Archive for June, 2010

June 24th, 2010

Shrimp with Soffritto

I haven’t been cooking lately. There’s been a lot of tears, lying on the couch for inordinate amounts of time, missing the sun, and the strawberry picking, not swimming in the river, or going for walks with my dog, but, no, not cooking. There was a birthday, and a bridal shower, but I hardly remember either in the haze of my pain medication. But, still, no cooking.

soffrito, beginning

Some of you know I was in a car accident in 2008 that left me in chronic pain. A few of you know it’s been flaring up lately. And a poor precious bunch of you are around to take care of me. It sucks. There’s no way around it. I’m in it and, try as I might, I can’t do anything about it. So I haven’t cooked. But I’m taking steps to drastically change my life, to make my schedule bend around my pain, instead of trying to keep white-knuckling to do everything like a normal, healthy person would. I’m optimistic about that. I’m excited. Excited to be broken down, to finally accept that I can’t pretend pain doesn’t exist anymore, disabling me. Good things are going to come of this.

onion

One of the most depressing things about not cooking is not having anything to talk to you guys about. I mean, there was this awesome get-well present.

the best kind of get-well present

But I haven’t done any cooking past pitting the cherries and apricots as I eat them.

apricots
And there was this salad, made with the best snap peas I’ve ever tasted, but that didn’t turn out to be anything special — particularly heart-breaking since I wanted so badly to showcase those peas.

Snap Pea Salad

Finally, to top off the extent of my cooking over the past few weeks, there was this shrimp dish. You could call it cooking, to simmer something on the stove top for five hours (even if it took less than five minutes of active prep time). But it didn’t feel like cooking.

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The fact that is doesn’t feel like cooking, despite the wonderfully homey, lovingly cooked quality of the dish is probably a good thing, if you aren’t me, and you don’t want so desperately to be able to perform a recipe that has a long do-to-list, spending hours doing your thing in the kitchen.

The “five hour” part of this recipe is for the soffritto. You can do this the day (or week) before, and then the rest of the recipe would come together in about four minutes — maybe six if you need to shell the shrimp yourself.  It’s a good example of how to cook for Anita’s Dinner on a Deadline project, where one of the key ways to keep down your weekday meal prep time is to have a well-stocked larder.  This soffritto is a stand-by in my larder — the star of my larder, really. I use it for countless things beside this shrimp, including mixed in to plain pasta, or in this peperonata rustica. It’s beautiful, full of caramelized flavors, and has luscious, garlicky depth. Having this stuff around has made this painful time more manageable for me. And if it can cheer me up, then you can trust it’s special.

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Shrimp with Soffritto

Printable Recipe

serves 2//soffritto adapted from Thomas Keller’s Ad Hoc Cookbook

for the soffritto:

3 cups finely diced Spanish onion (about 1 pound)
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt
1 (28-oz) good-quality whole peeled tomatoes, drained, finely chopped
2-3 cloves garlic, finely minced

for the shrimp:

12 – 16 jumbo shrimp, shells and tails removed, deveined
4-6 tablespoons kosher salt
freshly ground pepper
2 tablespoons butter

Combine the onions, oil, and a pinch of salt in a small dutch oven or heavy bottomed pot and set over medium heat. As soon as the oil begins to simmer, reduce the heat to low. The onions should stew slowly but eventually caramelize; adjust the heat as necessary so that the oil continues to bubble gently — never too vigorously. As the onions release their liquid, the oil will become cloudy, but once the moisture has evaporated, the oil will clear. Cook for about 2 ½ hours, of until the onions are a rich golden brown (a shade darker than golden raisins) and the oil is perfectly clear. Check often: if any of the onions caramelize against the sides of the pan, scrape them back into the oil.

Add the tomatoes to the caramelized onions and cook for another 2 ½ hours, or until the onions and tomatoes begin to fry in the oil: the onions and tomatoes will begin to fry in the oil and small bubbles will cover the surface. Gently stir the mixture. Turn off the heat, add a pinch of salt and the garlic, and left the soffrito begin to cool. (You can cool completely, cover, and save in the refrigerator until you want to use. The soffritto stays good for a couple of weeks.)

Meanwhile, mix together 4 cups of cold water and salt in a bowl, stirring to dissolve the salt. Add shrimp to the bowl and let stand at room temperature for 10 minutes. Drain the shrimp, rise under cold water, and pat dry on paper towels. Sprinkle with pepper.

Melt the butter in a frying pan that will hold the shrimp in a single layer over medium-high heat. When the butter starts to foam, add the shrimp. Cook the shrimp for 2 minutes on one side, then flip and cook for 2 minutes on the other side, until the shrimp are browned and cooked through. Transfer the shrimp to a platter.

Ladle a few spoonfuls of soffritto over the shrimp and serve. (You will have a lot of leftover soffritto, but I don’t that’s a bad thing.)


June 6th, 2010

Steak with parsleyed butter

Well, it’s not every day that I open up a cookbook and see my butchers, Emil and Joe, staring back at me (downright dapper in their striped aprons). Such an event is a rare pleasure, really — one that I never imagined (or even thought about) having, but one I won’t soon forget.

And it’s not only Emil and Joe, but the lazy canal that slunks its way through Lambertville, the trout fishermen that I spy sitting along the water on my way to work in the early morning, and a beautiful ode to the Stockton Indoor Farmers Market — my market!! — spread among the pages of the Canal House cookbooks, a subscription cookbook-cum-food magazine, that comes out three times a year.

This is my home, and it’s not just me rhapsodizing about the beauty, and food, and good people along the Delaware River; Christopher Hirsheimer and Melissa Hamilton do too! That’s good company, indeed.

But even if you don’t live here, I imagine the Canal House cookbooks would be a rare pleasure, anyway. You’re invited into the lives of Hirsheimer and Hamilton, to where they live and what they eat; their memories, and snarky sentiments; their metaphors and declarations. The recipes are homey, familiar ones; recipes you can’t read without imagining friends around the table, happy faces, happy bellies; recipes that are a breath of fresh air alongside all of the restaurant chef books that are so popular now.

Take this recipe for steak with parsley butter. It involves little more than mixing some fluffy butter with herbs and grilling a steak. Anyone one can put the whole affair together in mere minutes. All you need is a bowl, a knife and a cutting board, and a grill (or pan) to cook the steak.

The hitch is finding the best the ingredients. It’d do good to search out a nice steak. If you live near me, you could get a rib-eye from Maresca, or a big old cowboy steak from Dee and Ben, which is what we opted for last weekend. Good parsley, too, will pay off big time — try to find some that’s a shade of deep, forest green, with pretty little white tips on each leaf. Homestead Farm Market sells my favorite parsley around here (the cheapest, too: a big bouquet of parsley runs around one dollar).

Without good ingredients, this recipe might not wow you; there’s few flavors here, so they really need to shine. If you have the parsley, but can’t find, or don’t want, the steak, this parsley butter works magic with a bowl of fresh pasta, or topped on fried eggs and toast, or in a myriad of other dishes. With the steak it’s particularly magical, and I’m a little blue that I didn’t invite friends over to share when Jim and I made this, as the cowboy steaks from Highland Farm Market can certainly feed a crowd. Recipes likes this want to be shared with a full table, if only so you can be that enviable hostess, cool as a cucumber after making such a deceptively easy dinner, and soak up all the oohs and ahhs from your guests.

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Steak with Parsleyed Butter

Printable Recipe

adapted from Canal House Cooking, Vol. 1

feeds 2-3, with leftover butter

for the butter
8 tablespoons (1 stick) softened butter, preferably from a local dairy, or a high-fat European-style butter
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
1 shallot, minced
Half a bunch parsley, leaves chopped
Salt and Pepper

for the steak
1 large (2-3 pound) bone-in rib-eye
Salt and pepper
An hour or two before cooking, take the steak out of the refrigerator and season liberally with salt and pepper.

Beat the butter in a bowl with a wooden spoon to make it smooth and a bit creamy. Add the garlic, shallots, and parsley, and season with salt and pepper. Stir to combine. The butter can be used right away, or covered and refrigerated for up to 3 days or frozen for up to 1 month.

Prepare a hot charcoal or gas grill.

Grill steaks on the hottest part of the grill until a good browned crust has developed on the first side, about 8 minutes. To ensure a good crust, resist the urge to move or fiddle with the steaks while they are cooking, but if flare-ups threaten to burn the meat, you’ve got to move it to a cooler spot on the grill. Turn the steaks and grill the second side for 5 minutes.

Move the steaks to a cooler spot on the grill to finish cooking them, turning occasionally, until the internal temperatures reach 120F for medium-rare, and 140F for medium, 5-15 minutes longer depending on the thickness of the steaks and the desired doneness.

Pull the steaks off the grill and let them rest for 10-15 minutes. Cut the steak from the bones and slice the meat. Serve both the bones and the meat, and top with parsleyed butter.



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