Venison Stew

Dear Devon,

I apologize for my long silence. And to my downstairs neighbors, I apologize for the resounding bass reverberating through your ceiling. THE PIANO IS HERE!! I haven't done much in the kitchen since its arrival. The move was full of excitement. Picture three unimposing men carrying a 45 inch piano up a narrow staircase. Turns out moving a piano is just like dragging your groceries upstairs - step by step - only a lot slower.

Though my bedroom is chaos, my kitchen is almost perfect (minus the Viking range and dishwasher). Sigh, a girl can dream. The kitchen is equipped with the most anxious smoke detector. Let’s call it the Woody Allen of smoke detectors. Preheating the oven causes general panic; a robust voice booms "fire fire" in 15 second intervals. There is no exhaust fan. I've resorted to propping the front door open with my shoe. I can't stand the heavy smell of oil that lingers in the air after cooking. It soaks into fabrics and into your hair. Febreeze might be the only solution.

Into this kitchen, enters a nice piece of venison. My experience with venison is limited. I've only eaten it three or four times. It's a rarity where I grew up, but I'm starting to hear a lot more about it. The shoulder came frozen and dated courtesy of a friend, who suggested that I prepare it in a stew. I was shocked by how lean the meat was. There were no traces or suggestions of fat. As for the color, it was a shocking dark red. I had never seen meat this shade of dark violet red, almost purple.

I read through a bunch of cookbooks, but no one really had a venison specific recipe. Because I wasn't sure what to expect, I conflated two recipes for beef stew from the Joy of Cooking and Mastering the Art of French Cooking. You know the one that tells you to marinate the meat in a bottle of red wine for eight hours? That's what I chose. I had this bottle of red wine, a Malbec from Argentina, that I received as a present this Christmas. I'm not in the habit of buying wine to bathe meat, so it seemed natural to use this bottle. Because the meat was so lean, I added sausage and bacon for tasty and needed fat. I perfumed the stew with lots of wonderful flavors like garlic, bay leaf, and onions. Black eyed peas and a bag of frozen green peas tossed in the last half hour of cooking added to this flavorful and rich stew.

In total, it takes three days to prepare. I marinate the meat along with carrots and garlic in red wine for 24 hours. The meat emerges almost black and completely wine soaked. The next evening, after finishing my dinner, I begin the cooking process. The stew simmers on the stove for 2 hours. Originally, I wanted to use the oven, but given my problems with the smoke detector, I used the stove top. The upside to the oven is the stew will basically cook itself. The stovetop requires some babysitting. When the meat is fork tender, I turned off the flame and let it cool. I want the stew to rest and to encourage all those wonderful flavors to marry and get richer. Thirty minutes before serving, I reheat the stew on the oven and add the frozen peas and the beans. I serve it on top of starchy egg noodles in wide bowls. I leave a big bowl of chopped parsley on the side for garnish.

The stew is warm, rich, and wonderfully flavorful. The bold wine is perfect for the meat, giving it a nice dark flavor, but without that overwhelming winey taste. The bacon completely melts, marking its presence through the smoky and salty undertones of the stew. Using spicy sausage gives the stew more body and makes a nice contrast to the fork tender venison. I love the addition of the peas. Cooked so they just retain their perky sweetness, each bite is like a bright spark of flavor. I'm in love the stewed carrots. They taste amazing, almost better than the venison. Sweet, soft and succulent, the carrots maintain their shape and absorb all the rich flavors, while still keeping their distinct sweetness. My mother always serves stews over egg noodles, so it is only natural I use them here. Egg noodles provide the perfect backdrop to rich food. They absorb all the bold juices without interfering with the intricately composed main course.

Venison Stew
serves six comfortably

1 1/2 pounds of venison, cubed into 2-inch pieces
2 sausages, sliced
1 onion, cut into wedges
2 carrots, sliced
4 cloves of garlic
1 bottle of red wine
1 bay leaf
2 slices of bacon, chopped
1 cup of cooked beans
1 package frozen green peas
1 cup chicken broth
1 tbsp flour

Cube venison into 2 inch chunks. Peel and cut carrots, roughly the same size as the venison cubes. Crush four cloves of garlic. In a large bowl, mix together venison, carrots, and garlic. Pour in one bottle of red wine or enough to cover the meat. Stir to combine and coat the meat. Cover with plastic wrap and marinate in fridge for at least 8 hours or up to 24 hours. (I marinated for 24 hours). Every few hours, give the marinade a mix.

Drain the meat and pat dry. Strain the marinade and reserve it and the vegetables separately. Heat a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Cook chopped bacon. Remove crispy bacon from Dutch oven. Drain off excess oil, leaving about 2 tablespoons of bacon fat. Cook sausages until nicely browned and crispy. Remove and set aside. Brown venison on all sides. You might want to do this in batches to avoid overcrowding. Remove and set aside. Add onions, gently cooking until translucent. Stir in vegetables from marinade and flour. When veggies have nicely browned, add bacon, sausage and venison. Add one bay leaf. Pour in wine marinade and chicken broth. Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and cook, covered, until the meat is fork-tender, 1 1/2 to 2 hours. Salt and pepper as needed. At this stage, I let the stew cool and rest. The other advantage to preparing the stew a day in advance is that it allows the fat to rise to the top and harden, making it easy to skim off. However, this stew had very little fat, so there wasn't much to skim off.

Thirty minutes or so before serving, reheat the stew. Stir in pre-cooked black eyed peas and one bag of frozen peas. Simmer with the lid on until ready to serve.

In a large pot of salted boiling water, cook one large bag of egg noodles.

Tuck into rich, hearty venison stew over a steamy bowl of egg noodles topped with fresh parsley.

Penne Risotto with Beef Short Rib

Dear Michelle,

I wonder why it is that twice now, when I'd like to relate to you a recipe by Patricia Wells, it will end up being a short post? An hour must be sufficient for me to write this, as I'll soon be on my way to meet my mother at noon, but this must be shared! I've already told you how I feel about Wells, so I'll not go into that again. Suffice to say that the following recipe for penne risotto is one of my favorites, not just of her recipes but of meals to make in general, and like regular risotto, it can be varied infinite ways.


The impetus for this came from a half-pound of beef short rib Jeff brought home from our favorite neighborhood butcher. As you know, there's not too much you can do with a half-pound of short rib; it's a bit like having 3 pieces of bacon, that is to say, delicious but not a whole lot of meat. However, when faced with that bit of discouraging information regarding his meant-to-be-exciting-surprise-purchase, he accessed his talent for coming up with terrific meals to suggest penne risotto, a favorite of his we'd not had in a while.

The basic idea of penne risotto is that of regular risotto. You toast the pasta in oil, add seasonings, then add broth slowly. The result is tender, perfectly al-dente pasta that is coated in rich, flavorful, almost silky sauce. This goes well with so many things: roasted vegetables in the summer, artichoke hearts, asparagus; the variations are endless. This time, it went perfectly with short rib. I'd cooked the short rib simply in white wine, herbes de Provence, onion and carrot, then shredded it and added the liquid, vegetables, and meat to the chicken stock I'd bought (chicken because it's a little lighter, but one could certainly use beef, or even vegetable stock), then added the meat and veggies when I was almost through adding stock. Now, I might go buy a half-pound of shortrib just for this! It was the perfect amount of meat (plus a half-pound is pretty cheap), and the additional carrots I added towards the end balanced it out well.



Penne Risotto with Beef Shortrib

Penne risotto recipe is from Patricia Wells at Home in Provence, pg 144-145. The below recipe is hers (as always, paraphrased by me. Seems wrong to copy word for word), with my notes in parentheses.

About 2 1/2 quarts stock
1lb dried Italian tubular pasta (works with any pasta; orzo is especially nice)
1/2 c extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 t fine sea salt
4 T tomato paste
2 T finely chopped rosemary leaves (I used dry herbes de Provence, sometimes rosemary, sometimes thyme when I have fresh; let this be dictated by what else you are adding, what you have, and how you feel)
1/4 t crushed dried red pepper (I sometimes omit)
2 t good red wine vinegar
1/2 c grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese (or another good, dry, hard cheese, finely grated)

Heat stock till barely simmering (here, I added short rib liquid and guessed as to how much. It was fine. If you run out of liquid just heat more up. Directions for cooking short rib below). In a large skillet (LARGE- otherwise there will be overflow. Trust me), heat oil over moderately high heat. When hot but not smoking, add the pasta, stirring till until it begins to brown lightly.



Season with salt and add tomato paste and rosemary, stirring constantly until pasta is evenly coated with sauce (allowing the tomato paste to brown lightly as well will add a very rich flavor). Slowly add a ladelful of stock, stirring until most of the liquid is absorbed. Turn heat to medium; you want to maintain a simmer. Pasta should cook slowly. Just before it looks dry, add another ladeful of stock. Continue until pasta is tender. It will feel springy to the touch, and have just a little bit of resistance when bitten. (I added additional diced carrot about halfway through. Here's where I would add any vegetable, except those roasting in the oven, which I would stir in with about 5 minutes to go. How do I know when that is? The pasta is almost done, a little too hard to the bite; one more ladelful will do it. This is also the time at which I added the short rib meat). Add vinegar and additional seasoning to taste. (the vinegar helps to balance the richness. It makes a huge difference!). Stir in half the cheese. Serve in warmed bowls or dishes, sprinkling on the rest of the cheese. (Reheats very well- so much better than buying lunch out!)

Short Rib

We think of beef as traditionally cooked in red wine, but I wanted something a little lighter for this. There is a French dish called Provencal daube in which it is cooked in white wine, so I figured that would work out fine. And it did. Maybe I'll try making the daube sometime soon, before it gets warm out.

1/2 lb short rib
white wine
herbs
1 carrot
1 onion

Brown short rib in skillet. Set aside.
Dice and saute one half onion (or whole small onion) and one carrot.



Put beef, and juices, in a container small enough that you don't need to add the whole bottle of wine to cover, or almost cover, the meat. I only had a bowl that was a little too small (or way too large), so the beef wasn't quite covered. I kept turning it. It was fine. Add veggies, a sprinkling of herbs, salt and pepper, and wine to cover (or almost).


Cook at 200F for a few hours, until it starts to fall apart.

(Some notes paraphrased from the nerdy cook's favorite book, One Food and Cooking by Harold McGee: Pieces of meat like short rib are naturally tough because of the presence of connective tissue. Braising will make them tender and succulent. The connective tissue will turn into gelatin [what makes the meat succulent] at 160-180F. So, once meat is browned for flavor, cook at a gentle, low heat for best results. That is also why I do not preheat the oven here, which is fine if you have plenty of time)

A Fish By Any Other Name

Dear Devon

I have a sleek and shimmering branzino on my cutting board. I am going to roast it whole at 500 degrees for a crispy, charred skin. Delicious!!

I love fish. Whenever fish appears on the menu, I resolutely snap it shut and look for the server. Everyone at the table knows what I'm eating. My first time in Germany (I was 15), I ordered a roasted fish. The entire fish, head and all, came out. With a few deft cuts and movements, my dad showed me how to filet a fish. I have never looked back. It stands out as one of my better meals.

For years, I drooled over recipes for roast fish, but I didn't have the nerve to try it for myself. What finally brushed away my insecurities? I don't know, but what a mistake to have let that time pass. Roasting must be the easiest way to prepare fish. None of that fishy smell, no hot oil spills, and quick, easy clean up. When selecting fish, I look for a few things: clean, bright skin, clear eyes, and the absence of a fishy smell. I always ask the fishmonger to gut it for me. I once saw my grandmother gut and clean a fish. It takes both skill and a strong stomach. I was surprised at her skill, but I don't feel the need to perfect that technique.


I like to roast branzino or trout, seasoned with salt, pepper, and fennel, and stuffed with fresh herbs like dill, parsley, or thyme. The subtle flavor of the fish with a trace of herbs really sings. A sprinkle of lemon juice and a splash of olive oil enhances the soft sweetness of the fish. Some people choose not to eat the crackly charred skin. I find it one of the better parts. It imparts a wonderful salty and slight fishy taste to the flaky meat. It's quite possibly the most wonderful meal. I serve it with a generous helping of spinach sauteed in garlic with a pinch of chili flakes. A crisp white wine adds the perfect note.



Here's an interesting side note: Branzino is actually part of the sea bass family. In Europe, it is sometimes called sea perch. It has been on dining tables since Roman times!!


Whole Roasted Branzino
serves 1 hungry person or 2 moderate eaters

1 beautiful branzino, roughly 1 to 2 pounds
1 teaspoon, sea salt
1 tsp white peppercorns
1 tsp fennel
10 sprigs parsley
5 sprigs dill
1 lemon, cut into wedges
olive oil (optional)

Preheat the oven to 500 degrees. Line a baking sheet with foil. Set aside.

Roughly grind the salt, peppercorns, and fennel with the mortar and pestle. Don't pulverize the mixture. You should be able to see pieces of each ingredient.

Remove fish from wrappings. Rinse under cold water, inside and out. Pat dry with paper towels. Using a sharp knife, cut three slashes in each side of the fish. Rub the fish all over inside and out with the salt / pepper mixture. Make sure to get some flavoring into the slashes. Stuff the inside with the herbs. Carefully place the fish on the prepared baking sheet.

Roast in the oven, undisturbed, until the meat is translucent right down to the bone and flaky, about 8 to 12 minutes. The Joy of Cooking recommends 8 minutes per inch of thickness. To get that wonderful blackened skin, turn the broiler on at the last moment until the skin reaches your level of crispness. Every broiler is different, so I am hesitant to give a time. For instance, my mother's super high-power oven can broil something to the point of charcoal in 30 seconds, while my broiler can take 5 minutes. Use your best judgment.

Serve with a sprinkle of lemon juice and generous glug of olive oil.

Pasta Fagioli

Dear Devon,

I have way too much stuff! Over the past two weeks, I have gradually and awkwardly schlepped my books, furniture, cooking implements, clothes, and random junk into my new apartment. The move is nearing its final stages. Only the piano remains. I'm not foolhardy enough to try moving that by myself. Fear and a flight of stairs quickly extinguished thrift.

Given my increased level of physical exertion, I turned to black eyed peas as a good source of nutrients. I intended to cook enough for two or three servings, but accidentally dumped the entire one-pound bag into the pot. C’est la vie! My folly is your windfall, as you will discover the charms and versatility of the black eyed pea!

There is a lot written about how to cook dried beans. After trying various methods, I still don’t know which is the best. Here’s what I did:
Fill a large pot with water. Add one pound black eyed peas. Throw in a bay leaf. Gradually bring to a boil. Simmer on low heat for 1 ½ to 2 hours, or until the beans are tender. Drain and cool. Store in large containers.

Beans = pasta fagioli. The recipe is flexible and works with practically any type of bean: white beans, kidney beans, and even lentils. Use whatever greens you have in the fridge. I prepare this with kale, broccoli rabe, spinach, and sometimes beet tops. Canned beans can be substituted for quicker and easier cooking. My pasta of choice is large shells. I love the surprise of the smooth, salty bean nestled in the starchy shell. I haven't had time to stock up the pantry, so this time I used penne. It is a good substitute and a staple in my cupboard.


I had never used black eyed peas in this recipe before. I was surprised at the texture of the bean, which was a bit denser, not as smooth as the white beans I had used in the past. I needed a green that could easily balance the heartier texture of the black eyed pea. Kale, with its slight tang and darker flavoring, seemed like a good counterpart. I found that purple kale worked even better than green in this instance, making the dish more vibrant both in color and flavor. I finished it off with a dash of red chili flakes and a pat of butter for richness.

Definitely add this to your list of standing recipes. It is too yummy to set aside. Forkfuls of beans, pasta, and kale coated with a garlic, butter, and chili flake...is there anything better?

Pasta Fagioli
Serves 4

1 strip of bacon, chopped
2 shallots, sliced
2 cloves of garlic, smashed and sliced
half bunch of kale
½ cup chicken broth or water
pinch of red chili flake
1 cup black eyed peas, pre-cooked
pasta (preferably shells)
1 tbsp butter

Bring to boil one large pot of salted water. Add enough pasta for four servings.

In a large sauté pan, cook bacon. Drain off all but 1 tbsp of fat and add a tablespoon of oil. Roughly chop shallots. Smash garlic cloves and chop. Add onions and garlic to hot oil. Gently sauté over medium heat until slightly translucent. Wash kale thoroughly--I often find pockets of dirt and encrusted mud on the leaves. Remove the thick, fibrous stalk. Chop into nice 1 ½ inch pieces. Add to the sauté pan. When the kale heats through, about 5 minutes, pour in chicken broth. Cook over medium low heat for about 10 minutes. Salt and throw in a pinch of chili flake. Mix in cooked black eyed peas. Cook until beans are heated through. Toss in cooked pasta. Taste for salt. Finish with butter.

Aunt Lynaire's Scottish Scones: Blood Orange and Pecan, and Lime Cranberry

Dear Michelle,

I'll admit, I was trying to be cute. Knowing me as you do, you might guess how I feel about Valentine's Day, and so it would come as a surprise to you that yesterday morning found me making blood orange and pecan scones. My humbuggery had a karmic backlash, however, and turned the scones blue.

You can't see it too well from the photo, but the scone was as blue as blueberry pancakes (the dark in the middle is chocolate). I was being lazy; we'd gone out already that day (Jeff got me some more of that amazing salami and some bulk Valrhona chocolate for Valentines day. I'm more opposed to the holiday in theory than I am in practice, especially when I get presents like this), and we'd forgotten the buttermilk. That was the first in a chain of possibly avoidable reasons that my should-have-been-pink scones ended up blue.


I'd read about making sour milk to replace buttermilk. In fact, the original recipe for these scones calls for it. To make sour milk, you put 1t-1T of vinegar into 1c of milk, and let sit for 5-15 minutes. I used Trader Joe's Orange Champagne Muscat vinegar, one of my favorites, thinking that the orange flavor could only improve the final product. Turns out I was wrong; I knew this vinegar was not as acid as most, and that ended up being my first big mistake. My next was using the resulting milk even though it had not visibly curdled. The dough was gooier than usual, but I forged ahead anyway, and then was surprised to see blue-green lumps on my cookie sheet instead of pretty pink scones. If you don't care about the why and want to get on with your life, skip the next paragraph.


Now, I've made blood orange scones before, and they were pink, and pretty, and delicious. In fact, this is the only time my scones have gone wrong. The latent science nerd that I am, I figured that it must have been a pH thing, but my first couple of Google searches produced nothing. So I dug the remains of the blood orange out of the trash, squeezed a few remaining drops of juice into two glasses, and proceeded to test my theory. I added a little bit of baking soda to one glass, and sure enough, it turned blue. Then I added some vinegar (not the champagne muscat) to the other glass, and it turned redder. Since my previous blood orange scones have not been blue, I figured that the acid protects the color, and if the dough remains acid enough the color will be pink. I added some baking soda to the acid glass, and it took a whole lot more to turn it. Further Google research revealed that the anti-oxidant compound (which is really, really good for you) that makes blood oranges red is also in blueberries, red grapes, acai berries, and red cabbage. Remember using red cabbage to test for PH in high school science class? Apparently they'll all work.


So, the moral of all that is to not be lazy and go out and buy buttermilk. Or, if you sour fresh milk to substitute, use high-acid vinegar or lemon juice and wait till it curdles. Even if you are not making the scones with anything that might turn into a less-than-appetizing color, they will have that baking soda taste if there's not enough acid.

Now, onto the scones, original recipe, and my good fortune to have it. From the time I was about 2 years old till the summer I turned 22, my extended family on my father's side would all get together at Lake Tahoe for a week each July.

From the deck, taken sometime during my college years

These vacations were truly idyllic, even in my teenage years. An only child, I was thrilled to spend time around my cousins, whose company I enjoy even more now as an adult. We'd sun on the pier, jump into the lake and come up gasping from cold, fish for crawdads, watch movies, and double in laughter as our fathers ran down the stairs in their underwear to "protect" the cabin from the bears smashing up the trash cans ( I mean, what were they going to do about it?). The best part, though, were the mornings and the evenings.


Taken with a Holga camera, also sometime during my college years

We the third generation all slept in the living room, in sleeping bags and on couches. In the morning, sun would hit the lake and the reflected light shimmered on the ceiling of our makeshift bedroom. The sound of geese or the smell of coffee from the first awake adult would compete with the heat and light to wake us. We'd crawl out, one by one, bleary eyed, to see what we were getting for breakfast. My Aunt Lynaire, a warm smiling woman who is always ready with a hug, is an ace cook. Both of my aunts are, and my mother too; we are a family that values a good meal, and I learned so much watching them all in the kitchen those summers. Waffles and scones were Lynaire's domain, and those were things I never got at home (we had a waffle iron once, but I'm pretty sure my father broke it somehow), and so were very exciting. She would make two or three kinds of scones, and we'd fall upon them like a pack of starved dogs. They were hearty, fluffy, crispy and moist, steaming from the oven and made for slathering with butter and jam. There were never any leftovers.

Sometime after our summers had been discontinued due to the difficulty of getting my grandparents up there, I asked Aunt Lynaire for her recipe, which quickly became a favorite in our small household of two. I couldn't count how many people have been converted by this recipe to scone lovers; it makes me so sad when people say they don't like scones, because I'm sure they've only tasted the Starbuck's version, and nothing like these before. Saying you hate scones is a surefire way to get invited to brunch. In anticipation of sharing these with you, I asked her recently if she minded. She said of course not, but that she'd made some changes to the recipe, which I will share as well.


Aunt Lynaire's Scottish Scones

original recipe from Breakfast in Bed Cookbook: The Best B and B Recipes from Northern California to British Columbia by Carol Frieberg. Some changes have been made. See Lynaire's notes below for additional instruction.


1 c cake flour
1 c all-purpose flour
2 T sugar
1/2 t baking soda
1/2 t salt
1/4 c cold butter
1/2 c dried fruit, soaked in hot water for 15m, then drained
Zest of 1 citrus fruit (optional)
1/2-3/4 c walnuts or pecans, chopped or broken
3/4 + 2T buttermilk (can also substitute orange juice for 2T)

Preheat oven to 400. Sift dry ingredients. Cut butter into dry ingredients till it forms a fine-crumb texture. Add plumped fruit, or whatever, and mix together. Make a well in the mixture and add liquids, mixing lightly with a fork just until a soft dough is formed. Turn onto lightly floured surface and knead gently, turning only two or three times. Place dough onto lightly greased cookie sheet and pat into a circle, until about 1/2-3/4 inch thick at the edge. Score with a knife into six pieces. Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until golden brown. Serve hot with lots of butter and preserves.


Notes:

I like the following combinations:

lime and dried cranberry or cherry
lemon poppyseed
orange walnut/pecan
blueberry

Really, any combination of citrus and nuts is really good. I've not tried dried fruits like apricots or mangos, but I bet they'd be good too. If I don't have enough nuts to mix in, I'll chop them finely and mix with sugar, then roll the scones in those before baking, the result of which is a crispy crust. I tend to make six smaller scones instead of one large, and I bake them on a silicon sheet liner, which works very well. I do not sift before measuring, but do spoon flour into the measuring cup and level it. I've used all all-purpose before, to no ill-effect; they are just not as light. The blood orange I used here was oozing oil after I zested it, so I put it in a bowl with sugar, and then used that in the scones as well. I tried a little of the sugar in my tea, though I don't usually go for sugar in my tea, and it had a wonderful flavor. The rest of the sugar is in the refrigerator.


Below is the current version of the recipe my Aunt Lynaire uses, directly copied from an email she sent me. I've not tried it yet, but I know that it will be good.

"Sift together 1 C. cake flour, 1 C. all-purpose flour, 3T. sugar, 1/2 t. baking soda, and 1/2 t. salt. By the way, if you are not in too big of a hurry, I get the best results if I sift these ingredients 3 times. Cut in 1/4 C. firm butter (not too cold) until you have those little pea-sized blobs you always read about. At this point you can add huckleberries (my favorite), nuts, blueberries, whatever. For what it is worth, frozen berries work best - they don't explode all over the place and make soggy spots in the scones. If you have the fresh berries and you don't want to worry with freezing them, then just top the scones with the berries - don't mix them into the batter. Finally, make a well in the flour mixture and add 3/4 C. buttermilk. I usually substitute a couple tablespoons of orange juice (my preference with berries) for the buttermilk. Mix it all quickly with a fork. You do NOT want a smooth batter, as a matter of fact, you may need to add another tablespoon of buttermilk or orange juice to the batter if it won't stick together. It should look very rough - but dump it all onto a very-lightly floured counter and - with floured hands - quickly knead the mess together. No more than 4 or 5 turns. Plop onto a baking sheet (I have the non-stick kind Grandma Banks gave to your mother (Aunt Kim, too?), and me many years ago), and sprinkle with a little course sugar and cinnamon. Or don't. Bake at (my oven thermometer is off, so I guess here) 400 degrees for about 15-20 minutes. This is all guess work here, Devon. I just wait until it is a deep golden brown. The outside is crunchy and the inside is a nice delicate crumb. Uncle Fred and Tom eat the scones with some of my peach-orange marmalade (tasty) or just slathered with butter (my preference in the good old days)."


Enjoy!

Yours truly, age 4, at the lake. I wonder what I was protesting?

The Momofuku Slow-Poached Egg with Miso Butter

Dear Michelle,

Jeff got me the Momofuku cookbook for Christmas. Or, rather, Jeff got us the Momofuku cookbook for Christmas; he knew what would happen if he got me that book. We've been to one of the three in the family of restaurants only once, and it was transcendent experience, made even better by the company of good friends and my first taste of nigori sake. It was enough to convince me that I wanted to own that cookbook when I heard it was coming out.

So far, we have made pork belly ssam twice, sour cream ice cream once, and the scallion ginger sauce several times; all very very good, and all things we will make again. And, of course, there is the slow-poached egg. As you read on, at some point you will wonder, "Is it really worth taking the time to do this?" Stay with me. It is.

For anyone who likes eggs, and by that I mean likes eggs enough that you like the white set just so and the yolk just runny enough, you know how difficult achieving this consistently can be. I've been making sunny-side up eggs for years, and I still mess them up sometimes, and EVERY time I do this I feel like my breakfast has been ruined. Almost worse than a set yolk is a not-quite-cooked-enough white. So, what if I told you that, for about an hour's worth of on-again off-again attention, you could have perfect eggs for a whole week?

These eggs are so perfect because they are cooked in what is essentially a sous-vide method. True, there is no vacuum packing, and no wondering if it is really ok to cook your food in plastic, but the principle is there; submerge something self-contained in hot, circulating water set to a particular temperature that perfectly cooks what is inside, and what you end up with will be neither over-, nor under-cooked. For a little color and flavor, you then sear quickly and serve.

The result is an egg that has a creamy yolk and a white that is just on the right side of done, gelled on the line between opaque and translucent. The mouth-feel of the egg is luscious, and is hands down the best prepared egg I have ever had.

Of course, it doesn't hurt to lightly fry the egg in pork fat, and slide it down onto a piece of good bread smeared with miso butter (miso is fermented soybean paste, available in asian markets, and probably most grocery stores). Miso butter, like this, seems to be an invention of Chang's, and a very good one. It's a salty-umami flavor sucker punch that hits right on the back of your tongue, like really good bacon does. And, like bacon, it is perfect with an egg.


I haven't even gotten to the best part about this egg ( I know, give it a rest, right?), which is that you can make a bunch, chill them, and put them in the fridge for later use. Breakfast? Easier and quicker than frying a raw egg! Lunch? Soba noodles with some sort of vegetable, mixed with miso butter and an egg on top! Variations? pile steamed greens on your toast, or, like I did this morning, wrap two of these little guys in some salami (yeah, that's right, salami. But not the kind you're thinking, unless you are lucky enough to get it from the same butcher I do. I could devote a whole post to this stuff. Or, if I was inclined to do such things, write a poem), and nestle the whole mess down onto miso-buttered toast. Heaven! (Mom, if you're reading this, I promise I had an orange afterwards)

Before I start the how-to, let me recommend again the Momofuku cookbook. If the above wasn't enough to convince you, please trust me that it's worth the $40. That's not even enough to pay for dinner at one of Chang's restaurants. The recipes are very accessible, and range from complicated to easy. I feel like I could someday make the pig's head torchons, but for now I'll stick with the pork buns. Plus the writing is good, and the photos well done. Jeff notes that this is not a cookbook for the beginning cook; I'm not sure I agree, but that's only conditional on the enthusiasm of said cook. I do know that you will be seeing a lot on here that is directly from/ inspired by this cookbook.


Slow-Poached Egg from Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan, pg 52

Notes: I've used a smaller pot for these, but this last time used my Le Creuset dutch oven. Go bigger. The more water, the less volatile the temperature, the less you need to hover and can do more interesting things. Have cold water handy, and if you just have a smaller pot, ice cubes. Use a candy thermometer. They are more accurate than meat thermometers, not too expensive, and more useful than you'd think. Especially if you make these eggs as often as I do. Get REALLY good eggs; what you end up with will reflect what you start out with. The best eggs, by far, are home or small-farm raised eggs. If the yolk is yellow instead of orange, you need to find better eggs. You discard a part of the white that doesn't firm; this is about 1/4-1/3 of it. Therefore, you might want two eggs where before you'd eat one.


Fit 1 large pot with steamer basket or just something to keep the eggs suspended in water. Fill enough to cover eggs plus some (but not full; you want room to add cold water later for temp. control), and set on stove. Secure candy thermometer so that tip is suspended in water; you will leave it here. Heat over medium low to 140-145 degrees F. Add eggs. When temperature comes back to 140-145F, start timer for 40-45 minutes. I usually do 45, because I like them a little more done. Check water regularly; keeping it in this temperature range is key. If the temp is creeping up to 145, add a little cold water/ice to bring it back down. Keep the heat as low as possible, and add cold water in small increments. With the large pot, I checked about every 10 minutes, but start off with 5 till you can gauge how quickly the temperature changes. When timer goes off, chill in ice bath. Refrigerate or use.


While eggs are cooking, make miso butter. I like about half butter to half miso; Chang uses 1/2 c miso with 5T butter. I find that to be a little too salty for my taste, especially considering the amount that I use. However, in 1-1 quantity, the miso butter will become hard when refrigerated. Play around with it and see what suits you. Different brands will also taste different. This was my first foray into cooking with miso, so I regret that I cannot specify a preferred brand.


To make: mix softened butter with white miso until creamy. Make extra. Spread on toast, to be ready for the egg. (See 2nd photo in main body of writing for finished miso butter)

Heat a frying pan till hot, then add a small amount of fat of your choice. While pan heats, crack egg into a bowl, and discard thin white (I crack the eggs into my hand and the loose white falls away).



When fat shimmers, add egg(s). Fry till just colored on each side; you are adding flavor and just barely firming the egg, not trying to cook it through. Eat immediately. Do the same if egg comes out of the fridge; give it a touch longer to warm through. Chang uses the eggs, not fried, in soup as well, and recommends warming them under very hot tap water for a minute.

Patricia Wells' Potato Gratin

Dear Michelle-

This is going to be short; it's almost time for dinner. I don't need to say much about this dish, which I made when I was at my parent's house. If you like potatoes, cream, and cheese, you will like this.

Patricia Wells has long been a favorite cookbook author of mine. I have three of her books, all of which I would recommend highly and in which I have found many of my favorite recipes. I've only been let down once, by the "onion family soup", but I'm pretty sure I measured wrong. That is one of those things that neither Jeff nor I mentions. It was really that bad, but like I said, I'm sure it was my mistake. Patricia lives a blessed existence in Provence, and cooks and writes about it for a living. She has several recipes for potato gratin, and this looked like the richest and most luxurious. It sure was. You start by cooking sliced potatoes in herbed milk, then layer them with cream and Gruyere. The dish is creamy and rich, but not greasy, and delicately scented with the herbs from the milk and nutmeg.

My father took them out of the fridge and dug in cold one day for lunch. Granted, he's not much of one to heat things up, but I had a few bites and they are pretty good cold as well. Really, you can't go wrong with this unless you are serving the lactose-intolerant. And that would just be cruel.

Madame Laracine's Gratin Dauphinios from Bistro Cooking by Patricia Wells, pg. 99

3lbs baking potatoes, such as russets, peeled and thinly sliced. I think I used Yukon Golds, my favorite potatoes, and they worked very well.
2 c whole milk
3 cloves garlic, minced (my father is garlic averse, so I substituted 3 T shallot to no ill effect)
3/4 t salt
3 bay leaves
freshly grated nutmeg
freshly ground black pepper
1 c creme fraiche or heavy cream ( I used the latter, not having any of the former)
2 c grated good-quality Gruyere cheese

Preheat oven to 375F.
Place potatoes in a large saucepan and cover with milk and 2 c water ( I think I forgot the water? but it was fine. As long as the potatoes are covered.) Add garlic, salt, and bay leaves. Bring to a boil over medium high heat. Reduce heat to medium and stir occasionally so that potatoes do not stick. Cook till potatoes are tender but not falling apart, about 10 minutes.
Transfer half of potatoes to large baking dish (9x13" works) with slotted spoon. Sprinkle liberally with nutmeg, half of cream, half of cheese, and pepper. Add remaining potatoes and cover with all of the above again, cheese on top.
Bake until crisp and golden on top, about an hour. Serve as a side, or with salad as a complete meal. Dig in!