Archive for ‘Dinner’

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.



May 7th, 2010

Asparagus and Sausage Strata

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I live out in rural New Jersey. Did you guys know that? Probably, since I blab about it all the time.

I want to start talking more about where I live, and the food I eat, out here along the Delaware River. Especially now, and in the coming months, when I eat like a privileged locavore instead of surviving on root vegetables, hot-house lettuce, and canned goods, as I do during those frigid winter months.

Spring in western New Jersey is a fantastic thing. The weather wobbles around for a while — chilly one day, sweltering the next — then, snap, it’s totally spring. The farms start producing and the markets open up. In April and May, there’s asparagus and spinach, and lots of it. Once the month of May rolls on we start to see peas, and finally, strawberries, and then it’s on.

in winter4.16.10 - Clouded Sunlight

I wonder if everyone who lives here takes advantage of all the local food in spring, summer, and fall. I hope so, but I doubt it. I bet too many people are going to the Whole Foods or the Trader Joe’s to pick up their weekly groceries. I understand why they do it: supermarkets are easier. Everything is there, categorized. Everything looks good.

eggs

The problem, though, is that nothing tastes good. Okay, that may be an overstatement. But only slightly. Unless you buy your produce from local farms with talented farmers, where you can pick up your fruit and vegetables just hours after they’ve been picked (or pick them yourself), you can’t really understand why the beautiful, organic, local strawberries from Whole Foods just aren’t very that good. Maybe it’s the bone-chilling temperatures of those stores; maybe it’s the large quantities a farm must have to harvest in order to supply a supermarket. Whatever the cause, a strawberry from one of our local farms — Manoff, or Solebury, or Terhune Orchards — is so much better than what you can buy in the Whole Foods, it’s not even a comparison.

However, I do understand that it’s not always easy to shop at small farms, and that for me — of all people — to talk smack about people going to Whole Foods would be ridiculous. I work part-time; I have 3-day weekends, every weekend; the Saturday and Sunday farmers market is right across the street from my house. If you wanted to roll your eyes and tell me to try juggling a full-time job, two kids, and a hungry husband and then see if I can eat local all summer long, you’d have a point.

bread

But I also don’t make much money. Jim, who has a schedule similar to mine, doesn’t either. Since I quit my full-time job over a year ago, I’ve learned to pinch pennies. I buy clothes from consignment shops, I cut my own bangs, and I’ve been known to cruise yard sales at sundown, when people will give stuff away if you’ll just take it off their damn lawn already.

I also know how to cook cheap meals with high-quality ingredients. I know where to get eggs from someone’s backyard chickens for $2.00 a dozen. I know where to find the best blueberries — for $5.00 a quart (less if you pick your own) — as well as unbelievably thick and creamy local heavy cream for cheaper than you’d find at ShopRite. I know when things come into season, and which farms have what.
strata

So I hope it won’t be too boring for those of you who don’t live nearby if I talk more on this blog about local food, where it comes from, and how much it costs. I hope it might actually be fun, getting to know me better through this information. Kinda like anthropology class, only tastier. Ideally, I hope to be able to provide some help to those of you nearby who don’t have the time to figure out where the best produce is, or when it’s coming into season here, or how to use it. I know it ain’t easy, and I’ve spent a good long time trying to figure it all out. It’s time to start sharing.

But enough of that. Let’s talk strata. The asparagus at None Such Farm market is knobbly and woodsy and comes in all sizes. It’s hard to find a whole bunch of perfect, pencil thin ones, but the gorgeous shade of purple makes up for that. Baked in a strata, you needn’t have uniformly sized asparagus anyway, since you chop them into 2-inch pieces before sautéing them and then baking in the oven for an hour.
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strata

Strata is like the genius love-child of bread pudding and frittata. You add more eggs in a strata than you would in a bread pudding, so the result is less milky and custardy, more eggy. That eggy flavor totally makes me feel healthier too, even though there’s a hell of a lot of cheese and cream in there. And egg yolks in large quantities aren’t all that healthy, I guess, but they are a part of the good old American breakfast. You see, it doesn’t take much to convince me to eat cream.

Mother’s Day brunch would be pretty pleasant with a slice of this strata on each plate, especially with a mimosa on the side. Just remember, if you’re cooking for Mom, you do the dishes.

strata

Asparagus and Sausage Strata

Printable Recipe

recipe adapted from Bon Appetit, June 2009

I used lamb and ramp sausage from Jamie Hollander’s in New Hope, which aren’t cheap. They are delicious though, and wonderfully spring.

Serves 8-10

6 large eggs

2 1/2 cups whole milk
1 cup sliced green onions
1 cup sliced shallot
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup finely grated Romano cheese
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 pound mild sausages, casings removed
1 bunch asparagus, trimmed and large stalks peeled, cut into 2-inch pieces
1 1-pound loaf rustic French bread, cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices
2 cups (loosely packed) coarsely grated Gruyere cheese

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Butter 13×9×2-inch ceramic or glass baking dish. Whisk first 7 ingredients in large bowl; sprinkle generously with pepper. Set aside.

Place sausage in large nonstick skillet; push to 1 side. Add asparagus pieces and sauté over high heat, breaking up sausage with fork, until sausage is cooked through and asparagus are brown in spots, about 7 minutes.

Arrange half of bread slices in prepared dish. Pour half of egg mixture over. Sprinkle with half of cheese, then half of sausage and asparagus mixture. Repeat layering. Let stand 20 minutes, occasionally pressing on bread to submerge. Bake strata until puffed and brown, about 1 hour. Cool slightly and serve.

May 4th, 2010

Soft shell crabs with tomatoes and rice

So. I’ve cooked you soft-shell crabs. Again.

I can’t help it; I’m obsessed. I’d like to give you some variety here, but I just can’t resist these seasonal crabs. I blame their crispy skins, and the way you can suck out all the butter they’ve been cooked in, then pop the moist, soft meat in your mouth. crab fat that’s so wickedly good I want to hoot. I blame these East Coast blue crabs for making me wait all year, anticipation building, for them to shed their hard shells in May. I really don’t want to bore you (especially those of you who can’t find soft shell crabs where you live, poor souls) but I can’t help myself. I’m obsessed. With a crustacean.

Soft shell crabs with tomatoes and rice

Luckily, this recipe is as different as one soft shell crab recipe can be from another. While the creamed spinach recipe I wrote about in April was an example of soft shell crab luxury — it was our first soft shells of the season, and we really wanted to indulge — this recipe is a humble one, a home-cookin’ kind of crab.

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I cooked these crabs the same way as the last, but when they were done I threw a few cloves of minced garlic into the pan, and once the garlic was brown and fragrant I added some Thai basil (though you could use regular, or any other variety, really) and then poured the garlicky, crab-infused butter over the whole dish.

basil

I recommend you eat it by first munching up the crabs, shells and all of course, and then mixing all the delicious drippings into the rice and tomatoes. White rice, garlic, roasted tomatoes, and Thai basil — all scented with crab. I think I might even like this better than the luxurious creamed spinach version. And it’s easily the best white rice I’ve ever eaten.

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It’s not the prettiest dish. In fact, I came close to not even posting it, but I decided I’d be cheating you if I didn’t. I spend the whole year looking forward to soft shell crabs, and to highlight one recipe and leave out another just as good — maybe better — just because it’s, er…homely, would be silly.

roasted tomatoes

This is supposed to be my kitchen diary: a log of what’s coming out of my kitchen and what I’m really craving — not just the pretty dishes that I plan to blog days in advance. Sometimes an ugly dish conveys my kitchen life best, with humble food that’s satisfying and lovely and absolutely right on a hot day in the beginning of May, when your windows are wide open and you’re sitting at the table with a huge water glass and an ice-cold beer, and a serious appetite.

Soft shell Crabs with Tomatoes and Rice

Printable Recipe

serves 2, but can be easily doubled

for the tomatoes
1 (28 ounce) can whole, peeled tomatoes
2 garlic cloves, peeled and minced
salt, pepper
olive oil
handful of Thai basil (or other variety of basil) leaves, torn

for the crabs

2 soft-shell crabs
flour, salt, pepper
2-3 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon high-heat oil
2 garlic cloves, peeled and minced
handful of Thai basil (or other variety of basil) leaves, torn
white rice (recipe follows)

Preheat oven to 250ºF.

Drain tomatoes of there juice and give them a quick rinse under cold tap water. Carefully cut each tomato in half and place, cut-side up, on a baking sheet. Sprinkle tomatoes with minced garlic, salt, and pepper. Add a generous drizzle of olive oil and toss the tomatoes gently with your hands, making sure to coat the tomatoes evenly. Bake in the oven for 1 hour and 30 minutes, or until they are beginning to caramelize, but are still plump and juicy.

Clean crabs if they aren’t already. Put flour, some salt, and pepper in a bowl. Carefully pat both sides of the crabs dry with a paper towel. Dredge in the flour and then lightly tap on them to remove any excess. Meanwhile, heat butter and oil in a cast-iron or nonstick pan until very hot. Add crabs to the pan top-shell side down and cook for 3 minutes. Flip and cook for another three. Transfer to paper towels and dab the top of the crabs to remove excess oil.

While the pan is still over the heat, add the garlic and cook until it is fragrant and beginning to brown. Remove pan from heat and add the remaining basil.

Serve crabs over white rice with the tomatoes on the side, drizzling everything with the garlic butter and a few squirts of lemon.

White Rice

My favorite method for cooking rice.

2 (dry-measure) cups water
¼ – ½ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon butter or olive oil
1 cup long-grain white rice

Bring water with salt and butter (or olive oil) to a boil in a 4-quart heavy saucepan with a tight-fitting lid. Add rice and stir once, then reduce heat to low and cook, covered, 20 minutes.

Remove pan from heat (do not lift lid) and let stand, covered, 5 minutes. Fluff rice gently with a fork.

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