Buvette's Brussels Sprout Salad

The Soul Twin (a.k.a. my best friend, Andrea) recently celebrated a birthday.  It's the first birthday I've actually shared with her in person in...years and years.  Maybe even since we graduated college?  So I was incredibly excited to take her out to Buvette for lunch this year to celebrate live and in-person.  I'd heard amazing things about Buvette, but I just never had the chance to go...it's in the West Village after all and, like most Manhattanites, I cry and whine about having to go to the opposite side of the island.

Anyway, Buvette surpassed every expectation I had and more.  The ST and I nibbled and drank for three hours.  The restaurant folks didn't seem to care; it truly is the sort of place you can sit and enjoy as long as you want.  We had sandwiches...we had a gorgeous selection of cheeses...we had a bottle of wine...but the stand-out for us were the Brussels sprouts.  We ordered them on a bit of a whim - they were "just" a side dish and, even though we're deep into winter, we're still obsessed with trying everyone's variation on Brussels sprouts.

Buvette's were heavenly.  They were sliced very thin and tossed with walnuts and cheese.  The taste was so fresh and so light, and we desperately wanted to be able to recreate them at home.  So we asked the server how they were prepared: Brussels sprouts, Pecorino, walnuts, olive oil, salt, and pepper.  That. Is. It.  To quote Ina Garten, "how easy is that?"

So my variation is below.  Make sure to use a very dry, crumbly Pecorino, and you also want to salt liberally.  The key, though?  You need to keep tasting, tasting, tasting to make sure you have the seasoning right.  And don't skimp on the olive oil!

BUVETTE'S BRUSSELS SPROUTS
Serves 4 as a side dish


1 pound Brussels sprouts, sliced thinly
1/2 pound aged Pecorino, grated
1/2 cup walnuts, toasted 
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt
Freshly ground pepper


1. Trim off the dry ends of the Brussels sprouts and run them under some water.  The best way to slice them very thin is to use the slicing attachment on a food processor: feed the Brussels sprouts into the processor and they'll be finished in about a minute.  You could use a mandoline, but be careful of those fingers.  And I suppose you could slice them by hand but that'll be a long process.  Once finished, empty Brussels sprouts into a large bowl.


2. Add the grating attachment to your food processor.  Add Pecorino to grate.  Again, you can do this with a hand grater too.  Add cheese to Brussels Sprouts in the bowl.


3. Using a dry pan, toast walnuts over medium heat until fragrant and slightly darker.  Add to bowl.


4. Add olive oil, salt, and pepper to the bowl and toss well to coat.  Taste for seasoning; add more olive oil, salt, and/or pepper, as needed.  Serve.


KID-FRIENDLINESS: Who are we kidding?  Bug would never eat this.


WINE NOTES: Usually, a crisp white is the way to go with Brussels sprouts, but the Pecorino makes them a bit more red wine friendly.  I had the Foris Pinot Noir with this and liked it.  


Eat, drink, and recreate your favorite restaurant dishes.

Bacon and Hazelnut Leeks

Why does this happen every year?  By the time the New Year comes, I'm so excited for things to wind down a bit.  I envision a January that's cozy, quiet, and slow-paced.  But that NEVER happens.  I don't exaggerate: NEVER.  This year has been no different.

But it's been okay.  As I mentioned before, I've had some exciting changes happen.  In mid-December I was hired as a visiting assistant professor at Pratt Institute; I'll be teaching master's level library science students children's and YA literature.  I'm ridonkulously excited.  I'm also doing some consulting work for Scholastic Book Clubs.  Lastly, I just planned a spontaneous trip to California in February: I've been feeling a little homesick for the West Coast and need to head back to the Golden State for a spell.

Part of the reason I think I've been avoiding blogging lately is because I've just been in the moment and going about my day-to-day life.  Frankly, it hasn't occurred to me in weeks to even take a picture of what I'm cooking.  I'm just making it, serving it up, and enjoying time with my family.  But I am coming out of it now, helped along by the fancy new flash I got that will help me take better photos in my dark, dark apartment (Note: the photos below are pre-fancy flash).

And like everyone, I'm paring down post-holiday, trying to make simpler foods that are (slightly) healthier for me...and if they're not healthier, then they're just simpler.  Today's recipe is just that: Bacon and Hazelnut Leeks.  With a cup of heavy cream, it certainly isn't all that healthy.  But it's simple to make, rich in flavor, and even a little bit sexy.

It's probably un-French but I make this 4-serving dish for just me and Adam.  But this is all we eat - I don't make another course.  Served up with some bread to sop up the sauce, it's all we need.

BACON AND HAZELNUT LEEKS
From Laura Calder (French Food at Home)
Serves 4 (or 2, in our house...)


4 medium leeks
4 tablespoons coarsely chopped hazelnuts
4-6 strips bacon, cut into pieces
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
1 cup heavy cream
Kosher salt
Freshly ground pepper


Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.  Trim all but an inch of green from the leeks.  Wash them thoroughly (get in between the layers - they are usually sandy/dirty), tie them in a bunch with string, and plunge them into the boiling water.  Cook until tender when pierced with a fork, about 20 minutes (this cooks them pretty soft - cut down the time if you like firmer vegetables).  Drain and quickly rinse in cold water to stop the cooking.  Drain, remove the string, pat dry, and keep warm.


Meanwhile, toast the hazelnuts in a dry frying pan; set aside.  In the same pan, fry the bacon until crisp; remove with a slotted spoon and set aside.  Deglaze the pan with the vinegar, scraping up any good stick-to-the-pan bits.  Pour in the cream and boil for a minute or so to reduce to sauce consistency.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.  Stir in the bacon and nuts.


Place 1-2 leeks on each serving plate, spoon around the sauce, and serve hot.


NOTE ON KID-FRIENDLINESS: Forget about it.  This is something I dish up after Bug's gone to bed and had a dinner of her own.


WINE NOTE: Hands down, Chardonnay is what you need to be drinking with this.

Eat, drink, and simplify.


P.S. I really do love Laura Calder.  Check out her recipe for Pear Pork here.

Eternal Flame

I tried a new recipe during the holidays: Scallops with Chestnut Sauce and Crisp Sage from Food and Wine (November 2009).  It was the first time I had encountered these instructions in a recipe: "Add the Cognac and carefully ignite it."  Needless to say, I was a bit nervous.

Bug had the nerve great idea to film the whole thing...being a child of the millenium and all, she already wants to get everything on camera.  So here it is (please ignore my Valley Girl voice and delight in Bug's whispered, "Oh my god"):

As you may or may not have been able to tell from the video, I singed my arm hairs.  "Singed" is such a gentle word, of course, but what I did was create a film of blackness on my arm and made the whole kitchen smell like burned cat.

Of course, it was AWESOME.

Eat, drink, and be daring.

Happy New Year's!

I've mentioned here before how seriously I take New Year's Eve and the few days that precede and follow it.  Sure, I party and celebrate with the best of 'em...but I also take a moment for introspection and, truth be known, I shed a few tears of happiness every year.  To me, New Year's is one of the rare times when we have no other choice but to live in the moment, straddling what has passed and what is to come. I take stock of what I've done and who I am...and I think about how that'll look going forward.  And it's a bonus if I get to share all this with friends and family.  And I did this year, toasting to me, Adam, and Bug moving to Manhattan, toasting to the Soul Twin and The Other Husband moving to NYC, toasting to my new position as visiting assistant professor at Pratt Institute (oh, wait...did I not tell you guys about that yet?  More to come...).  In the end, Adam and I invoked one of our favorite toasts: "To all our shit!"  Seriously.  Because we're vulgar and dorky that way.

I'm still getting my feet back under me, post-holiday, so it'll be a couple days before I'm back with recipes, photos, and chatter.  In the meantime, my rad friend Jen sent me this article: "A Recipe for Simplifying Life: Ditch All the Recipes" by Tara Parker-Pope, and I would love for the rest of you to take a look at it as well.  Let me know what you think.  I have conflicting feelings about the book Parker-Pope is discussing, AN EVERLASTING MEAL: COOKING WITH ECONOMY AND GRACE by Tamar Adler...or, more accurately, I have issues with Parker-Pope's complete reverence for it in this article.

First, I think not having a gimmick is the new gimmick and, as someone who has been in marketing for a publisher, I see the marketing behind this book from a mile away.  Second, cooking isn't easy and I have real problems with any book that makes the promise that it is (even my beloved Ina is guilty of this).  Why not say that, yes, it is hard work?  Yes, it does take up a large chunk of time?  Yes, you will have failures in the kitchen?  But the rewards are soooooo worth it?  But I don't know that enough of these books do that.  And then their readers get frustrated when they inevitably experience failure...or when they inevitably realize that it's still a lot of work, that "simple" does not equal "easy".  Lastly, there's so much emphasis on cooking made easy and simple...but I have always felt that menu planning and food shopping is given short shrift in the cookbooks I read.  THAT is the time-consuming, complicated, creative part of the cooking process, I think.  I'd love to discuss that more.  (And I will note that I haven't read AN EVERLASTING MEAL yet.  Amy mentioned it to me, and I'm adding it to the top of my list)

Phew!  Okay, well, there's my rant.  If you read the article, let me know what you think or, better yet, if you've read Tamar Adler's book, let me know how it works for you.

Happy New Year, all!  I'm not a fan of resolutions (to quote Mary Poppins, they're pie crust promises: easily made, easily broken).  However, I always strive to live life fully, eat and drink well, treasure my friends and family, and challenge myself.  So I hereby renew my conviction to do so in the next year.

Eat, drink, and cheers to new beginnings!

Excerpt: LUNCH IN PARIS: A LOVE STORY, WITH RECIPES

I'm only about a third of the way through Elizabeth Bard's LUNCH IN PARIS: A LOVE STORY, WITH RECIPES, but I'm already hooked.  I'm such a Francophile, even when it's of the rose-colored glasses, in-the-middle-of-a-love-affair sort of variety.  Bard has an approachable way of writing that makes me want to hang out with her.  And, luckily, the food writing is unpretentious and entertaining.

I was sitting at Guy and Gallard this morning, reading this book.  For those of you who don't know, Guy and Gallard is a small-ish chain here in NYC.  They definitely aren't the best quality, but the coffee isn't all that bad and I just can't resist the darling way they wrap my muffin in this parchment/tissue-type paper that crinkles.  Having the joy of unwrapping my lemon poppyseed muffin makes the muffin itself just a little more palatable.

It was while going through all this that I read this passage:

Where croissants are concerned, I've found two principal schools of thought.  Some prefer a brioche-like model, with a golden hue, a little spring, and an eggy chew.  Not I.  I like a flake, a croissant with an outer layer so fine and brittle that you get crumbs all over yourself from the very first bite. When you pull it apart there should be some empty space, pockets of air between the buttery layers of dough.  When you finally do rip off a hunk to dip in your coffee, it stretches a little before it breaks.  More crumbs, but utterly, completely worth the mess.

And then I giggled as it was followed by this passage:

My first trips to the boulangerie are not all ogling.  I have to keep my head about me as I place my order.  First there is the gender issue; every French noun is assigned a sex, masculine or feminine.  Personally, I think my croissant is a woman, as tender and fragile as a Brontë heroine.  But apparently, the Académie Française, the guys who make the dictionary, have decided that "croissant" is masculine, un croissant.  I have been outvoted.

The good news is that I just adored these passages.  The croissant just become a tangible thing for which I longed, and I loved the simile of a croissant being as feminine as a Brontë heroine.  Lastly, the idea of a flaky croissant being worth the mess is some sort of metaphor for life, peut-être?

The bad news?

All this talk about airy croissants put me off my leaden, dry lemon poppyseed muffin completely.

Eat, drink, and c'est la vie.

Meeting Gabrielle Hamilton

I shouldn't be allowed to meet anyone remotely well-known (or well-known to me, anyway).  I just shouldn't.  I get all flustered and dissolve into verbal diarrhea and spend the two weeks post-meeting dissecting every stupid, incoherent thing I said.  It happened when I met Eric Rohmann, Kenny Loggins, Armistead Maupin...and the list goes on.  That said, there are a number of times when I kept my cool.  For example, it didn't happen when I met Mireille Guiliano because I didn't speak a single word to her in an attempt to break my streak (to which Adam later said to me, "Why didn't you say anything?!  You seemed crazy!").  And it didn't happen when I met a very famous children's author/illustrator, but that's mostly thanks to him - he is one of the most disarming, down-to-earth, and kind authors I've met to date; it was impossible for me to screw it up.  But, mostly, I suck at meeting authors and other awesome people.

Meeting Gabrielle Hamilton was no exception.  Gabrielle Hamilton is a renowned chef (of Prune fame) and author of BLOOD, BONES, AND BUTTER (which I posted about here), and I had the good fortune to hear her speak recently at Little Red Schoolhouse/Elisabeth Irwin H.S. here in NYC (thanks to Jen for hooking me up with a ticket!).

Gabrielle Hamilton was lovely to listen to.  She was charming and gorgeous, and she read from her own work really well.  If all the dog-ears on my book's pages are any indication, Ms. Hamilton could have chosen any number of sections to read from and I would have been happy!  She read from the seventh chapter where she is accepted to University of Michigan's master's program for fiction writing.  The whole room laughed along with her, as we have all had that experience where we have chased dreams...only to realize that, once achieved, the dream isn't all it's cracked up to be.

For the book signing afterward, Ms. Hamilton was sitting next to Roseanne Cash, who read from her book COMPOSED: A MEMOIR during the evening.  What do I immediately say to Gabrielle Hamilton?  "I love the book so much.  I blogged it and I compared you to MFK Fisher.  It's that good."  And if you're thinking that all this came out in a mad torrent of jumbled words, then you're right. To which Ms. Hamilton archly raised an eyebrow and said, "MFK Fisher?  Really?"  This might have been that moment:

And this is the moment when I should have walked away, having already done some damage.  But, no.  I kept going...

So Roseanne Cash heard me babbling and interjected, "I love MFK Fisher!"  To which I replied by holding up BLOOD, BONES, AND BUTTER and saying, "But have you read this?!"  Roseanne Cash said that she had not read it yet.  I answered, "Well, you should!"  This is the moment when I'm saying that to her (Roseanne Cash is the redhead):

Good god.

And to complete the night, this is how Gabrielle Hamilton signed my dog-eared galley of her book:

I'm so happy to have had a moment with Gabrielle Hamilton, as I really was rocked by BLOOD, BONES, AND BUTTER.  I'm just not so sure this is the moment I had envisioned.  To her credit, Ms. Hamilton handled herself with endless grace and poise, even when presented with a ridiculous fan girl.

Eat, drink, and grab the words before they fall out of my mouth!

Pear Pork (and my 700th post!)

I haven't given proper attention to what has recently become one of my absolute favorite cookbooks: FRENCH FOOD AT HOME by Laura Calder.  I have tried twelve recipes so far and every one of them - I do not exaggerate - has been a smashing success.  Truly.  And shockingly simple to make.

Last night, I tried the Pear Pork for the first time.  It didn't sound difficult to make, and I'm just in love with all things pear-related right now, especially when they're paired with bacon, as in this recipe.  I just adore sweet and salty pairings, don't you?

As usual, I changed a few things about the recipe that appears in the cookbook.  The original recipe calls for 2 pork tenderloins, 3/4 lb each, but I substituted boneless pork chops, cut about 1/2-inch thick.  That cut the oven time by about 10 minutes (bonus!).  Calder says to use "white wine or apple juice"...but I happened to have some apple cider and decided to give that a go; to be frank, I don't know that I would have noticed the difference between any of the three options.  Use whatever you have handy.  Lastly, I love garlic.  So I amped it up to 5 cloves of garlic over the called-for 4 cloves.

Why do I tell you all this?  Because I just want to illustrate that it really can be quite easy to change around most recipes to suit your own tastes and preferences.  Laura Calder gave me the recipe created for her own tastes, I changed it to suit me, and I certainly expect that, should you try this, you'll change it up too.   Which is, among many reasons, why I love and adore cooking: the choices and opportunities for creativity are endless.

But enough of my babbling.  Let's get on with the recipe, shall we?

PEAR PORK
Inspired by Laura Calder's FRENCH FOOD AT HOME
Serves 3-4


Ingredients:
4 boneless pork chops, each 1/2-inch thick
Kosher salt
Freshly ground pepper
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 pound bacon, chopped
2 large pears, firm and ripe, of any variety, halved, cored, and thinly sliced
5 garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced
1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and minced
2 branches rosemary, finely chopped
1/4 cup white wine, apple juice, or apple cider
1/4 cup low-sodium beef stock


1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.  Season pork with salt and pepper; set aside.


2. Preheat a skillet until very hot.  Add 1 tablespoon of the olive oil and fry the bacon until browned, about 3 minutes.  Remove, leaving the fat behind, and toss together with the pears, garlic, ginger, rosemary, and another tablespoon of oil in a baking dish.  Add the remaining oil to the skillet, if needed (note: I didn't need the extra oil - the bacon I used left behind quite a bit of fat).  When sizzling, brown the pork well on both sides, about 3 minutes each side.  Remove and nestle in the baking dish.


3. Deglaze the skillet with the wine (careful, it spatters!), scraping up the good bits on the bottom, and boil until only about 1 tablespoon remains.  Add the stock and boil to reduce to 3-4 tablespoons.  Pour over the meat in the baking dish.  Transfer to the oven and roast until the pears and garlic are soft and the meat cooked through, about 20 minutes.


A NOTE ON KID-FRIENDLINESS: This one wasn't too successful.  I tried scooping just the cooked pears and bacon onto Bug's plate.  Added some apple slices.  I also served sliced bread with honey butter, and Bug had two slices of that.  But she somehow managed to pick out all the bacon pieces, eating only one bite of the pear, declaring she didn't like cooked pears.  Le sigh.  So my kid had buttered bread, apples, and bacon pieces for dinner.  But...still...fruit, starch, protein in one meal?  Success!


NOTE ABOUT THE SIDE: I served this with endives that I sliced, sauteed with butter, then tossed with some honey and walnuts.  Add a little salt and pepper - done.  It worked...okay.  Adam liked it much better than I did.

This was a great weeknight option.  Other than the very short stove-cooking time, everything got put into the oven.  Which meant I had 20 free minutes to enjoy a glass of wine (Beaujolais) and help Bug with homework.  With Christmas carols playing in the background.  A great night.

Eat, drink, and give FRENCH FOOD AT HOME a try.

Thanksgiving

As you may have guessed from my previous post, I was not looking forward to Thanksgiving in Orlando.  Thanks to my publishing job, I had already been to Orlando for conferences twice in the last year, and one of the last places on Earth I wanted to go was back to that land of manufactured reality.

It turns out that all my self-indulgent whining was just that: self-indulgent and whiny.  We had a fantastic time at Harry Potter World.  And the Thanksgiving buffet?  Well, all-you-can-eat crab legs and dessert don't suck at all.

And did I mention the bottomless Champagne?  I might be coming around to buffets after all...

That said, we had lots of amusement park food: soft pretzels, hot dogs, fries.  So, by our last night, I was more than ready for some real food: we made reservations at Emeril's Orlando.  I was skeptical...but it was everything I had hoped for: delicious food, gorgeous list of wines by the glass, and attentive service (but not overly so).

We started with the New Orleans Barbecue Shrimp, which came with a diminutive but delicious rosemary biscuit.  The sauce added a touch of heat but it didn't make me scramble for my water glass (which is a good thing).  We also started with oysters in a creamy sauce with frisée and bacon.  It was okay...but I realized that I really love my oysters raw and adorned with only a squeeze of lemon; with all the other goings-on, I could hardly taste the oyster.  I drank a glass of Champagne, which held up to the barbecue shrimp surprisingly well.

Adam and I shared the duck duo for the main dish, which included a perfectly seared duck breast and duck confit.  Brussels sprouts and steamed potatoes were served with it.  And because we were having duck, I naturally drank Pinot Noir with it, specifically Foris Pinot Noir which is from the Rogue Valley in Oregon.  It was one of the rare times that Adam admitted my wine paired with the dish waaaay better than his beer.  I won, I won!

For dessert, we shared a vanilla crème brûlée which...I have to say...might be the best crème brûlée I have ever had.  How they got that thick sugary crust caramelized so perfect, I will never know.  It was outstanding.  The server recommended a glass of sweet bubbly for a pairing, which was lovely, but I was sort of jonesing for the espresso Adam ordered - it covered our table in a fragrant cloud.

It was an amazing meal with my amazing family, and it reminded me that my attitude can be such utter crap sometimes.  Orlando isn't that bad.  I'll never forget the trip and I'm so glad that we went.

I hope you all had a lovely holiday (you USians, anyway) with loved ones!

Eat, drink, and celebrate family.