We had an amazing time, despite it raining all three days. Normally, when I head to the city I spend much of the time eating. This trip was different though. It was more about introducing Grace to one of my favorite cities. I think she fell in love. Her favorite part of the trip, she told me, was exploring Chinatown. We topped off our Chinatown visit with a stop by the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory where we enjoyed flavors like black sesame, chocolate pandan, red bean & lychee. They were all delicious! We hoped to try the wasabi, but they were all out. Next time, I will try the durian (stinky Southeast Asian fruit)!  I am giddy to share with you that I will be headed back to The Big Apple in September to make one of my dreams come true. I will see Aretha Franklin live at Radio City Music Hall! I will also be eating my way around town with my sister. I cannot wait!  Momofuku steamed pork buns here I come!

I suppose I am overdue to post a new recipe. Well, with summer here, I’ve got the perfect one to share. I was exploring Chowhound the other day and stumbled across a thread titled “The best vegetable side – ever”. Well, how could I not be tempted?  A  fellow ‘hound had posted a recipe for a summer vegetable gratin – carmelized onions topped with rows of sliced zucchini, yellow squash & tomatoes and sprinkled with fresh thyme, parmesan cheese and breadcrumbs. What’s not to love, right? To me, it sounded like summer heaven in one dish. I’ve made it twice in two weeks and I’m not sick of it yet. It’s a great way to highlight all the different vegetables summer gardens are yielding these days. There are many different variations, but here is a link to a Fine Cooking article that offers up three recipes.  Here are before and after photographs of my tomato, zucchini & yellow squash gratin.  The link to the article details how to make it.  I made a few changes, including using Locatelli Romano cheese in place of the parmesan cheese.  The great thing about these gratins is that there is no hard fast rule.  Use what you have and make it with what you like. 

Summer vegetable gratin assembled and ready to bake.

The finished dish - bon appetit!

I have so much to post about.  I took a girl’s food trip to NYC that was mind-blowing.  I planted a garden (well, my husband did much of the hard labor, but I was the CEO of the project).  I have been cooking some yummy stuff too.  I’m going to start back nice and easy and post about my cheese puffs to start.

These are not the Brooklyn Cheese Puffs that my mother made and I had immortalized in the cookbook (see other post).  These are the French cheese puffs, gourgères(pronounced goo-jhair), made with a choux pastry dough.  My friend Susan and I began our interest in food and wine together back in the early 1990′s.  We’d go out drinking, hitting the bars around our small city in central Pennsylvania.  The next morning we’d sit at her kitchen table nursing hangovers, and perusing cookbooks, food magazines, etc.  We found a new food magazine called Saveur and we just new we were cool to be hip to this new food rag – Gourmet and Bon Appetit were for newbies.  It was 1994, and we found a recipe for gourgeres and it was accompanied by the most charming little story about a woman named Colette (the pen name of a French novelist.  Ever heard of Gigi?) who was the inspiration for the birth of the magazine.  We didn’t know a gougères from a Pilsbury cresent roll, but they sounded delicious and the ingredient list was short and familiar, except for the Gruyère cheese.   We found ourselves a hunk of Gruyère and set to work.  Actually, to be honest, I think Susan did most of the stirring and work in general, and I probably sat at the table paging through her library books, smoking cigarettes and drinking tea.  In any case, OUR gougères turned out lovely and I have kept this recipe in my collection ever since.

I recently pulled out the recipe and the picture of Colette, remembered our first attempt, and 15 years later set to work myself.  Here is the recipe and a picture of my finished product.  Light, airy and gorgeous to look at.  If you are a fan of Gruyère cheese with it’s salty and nutty qualities, be prepared to fall in love.  Gougères with a glass of red wine and a cooking magazine to page through - well, there’s nothing finer. 

My gougeres on the serving platter Susan gave us as a wedding gift.

 

Gougères

For those of you who aren’t familiar with this fun little gadget, let me fill you in.  An insuling pump is a beeper-sized computer that attaches to my body via a skinny tube that is inserted in my waist (or belly or thigh).  It’s programmed by my Endocrinologist and Certified Diabetes Educator to dose my insulin with the push of a few buttons.  It delivers a steady stream of insulin to manage my bloodsugar when I am not eating, this is called a basal rate.  Then, when I am ready to eat, I tell it how many carbohydrates I’m going to have and what my bloodsugar is and it calculates my needed insulin and delivers it.  The whole process has been mind-numbing what with all the doctor appointments, insurance issues, finger sticks, high &  low bloodsugars, etc.  I’ve had it on live, with insulin, for 3 days now and I’m finally adjusting.  It’ll take some time to get used to something attached to me 24/7 but in the end I hope it will improve my disease management and help me lead a more normal and healthy life.  As Martha says, “It’s a good thing”.  I hate Martha though. 

To celebrate getting the pump, a friend and I went out to breakfast to a fancy, shmancy French restaurant here in town.  We had perused their menu online and simply had to try their foie gras, truffle and Boursin cheese omelette with pear compote.  Doesn’t that sound like the most amazing thing ever?  I am an admitted egg and foie gras whore and the thought of these two glorious food things combined in one dish nearly sent me over the edge.  I told anyone and everyone about my upcoming breakfast.  They listened but didn’t understand the level of my obsession.  I think I built it up too much in my mind though.  Sadly, the omelette was a major disappointment.   I know, I could’ve cried too.  The omelette itself was cooked well, but there was too little foie gras and too much truffle.  The cheese was good but what they described as “pear compote” was more like three slices of cooked pears.  C’est la vie. 

While all this fun stuff was going on, my better half was in Switzerland for a week on business.  How jealous was I when he sent me photographs, taken with his cell phone camera, of the Matterhorn and phoned to tell me of the delicious cheeses and breads he was eating?  Very jealous.  He was in Lausanne, a French-speaking city that overlooks Lake Geneva and The Alps.    But enough about that, let’s get to the food.  He promised to bring us back lots of Swiss chocolates.  Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, chocolate blanche(white) and truffles.  While he was there I got to thinking about Gruyere cheese.  It’s a slightly sweet and salty hard, cow’s milk cheese, commonly used in Quiche Lorraine, French onion soup and fondue.  Well, I did some research and I found that you can bring hard cheeses through U.S. Customs – Yay!  I put in an order with my husband for a nice hunk of aged Gruyere.  Guess what?  More bad news.  The Swiss police confiscated it  when he passed through security!  A $35 hunk of cheese gone as quick as it was acquired.  They probably had it for lunch, the dirty bastards.  Why in the name of all that is tasty, would the Swiss care if you left with cheese?  I can understand them not wanting you to bring IN cheese or other food products, but carry out is bad?  Why?  I truly don’t understand and wish someone cold enlighten me.  Man, what  I wouldn’t give for that cheese.  Having been denied it makes me want it all the more.  So sad. 

Okay, let’s move on to the pork and the yummy photographs.  I have this recipe for Slow-Braised Pork with Black Grapes and Shallots that I found in Bon Appetit a couple of years ago.  Every since we first tried it, it has become a winter staple for our family.  I’m a huge fan of the slow braise and the tough meats that are transformed into tender pull apart, silky goodness.  The rich, dark sauces that spoon so nicely over mashed Yukon Gold potatoes, polenta or egg noodles.  For me, it’s the perfect comfort food.  Here’s a brief slide show of the cooking process, which is quite easy.  All you need is patience for the slow, two-hour braise. 

Sear seasoned pork in a hot dutch oven.

Remove pork and saute shallots and black grapes in rendered fat.

 

After braising liquid has reduced, return pork to pot w/ fresh herbs and it's ready for the oven

 

Once you put it in the oven you forget about it for an hour.  Then, take it out of the oven and, using tongs, flip the pork over in the juices.  Replace the lid and return it to the oven for 45 minutes.  When it’s finished braising remove the pork from the pot, tent it w/ foil and boil the juices to reduce some more.  Remove herb stems, seaon the sauce and serve it over the pork.  Yum!

  

The finished product served over mashed potatoes with steamed French beans & broccoli

 

 

Slow-Braised Pork with Black Grapes and Balsamic

Bon Appétit | October 2005

 

1 3 1/4-pound boneless pork shoulder (Boston butt), trimmed, cut into 3 equal pieces
4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided 

 8 large shallots, halved, cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices (about 3 cups)
3 cups seedless black grapes (about 1 pound)
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
2 cups low-salt chicken broth
2 large fresh sage sprigs
4 large fresh thyme sprigs
2 large fresh rosemary sprigs
Preheat oven to 325°F. Sprinkle pork with salt and pepper. Heat 2 tablespoons oil in heavy large ovenproof pot over medium-high heat. Add pork to pot and cook until browned on all sides, about 13 minutes total. Transfer pork to plate; discard fat in pot.

Heat remaining 2 tablespoons oil in same pot over medium heat. Add shallots and grapes; sauté until shallots are golden, stirring occasionally, about 3 minutes. Add sugar; sauté 30 seconds. Add vinegar; bring mixture to boil and cook until slightly reduced, about 3 minutes. Add broth, all herb sprigs, and pork with juices from plate. Bring to boil. Cover pot and transfer to oven. Braise pork 1 hour. Using tongs, turn pork over and continue braising until meat is very tender, about 45 minutes longer. Using slotted spoon, transfer pork to platter; tent with foil.

Remove herb sprigs from pot and skim fat from surface of cooking liquid. Boil cooking liquid over high heat until thickened, about 7 minutes. Season sauce with salt and pepper. Pour over pork and serve.

This past weekend we had our 2nd Charlotte Chowdown. It was a huge success and so much fun. We had lunch at Dim Sum Restaurant on Central Ave. in Charlotte. I had received a list of must try dishes from a local woman who is known about town as a dim sum “expert”. She was kind enough to email me suggestions and to speak to the restaurant owners to arrange for a group reservation for our 17 food lovers. I had never been to Dim Sum before and was eager to go because I had heard such good things about the food and experience.

The servers pushed metal carts loaded with dishes throughout the dining room. They would stop at your table and explain what dishes they had. Roast pork buns, shrimp-stuffed eggplant, leek dumplings, sticky rice w/ roast duck, etc. My favorites were the shrimp-stuffed eggplant and the baked roast pork buns. The buns were dessert to me. Tender pork in a sweet sauce on soft warm buns – yum. Chicken feet are a very common dim sum dish but oddly, they never offered any to us. When we asked for them, the server laughed and returned with a cart full of stainless pans loaded with chicken feet. I imagine they didn’t think they were to our liking. Wrong!  The chicken feet were batter-dipped and deep fried and then coated with a sweet sauce. This was my first experience with chicken feet and I had prepared myself the night before. I watched youtube videos so I would not only know how they would appear but also how to eat them. Yes, I’m a dork.  You bite off the toes at the knuckle and carefully spit out the bones. As expected, they tasted like chicken – although, there really wasn’t much to eat besides skin and cartilage.

Deep-friend chicken feet

We really had a terrific time. This group is expanding quickly and it’s amazing how well we get along with one another. We all met on Chowhound, a foodie messageboard, and it’s been great fun matching the online personalities with the real people. We are anxious to begin planning our next lunch. Vietnamese? Malaysian? Indian? Who knows!

I made a batch of cookies a couple of days ago. I had a log of frozen cookie dough in the freezer from a batch I had made a month or so ago. I don’t know what prompted me to want to make chocolate snickerdoodles, but that’s what I had. They’re actually good and remind me of Mexican chocolate with the cocoa powder, cinnamon and sugar. You roll the dough into 1-inch balls, roll them in cinnamon sugar and bake. The finished product is a thick, crackled cookie that is not too sweet but very comforting.

Chocolate snickerdoodles

Chocolate Snickerdoodles

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 eggs
2 cups flour
3/4 cup cocoa
1 teaspoon cream of tartar
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sugar

Preheat oven to 400F. Combine sugar, butter, vanilla and eggs. Mix well. Stir in flour, cocoa, cream of tartar, baking soda and salt. Blend well. Shape dough into 1 inch balls. Combine 2 tablespoons sugar and 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon.

Roll dough in sugar/cinnamon mixture and place 2 inches apart on ungreased baking sheets. Bake 8 to 10 minutes, or until set. Immediately remove from cookie sheets. Yield: 3 dozen

A few rainy days ago I was chatting with my dear friend Mary about Meyer lemons. She was given an ornamental tree as a gift and it produced one glorious lemon. She was on the hunt for a special recipe where she could showcase her precious bounty. I wasn’t much help to her. I was drained of ideas and I had very little knowledge or experience with Meyer lemons. Not dissuaded, Mary set out on an internet search for a recipe. A day or two later, she arrived on my doorstep carrying a box of cookies. Meyer lemon butter cookies. These little jewels were so tasty, creamy yet light with a nice pop of citrus. I fell in love instantly. I later went to the grocery store where, low and behold, there was a stand of gorgeous golden Meyer lemons on sale. I scooped up a bunch and skipped through the check-out line wondering what I was going to do with them(Okay, I didn’t really “skip”).

Mary was kind enough to send me the link to the recipe she used.  The recipe for Sablés au Citron from Paris Sweets by Dorie Greenspan is the perfect butter cookie recipe.  I perused many recipes online and none compared to this one.  What’s not to love about a recipe that calls for, not one but, two sticks of butter?  The recipe had all the right elements for me but it was still missing something.  As Emeril says, I wanted to “kick it up a notch” (for the record, I’m not an Emeril fan).  I thought of my herb garden and what was left out there: Italian parsley, thyme & rosemary.  I thought, “Rosemary!  That’s it!”  Meyer Lemon & Rosemary Butter Cookies!  How sexy does that sound?  This revelation prompted another internet search.  I do wish I could stay focused.  I am so easily side-tracked and so I was on the internet for hours, reading and salivating over many recipes.  I did learn, however, that Meyer lemons are thought to be a hybrid of lemons and Mandarin oranges, developed in China 100 years ago.  They are less acidic than other lemons and sweeter too.  Their color is that of an egg yolk, another reason to love them.

I tweaked the recipe a bit and decided on two teaspoons of chopped rosemary.  Some folks used one teaspoon while others called for one tablespoon.  I wanted the rosemary to pair with the lemon, not overwhelm it.    Also, the Greenspan recipe only called for using the zest.  That wasn’t enough for me.  I stripped these gorgeous lemons of their zest, what about the sweet, tangy juice?  I decided to add a couple teaspoons of the juice to the batter as well.  Below is a photograph of the resulting cookies and the recipe with my adjustments.  Some of the cookies came out browner than is ideal.  You want little to no color.  They browner cookies still taste fabulous, but they aren’t as pretty as the nude ones. 

Meyer Lemon & Rosemary Butter Cookies

Meyer Lemon & Rosemary Butter Cookies

Adapted from Sablés au Citron recipe from Paris Sweets by Dorie Greenspan

8 ounces (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

2/3 cup confectioners’ sugar (measured then sifted)

2 large egg yolks, divided 

pinch of salt

2 tsp vanilla extract

2 tsp Meyer lemon juice, freshly squeezed

3-4 tsp finely grated Meyer lemon zest (to taste)

2 cups all purpose flour

2 tsp fresh rosemary, finely chopped

approximately 1/2 cup granulated sugar (for coating)

In the bowl of a stand mixer, beat butter on medium speed until smooth, add the confectioners’ sugar and beat until smooth. Beat in 1 egg yolk, followed by salt, vanilla, juice and lemon zest.

On low speed, add the flour and rosemary and mix just until flour is incorporated. 

Gather dough into a ball, divide in half, and wrap each piece in plastic wrap. Chill dough for 30 minutes in refrigerator.

Form each piece of dough into a log that is about 1 to 1 1/4 inches in diameter.  Wrap logs in plastic wrap and chill dough for 2 hours in refrigerator. (Dough logs can be wrapped airtight and kept refrigerated for up to 3 days or stored in freezer for up to 1 month.)

Preheat oven to 350F. Line your baking sheets with parchment paper or utilize a silicone mat or baking stone.

If you are coating your cookies with sugar, whisk the remaining egg yolk until it’s smooth and liquid enough to use as a glaze. Spread granulated sugar out on a piece of waxed paper. One log at a time, unwrap your chilled dough log and brush lightly with the egg yolk. Roll the log in sugar, pressing gently to help the sugar stick.

Slice each log into rounds about 1/4 inch thick. Place on baking sheets, leaving about 1/2 inch between the cookies.

Bake at 350F for 12-14 minutes until they are set but not browned. (It’s okay if the yolk-sugar edges brown slightly.) Transfer cookies to cooling rack.

Yield:  50 cookies

Note:  I didn’t do the yolk & sugar glaze.  The resulting cookie is pretty, but who needs the extra sugar?  Not I. 

I just ate another cookie.  They are “Slap yo Mama” good, really they are.  Lemon and rosemary just go together like Sonny & Cher, Peaches & Herb, Tony Orlando & Dawn… good God, you’d think I was a child of the seventies. 

Anyway… so then I had several Meyer lemons stripped of their zest.  What to do with the juice?  Then it hit me: cocktails!  I brainstormed again and decided to make a rosemary simple syrup.  1/2 cup of sugar, 1/2 cup of water and 4 5-inch stems of fresh rosemary, needles stripped from the stem and roughly chopped.  Throw all three ingredients in a pan and bring to a boil.  Reduce heat and simmer for 2 minutes.  Cool.  Strain into a Tupperware cup and refrigerate.  You can use this syrup for cocktails or to flavor and sweeten homemade lemonade.  Here’s what I did with it:

Winter Sunshine

1.5 ounce Bacardi Limon rum

Juice of half a Meyer lemon

a sprinkle of chopped rosemary

2 teaspoons rosemary simple syrup

Club soda

*crushed ice & a stemless wine glass (tumbler)

In the wine tumbler squeeze the lemon and drop it into the glass.  Add the rosemary and the simple syrup and muddle until the lemon is juiced.  Fill 2/3 with crushed ice.  Add rum and top off with club soda.  Give it a stir and voila!

I am sufficiently full of sunshine, fresh sweet & tangy lemons, and love and birthday wishes from my family and friends.  It’s a great day.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving with just my family and my niece.  Small and intimate and, like Lionel Richie sang, “easy like Sunday morning”.  For turkey day, I kept things traditional.  Candied sweet potatoes (no marshamallows, please, but definitely a splash of dark rum), Tina’s stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole (the good kind thanks to Ms. Purvis at The Charlotte Observer), gravy and cranberry sauce out of a can – schhhllomp!  And the turkey, roasted at high heat, stuffed with Tina’s stuffing – mm, mm, good. 

I’ve got my Christmas Eve and Christmas Day meals planned and will start cooking tomorrow.  Christmas Eve has always been spent at a friend’s house, with a ton of other neighbors, for cocktails, cookies and caroling.  So, for dinner beforehand, we’re having spaghetti and meatballs.  Click on this link for my favorite meatball recipe which, interestingly enough, includes currants and pine nuts.  It sounds crazy, I know, but they are remarkably moist and I like that they are baked, not fried.  The sauce recipe included in the link is similiar to mine, but I always add a teaspoon or two of sugar to cut the acidity of the tomatoes and we have never used parmesan cheese.  In our house it’s always been Locatelli Romano.  This morning I phoned Vic, my butcher, and ordered our standing rib roast for the big day.  I’ll keep it simple and have it with mashed potatoes, a Dijon mustard & horseradish cream sauce and sauteed broccolini with garlic.   

As many of you know, Christmas for Italian Americans is not Christmas without pizzelles.  These thin, waffle-like cookies are a traditional treat this time of year and I figured I was long overdue to make them.  I’ve never tackled them before.  Typically, they are made in a pizzelle press and are anise or vanilla flavored.  I’m not a huge anise flavor lover, so I opted to make hazelnut pizzelles.  I bought my press at Bed, Bath & Beyond ($40 bucks) and grabbed a bag of  hazelnuts at Trader Joe’s.  They really are quite easy to make and are so tasty.  Better yet, you can curl a hot pizzelle, fresh off the iron, around a wooden rod and make cannoli shells.  Oh yea!  I’ve made several batches now and I strongly suggest you toast/roast your hazelnuts in a 350 degree oven for 10-15 minutes first.  Remove from the oven and immediately transfer them to a towel and rub them to remove the skins (you won’t remove all the skins, but some).  Then process them in your food processor until finely chopped.  Here is the end result.  Pizzelles, fresh off the press.  Aren’t they pretty?

You’ll notice that my pizzelles are in a tall tin can.  My mother always kept her holiday cookies in a Charles Chips can.  I’m carrying on that tradition as well.  We used to get Charles Chips potato chips and had to save the tins for mom’s cookies.  That is where she kept her prized, paper thin sand tarts.  Making those sand tarts was a long and laborious endeavor and Mom was careful to make sure they were stored properly with the slice of sandwich bread atop to prolong their life.  

Hazelnut Pizzelles

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

2 oz finely ground roasted blanched hazelnuts (1/2 cup)

2 tsp. baking powder

3 large eggs

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted

1 Tbl. Frangelico liqueur

2 tsp. vanilla extract

Preheat Pizzelle press on setting 3 1/2 while preparing batter.  Place flour, ground nuts and baking powder in a small bowl and stir with a whisk to combine; reserve.  Place eggs and sugar in a medium bowl and beat with mixer on medium speed for one minute.  On low speed, add the melted butter, vanilla and Frangelico in a steady stream and mix until combined, about 15 seconds.  Add the flour mixture and mix until just combined, about 10-15 seconds.  Do not overmix. 

Open pizzelle press and brush grids with a little vegetable oil.  Do not use cooking spray or butter.  Place approximately two teaspoons just slightly north of center on the grid.  Repeat on second grid.  Close and press and lock lid.  Light will turn red and then green when pizzelles are done.  Open lid and remove pizzelles to rack to cool.  Can be served dusted with powdered sugar OR spread with Nutella and sandwiched. 

Yield:  30 pizzelles

Happy Holidays, Y’all!

A few weeks ago I visited my favorite butcher, Vic, at What’s Your Beef butcher shop in Waxhaw.  I went in, not knowing what I wanted, and poked around to see if anything inspired me.  Vic was giving me a hard time, the way only upstate New Yorkers can, and then he mentioned those two lovely words: short ribs.  A light bulb illuminated and I knew that I was having short ribs and polenta that night.  He sent me on my way with my short ribs and his house-made breakfast sausages and I was a happy, happy girl. 

Once home, I got online and logged onto Chowhound (this links to my thread) and started a thread asking for help from my Chowhound friends for braised short ribs recipes.  I have plenty of recipes in my personal archives, but I wanted to try something new.  I got many of good suggestions but one stood out above the rest:  John Besh’s Red Wine Braised Short Ribs.  John Besh is a restaurant owner and executive chef in New Orleans.  He’s a C.I.A. grad and a  James Beard award winner.  This recipe probably produces the best short ribs you can possibly imagine.  They are, of course, fall off the bone tender and the richness balanced with a touch of sweetness is just, well, orgasmic.  IT IS!  Serve it over a creamy polenta and you will think you’ve died and gone to heaven.  Here’s a photograph of the dish.  FYI, the plate is hand made by well known potter Bill Campbell who has a large studio/gallery in northwest Pennsylvania.  I have been collecting his pieces for years and have found a gallery here in Waxhaw that sells his wares – Stewart’s Village Gallery.  Incidentally, I took a pottery class at Stewart’s last spring and I learned something – I suck at pottery.  I’ll stick to cooking and taking photographs. 

John Besh’s Braised Beef Short Ribs

Your grandparents might have made this braised short ribs recipe. Some recipes age well.

I grew up on the Bayou and never strayed far because New Orleans has always been, and still is, a hell of a place to cook. Food has more cultural significance here. No matter where in the world early settlers came from — Italy, Spain, Senegal, Haiti — and whether free or enslaved, they assimilated into the Creole culture, embracing everything from language to cooking. That’s why dishes like gumbo and jambalaya have so many ingredients — every culture stirred a bit into the pot.

I try to deliver some of that complexity in this one-pot meal while keeping the ingredient list short by using a reduction of naturally spicy zinfandel with a touch of sugar, a combo that adds backbone and works wonders with the fattiness of the meat. There was a time when you couldn’t give short ribs away in American restaurants. It was fillet of beef this and lobster that. But as we’ve grown more comfortable — culinarily speaking — we’ve begun to identify with peasant-style cooking, the kind of food our grandparents might have made. This is one of those dishes. The ribs come from the chuck section, where the meat contains a lot of connective tissue and needs slow, moist cooking. –John Besh

Serves: 4

Prep time: 30 minutes

Cooking time: About two hours (with little labor)

• 4 lbs beef short ribs, cut flanken style (across the bone) or English style (parallel to the bone). Flanken are easier to deal with but slightly more fatty.
• Coarse salt and black pepper
• 3 cups zinfandel
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 6 oz canned chopped tomatoes
• 2 cups beef broth
• 1 tbsp minced garlic
• 3 sprigs fresh thyme, picked off stem
• 2 bay leaves
• 3 oz canola oil
• 1 large onion, diced (2 cups)
• 2 medium carrots, diced (1/2 cup)
• 2 stalks celery, diced (1/2 cup)
• 2 oz dried mushrooms, preferably porcini

1. Season short ribs with salt and pepper; be rather generous. In a mixing bowl, whisk together zinfandel, sugar, tomatoes, beef broth, garlic, thyme, bay leaves, and a pinch of salt.

2. Pour canola oil into a heavy pot or Dutch oven (at least 5 quarts) and place over high heat. When oil is hot, working in small batches, brown the meat. Turn each piece to brown on all sides before removing from the pot.

Tip: A sturdy pot that conducts heat well has a lot to do with the success of this dish. Get yourself a cast-iron pot. It’ll outlast you.

3. When all beef is browned and removed from pot, add onion, carrots, and celery, allowing onion to cook until browned, about 10 minutes, stirring frequently.

4. Return beef to the pot along with wine mixture. Allow wine to come to a boil before reducing heat, skimming fat from surface.

5. After simmering for several minutes, add mushrooms. Cover and simmer over very low heat until meat is fork tender and nearly falling off the bone, about 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

6. Once the beef has cooked, remove from pot and keep warm. Turn up heat and reduce the pot liquids until thickened, about 10 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

7. Transfer ribs to four shallow bowls, spooning liquid over top.

John Besh is the chef and owner of August in New Orleans.

**Taken from Esquire Magazine, 10/22/07

In addition to making chili and short ribs, I finally tried my hand at canning Italian peppers.  This is an old tradition common back home in Williamsport, Pennsylvania.  Many Italian families buy up bushels of banana peppers to make their canned Italian peppers.  Locals engage in friendly debates arguing who has the best bread peppers (Italian peppers).  They are a very simple concoction; banana peppers sliced into rings, salted and tossed in canning jars with smashed fresh garlic and oregano.  Some folks add canned mushrooms or olives but I always preferred just the peppers.  All the mom & pop Italian restaurants serve them with Italian bread and butter before your meal arrives.  They are also eaten on hoagies, pizzas and salads.  The best Italian restaurant back home, The Columbia Hotel, was owned by Leo & Vicky Taddeo who were good friends of my parents (Leo & Vicky have since retired and sold the place).  We went to The Columbia weekly for dinner.  Leo always checked my sisters’ and my hands for clean finger nails.  If they were clean we were awarded with a Reese’s peanut butter cup.  My Dad would sometimes take me there on Saturday afternoons.  He would have a beer (or two) and chat with Leo, who would often let me go behind the bar and wash glasses.  I loved washing the bar glasses and pouring sodas from the soda gun.  Uncle Patsy, a bar regular, would give me a quarter and teach me Italian words. 

Vicky Taddeo was kind enough to share her Italian peppers recipe with me several years ago.  I never had the patience or the peppers to make them before now.  Fortunately, another dear friend of mine had a huge garden this summer which produced an over abundance of banana peppers.  Here is what I did with the bounty (the jars are a tad cloudy because I used table salt rather than canning salt):

If you are interested in knowing how to make these crunchy, tangy beauties let me know.  I won’t give you any of mine, but maybe I’ll share the recipe with you – if you beg <wink>.  I’ve got a homemade Italian boule I picked up at the farmers market and it’s lunch time, so I think it’s bread and peppers for me.  Ciao!

“Bring on the Pig!”  Get to the pig already!”  “Quit teasing!”  I think I’ve heard it all from friends and family.  I’ve dragged my feet for far too long and I am eternally sorry.  Please, forgive me.  If I haven’t previously mentioned, October is the craziest month for our family.  Two kids’ birthdays, our wedding anniversary, and soccer, soccer, soccer.  It’s complete and total madness.  But I’m here to get to work, so without further adieu please allow me to BRING ON THE PIG!

After our  night in Figueira da Foz, we set out in the morning, rented a car and hit the road.  A crazy Swede at the wheel, we twisted and turned up roads overlooking cliffs sans any guardrails.  I buried my face in my journal and attempted to record the previous night’s festivities.  Once we steered away from the coastal road, I was more comfortable gazing out the window and enjoyed the small villages we traveled through.  Kevin was the co-pilot and, with map in hand,  he attempted to help Stefan navigate to Coimbra.  Coimbra is a small town perched on a hillside and is home to a beautifully old and historical university (Velha Universidade).   As we made our way through the little villages, Stefan would occasionally pull off the road and stop so we could take in the rolling countryside views.  At one such stop we all got out of the car and decided to have a walk around.  No cars, people or sounds other than the bugs and birds.  To the right side of the road was an electric fence surrounding several rows of grapevines (see above).  I assumed these were either Touriga Nacional or Baga grapes because these are the most common varieties grown in the Bairrada region.  Local growers harvest the grapes and sell them to wine producers.  Just beyond the vines was a row of trees – olive trees!  To the left side of the road was a small field of corn fronted by a large tree.  I noticed several nut pods on the road and picked up one.  We didn’t immediately recognize what sort of nut it held and we all ventured a guess.  Kevin cracked it open and inside we found an almond.  I could’ve died happy right there and then because this place was truly heavenly.  The warm sun and cool air and all these beautiful fruits surrounding us, well, to say I was giddy is an understatement.  I hated to leave but we were on a mission to find the pig and had to get back on the road.  I bid farewell to the almonds, grapes and olives and we headed out once again. 

As we traveled towards Mealhada, we noticed many signs for the highly regarded leitao assado lining the roads – We were nearing Pig Country.  I learned of Mealhada and leitao assado after reading an article from The New York Times online archive about it and a restaurant named Pedro dos Leitoes, the oldest and grandest in town.  Leitao assado is roasted suckling pig.  The piglets are not quite two months old when they are slaughtered.  We arrived in the center of town and quickly found Pedro dos Leitoes.  How could we miss the large stone sculpture, out in front of the building, of a mama pig and the behinds of little piglets? 

Immediately inside the restaurant is a long counter for take-out orders.  To the left is a large dining room for smokers, and to the right an equal-sized dining room for the rest of us.  We were quickly seated and soon greeted by a very friendly server who helped us order drinks and wine.  The wine, a 2001 Escolha dos Sócios, was a phenomenal local red blend.  We looked at the menu, and they did offer chicken and veal in addition to the pork.  But really, we were there for one thing and one thing only: leitao assado.  We ordered 1Kilogram (2.2 lbs) for all four of us  and they recommended their lightly-dressed salad and house made potato chips (they have these chips everywhere and they are so good).  Not long after, a large pewter platter arrived loaded with chunks of pork.  Then, the clouds parts and angels began to sing in a celestial choir as the sun shown down… Oh, sorry.  In my mind this really happened.  Seriously though, it was just gorgeous.  Words escape me but, feast your eyes on this:

We spent the next half hour sipping wine and eating every last bit of tender, juicy pork and crunching on the crispy skin.  We barely touched the salad and chips for fear they would fill our bellies and we’d have, GASP, no room for all of the pork.  The pork was peppery and unbelieveably tender and they served it with a garlic sauce (I think it was just the rendered seasoned lard).  At some point I had to take an injection of insulin and I saw the server see me and she approached me later and, with her limited English, she asked me if I was “diabetica”.  I said yes and she got this pained expression on her face and said, “so complicata”.  I just smiled and said “it’s not so bad”.  Interestingly, I think this turned out to be our ticket to what was the highlight of my entire trip to Portugal. 

After we had finished and paid our bill we got up to leave and our server (I can’t believe I didn’t get her name) came over to us and said, “My English, not good… you want to see” and with that she pointed towards the kitchen.  I nearly fainted.  I nodded eagerly and thanked her a million times.  She led us through the plating area and back to the ovens.  There she introduced me to an English-speaking cook and he explained that the piglets are cooked for an hour in the ovens where they use eucalyptus bark to heat to high temperatures.  He showed us two pigs that had just been removed from the ovens. 

They seemed so small, compared to what I’m used to seeing at a pig roast in the States.  Corny as it sounds, I had chills.  I was just so honored that they chose us to share this with.  Our server then took me over to another room where there were little pigs on spits with their bellies sewn shut.  She explained to me (her English was better than she gave herself credit for) that they stuff the cleaned piglets with a mixture of lard, garlic, salt & pepper. 

She explained more about the process and then grabbed my hand and took me to the walk-in cooler where there were more piglets hanging on hooks, fresh, awaiting to be prepped and roasted.  It was then that I had a brief sense of guilt and sympathy for these piglets.  I reassured myself that if the animals are treated with respect and dignity and they are given a good life while they are living, then it’s okay.  Pedro dos Leitoes employs a full time veternarian who overseas the pigs’ care and their slaughter (they are quickly electrocuted).  Even typing this now, I have that same sense of guilt but I do believe that in a very modern and technologically-advanced way, this is nature.  I also thought it was important for me to see the behind-the-scenes operation as it was a way of showing my respect for the animals and what they provide us. 

She then took us to the area where the pigs are coralled and then electroctuted.  There were no live piglets at the time we toured and I was somewhat glad for that.  She lead us back out front and I gave her a big hug and thanked her a million times more.  Kevin gave her a little something for her troubles and then we said our goodbyes.  We loaded back into our car and headed north towards Porto, our last leg of the trip. 

The next day, in Porto, Stefan found an outdoor market that he knew I would enjoy seeing.  This, for me, was a look inside the Portuguese culture.  This decrepit building, in some places held up by scaffolding, had everything a cook could want – and more.  Mounds of fresh vegetables and fruits.  I’ve never seen so much kale and greens in one place.  Seafood including; fresh eels, octopuses, prawns, clams, mussels, etc.  Every kind of sausage you could imagine, including those scary blood sausages.  Fresh bread, flowers and nuts. Live chickens, roosters, pidgeons and rabbits, caged and for sale - for dinner, not pets. 

After visiting the market, we headed across the magnificent Dom Luis I bridge which has two levels.  I understand that it was engineered by a disciple of Eiffel, which makes perfect sense given it’s appearance.  We visited Sandeman Cellars and walked through their small museum.  Outside the cellars was a cafe and we were taking it all in when all of the sudden a scuffle broke out right in front of us.  A large group of men were chasing another man and a woman was crying.  From what we gathered, the lone man had hit the woman and the other men were chasing him to administer a little vigilante justice - Portuguese style. 

Nearby we found a little restaurant on a side street that was packed with locals – a good sign.  As we walked to our table, Elsie and I noticed an older woman eating a bean dish that looked so tasty.  We found it on the menu, feijoada, which is pork and sausage with beans.  We ordered it to share and it was exactly what we wanted.  As we ate, though, we noticed these square pieces of spongy something.  I poked around at a piece before I had the lightbulb moment: tripe.  This was our last day and I had reached my limit of food exploration.  I shuddered at the thought of eating this stuff.  Now, mind you, I’ve had beef tongue carpaccio and could still feel the rough taste buds, but this was a different kind of freaky.  The beef tongue I had at Per Se in Manhattan, Thomas Keller’s famed restaurant.  That lunch, at $1200 dollars for the two of us, was the meal of a lifetime so I wasn’t going to not eat any of it.  This, however, was stomach in a strange place after a week of strange.  I was just saying “no” to the tripe.  That’s when Stefan helped himself to a piece, ate it, and then went back to whatever it was he had on his own plate.  I grilled him, “What’d it tast like?”  ”Taste for yourself” he responded, ”or you’ll regret you didn’t sieze the moment.”  Damn!  He was right.  He knew exactly what to say to me to get me to try it.  So, I tried it and it tasted of the bean dish, which is to say it was good.  The texture, on the other hand, was spongy and bumpy and disgusting. 

That evening we did a little shopping and picked up some gifts for the kids.  We were in a shopping mall and we took the escalator up and at the top was a food court area.  There, in front of us, was a Pizza Hut and a McDonalds.  Kevin and I looked at one another and without a word we headed for Mickey D’s.  I know, it’s shameful.  Why am I even sharing this with you?  I told Kevin, as we ate our burgers and fries, that I would take this to the grave.  But ya know, sometimes Mickey D’s is a necessary evil – this was one of those times. 

Boats caring barrels of port up the Douro River

A park in the Bairro Alto overlooking the city of Lisbon

The next day, day two, the men had meetings all day so my new friend Elsie and I had agreed to meet early for breakfast and then head out for a site-seeing extravaganza.  Early probably wasn’t the smartest choice for me, what with all the wine and the jet lag, but I got it together and we ate and then headed out.  We decided that we needed to get to Belém, which is a suburb of Lisbon.  I hoped to see the massive Jeronimos Monastery built in the 1500s.  It took between 50-70 years to complete and it is where the famed explorer Vasco de Gama is entombed.  I also wanted to see the Tower de Belém and The Discoveries Monument  (honoring Portuguese world explorers).  But, most of all, I wanted to visit Antiga Confeitiaria de Belém to try some of their pastéis de belém – a slightly sweet egg custard baked in a light and flaky crust.  These famed pastries, called pastéis de nata outside of Belem, are found everywhere in Portugal, but Belém is home of the most famous confeitiaria which has been making them since 1837 and sells around 10,000 tarts a day (the record was 55,000).  

The place was packed with locals and tourists.  Inside the main room was a glass counter holding many different types of pastries and other treats.  Several men behind the counter scurried about frantically trying to keep up with the many customers in a line that snaked out the door.  It was organized chaos but it smelled so good and I couldn’t wait to find a table and take a much needed break.  Off of the main room was a labyrinth of rooms, all filled with tables and chairs and lots of folks drinking coffee and eating pastries.  We saw a couple of Swiss ladies who were getting up and we quickly took their table, after chatting with them for a minute.  We ordered a few pastries and a couple of espressos and settled in to people watch.  As we waited for our treats I spotted another corridor where I could see a plate glass window and it appeared as though it overlooked the kitchen.  I hopped up with my camera and sure enough, you could sit and watch the bakers making the pastries. 

Of all the gastronomic delights I experienced in Portugal, these were my favorite.  They seem like such a simple treat, but the process of creating these beauties is a long and laborious one.  If you’re at all curious about it, check out this youtube video.  Every day thereafter I treated myself to a pastel de nata and since returning to the states, I’ve missed them.  As many of you know, I am not a skilled baker and so I would never even attempt to recreate these pastries.  Maybe I could come up with a makeshift substitute w/ a custard and some phyllo sheets?  I’m sure I would be disappointed. 

After we ate, we headed back to the Baixa (downtown) via trolley car.  We decided that although we were tired and hungry we needed to continue on to the Alfama area of the city.  Alfama is a hilly region that overlooks the Tagus River and it’s cobbled streets wind through the hills.  The buildings look as though they are anchored by a thread.  San Francisco’s hills have nothing on this place.  At the top of the highest hill sits Castelo de São Jorge which itself dates back to the 10th – 11th centuries.  We decided to explore the castle the next day, but we did want to walk the streets and check out the view.  Interestingly, on the trolley ride up to Alfama, we somehow managed to piss off an old Portuguese woman.  The trolley car was very crowded, standing room only.  At one of the stops, a couple of women got up from their seats and exited so Elsie and I quickly snagged their seats.  A couple of stops later an older woman and her small granddaughter got on and she quickly looked at me and angrily yelled something.  I ignored her – didn’t want to get into a throw-down with this one, let me tell ya.  She continued and Elsie and I looked at one another, not understanding what this ladies’ problem was.  She said “UP! UP!” and so we both started to get up to give them our seats.  She said, “NO! One!”  So, Elsie relinguished her seat and I remained.  Another stop later another large woman got on with a small child and now the grisly old woman next to me ordered me up and so I got up and gave my seat to this new woman.  I quickly found another seat, by a window, and so I took it.  The grumpy old lady got off at the next stop, came over to my window, pointed up at Elsie and began cursing her in Portuguese.  What could we do but laugh?  I wanted to figure it out – we must have done something wrong.  Well, as the trolley cleared out I noticed a very small sign, above our old seats, that indicated those seats were reserved for the handicapped, elderly and women with small children.  Oops!  Our bad!  Guess she had little tolerance for tourists.  In retrospect, who can blame her.  Desculpa, Senhora! (I’m sorry). 

That evening we had dinner with Kevin’s colleagues (our group totaled 15) at a bustling seafood restaurant called Solar dos Presuntos.  We had so much seafood and wine.  Everything very simply prepared but so fresh – we sat beside the giant tank where they held the lobsters.  It was like theater the way the servers scurried about hauling large platters of live lobsters and grilled seafood.  Oddly, the gentleman that extracted the live lobsters from the enormous tank was a tiny man, whom Stefan referred to as “Luigi” (he did resemble the Luigi of Donkey Kong).  This short-statured man would whip out this step ladder and go shoulder deep into that tank and snag his next victim.  It was here that I had the strangest food experience of the trip – percebes.  I had never heard of these ugly little creatures, but apparently they are a delicacy in Spain and Portugal.  They are gooseneck barnacles that cling to coastal cliffs and I was told that men have to repel down the sides of these sea cliffs to harvest the barnacles.  Well, they brought out several plates of these for our group.  I was horrified by their appearance.  They looked like prehistoric bird claws or feet.  I shuddered to think of eating one of these ghastly things.  It’s amazing what one will do after a couple glasses of wine and a lively environment.  Everyone else was doing it, right?  God, I thought I had outgrown that reasoning a long time ago.  Ha!  In any event, I ate one and it tasted of the sea.  Nothing special really, but interesting to say the least.  The server graciously demonstrated how to extract the slimy edible part from the hard shell.  It still gives me the willies to think of it. 

A plate of percebes - gooseneck barnacles

A barnacle next to a fork and a piece of cured ham

Other yummy treats included grilled sole, lobster and prawns.  Two of my favorites that night were a lightly dressed octopus salad and a wheel of cheese called Serra da Estrela.  The octopus was grilled and tossed in a simple vinaigrette.  The cheese I had read about before leaving for Portugal.  It’s a raw, sheep’s milk cheese and looks similar to a wheel of Brie.  When served, they cut a small hole in the top and you use a knife to scoop out the creamy goodness onto rounds of crusty bread.  Since I’ve been home, I’ve already visited Dean & DeLuca and asked their cheese monger to order it for me! 

On our last day in Lisbon Elsie and I were moving a bit slower, losing the steam and adrenalin that kept us in motion the previous days.  We visited the castle in Alfama and had lunch off a square in the Baixa.  I was not interested in being adventurous for this meal.  I ordered a chorizo omelet and a bowl of bread soup w/ a poached egg.  I barely ate either one.  The soup was so garlicky I’m certain I developed dragon breath from just one bite.  Ugh.  The omelet was more chorizo than egg and just wasn’t doing it for me.  I finished my Coke Zero and was ready to head back to the hotel and sleep.  Incidentally, we saw Coke Zero everywhere, along with Fanta orange soda.  Weird. 

Okay, my hand is cramping from all the typing.  I’m going to wrap this one up for the day.  I’ve saved the best for last: The Pig.  Stay tuned, friends, I’ll report on this very soon!

overlooking the city of Porto and the Douro River - Portugal.

 I’m back safe and sound.  I’ve been home about a week and a half now and I’ve been dragging my feet on posting.  Not because I don’t want to share all the glorious food details with you, but because I have so much to share that I just don’t know where to begin.  I took 215 photographs and ate everything from gooseneck barnacles and suckling pig to gorgeous little pastries called pasteis de nata.  I’ve decided to break it down into parts. 

I did a ton of research before leaving.  I searched chowhound and made several posts asking for must try restaurants and dishes in Portugal.  I got very little feedback.  I don’t think it’s a hot travel destination for Americans.  While there for a week, I met 3 couples and we literally found one another by overhearing each other chatting.  It was a bit isolating for me, I have to say.  Keep in mind, this was my first trip to Europe.  Back to the research.  I put together a list of dishes I wanted to try, like leitao assado (roast suckling pig), bacalhau (salt cod stew), serra cheese (soft sheep’s milk cheese) and pasteis de nata (custard pastries).  I also included in my list historical sites I wanted to visit, including The Belem Tower, Jeronimos Monastery and Castelo Sao Jorge.  I think I conquered 95% of my list.  It was quite a feat, I tell you, and there were many low blood sugars along the way.  It was difficult (but not impossible) to manage my Type 1 diabetes.  While I considered the time difference, I didn’t think about the affects of adrenalin, exercise and stress.  But we persevered and fell into a good groove after a couple of days. 

I hit the ground running.  No sooner did that plane land that I was on a food mission from…. me.  We set out to explore the streets of Lisbon, the capital of Portugal.  I’m not going to bore you with historical facts but I was in a perpetual state of awe by the architecture, cobbled streets and streetcars.  Kevin had to re-attach my jaw on several occasions as it had become disjointed and was hanging on my chest!  Our first meal was a quick bite to eat at a cafe off of one of the center city squares(pracas).  They have these little cafes everywhere!  When I say everywhere I mean that they have one after another, after another, after another.  The Portuguese will stop in quickly for a drink and a bite to eat often just standing at the glass counter.  They generally serve beer, wine, coffee, pastries and small bites to eat like presunto (cured ham similiar to prosciutto), breads and sandwiches.  Most of them have the futebol game on the television (main rivalry is Benfica vs. Porto).  I had a half bottle of vinho verde (a light, effervescent white wine that’s lower in alcohol) and the guys had a Sagres beer (local brew).  We ordered a plate of presunto, a roasted pork sandwich on crusty bread and they always bring you a basket of crusty bread with a plate of pre-packaged spreads (sardine pate, butter, etc).  Check it out:

A plate of presunto

a basket of bread & an assortment of spreads served in most cafes

 

Portuguese men grabbing a quick bite and watching a little futebol

 

Clams with white wine & garlic

The Portuguese version of mussels marinara

Prawn and oysters on the half shell

My friend, serving up small one ounce cups of ginjinha!

 

What a full day for our first in Portugal.  At that pace, you can imagine the extent of the gluttony I indulged in the remaining days of our trip.  I am excited to tell you about the highlight of the entire trip – My date with THE PIG!  Baby pig, that is.  I got a behind-the-scenes tour of the kitchen at Pedro dos Leitoes in Mealhada and took lots of graphic photographs of the process from slaughter to oven.  That’ll be my next post, and it’ll include details from another food oddity: percebes (Gooseneck barnacles).  Stay tuned, friends!  Adoro Portugues esta comida!  (I love Portuguese food).