks to the kind, smart and talented chefs at my restaurant, they answered all of my questions and tolerated my obsessive observation of the cheese making process so that I could come to you with some great tips and one of the easiest cheese making recipes around! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Greek yogurt cheese!

Greek Yogurt Cheese
(makes approx. 12 oz. of cheese)
*This cheese would also be great with the addition of lavender or herbs such as thyme, dill or oregano.

Ingredients:

1 regular sized (32 oz.) container of Greek Yogurt
1 lemon (to be zested and then squeezed)
Kosher salt
Cheesecloth (cut into 3-4 18-20” pieces)
Kitchen twine
Tall prep container

Pour the container of Greek yogurt into a medium sized bowl. Mix into the yogurt the zest and juice of one lemon.

Add salt to taste. 2-3 tablespoons should do.

Line a second bowl with the cheesecloth, being careful to leave the sides hanging out over the side.

Ladle the cheese mixture into the cheesecloth-lined bowl. Bring the tops of the cheesecloth together, creating a semi-tight sack or “purse”. You will notice clear liquid dripping from the sack already. The cheese making process has begun! Though this is a very exciting step, be sure not to get too eager to remove moisture from the yogurt and squeeze the purse too tightly. Otherwise you’ll see yogurt oozing out through the cheesecloth, not just liquid. Tie the top of the purse off with kitchen twine.

Wrap the loose portion of the purse (use twine if you need to) to the neck of a wooden kitchen spoon or ladle. Set the spoon across the top of your prep container (or, if your prep container is too shallow—set it between two tall containers and let the moisture fall into a short bowl).

Make sure that the bottom of the cheesecloth purse doesn’t touch the bottom of the container! Keep in refrigerator for at least 24 hours. The cheese will feel firm, like a goat cheese when it is done. Remove from cheesecloth. Serve! The texture of the cheese should be that of a goat or sheeps’ milk cheese. The flavor, however, is incredibly refreshing, zesty (from the citrus) and deliciously creamy. You won’t want to waste one bit of this cheese!

My husband and I vow to make this cheese every month and skip the cheese counter.

Simple serving suggestions: Serve on crackers with Italian flat parsley and thinly sliced lemons.

Or toasted bread with tomato, parsley and prosciutto.

Next up, the dish that inspired home made Greek Yogurt Cheese!

May 15

Don't fear the egg

The beauty of an egg is its simplicity–simplicity embodied in its elegant shape and intelligent design. Inside the egg, there is a delicate liquid dance of light and dark—a golden orb of yolk suspended in a viscous, protective fluid. Combined, these elements are powerful enough to support a life. In the hands of skilled chef, the egg is the center point of a meal or the central ingredient behind rich sauces or a delicate soufflé.

Up until recently, I feared the egg.

My fear wasn’t based on science, agricultural politics, or some kind of bizarre food phobia. No, my fear was based on the power of one single cooked egg to confirm (or disprove, in my case) my level of skill in the kitchen.

If I can conquer all sorts of culinary challenges, my thought process would go, how is it an EGG can thwart me?

It an embarrassing thing for a food writer to admit, being afraid of cooking eggs. I mean, after years of cooking, brining, roasting, fish gutting and baking, I should have long ago gotten over this fear of an egg-centered breakfast. Granted, I kept my fear in the closet for years after mastering egg poaching, just so I could continue on living like a perfectly normal, food-obsessed woman in the kitchen. And now, after years of quiet observing and coaching (Thanks husband!), I am now happy to report I can now cook scrambled and sunny-side up eggs as well as fluffy omelets without breaking into a sort of culinary panic attack.

But for anyone like me that still may secretly fear they might undo any culinary status they’ve built up with friends and family by making a terrible egg dish, I offer the following fool proof dish that will wow any breakfast guest. This, by the way, also makes a great lunch when the cabinets and fridge are nearly bare. Oh, and feel free to increase the recipe, depending on how many guests you plan to impress!

EGGS AL FORNO
Serves one

One monkey dish (small, 5 to 6” cassarole dish with “ears”)
One egg (or two if you like)
1 piece of bread from a rustic loaf (or baguette), cut to fit the dish
1 handful of a good cheese (fontina, perrano, or any medium bodied cheese), cubed
1 generous sprinkling of freshly grated parmesean (1/3 cup)
a healthy pinch of chopped sweet onion (or green onion, or chives)
a touch of olive oil (1 teaspoon)
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to piping hot 500 degrees. Put the piece of bread into the dish. Drizzle with a little olive oil. Surround the bread with the cheese cubes and parmesean. Add a healthy pinch of sweet onion around the bread. Crack the egg and lay it on top of the bread. Season with salt and pepper. Grate a tiny bit more parmesan over the egg. Bake on the middle rack of the oven for 7 minutes, or until done.

Be very careful taking the baking dish from the oven! Place a folded cloth napkin on your plate before serving. For bacon lovers, a piece of fried bacon on top would be a perfect way to garnish the dish!

April 26

The taste of Spring: Ramps

In New England, Spring is a colorful and dramatic turning point to a long and blistery tale about the hardships brought on by snow. When Spring arrives in the east, states that spend most of the year draped in snow are suddenly part of delightful show of color. Yellow daffodils and triumphant purple crocuses make a cameo. Green buds, sprouting from tree limbs, steal the scene.

But here in southern California, where temperatures linger in the 70’s for most of the year and flowers bloom year round, the shifting of seasons is so subtle, it takes more than just the eyes to observe the nuanced shift to Spring. Beyond the obvious wardrobe changes of its inhabitants—shoes are shelved for flip flops, shorts replace pants, miniscule dresses take over for floor length skirts—the real signs of spring in southern California can only be tasted.

One of the first flavors of Spring–sweet, pungent and earthy– is offered by the short lived ramp. This leafy, wild green closely related to onions (and lilies!) offers robust flavors akin to garlic and sweet onion, for a brief handful of weeks at the beginning of Spring.

The tear drop-sized bulb of the ramp is sweet while the delicate leafy greens hold intensely pungent flavors of sweet onion and garlic. It’s a perfect vegetable for a fast sautée in olive oil or a brief flash of heat from grill. At the Santa Monica farmer’s market, the “ramp man” suggested pickling the bulbs and grilling the greens on the BBQ.

My good friend Leah of Spicy Salty Sweet described a delicious bruschetta, she once had at a Lower East Side restaurant that had nothing but “prosciutto butter and sautéed ramps”. Anxious to recreate this recipe, I hurried home and prepared this recipe.

Sauteed Ramp bruschetta with prosciutto butter
Serves four

5 slices of proscuitto. (I used just two slices short of a full package of sliced proscuitto from Trader Joes.)
1 teaspoon butter
1/4 pound of ramps (about 12 ramps)
1 small baguette
a splash of olive oil
Maldon sea salt and freshly ground pepper

Delicately wash the ramps. Dry on paper towels. Remove the roots of the ramps from the bulbs. Sautee the ramps in a tiny amount of olive oil for about 2-3 minutes or just until the leaves have wilted. Turn off heat and lightly drizzle with salt and a quick turn of the pepper mill. Leave the ramps in the pan to keep warm while you throw the sliced prosciutto into a food processor with a pat of butter. Blend until you have the consistency of a creamy, pâté-like spread.

Slice, then lightly toast the bread. Spread a thin layer of prosciutto butter on the warm bread and then top with the ramps. Note, you may want to cut the ramps into quarters or bite sized pieces before putting them on the bread, in order to make the bruschetta easier to eat.

Serve immediately.

April 11

Pesciolini in Scapece

How could something this simple taste so good? Typical Roman home cooking, this is a simple, rustic and incredibly savory dish that’s great on bread. It takes a day to marinade, but when if you make it the night before you’ll have yourself one AMAZING lunch!

Pesciolini in Scapece:
Marinated Fish with Vinegar and Mint
From Mario Batali’s Molto Mario

4 to 5 cloves of garlic, crushed
1 tablespoon chopped fresh mint
1-2 cup of white wine vinegar. Start with one cup and if it cooks down too much, add more!
¼ cup all purpose flour
2 to 2 ½ pounds small fish such as sardines or smelts, cleaned, scaled and heads removed.

In a small sauce pan, combine the garlic, mint and vinegar. Bring just to a boil over medium-low heat. Reduce the heat to below a simmer. After several minutes, take off the heat and leave the aromatics to steep in the vinegar.

Spread the flour on a plate and dredge the fish lightly through it.

In a 10-12 inch sauté pan, heat ½ cup olive oil over medium-high heat until smoking. Add the fish in batches and cook, turning once until golden brown and just cooked through.

Transfer to paper towels to drain.

Discard oil and wipe out the pan. Add the remaining ½ cup oil to the pan and set over a very low heat to warm. Be careful! You are just WARMING the oil—not getting it hot!

Strain the vinegar into a small bowl, reserving the garlic and mint. Layer the fish in a glass or ceramic dish just large enough to hold them. Distribute the reserved garlic and mint over them. Combine the warm vinegar and warmed oil and pour over the fish.

Cover the dish and refrigerate for 2-3 days. Serve slightly chilled or at room temperature.

March 12

Feelin' it at Froma

Ask anyone that adores food what their secret passion is, and they’ll most likely tell you they long to open a restaurant of their own. They stumble upon a charming little hole-in-the-wall restaurant in the middle of nowhere, party in a great bar, see a cute white-tile bistro in France, or shop at a charming little cheese store in Napa and think with a gushing sense of pride, “I could do this.”

And lots of people with money do.

(via ddbraves)

Famous people like Eva Longoria, Phil Rosenthal of Everybody Loves Raymond, and Jeri Ryan open up their wallets and empty them (Jennifer Lopez, Brittany Spears and Wesley Snipes) in order to prove they actually can do restaurants, at least on some level.

And then there are the underdogs–the kitchen help, the service staff and the dogged managers–that save every penny they make working in restaurants in hopes of opening their own little place. These hard working people (Jason and Miho Travi of Fraiche, Karen and Quinn Hatfield of Hatfields, and Neil and Amy Fraser of Grace and BLD) take out impossible loans, gut their savings, mortgage their homes and sell anything they can think of, in order to make their dream of restaurant ownership come true.

FROMA ON MELROSE: Purveyors of fine foods
7960 Melrose Ave.

Owned and run by a chef and husband and wife that have dedicated their lives to the service industry, Froma is the kind of specialty food market that so many people dream of opening one day. People like me.

So when I stumbled across the newly opened Italian market, Froma on Melrose recently, I was overjoyed. And, truth be told, a little disappointed. Don’t get me wrong. Froma is amazing. But maybe it’s a little TOO amazing. The sandwiches taste as good (if not better, sometimes) as the ones I had in Italy. The cheese monger behind the counter loves to give me samples of the newest cheeses! The bags of gourmet chips taste of sausages or horseradish. And just when I think that maybe my idea of opening up my own place is still viable, I look around me.

With its long glass display cases filled with beautiful imported meats and cheeses, hot panini presses grilling up authentic Italian sandwiches, shelves of gourmet ingredients lining the store and a little seat by the window where I can enjoy a glass of wine, Froma makes me think that maybe my time to open my own little wine and cheese shop has come and gone.

Designed to appeal to the home chef and demanding food lovers, Froma offers hard to find ingredients like specialty sugars and International salts, bellini flour, carmelized black figs, Italian Parmesan, artichoke honey, radicchio pasta, Osetra caviar and Italian pasta flour. Francine Diamond, managing partner and General Manager, offers a broad range of imported and domestic olive oils and an area in which customers can try them all.

The cheese selection is diverse with Cow Girl Creamery cheeses, Chateau La Tur from France and hard cheeses imported from Italy. Diamond, also a sommelier, has put together an impressive, albeit limited, wine selection. From a $20 Morgon to a $100 Barolo, Diamond gives customers incredible values and amazingly delicious wines from California to Italy.

What I find most appealing about Froma (other than its proximity to my house) are the delicious, panini-pressed gourmet sandwiches.

The ingredients are fresh, the breads (from the Bread Bar) are undeniably perfect and the combinations divine. As a matter of fact, the first sandwich I ever ordered from Froma (a proscuitto and Robiola panini), required me to pull my car over and stop driving, for fear I’d crash into something because my eyes were closed in pleasure.

After that, my Husand and I went into a full-on binge and ate only at Froma for four days straight. In that time we made friends with all the nice people behind the counter, drank a few glasses of Morgon and tried nearly every sandwich on the menu. We haven’t made our way through the Crostini and all of the soups and salads…but we still have time!

Our favorites:

The Francese: Saucisson sec, a French cheese of the day, tomato, basalmic and mixed greens. $10.95
The Alpino: Bresaola, chevre, thinly sliced lemon and arugula. $10.95
The Castagno plus proscuito: Bosc pear, saint Agur blue cheese, chestnut honey. I ask them to add proscuito. $9.95 plus proscuito’s cost.
Plat de Fromage: a plate of ripened cheeses, dried fruits (fig, blueberries), candied pecans, and Savannah bee honeycomb. $12.95
A bag of Tyrell potato chips. Either Cider vinegar and salt chips or the Ludlow sausage with whole grain mustard.
A cappuccino afterwards. The Danesi Italian espresso is some of the best in town. Freshly roasted, pulled on an Italian espresso machi
ne, the drinks taste delicious.

Based on how many times I eat and shop at Froma, I don’t think I’ll be opening my store any time soon. But that’s okay. It’s nice to let someone else do all the hard work and be able to enjoy the bounty.

January 8

Soffritto–(trying to) learn from a master Part 1

There’s something to be said about learning from a master. Curiosity and reading can assist a student in the basic understanding of their subject. Practice and countless attempts may move a student’s understanding forward, but it is the presence of a master and a student’s drive to understand, that can initiate the most profound kind of learning. The eager student that studies with a master will inevitably learn the important nuances that makes proficiency possible.

To behold a master, no matter what it is they do, is to witness artistry. A master distills millions of hours of learning in a dab of paint, the slice of the knife, the turn of a phrase, the swish of the bat, a musical tone or the stillness of their mind in chaos. Despite the power of academia, the whisper of a master may be more important than a shelf-full of books.

And so it is with cooking. Reading can only get you so far. It’s what’s actually done in the kitchen that will get the novice to a place of mastery. It’s in doing that one does. Cookbooks can only get you so far.

Preparing food from “Soffritto: Tradition and Innovation in Tuscan Cooking”, however, is to learn Italian cooking from a master.

If the student is willing, Benedetta Vitali’s cookbook will teach the traditional Tuscan way of cooking in a handful of well-written chapters. Information usually transmitted via hours in the kitchen by an ancient family member, is shared in meandering stories and pointed observations on the aesthetics of cooking. Vitali’s stories are captivating and her voice is like a patient mother doling out the family rules. “One must never leave a Soffritto on the stove unattended,” is the sort of advice that if taken to heart will haunt you every time you start the traditional onion/carrot/celery mixture sautéing on the stove.

No other cookbook I’ve read gives so much personality and passion for the correct way of doing things. When reading Soffritto, you get the feeling there’s a whole army of Vitali’s family ready to start a war over why she would ever give away all the family’s secret recipes.

After eating the multi-course dinner at her restaurant Cibreo in Florence (one of my most memorable meals of 2007), I knew I had witnessed the culmination of years of experience and real mastery of a subject. The food was not only impeccable and representative of Tuscan food, but each and every one of the dishes elevated the common fare to a whole new level. Each course was a revelation. Even, ribolita—a rustic left over stew mixed with bread—was recreated and deconstructed—making it an ultimately sublime experience.

So when I woke up on Sunday morning with the urge for a meat ragu, I knew I had some learning to do from Benedetta.

What follows is my experience cooking Ragu from Soffritto.

MAKING RAGU–SUNDAY MORNING
Always a slow day, I pull myself from bed at 10. After an hour of catching up on the presidential primaries, I head out the door. It’s cold and rainy (an oddity in LA), so traffic is slow going. I make it to the Hollywood Farmer’s market just minutes before the vendors pack up their stalls for the day.

With my stomach growling, I quickly buy a cinnamon bun from the Bread Man and eat it out of its plastic bag while I speed shop for my vegetable essentials. I buy a bag of sweet carrots, three perfectly white onions and a hearty bunch of celery for soffritto, the traditional base elements for most Italian dishes. I buy a flowering bok choy, leafy red lettuce, Meyer lemons, and cherry red tomatoes. I taste test blackberries and drip sugary raisins on a bag of dried favas as I reach into my jean pocket for my stash of wrinkled dollar bills. I leave the market before someone shoes me away for ruining their product.

After failing to my friend’s recommended butcher, I fight the weekend traffic and go to the permanent farmer’s market at 3rd and Fairfax. Finding a parking spot is nearly impossible, but I find a space in the 30 minute parking area and run for it.

On my way across the parking lot I call my husband and ask him to read to me the ingredients for the meat ragu from the Soffritto cookbook. As he reads me the ingredients I scribble them onto a scrap of paper I scrounge from my cluttered purse.

“You’re going to need 1 ¼ beef sirloin. 2 chicken livers and one pork sausage” My husband pauses. “Uh, the recipe calls for 1 chicken neck and 2 oz suet. Are you sure about this?”

I shrug. “Why not?”

The forward moving force of limited time (my thirty minute parking spot) and powerful muses (Vitali’s gorgeous Soffritto cookbook has me convinced this is a meal worth eating) has me excited and dodging dawdling mall customers and hurtling at a break-neck pace for the meat counter of my local butchers. Hah! I laugh. Chicken necks and the unknown ingredient “suet” can not deter me.

At the Puritan Poultry, I buy the chicken livers, no problem. They’re fresh and a gorgeous purple brown. The butcher rings up the chicken neck. It weighs next to nothing and it looks like freshly skinned pinky finger. The whole thing costs me less than 50 cents. Who knew a person could get fresh chicken necks at the butcher?

I head over to the Pork and Beef butcher by the Korean food stand. These guys are always busy and their playful meat displays (pig faces made out of pork sausage) always put a smile on my face. Behind the glass case are two young men in white butcher’s coats. A wiry old guy that looks like he’s spent more time chain smoking than actually eating food stands behind them, checking their work at the counter. I carefully check my list of ingredients and prepare to direct my questions to the senior gentleman.

A young man with a thin moustache approaches and offers to help. I rattle off the easy stuff. Instead of purchasing in spicy Italian sausage, the young butcher recommends a small portion of pork sausage meet. When I order 1 and ¼ lbs. of beef sirloin, he finds me the best chuck sirloin. With my basic meat needs met, I wait for the right moment to ask for the suet.

“So, I’m also going to need some suet,” is say as the senior butcher crosses behind the young man with the skinny moustache. “About 2 ounces.”

“What the hell kind of recipe calls for 2 ounces of suet?” The old man laughs at me with spite. “I hate cookbooks like that. Those people don’t even know how we have to sell this stuff. I should sell you a whole pound and let you deal with the rest of it.”

I smile and nod. “I know. Crazy cookbook authors.” I chuckle.

I do my best to try to make the guy understand I’m on his side–not the cookbook’s.

The man disappears into the meat locker and comes out with a plastic bag filled with what looks like a white powder. He shovels a few scoops of the stuff into a white bag and seals it.

“Here’s about a ¼ pound.” The man frowns as he slams the bag down onto the counter.

“What you don’t use, you can freeze.”

I thank the man as I screw up my courage for the question I’ve been saving. Time this wrong, and the innocent act of questioning could turn this transaction seriously sour.

“You wouldn’t mind educating me on what exactly suet is? “ I swallow hard. “Would you?”

The senior butcher pulls the paper hat he’s wearing over what’s left of the hair on his head. “Fat. Suet is the fat that lines the kidney.” With that, the man disappears back into the meat locker. As soon as the door locks behind him I know the old man is swearing underneath his breath at me. I comfort myself with the thought that someone has to ask these questions. Someone has to act stupid so others won’t.

(to be continued…)

January 2

Employee’s New Years

If you work in the food service industry, chances are you work most holidays. Popular holidays like the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Yom Kippur and in LA, the night of the Academy awards, are practically impossible to not work. So if you’re a traditionalist and insist on getting time off for all the major holidays you can most certainly can kiss your restaurant job good bye. Or you can suck it up, work the holidays, and schedule your life around the restaurant’s required hours of business. And so it goes. That’s just the nature of the food service business.

Most non-industry people see this way of thinking depressing/tradition ruining/frustrating, but I just see it as an opportunity to avoid preconceived notions, required moments of pomp, traffic and crowded shopping. Instead, every year I celebrate holiday MY WAY and on ANY DAY I LIKE.

So while Joe Public is getting messy drunk and spending way too much money on New Years because he feels he has to, Joelyne Server like me makes lots of money I can spend on a less pricey night with a million times less social stresses. Friday or Saturday night on the town with all the rest of the 9 to 5ers? No thanks! I’ll work on the weekends and forgo the line at the door for an amazing meal on the town on a quiet Monday night!

Which brings me to my point. Finally.

Since both my husband and I had to work New Years Eve at our restaurant jobs, we decided to celebrate the beginning of 2008 on first night of the New Year. Though I’m against celebrating big holidays with the masses, I am all about creating a great big traditional meal with friends. So while the rest of LA suffered through their lingering hangovers, husband and I were just gearing up for a night of incredible food and wine with our two wonderful foodie friends, Leah of spicysaltysweet and her boyfriend, Neal.

With the streets clear of drunken idiots and DUI searching cop cars, we were ready to enjoy ourselves.

NEW YEARS NIGHT MENU
Cotechino con lenticchie

With hearts set on making a traditional New Year’s meal, we decided to make Cotechino and Lentils. According to Mario Batali, Cotechino con Lenticchie is the most traditional dish of all Italian New Year’s dishes. The humble dish of pork, it is said, originated in Emiligia-Romana (while others say Modena) with the peasants who made the sausage from left over ends of a newly butchered pigs.

Quick to dive into research, I learned that Pellegrino Artusi, author of Italy’s first popular cooking book in 1891, believed that Cotechino was “not a refined dish” and was fit to be served only to very good friends who wouldn’t mind its rusticity. Undetered, by this information and descriptions of the sausage’s strange “tacky” texture (which comes from the gelatinous matter that is released from the pig skin component of the sausage), Leah and I went in search of Cotechino.

Though Cotechino is sold in two ways: pre-cooked and uncooked, I could only find the pre-cooked variety at local LA gourmet markets. The nice people at Froma on Melrolse sold me Umbrian black lentils and a reasonably priced pre-cooked l lb Cotechino sausage (Under $14). I skipped the $25 cotechino at Joan’s on Third I put my $$ towards a luxury bottle of $40 fresh pressed olive oil (harvested and pressed in October of 2007) from Gianfranco Becchina and a slice of Gorgonzola Torta (A layer “cake” of Gorgonzola and marscapone topped pine nuts).

On New Year’s day I arrived at Leah’s apartment with my ingredients in hand to cook our special meal together. While Leah rolled out her dough on the dining room table,

I started cooking the lentils.

Instead of following a recipe, however, I decided to go on instinct. Here’s what I came up with:

LENTILS

EVOO Olive oil (enough to coat the pan)
1 Onion (finely chopped)
1 Carrot (finely chopped)
A handful of sage
2 cloves of garlic
1 bag of Umbrian lentils (1/2 pound)
Chicken stock (2-3 cups)
1 tbl of tomato paste from a tube
¼ cup red wine vinegar
¼ cup fresh press EVOO
Salt

Chop the onion and carrot finely. Heat a large sautee pan on medium high. When hot, add enough olive oil to coat the pan. Add the finely chopped onion then carrot. Throw in the un-sliced garlic. Sautee down the onion and carrot until they become soft and transformed into cohesive, soft duo of texture. Add the lentils. Sautee for 3 minutes and then begin adding ¼ cups of chicken stock until the pan is filled with liquid. Allow to cook down and continue adding chicken stock and water from the cotechino pot (see below). Cook for 30-60 minutes, depending on the texture. The lentils are done when they are no longer al dente. Finish with vinegar and olive oil. Season to taste.

COTECHINO (pre-cooked prep)

Prick the Cotechino sausage with a toothpick and then drop into a pot of cold water. Bring the water to a boil—approx. 20-30 minutes. The sausage is done when it appears plump and a new shade of pink.

**Save the Cotechino water for adding to the lentils.
Slice the Cotechino and serve on the Umbrian Lentils. Serve with Mostarda di frutta or Salsa Verde (a sort of pesto of olive oil, parsley, garlic, S&P).

Our NEW YEARS MEAL:

Leah’s homemade ravioli (stuffed with Butternut squash, asiago cheese, and walnuts) and for later the Torta di Gorganzola

Cotechino and Lentils, Swiss Chard, Mostarda di fruita

Happy New Year!