FOOD ON THE FOOD

Rhode Island-Style Calamari

It occurred to me that in just a handful of years, my oldest son will be a teenager. A teenager!! This doesn't seem possible, and yet I would be lying if I said it felt like only yesterday when there was a 10-pound butterball turkey in my belly (well, 9 lbs. 12 oz. once he peed all over the OR staff). It doesn't feel like yesterday at all. But certainly not double-digit years before yesterday. Already he eats more than me and has the same size feet. I'm a little bit scared about the amount of food he's going to require once he doubles his weight and towers over me like his dad—and his little brother isn't far behind. I'll be cooking morning, noon, and night!

Nevertheless, my oldest is a joy to cook for because he likes so many of the same things I like, doesn't mind a little spice, and will eat any kind of seafood you throw at him. He particularly loves the Rhode Island-style calamari at the Chateau in Waltham. "Rhode Island-style" means the crispy fried rings and tentacles are tossed with thin loops of pickled hot peppers. The combination is utterly addictive. I knew it couldn't be that hard to make at home, and I planned to wing it using a jar of pepperoncini and some cherry-red peppadew peppers I had in the fridge. Then I found a Jasper White recipe from The Summer Shack Cookbook that tossed the whole shebang with garlic butter, and I couldn't find a single thing wrong with that.

According to White, Rhode Island has the largest squid-fishing fleet on the East Coast. You'll start to see local squid from Rhode Island in the spring, throughout the summer, and into the fall. I request half bodies and half tentacles because I love the fried tentacles best (more surface area for the crispy batter!). Banana peppers are traditional, but use whatever pickled hot peppers you desire. This was a hit with the whole family. Sure, the little one picked out the hot peppers—more for us. At this rate, the kids won't be getting any smaller, but I guess that's the whole idea behind this parenting thing.

Rhode Island-Style Calamari

The real trick is not to cook them too long or they will turn out as rubbery as a bicycle tire. A minute or less is all I needed. Cook a few and test for tenderness before proceeding with the rest. The original recipe doubled the garlic butter (which you may feel free to revert to), but I think it's plenty flavorful with half.

1 lb. cleaned medium squid (bodies and tentacles)
3/4 cup cornstarch
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup cornmeal
2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. ground black pepper
1/8 tsp. ground cayenne pepper (or 1 tsp. paprika)
Canola or peanut oil for deep-frying (about 6 cups)
1 cup buttermilk
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1/2 cup sliced pickled peppers (like banana peppers, pepperoncini, or peppadew), drained

Cut the squid bodies into rings. Leave the tentacles whole unless they look ridiculously large. In a medium shallow bowl, combine the cornstarch, flour, cornmeal, salt, pepper, and cayenne/paprika. Pour buttermilk into another bowl. Line a rimmed sheet pan with paper towels.

Heat a heavy, medium, high-sided saucepan with 3 inches of oil until it reaches 375°F on a candy thermometer. Meanwhile, soak a few rings and tentacles in the buttermilk. With a slotted spoon, transfer to flour mixture and toss to coat. Scoop back up with the slotted spoon, shake off excess batter, and drop gently into hot oil. Cook 30 seconds to 1 minute until batter is golden but calamari is still tender. Transfer to paper towels to drain and sprinkle with salt while still hot. Repeat with remaining calamari in 4-5 batches. If the oil drops below 350°F, let it heat up again between batches. Transfer fried squid to serving platter.

In a small frying pan, melt the butter. Add the chopped garlic and sauté just until golden, 1-2 minutes. Add the sliced hot peppers and toss to coat. Drizzle calamari with garlic butter and peppers. Serve immediately with marinara sauce on the side if you like.

Source: Adapted from The Summer Shack Cookbook by Jasper White.

New England Lobster Roll

And while we're talking about summer food, how about a lobster roll?

February has arrived and, even though it's been a relatively tame winter, I'm still sick of squash. I don't care what any groundhogs have to say about six more weeks of winter: I want it to be summer in my mouth, and if I have to spend my entire book advance on lobsters to make that happen, then so be it. Incidentally, I think we need to find a more translucent animal than a groundhog to make these kinds of shadow-based weather predictions. Like a jellyfish. Or something nocturnal like a bat. It's hard to see your own shadow in complete darkness. Are there any cute but completely blind animals?

Awkward segue back to lobsters: This is a very basic but totally delicious lobster roll technique. The idea is to let the lobster shine. The scallions and celery are barely there for a little color and crunch, not to compete with the lobster. There's just one thing I insist upon. Toast the buns. Toast them, people. It makes all the difference in the world.

Classic New England Lobster Roll

Serve with a green salad or not.

2 1-1/2-lb. lobsters, steamed (instructions here), cooled
2-4 Tbsp. mayo
1-2 scallions, chopped
2-inch piece of celery, finely chopped
1/4 tsp. salt (or to taste)
Squeeze of lemon juice
Pinch ground cayenne pepper
New England-style hot dog rolls (the ones that top-load and have flat sides for toasting)
Butter

Remove tail and claw meat (including the delicious arms!). Chop lobster meat into bite-sized chunks. Mix with mayo, scallions, celery, salt, lemon juice, and cayenne. Refrigerate until cold.

When ready to serve, heat skillet over medium heat. Butter the pan and the sides of the rolls (I do this by rubbing the stick of butter over the hot skillet, then rubbing the melty stick all over the sides of the roll, repeating until roll is sufficiently buttery). Toast buns several minutes on each side until golden. Let cool a few minutes, then stuff with dressed lobster. Serves 3-4.

Local Sources:
Lobsters: Rockport lobsterman via Cape Ann Fresh Catch, Gloucester, MA

Cracking the Recipe: Lobster Bisque

Our New Year's Eve dinner, hosted by friends E and J, was possibly one of the best meals of the year. Kir royales. Radishes with cultured butter and sea salt. Lobster bisque. Pan-roasted duck with thyme-infused honey sauce. Roasted root veggies and a green salad. Lemon cream tart for dessert. Truly delicious!

I brought the lobster bisque. Since a few of you requested the recipe during my guilt-ridden lobster confessional, I thought I'd share. It's good timing, too, because my CSF (community supported fishery) is once again offering lobsters for sale. Every once in a while, Cape Ann Fresh Catch offers a special item not usually found in our fish shares. They call it "Neptune's Share" as it is priced separately and based on availability and nature's whims. That meant mussels last summer and lobsters this winter. You know I can't pass up these opportunities. (To get your own self some lobsters, go here.)

The recipe below is based on the lobster bisque from the Brewster Fish House, one of our favorite restaurants on Cape Cod. Instead of pureeing the lobster into oblivion (which is also good!), they suspend chunks of lobster in the silky soup. It's sweet and spicy, and I've wanted to learn how to make it for years. However, I'm not going to ask them for their recipe. They're not going to give it to me, and why should they? Just because I like it? Everybody likes it! I figure, if I want it that badly, I should try to figure it out myself. And guess what? I'm really happy with the way it came out! I mean, we're not giving up our yearly summertime visits to the Brewster Fish House anytime soon. Don't be ridiculous.  But this is deliciously, tantalizingly close!

Lobster Bisque

This is not a quick recipe by any means, but if you're going to slap down the money for lobsters, you might as well put some effort into it! You will need lobster crackers, some patience, and several hours to spare. I sometimes boil the lobsters the night before, letting them cool in the refrigerator until morning.

2 live 1-1/2-lb. lobsters
1 Tbsp. kosher salt, plus 1 tsp.
1 Tbsp. white vinegar
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter
2 onions, chopped
1 celery rib, chopped
1 Tbsp. flour
4 cups lobster stock
1 cup heavy cream
2 Tbsp. brandy
1/4 tsp. cayenne
White or black pepper to taste

Bring a large stockpot with a half-inch of water, 1 Tbsp. kosher salt, and the vinegar to a boil. Drop in the lobsters, close the lid, and steam 20 minutes until done. How do you know if they're done? Set a lobster on its back and stretch out the tail. It should snap back against its belly convincingly. Remove from pot and let cool until shells can be handled easily.

Over a large bowl, separate tails, claws, and arms from bodies of the lobsters. They should pull apart easily. To remove the meat from the tails, use kitchen shears or a sharp knife to cut straight down the middle of the underside of the tail. Pull back on sides of tail to separate the shell and remove meat. Dice tail meat finely as it can be chewy in larger pieces. Remove meat from arms and claws using a lobster cracker to crush the shells so you can extract the meat. Careful: shells can be jagged, pointy, and sharp. Cut claw meat into larger, bite-sized pieces. Place all the lobster meat in a small bowl, cover, and refrigerate.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 450°F, and set the bodies and empty shells on a rimmed sheet pan. Bake shells 20 minutes until toasty and fragrant. Transfer shells to a large pot and cover with water. Bring to a boil, skim the foam from the top, and simmer 30 minutes. You can get fancy with the stock (bouquet garni and such), but I did not. Strain out and discard the shells, reserving the liquid. You will need about 4 cups of stock. Freeze the rest for future bisques or lobster risotto!

Make sure the stock is still steamy when you start the soup. If not, reheat in a small pot. Melt the butter in a medium heavy-bottomed pot over low heat. Add the onions and celery, and slowly sweat the vegetables until soft, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes. Do not let brown. Add flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute.  Add heated lobster stock slowly while stirring. Bring to a boil and simmer 5 minutes. Let cool completely. In four batches, puree the soup in a blender or food processor. Yes, I know we haven't added the lobster, yet. Patience! Also, make sure the soup is cool and that you don't fill the blender more than halfway or you will spray hot soup all over your kitchen. You want cool soup, small amounts of liquid in the blender, and a dishtowel placed over the top of the blender lid just in case. Pour batches of pureed soup into a bowl as you go.

When ready to serve, add the pureed soup back into the pot. Add in the lobster meat, cream, brandy, 1 tsp. salt (or to taste), pepper, and cayenne. Gently heat the soup until hot and steamy. Do not boil. After all this, you don't want to risk curdling the cream. Keep an eye on it. Serve hot in small shallow bowls.

Local Sources:
Lobsters: Cape Ann Fresh Catch, Gloucester, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Onions: Waltham Fields Community Farms, Waltham, MA
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

Holy Mackerel!

Look at the salad Husband made for me! It's got lettuce, spinach, cucumber, red pepper, celery, chopped almonds, cheddar shavings, and smoked mackerel. Yes, smoked mackerel from Ducktrap River in Maine. Very tasty, cheaper than smoked salmon, and lots of omega-3s. Whole Foods carries it. We also like the Memphis-style smoked bluefish from Dave's Cape Cod Smokehouse, which you can find at the Wayland Winter Farmer's Market (starting January 7, 2012). Perfect for when you don't feel like cooking.

An Easy Fish Supper

Here's a recipe we love: white fish braised in a Spanish red pepper sauce.  Talk about a delicious meal that's good for you, too.  Pristinely fresh fish from Cape Ann Fresh Catch simmered in a bright orange puree of onions, garlic, and red peppers.  The sauce is actually thickened with nuts—almonds to be exact—so you get a creamy, full-bodied sauce without the cream.  Serve this over rice with a green vegetable on the side, like roasted asparagus or garlicky greens, and you're in business.   Also?  It's fast.  Thirty minutes tops from start to finish. 

That's right, you owe me big for this one!

Fish in Spanish Red Pepper Sauce

This is delicious with monkfish, but you could also try hake, pollock, and haddock, too.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 red bell peppers, diced
1-1/2 tsp. salt
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/3 cup dry sherry (or Madeira)
1 cup fish stock (or bottled clam juice)
1/4 cup slivered almonds (skinless)
1/2 tsp. black pepper
Several shakes of paprika
Dash of cayenne
2 lbs. monkfish, haddock, pollock, hake, or cod, cut into 2- to 3-inch pieces
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh parsley

In a large frying pan, heat the oil over medium heat.  Add onions, red peppers, and salt, and cook, stirring occasionally, until onion is soft, about 5 minutes.  Stir in the garlic and cook 15 seconds.  Add the sherry and simmer 1 minute.  Add stock or clam juice and bring to a simmer.  Reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes.

Let cool slightly, then pour vegetables into blender.  With a dishtowel pressed over the top, puree until smooth.  Add the almonds and spices, and puree again.  Pour sauce back into pan and bring to a simmer.  Add the fish and simmer, covered, until done, 10-12 minutes.  Serve sprinkled with parsley over rice.         Serves 4.

Source: Adapted from Food & Wine.

Shrimp Fried Rice

I love this chipped little bowl I found at a neighborhood thrift shop for 99 cents!  It's perfect for leftover rice tossed with some vegetables and locally caught Maine shrimp, and dressed in a light, salty sauce. 

Below is the basic formula I use for fried rice.  It's pretty versatile.  You can use shrimp or no shrimp.  Sprouts or no sprouts.  Substitute in the seasonal veggies of your choice.  Use onions if you have no scallions.  The only real rule is that you need to use leftover rice.  If you use rice you just made for the occasion, it will surely be soggy.  No, make a big batch of rice for a stir-fry one night, and then turn the leftover remnants encrusted in your rice cooker into fried rice the next day.  That way, you can make a second meal with minimal effort.

 

Shrimp Fried Rice

If you like your fried rice to be brown, add more soy sauce--just hold the salt in that case.

2 Tbsp. canola oil
2 eggs, lightly beaten

2 cups whole scallions, minced

1 Tbsp. fresh ginger, minced
¾ lb. raw shrimp, peeled and deveined

1½ cups frozen peas (fresh if you have it, parboiled for 2 minutes)

5 cups cooked rice, chilled, broken up with a fork

2 cups mung bean sprouts

Sauce
2 Tbsp. chicken broth (or water)
2 Tbsp. rice wine (or other white wine)

1 Tbsp. soy sauce
1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. toasted sesame oil
¼ tsp. freshly ground black pepper

In a small bowl, mix together the sauce ingredients and set aside.

In a large non-stick skillet, heat oil over high heat until hot but not smoking.  Beat the eggs, then stir-fry them about 30 seconds to scramble.  Add the minced scallions and ginger, and stir-fry one minute.  Add the shrimp and peas, tossing for a few minutes.  Add half of the bean sprouts and all of the rice, stir-frying and continuing to break up any clumps.  When the rice is heated through and the shrimp have turned pink and coiled, add the sauce.  Mix well and remove from heat.  Toss with remaining bean sprouts and serve.

Source: Adapted from A Spoonful of Ginger by Nina Simonds.

Local Ingredients:
Shrimp: Cape Ann Fresh Catch, Gloucester, MA
Eggs: Chip-In Farm, Bedford, MA

Fish Tacos

Why has it taken me so long to embrace the fish taco?  It is nothing short of genius, especially when you’re a member of a local fishermen’s coop.  Basically how it works is this: whatever leftover fish you have, throw it into a taco with whatever vegetables you have.  Seriously.  Not only that, but it tastes fresh and healthy and not even a little bit lazy.  Here’s how we’ve been doing fish tacos lately, though I'd imagine there are about as many variations as there are fish in the sea.

 

Fish Tacos

1 package corn tortillas
½ lb. leftover fish or pieces for frying
¼ head of cabbage, finely shredded
¼ red onion, thinly sliced
Whole cilantro leaves
½ cup mayo
Juice of ½ lime
½ shallot, chopped
½ jalapeño, minced, seeds removed
1 Tbsp. fresh herbs like dill, oregano, parsley
¼ tsp. dried cumin
Dash cayenne
Salt and pepper to taste

First, I get my vegetables ready—in this case, shredded cabbage, thinly sliced red onion, and cilantro leaves.  I keep the cilantro leaves separate from the herbs in the dressing because people either love cilantro or hate it.  This way, you can either pile it on (yes, yes, yes!) or leave it out at your own discretion.  Then I make the sauce, which is similar to that creamy salad dressing recipe I gave you earlier this summer.  In fact, I’ll often just doctor that if I have some around.  If not, just whisk the mayo with lime juice and add the chopped shallot, jalapeño, herbs, spices, salt, and pepper.  I like it heavy on the dill.  Taste it and once you get the flavor you like, you can thin it with milk or buttermilk, thicken it with more mayo, or just leave it alone.  If you should find yourself with too much sauce, it also makes a great dressing for coleslaw.

Next, the fish.  We really like pollock in our tacos, though we’ve also enjoyed haddock and hake (aka merluza).  Sometimes we use leftover fish and other times I’ll deep fry some for the occasion and let the children have homemade fish sticks while the adults flake theirs into tacos.  (The children have yet to take to the taco, but I’ll break them down eventually.)  For batter, I either coat the fish pieces in buttermilk or plain yogurt thinned with milk and dredge them in cornmeal, or make a beer batter with ¾ cup flour, ¼ cup cornstarch, and enough beer to make a batter of a reasonable consistency.  Then I drink the remaining ¾ bottle of beer to make the frying go faster.  You want the oil hot (375°F) so the fish comes out light and crispy, not sodden.  Drain on paper towels and sprinkle with salt. 

When you’re on your last batch of fish, wrap a stack of corn tortillas in a damp paper towel and heat the whole thing in the microwave on medium-low for a minute.  Flake the fish into bite-sized pieces.  Assembly, to be done individually at the table, is just a matter of taking two tortillas, making a small pile of cabbage, onion, cilantro, and fish down the center, and applying sauce.  Don’t be too stingy with the sauce—you’ll want at least a tablespoon on there.  It’s a pretty healthy meal overall.

By the way, Cape Ann Fresh Catch is accepting new members, so if you’ve been eager to try out local delivery of fresh Gloucester-caught fish, now’s your chance.  They have a fillet option now so you don’t have to lug home a whole fish and fillet it yourself if you don’t want to.  I’ve opted for the pre-filleted share myself since I already have enough fish bones in my freezer to keep us in chowder for five years straight. 

Local Sources:
Cabbage, red onion, cilantro: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Dill, parsley, oregano: Neighbor’s garden, Waltham, MA
Fish: Cape Ann Fresh Catch, Gloucester, MA
Buttermilk: Kate’s Homemade Butter, Old Orchard Beach, ME
Corn tortillas: Cinco de Mayo, Lynn, MA (via Russo’s)

Digging Mussels

I’ve mentioned before that I’m a big fan of mussels. I think other people would be too if they knew how delicious they can be. And how easy they are to cook. Also, how cheap they are ($2-$3 per lb.). And that farmed mussels are on the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Best Choices list, so you don’t have to be paralyzed by fear at the seafood counter trying to figure out what the hell is okay to cook for dinner.

I’m here to tell you that blue mussels are okay. More than okay. They’re sustainable and delicious. That is, if you can train your attention away from the particulars of their anatomy, just scoop the whole thing into your mouth no questions asked. That’s how I got the kids to like them. Told them to close their eyes and then I shoved a mussel into each of their mouths. Granted, it took years for them to trust me enough to go along with it, but now we have a pair of mussel-lovers on our hands and I claim full credit.

Mussels are filter-feeders, which means they strain plankton and other organic matter out of the water. Farmed mussels, mostly from Prince Edward Island in Canada but also Maine, are raised in waters that have met approved international water quality standards and the whole process is managed in an ecologically safe way. Most cultured mussels are grown on ropes raised off the bottom so there’s minimal habitat disruption when harvesting. Because mussels don’t require any additional feed and don’t produce any waste, they don’t pollute their environment the way that, say, farmed salmon can. In fact, they can actually improve water quality. (For more information about farmed mussels, go here (read text in blue).

Wild mussels, when you can get them, are also a treat, but you need to be aware of red tide, blooms of tiny algae-like microorganisms, which contain toxins that accumulate in mussels’ bodies and can make you pretty sick. A red tide warning was just announced yesterday for the Cape. By the way, blue mussels are not to be confused with the highly endangered fresh-water mussels, which have been prized for their use in pearl cultivation rather than human consumption.

But let’s go back to how easy they are to cook. Really easy. You clean them, dump them into a pot of liquid, cover, bring to a simmer, and steam them for five minutes. It’s literally as simple as that. A classic preparation is to steam them in a white wine and herb bath and serve them alongside a big basket of fries, preferably with a hearty Belgian beer nearby. I’ve also had them served in the North End in a light tomatoey broth with basil. But last week, since I had a half a can of coconut milk in the fridge, I turned to my favorite Indian cookbook (have you bought it, yet?) and we had curry instead. We served it over rice one night, and the next in a big bowl with some kale tucked in there, a baguette handy for mopping up any remaining sauce.

Mussels in a Green Curry

The other great thing about mussels (and clams) is that they trick you into thinking you’re eating more than you actually are. Your brain registers the size of the shells, but the meat is actually only half that volume. When I see the big pile of empty shells I’ve just created, I feel psychologically full.

2 lb. mussels
¼ tsp. cumin
1 small tomato, seeded, diced small
½ cup cilantro leaves
¼ cup mint leaves
1 Tbsp. minced fresh ginger
2 small green Serrano chiles, seeds removed
2 Tbsp. canola oil
1 cup onion, finely chopped
1 cup canned coconut milk
Water, if necessary
Salt

Scrub the mussels well in cold water and pull off any beards (they look like strands of steel wool hanging out of the shells). If using wild (non-farmed) mussels, check for any decoys filled with mud. They’ll be heavier than the others and should open up and expose themselves when manhandled. You’ll want to identify these and toss them out before they end up in the pot and ruin everything.

In a food processor, grind the cumin, tomato, cilantro, mint, ginger, and chiles to a smooth paste. Or finely chop and mash with the back of a spoon. Set aside. Over medium flame, heat the oil in a large, wide pot that has a lid. Sauté the onion until golden, about 5 minutes. Add the green curry paste and sauté about 5 minutes more. Add the coconut milk and salt to taste. You may also want to add some water if your coconut milk is on the thick side, as mine was. I added somewhere between ¼-½ cup of water. Bring to a boil, then add the mussels, and reduce heat to low. Toss well, cover, and cook until all the mussels are open, about 5 minutes. Discard any mussels that haven’t opened. Serve over rice or in a big bowl with some crusty bread for mopping up the sauce. Serves 4.

Source: Adapted from 5 Spices, 50 Dishes by Ruta Kahate. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: My quality of life has dramatically improved since I bought this book.

Like shellfish? Here's more:

Mussel and Chorizo Soup
New England Clam Chowder
Shrimp Bisque
Oyster Soup
Pasta with Clam Sauce

Fancy Shrimp Bisque

As there is currently an ocean in our basement, let’s do a sea-based soup today. Just because your once-watertight dwelling has sprung a giant leak or twelve doesn’t mean you can’t indulge in fancy shrimp bisque. Remember the black-tie orchestra that continued to play as the Titanic sunk? It’s like that, only slightly less romantic because of the lack of music and empty litter boxes floating past.

We had so much shrimp in our freezer from our Cape Ann Fresh Catch seafood share that I began desperately searching for recipe ideas that used shrimp still in their shells, because, seriously, I can’t be peeling that many shrimp. Then I remembered a soup from my brief time at Cook’s Illustrated. It was a delicious shrimp bisque—one of the best bisques I’ve ever tasted if you disqualify the lobster bisque from the Brewster Fish House down the Cape, which is the best for sure, but really more of a chowder.

This version is just as rich as lobster bisque, but much more economical. It's saturated with shrimp flavor, but a hint of tarragon and three kinds of alcohol give it surprising complexity. Creamy and coral-colored, it would be a stunning appetizer for any kind of elegant dinner you might have planned as we wait with bated breath for spring vegetables and solid ground to arrive. The only problem I can foresee is that you really need a chinois to strain the soup and most normal people don’t have one. It’s a conical fine-mesh strainer that gives you a really smooth, silky texture in bisques (and crystal-clear broths). You could probably do okay with your finest strainer lined with a double-layer of damp cheesecloth. Or you could borrow mine. I’ll just float it down the river to your house. Bon voyage!

Shrimp Bisque

Here’s a time-saving tip: Instead of finely chopping the vegetables by hand, chop them all together in the food processor, set them aside, and then don’t bother cleaning the processor bowl before you grind up the shrimp mixture. It’s all going to get cooked together later anyway.

2 lbs. Maine shrimp, shells on
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1/3 cup brandy or cognac, warmed
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 small carrot, chopped finely
1 small rib celery, chopped finely
1 small onion, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
½ cup all-purpose flour
1½ cups dry white wine
4 cups shrimp stock, fish stock, clam juice, or water, warmed if cold
14-oz. can diced tomatoes, drained
1 small sprig fresh tarragon
1 cup heavy cream
1 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
Pinch or two of ground cayenne
2 Tbsp. dry sherry or Madeira

Set aside ½ lb. shrimp in a small bowl to peel later. Blot the rest dry with paper towels. Heat a 12-inch heavy-bottomed Dutch oven or other large pot over high heat until very hot. Add 1 Tbsp. olive oil and heat until shimmery. Add half of the big bowl of shrimp and sauté until pink and the shells are lightly browned, 3-4 minutes. Transfer to another bowl and repeat with the remaining oil and the rest of the big bowl of shrimp. Once the second batch is browning, return the first batch of cooked shrimp to the pot. Pour the warmed brandy over the top. Make sure all children are clear of the stove. Wave a lit match over the pot until the brandy ignites (Warning: the flame is huge!) When the inferno has subsided, transfer the shrimp to the bowl of a food processor and grind into a fine meal. Ten seconds should do it.

Wipe out the pan. Heat butter in Dutch oven over medium flame until hot. Add chopped carrots, celery, onion, garlic, and the ground shrimp. Cover and cook, stirring frequently, until the veggies are slightly softened, about 5 minutes. Add flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute. Slowly stir in the wine, then slowly stir in stock (or clam juice or water). Add the tomatoes. Cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer, stirring frequently, until thickened and flavors meld, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, peel the remaining ½-lb. of shrimp and cut them in half. You can add the shells to the pot (which I would recommend if you’re using water instead of stock) or save them in the freezer for future stock. Set the cut shrimp aside once again. Patience, my little shrimp. Your day will come.

Strain bisque through chinois or cheesecloth-lined strainer, into a large bowl, pressing on the solids with the back of a big spoon to extract all the liquid. Wash and dry the Dutch oven, then return the strained soup to the pot. Over medium-high heat, stir in tarragon sprig, cream, lemon juice, and cayenne. Bring to a simmer (but don’t boil), then add the cut shrimp and cook about 2 minutes until pink and tender. Discard tarragon sprig, stir in sherry, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Serves 6.

Source: Adapted from Cook’s Illustrated.

Local Ingredient Sources:
Shrimp: Cape Ann Fresh Catch, Gloucester, MA
Butter, cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Carrot, onion: Red Fire Farm, Granby, MA

Fish Three Ways, Part 3

Boy, my photography has really gone downhill. I thought it couldn’t sink any lower, but I was wrong. And speaking of sinking, here’s our last fish recipe of the series. We’ve explored Italian and Indian flavors, and now it’s time for Asian. This recipe is fresh and bright with bursts of ginger, lime, and cilantro. Served over rice with stir-fried snow peas, sticky green beans, or sesame carrots, it’s a nice dish that I’ve kept in rotation for years.

Oven-Roasted Fish with Ginger and Lime

1½ lbs. white fish fillets (haddock, pollock, cod, bass), cut into 4 to 6 portions
¼ cup fresh lime juice
3 Tbsp. soy sauce
2 Tbsp. shallot, minced
2 Tbsp. fresh ginger, peeled, finely chopped
2 Tbsp. fresh cilantro, chopped
3 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil

Preheat oven to 500°F. Brush large baking dish with 2 tsp. oil. Add fish to dish, turn to coat with oil, then arrange skin down. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Set aside.

In small bowl, mix lime juice, soy sauce, shallot, ginger, and cilantro. Whisk in the remaining olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Spoon a scant tablespoon of sauce over each fillet. Roast fish until opaque in the center, about 12 minutes. Top with remaining sauce. Serves 4.

Source: Adapted from a recipe in Bon Appetit many years ago.

Fish Three Ways, Part 2

So we’ve done fish Italian-style; now it’s time to do it Indian-style. Think tomatoes, garlic, fennel seed…wait that still sounds Italian. Okay, but then add some cumin, turmeric, cayenne, garam masala…. This takes things in an entirely different direction, making it hard to remember that it’s the exact same fish you just cooked last week.

You can skip the dry rub if you’re short on time. The sauce need only simmer for about 15 minutes, so you can fillet the fish at that point. Or, you know, buy it already filleted. I hear you can do that. Point is, it doesn’t take long. Serve the fish with ample sauce over basmati rice with some roasted cauliflower or stir-fried cabbage, and you will find yourself eating something on par with (or in some cases better) than what the local Indian restaurants serve.

Next up, roasted fish in a soy-ginger sauce.

Fish in an Indian-Spiced Tomato Sauce

Adjust the cayenne to your taste. I’ve reduced the amount here because my youngest complained, “My neck is spicing.”

1½ lbs. white fish fillets (cod, haddock, pollock, bass), cut into two-inch pieces
1¼ tsp. salt
¼ tsp. turmeric
2 pinches cayenne
3 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1 tsp. fennel seeds
1 tsp. mustard seeds
1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
2 tsp. cumin
14 oz. tomatoes, canned is fine
¼ tsp. garam masala (if you don’t have this spice mix, add a pinch each of whatever of the following you have: cinnamon, black pepper, coriander, cardamom, and the tiniest pinch of cloves, and you’ll approximate it pretty well)

Pat the cod fillets dry and sprinkle with a mixture of ¼ tsp. salt, ¼ tsp. turmeric, and a pinch of cayenne. Set aside for 30 minutes.

In a large skillet with a lid, heat the oil over medium heat. When hot, add the fennel and mustard seeds. When the mustard seeds begin to pop, add the onion and garlic. Fry until the onion turns slightly brown, about 7 minutes. Add the cumin, remaining 1 tsp. salt, and the other pinch of cayenne, and stir. Add the tomatoes and their liquid as well as the garam masala. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium-low, and gently simmer uncovered for about 15 minutes, until sauce starts to thicken and darken.

Nestle fish fillets into the sauce, spooning additional sauce on top. Cover pan and simmer gently over medium-low heat until fish is cooked through, about 10 minutes for thin fillets. Serve over basmati rice.

Source: Adapted from Madhur Jaffrey’s Illustrated Indian Cookery (out of print).

Fish Three Ways, Part 1

As you know, we’ve been part of the Cape Ann Fresh Catch fish CSA and been very happy with it. We signed up again this winter for alternating shares of Maine shrimp one week, and whatever the daily catch is fish-wise the next (usually a white fish like cod, flounder, haddock, or pollock). We switched to the more manageable smaller-sized share (a 5-lb. bag of whole shrimp or one 5 lb. whole fish, which yields about 2 lbs. of fillets, per week). The children absolutely love it. Now that I’ve gotten faster at filleting, I’m able to process the fish and get dinner on the table in about an hour as long as I keep things simple. (The shrimp is another story.)

Husband caught me admiring last week’s cod, with its bright, shiny scales and clear, coppery eyes with a golden rim around the pupil.

Him: What? Do you want to make out with it?

Me: Maybe.

What can I say? It was a particularly beautiful fish that filleted cleanly. How could I possibly do it justice? I’ll tell you how: by pan-frying it gently, deglazing the pan with white wine, simmering in some capers, mounting with butter (get your mind out of the gutter, it's a FISH), and finishing it with the juice of a lemon and a sprinkling of parsley. Serve over buttered spaghetti with maybe some kale on the side, it’s like fish piccata. So simple and so good.

Next week, fish simmered in a fragrant Indian-spiced red sauce.

Cod with Lemon-Caper Butter

I like to keep the skin on thin fillets so the fish doesn’t fall apart too easily.
1½ lbs. cod, flounder, or sole fillets
2 Tbsp. olive oil
¼ cup flour
½ cup white wine
¼ cup capers, drained
3 Tbsp. butter, cut into pieces
3 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh parsley

Heat oil in heavy, large skillet over medium-high heat. Meanwhile, spread flour on a plate. Sprinkle fish with salt and pepper and lightly coat with flour. Add fish to the hot pan and cook until opaque in the center, a few minutes per side for thin fillets. Transfer to plate and tent with foil to keep warm.

Add wine to skillet and deglaze, scraping up browned bits. Add capers and simmer until liquid is reduced by half, 2-3 minutes. Whisk in butter, one piece at a time, allowing each piece to melt before adding the next. Off the heat, whisk in lemon juice and parsley. Season with salt and pepper. Spoon sauce over fish to serve. Serves 4-6.

Source: Adapted from Legal Sea Foods.

Oysters: The Pearls of Wellfleet

Look what my in-laws gave us a few weeks ago:

Local oysters raked up by Grandpa P on the beautiful shores of Wellfleet.  (You may remember his Cape Cod lobstering pictorial.)

I love oysters and I derive a lot of satisfaction out of shucking them, too, for some reason.  Now that I have the appropriate tool, an oyster shucker with a dull, curved blade and a wide grip, the task is a lot easier.  Do NOT ever use a paring knife to shuck oysters.  It’s tempting, I know, as you may not have an oyster shucker handy and the knives are right there.  But unless you want some of your more useful fingers to go flying across the room in a bloody spray, don’t do it.  If you have to make some kind of substitution, a screwdriver might potentially work.  A flathead, not a Phillips head.

Even when using an oyster shucker, you’ll need some hand protection.  They have these stabproof gloves you can wear, but as I only shuck oysters once or twice a year, I use a thick dishtowel folded a bunch of times or a crappy oven mitt.  Whatever you use, be prepared for it to smell like low tide when you’re done.  Sometimes I also wear a rubber glove to get a better grip, but I find it gives me a false sense of security, as if it offers some measure of protection against the stabbing motion of my other hand.  It doesn’t. 

And now that I’ve scared the bejesus out of you, let’s get to the shucking.  The first thing to do is scrub the bivalves well in cold water.  Then, firmly grasp the oyster in your dishtowel so the hinge is facing you and the flat side of the shell is face up.  You want the curved side of the shell to be on the bottom so there’s a reservoir to contain the delicious oyster juices instead of having them spill out.  Then, you take your shucker, angled down, pointy side up, and sort of wedge it into the hinge.  There’s a weak spot in there.  It may take a few tries to find it.  Once you’ve got it, give the tool a twist and sort of wiggle it around to loosen the shell.  Then, run the blade across the underside of the top shell to sever the adductor muscle and pry off the top shell completely. 

The interior should look moist, and smell clean and briny.  I toss anything that's questionable (shells that don’t close, loose hinges, dried out membranes, or any kind of funky smell).  The shells often stink, but the oysters themselves should not.

You can eat them like this, raw on the half shell, or you can slide them out, gently nudging them with the shucker off the muscle that holds them onto the bottom shell, into a bowl along with the liquor for any number of preparations.  I made creamy oyster soup and a bunch of crispy, fried oysters.  These were so so so so good and just about as local as it gets.  Thanks Grandpa P!

Oyster soup

This soup is simple but very rich.  As such, it’s best served in small, shallow bowls which will also keep the fried oysters from sinking to the bottom.

2-3 dozen oysters, liquor reserved
2 Tbsp. butter
1 shallot, finely minced
1 inside rib of celery, finely diced (1/4 cup)
1 Tbsp. flat-leaf parsley
1 bay leaf
¼ tsp. fresh thyme, chopped
Dash of cayenne
2 Tbsp. flour
1 cup milk
1 cup heavy cream
Salt and pepper to taste

Scrub and shuck the oysters, saving the flavorful liquor.  Chop oysters into pieces on the small side of bite-sized. 

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat.  Add the shallot, celery, parsley, bay leaf, thyme, and cayenne, and cook, stirring constantly, until the veggies are soft but not brown (about 5 minutes).  Add the flour and cook a few minutes more.  Add the oyster liquor and stir well to thicken.  You may need to add a bit of water if you don’t have enough oyster liquor.  You want a thick cooking liquid, not a paste.  Add the oysters and simmer until cooked (about 5-7 minutes).  Remove the bay leaf.  Off the heat, add the milk and cream, stirring constantly.  Return to the flame and heat slowly being careful not to boil, which will curdle the cream.  Taste for seasoning.  You may not need much extra salt.  Garnish with a fried oyster.

Fried oysters

You could always skip the soup altogether and just make fried oysters.

1 part flour
1 part cornstarch
Beer from the bottle you’re drinking
Canola oil

Heat oil in a small saucepan to a temperature of 375°F.  Meanwhile, mix together flour and cornstarch in a small bowl with a bit of salt and pepper.  Add just enough beer that the batter is thick enough to coat the oyster without being gloppy.  Fry on both sides until golden and crispy.  Drain on paper towels.  Season with salt.  Eat them while they’re hot.

Local Sources:
Oysters: Nature, Wellfleet, MA
Milk: Our Family Farms of Western Massachusetts, MA
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT

Chowdah

Not everything went badly last week.  Let’s take a look at what went right before my unraveling.

Ah, yes, the chowder went right. 

I didn’t have a go-to recipe, so I decided to experiment a little.  I started by making a list of all the things I like in a chowder.  If I’m going to invent a chowder recipe, I didn’t want to forget anything.  Like clams.  Oh, and bacon.  Celery.  Bay leaf and thyme.  Potatoes.  Big hunks of fish.  Cayenne.  I like my onions sliced instead of diced so they hang over the edge of my spoon like they’re trying to get away.  I also prefer my clams to remain tucked into their submersible cots until the very last minute.  I like to think they’re more comfortable that way.  And less chewy. 

From there I crafted my best approximation of what Jasper White would do with this list.  Hmmmm, what would he do in a situation like this besides charge me a million dollars at Summer Shack?  But since I didn’t really know, I followed my own instincts—the very same instincts that would betray me only days later.  It came out tasty, though.  Husband didn’t cry and the kids ate it without complaining, which is all I really ask at this point. 

Two things I would have changed.  The clams I used were a bit sandy and could have benefited from an overnight soak in water in the fridge so they could purge themselves of their grit.  (I’ve heard of using salt or cornmeal in the water, too, but I’ve never tried it.)  Also, I would have used a starchier type of potato, which I think would have given the soup a little more body.  This version is creamy, but not thick.  If you prefer your chowder thick, I would suggest stirring in a few tablespoons of flour in with the onions and celery toward the end of their cooking.  But usually I just rely on free-agent potato starch to do the trick.

People can get pretty insufferable about chowder around here, so I can’t wait to read the comments in my delicate condition.  Still, one should always make chowder the way one likes it, no matter what the Chowder Police say.  As long as there are no tomatoes involved.  Adding tomatoes to chowder is very wrong.

P.S. Very wrong.

Fish and Clam Chowder

You can always mash some of the potatoes against the side of the pot to release the starches for extra thickening.  That’s a Jasper White trick.

2-3 slices of bacon to yield 2-3 Tbsp. bacon fat
2 onions, halved, sliced
1 rib celery, small dice
1 bay leaf
2 Tbsp. flour
4 cups potatoes, medium dice, unpeeled is fine
2-3 cups water or fish stock (I’m not the biggest fan of bottled clam juice, but you can use that, too)
½ tsp. dried thyme (or 1 Tbsp. fresh)
Dash cayenne
2 lbs. haddock, cut into large chunks
1 lb. steamers (smallish clams), scrubbed, soaked if you have the time
1½ cup milk
1½ cup cream
1 tsp. salt
¼ tsp. pepper

In a heavy-bottomed pot, fry the bacon until crispy.  Remove, let cool, crumble, and set aside.  To the bacon fat in the pot, add onions, celery, and bay leaf.  Cook low and slow until the vegetables are wilted, about 5 minutes.  Stir in flour and cook 2-3 minutes more.  Add potatoes and arrange fish on top.  Add hot water or fish stock to cover the potatoes.  Add thyme and cayenne, and simmer five minutes, covered.  Add clams on top.  Simmer 5-10 minutes longer, covered, until the shells open.  Discard any unopened clams.  Gently stir in milk and cream (you want the flaky fish chunks to stay as intact as possible—have fun with that).  Season with salt and pepper.  Heat until just ready to simmer.  Serve sprinkled with crumbled bacon.

Sources:
Bacon: Codman Farm, Lincoln, MA
Onions, potatoes: Drumlin Farm CSA, Lincoln, MA
Celery: Dick’s Market Garden, Lunenburg, MA (Waltham Farmer’s Market)
Haddock, clams from local fishermen: Steamers, Newton, MA
Milk, cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA (Russo’s)

Show Me Your Mussels

Continuing with FCEP Step 2, I made the most delicious mussel and chorizo soup.  Oh, you thought I was kidding about the non-local thing?  Nope.  The chorizo was from Spain and they were PEI mussels.  I know Prince Edward Island sounds like New England, but trust me.  It’s not.  My Googling skillz are top-notch. 

I love mussels.  I’d take mussels over clams any day of the week.  Plus, they’re fun to eat out of the shell, quick to cook (although they take a little time to clean), and look so pretty sticking out of the soup like that.  Like castanets.  With a delicious surprise.

This really is a great soup.  So good that I’m willing to overlook the fact that a local chef (sort of) came up with it.  And that the cream was still local.  As well as the carrots.  (And an onion.) 

What?

 

Mussel and Chorizo Soup

I usually salt things as I go along, but I’d caution you to go easy on the salt until after you’ve put the mussels in.  You may find you don’t need much extra salt at all.

2-3 lbs. mussels
½ cup dry white wine
1 Tbsp. shallots, finely minced
2 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
5 oz. chorizo, finely diced (about ¾ cup)
2 medium carrots, finely diced
2 medium leeks, white and tender greens parts only, finely diced
1 small onion, finely diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 large plum tomato, finely diced
¼ tsp. saffron threads, crumbled
3 cups low-sodium fish stock, clam juice, or chicken broth
½ cup heavy cream
1 tsp. fresh thyme, chopped
Salt and freshly ground white pepper

To prepare the mussels, scrub them under cold running water with a stiff brush.  Debeard them by removing any black strings hanging out from between the shells.  I like to manhandle them a little bit to make sure there aren’t any decoys in there filled with mud.  You only make that mistake once.

In a large, heavy pot, add the wine and shallots, and bring to a boil.  Add the mussels, cover, and cook over high heat until they open, about 5 minutes.  Throw away any mussels that didn’t open.  Strain the cooking liquid into a large bowl and reserve.  Remove half of the mussels from their shells and set aside.  Keep the rest in their shells.  I play favorites here, keeping the pretty ones intact, and getting rid of the shells with the barnacles all over them. 

In the same pot, heat the olive oil.  Add the chorizo, carrots, leeks, and onion.  Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are soft, about 8 minutes.  Add the garlic, tomato, and saffron, and cook over medium heat until fragrant, about 4 minutes.  Add the stock and reserved mussel cooking liquid and bring to a boil.  Simmer over low heat for 30 minutes.

Add the cream to the soup and simmer over medium-high heat for 3 minutes.  Add the mussels and the thyme, and simmer just until the mussels are heated through, about 1 minute.  Taste and season with salt and pepper. 

Source: Adapted from Steve Corry at Five Fifty-Five in Portland, Maine via Food & Wine.

Tuna on Toast

Don’t mind me.  I’m just trying to sneak in a few more recipes with deliciously non-local ingredients before the weekend.  By the way, thanks for all of your kind words regarding my last post.  You guys are swell. 

Anyway, we’ve been getting tons of green peppers in our farmshare.  But, as much as I love sausages and peppers, one can’t live on DePasquale sausages alone.  Actually, sure you can, but the curly, pink tail you develop is hard to conceal in today’s low-rise fashions.  Fins are much more practical, not to mention stylish, in the summertime. 

So, let’s talk tuna.  Imported solid white tuna in olive oil.  This recipe is a recreation of something Husband and I had in Spain some years ago.  We stopped in for a bite at the bar at Casa Chema in Seville and, by god, was that some good eatin’.  Everything they put in front of us was good, but what has been haunting me ever since was this: onions, peppers, and tuna (or was it bonito?) in olive oil.  Served cold (or, perhaps, lukewarm).  That’s it.  Sounds gross and weird, huh?  But, it was stab-you-in-the-heart-with-a-fork delicious.

It took me a few tries to get it right since I was a little fuzzy on the particulars.  In the end, long, slow cooking did the trick.  For the past few weeks, I’ve been slathering the stuff bruschetta-style on baguette slices, or when those run out (as they always do), on the toasted heels of sandwich bread, which then leads me somehow to the middle of the loaf, and before you know it, it’s just me and a spoon staring at an empty dish. 

Anyway, my apologies to Chema for bastardizing his recipe.  We’ll meet again, amigo mio, and when we do, I sure hope you fight like a girl.

 

Tuna on Toast

¼ cup Spanish extra-virgin olive oil
2 yellow onions, sliced thinly
2 medium green bell peppers (or one green, one red), seeded, sliced thinly
2 6-oz. cans solid white tuna (or bonito) packed in olive oil, drained
Hearty pinch of kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oil in a large frying pan over medium heat.  Add the onion and bell pepper.  Toss with salt and pepper, and cover, reducing heat to low.  Cook 45 minutes to 1 hour, stirring occasionally without letting the vegetables brown.  Add the tuna to the pan, breaking it up with a wooden spoon as you mix.  Sauté for one more minute.  Let cool and then refrigerate.  Serve chilled on bread or toast.

Saucy Tomatoes

The first heirloom tomato sauce of the season, and it’s mine, all mine.

Fine, it can be yours, too, but this one’s not Italian.  It’s Mexican.  With shrimp.  That’s odd -- why would there be seafood in a Mexican dish?  Oh yeah, because of all that coastline.  Bring on the fish, and while you’re at it, pass me some of that garlicky lobster from the Cueva del Pescador in Akumal (I gave the locals quite a laugh a few years back by referring to the restaurant as the Cuerva del Pescador, loosely translated to “Curvaceous Fisherman.”).

First, a tomato update.  I’m working from my farmshare tomatoes since mine are all still green.  Well, a couple of them have started blushing at the prospect of the sauces, and salsas, and soups, and salads they’re about to become.  Maybe, if I keep whispering naughty things to them, they’ll embarrass faster…

My engineer husband has finally intervened on my tomatoes’ behalf.  Since the plants have grown up and over any cage or stake I’ve thrown at them, I’ve done what any self-respecting lazy person would do and said, fine, have it your way.  Slump over onto the ground for all I care.  But, Husband is more tenderhearted than I, and after a pep talk and some kitchen twine (or something), he has since given them the support and encouragement they need to reach for the sky.  You could say our parenting styles differ. 

Now, he just has to stand up there and hold them up like that for a few more weeks, maybe a month.  In the meantime, here’s a relatively quick sauce for shrimp that I serve over rice as often as I can.

 

Veracruz Tomato Sauce with Shrimp

It's sort of like a puttanesca sauce, minus the puta.

4-5 large ripe tomatoes (the uglier, the better)
¼ cup olive oil
¼ cup onion, finely chopped
1½ Tbsp. garlic, finely chopped
½ tsp. sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 small bay leaf
6 green olives, pitted, and quartered lengthwise
1 Tbsp. raisins, chopped
2 tsp. capers
1 tsp. fresh marjoram, chopped
3/4 lb. shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 Tbsp. parsley, chopped
Rice

Set rice to cook in a rice cooker.  It’s your best friend.

Peel tomatoes by blanching them in boiling water for 20 seconds, then submerging them in ice water.  Cut out the core and the skins should peel right off.  Remove the seeds and chop the tomatoes finely.

Heat 2 Tbsp. of the oil in a large, heavy skillet over medium-high heat.  Sauté onion until translucent, about 3 minutes.  Add garlic and cook for one minute more without browning.  Stir in tomatoes, sugar, ½ tsp. of the salt, and bay leaf, and bring to a simmer.  Reduce heat to low and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, until most of the liquid has evaporated, about 20 minutes.  Discard bay leaf.  Add olives, raisins, capers, and marjoram to sauce.  Cook 1 minute more, stirring.

In a medium skillet, heat remaining 2 Tbsp. of oil over medium-high heat.  Toss shrimp with remaining garlic and salt, and add to the hot pan.  Sauté until shrimp are pink and coiled, about 4 minutes.  Add shrimp and parsley to the sauce, and stir.  Serve over rice.

Source: Adapted from Gourmet.

Cookbook Friday: Clam Sauce

The last of my grandmother’s wedding photos, this is her sister-in-law, Rose [Donroe] Valentino, in 1940.  Rose learned how to cook from her Neapolitan mother, Margarite Donroe.  She refers to this recipe as white clam sauce, to differentiate it from the tomato-based red version.  Rose still lives in the New Haven area and is very spry at age 95.

 

White Clam Sauce

An old standard Christmas Eve recipe, Rose would use fresh cherrystone clams and serve them in their shells for a more festive presentation.  This everyday version uses canned clams from the pantry.

3 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
4 medium garlic cloves, minced
Pinch of red pepper flakes
2 small bottles of clam juice (8 fl. oz. each)
3 Tbsp. fresh parsley, minced
2 cans minced clams, drained (6 ½ oz. each)
Salt to taste
1 lb. angel hair pasta

Set a large pot of salted water to boil.  Meanwhile, heat oil and sauté garlic until light brown (careful, as garlic burns fast).  Add red pepper flakes, clam juice, and parsley.  Cook for 15 minutes.  Just before serving, add canned clams and let simmer together for 1 minute. 

Cook angel hair pasta as directed.  Before draining, save ¼ cup of the pasta water.  Put pasta in bowl, add part of the clam sauce along with the reserved pasta water.  Serve topped with additional clam sauce.  Serves 8.

Rose [Donroe] Valentino
North Haven, Connecticut
1911 –

 

Next Recipe: Crescia

     (Previous Recipe: Fried Artichokes)

Garlic Shrimp

One of the things I retained after reading Michael Pollan’s article, Unhappy Meals, was the part about how Americans should pick one ethnic diet, any ethnic diet, and convert.  It’s probably better than what we’re eating right now.

I think this idea stayed with me mostly because it seemed like a free ticket to ingest burritos composed of 50% guac and 50% sour cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Maybe hit the local Taco Bell and stock up on whatever the hell it is they sell.  Tacos?

Or maybe he meant authentic ethnic cuisine as it’s served in its country of origin.  But, I’ll bet most people wouldn’t recognize real Mexican food if Quetzalcoatl served it up himself.  And let’s just say that Quetzalcoatl doesn’t take kindly to taking a dish back because there’s not enough Monterey Jack melted all over it.  He and the vengeful Montezuma are like this.  Plus, he knows a virgin when he sees one.

But I figure there’s got to be something in it for me, so I’ve decided to follow Michael Pollan’s advice.  And I’ve picked my ethnic food of choice.  You’re probably guessing Mexican, but no, that was a close second.  I’m picking Spanish.  Why?  Because, so far as I can tell, it involves the most frying.  And, as I think I’ve mentioned before, I like fried stuff. 

For the first happy week, I’m eating nothing but this:

 

Gambas al Ajillo (Garlic Shrimp)

½ cup Spanish extra virgin olive oil
6 cloves garlic (or more!), peeled and thinly sliced
½ lb. shrimp, peeled and deveined
2 Tbsp. Sherry
5 shakes paprika
Salt and pepper to taste
Crusty bread

Heat oil and garlic in a medium frying pan until just sizzling.  Remove from heat and let sit and infuse until ready to cook shrimp (a couple of hours, whatever).

Reheat oil over medium heat until hot.  Fry shrimp until pink and cooked through.  Add Sherry, paprika, salt, and pepper.  Remove from heat and serve immediately.  Mop up the oil and garlic with plenty of crusty bread.  Die happy.

 

Translation:

Oye, tengo un hueso de tocar contigo, amigos.  Vivia en Madrid por un ano, y masticaba mucha comida.  La mayoria de la comida era frita.  Frita y muy deliciosa.  Calamari.  Tortilla Espanola.  Gambas al ajillo.  Legumbres, hay poco.  En el supermercado, si hay, pero en las restaurantes, no.  Ensalada, si, pero con aceite y sal, nada mas.  Fruta, si, pero verdura, no.  Son champinones legumbres?  No se.

Entonces, mi pregunta es: por que toda la gente es muy flaca.  Pero muy flaca.  Pues, antes de una edad la gente es flaca, pero bueno, despues de esta edad, nadie le importa.  En la comida, que me gusta mucho, hay mucho grueso.  Flan, si.  Mucho flan.  Queso, si, si, si.  Mayonesa por todas partes.  Se come mucho pescado, es verdad, pero joder, tenemos pescado aqui tambien.  No somos flacos.

Solo puede ser una explicacion.  El aceite.  Tienes un tipo de aceite especial que no nos compartes.  No me dices aceite de oliva porque ya lo tengo.  No esta trabajando.  Que secretos se guardan?  Que pasa durante las siestas de veras.  Creo que no duermes.

Think you know how to speak Spanish?  Wrong.  Let Google show you how it’s really done.

Pad Thai: My Way, Right Away

With Pim’s blessing (thanks, Pim!), I shall now share my lazy interpretation of her upstanding version of pad Thai.

So, as I mentioned, I printed out her primer, studied it for hours, marked it up with a highlighter, and did some very complicated calculations that mostly involved subtraction.  Things like, subtract one wok from recipe, minus I don’t have this kind of time, minus I can’t find this ingredient.  This kind of math.

As an aside, I just finished reviewing the blogger code of ethics that Harrison3 made me read, and, come to find out, lying is bad.  So, let me just clarify that it wasn’t so much that I misplaced my wok as I intentionally sold it at a yard sale.  What can I say, I had a crappy electric stove in my apartment at the time, and the combination didn’t seem to work well.  So, my wok collected dust until I decided it was taking too much valuable space away from the rest of the dust. 

Now, I’m cooking with gas, and despite a nice collection of All-Clad, I felt it was very important to keep my paper-thin, non-stick T-Fals from college (priorities, people).  They heat up fast and hot, and I’m not going to say they work as well as a wok, but they work well enough.  (They also stack efficiently and the dust isn’t making a stink.)  But, really, any crappy non-stick frying pan will do, with the emphasis being on crappy.

Another basic concept of pad Thai, besides owning a wok, is that you shouldn’t crowd said wok by trying to cook too much at a time.  I can appreciate this concept.  A crowded pan is like a crowded MBTA bus.  Somebody peed in the back, no one’s owning up to it, so everyone just stews.  Everyone’s a little hot under the collar, but no one’s really smokin’ hot, if you know what I mean.  To get around this, Pim suggests sizzling up one serving at a time. 

I’m not doing that.  Well, what I mean to say is, someday I aspire to be patient and caring enough toward my dining companions to make their pad Thai to order.  Meanwhile, my kids will be shrieking that their meal isn’t dinosaur-shaped, and then to add my own hungry, pitiful whining on top of whatever cooking-lecture-of-the-day the engineer has to offer: it’s just too much.  I’m throwing it all in there at the same time.  I just made a point to be extra-diligent about keeping things moving in my alterna-wok. 

Which meant that I scrambled my tofu.  The egg was supposed to be scrambled; the tofu was not.  I fixed this problem the next time by cooking up the shrimp and tofu, setting them aside while I cooked the noodles, and then adding them back in at the end.  This is starting to sound way too much like a Cook’s Illustrated article.  Maybe I should insert some swears.

Another thing I learned, besides another use for tamarind, is that you should never grind your dried shrimp in a food processor.  I mean, unless you happen to like the sensation of jagged shrimp shell shards in your meal.  The mortar and pestle, Pim elucidated, gives you soft, fluffy shrimpiness instead of shards.  And it’s true.  In my previous attempts at pad Thai, I had always wondered what the Thais found so appealing about the equivalent of crushed rocks in their noodles.  Turns out there is no appeal.  The joke was on me.

Anyway, here it is...

 

Wok-less Pad Thai

8 oz. dried rice noodles
2 Tbsp. tamarind concentrate
3 Tbsp. fish sauce
3 Tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. paprika
3 Tbsp. canola oil
½ lb. large raw shrimp, peeled, deveined
½ package extra-firm tofu, cut into bit-sized pieces
1-2 garlic cloves, minced
2 eggs
¼ cup roasted unsalted peanuts, ground, plus extra for the table
2 Tbsp. dried shrimp, crushed in a mortar and pestle
1 cup bean sprouts, plus extra for the table
½ cup Chinese chives, cut into 2-inch pieces

In a large bowl of warm water, soak the rice noodles until pliable, but not mushy (20-30 minutes).  Drain and set aside.

In a small pot over low heat, mix tamarind, fish sauce, sugar, and paprika.  Heat until simmering, remove from heat, and set aside.

Heat oil in a large, nonstick frying pan over high heat until smokin’ hot.  Add the tofu, half of the garlic, and 1 Tbsp. of reserved sauce, and stir-fry for a minute.  Add the shrimp and cook until pink and gently coiled, and the tofu has browned.  Remove to a dish, reserving the oil in the pan.

Add the rice noodles, the rest of the garlic, and the remaining sauce.  Cook vigorously making sure to keep things moving to prevent noodles from clumping and sticking together.  You can add more oil if necessary.  When the noodles are cooked, push them all around the sides of the pan.  Crack the eggs into the middle and let set for 15-30 seconds.  Then mix all together.  Add the peanuts, dried shrimp, and bean sprouts.  Toss quickly.  Then add the Chinese chives and the reserved shrimp and tofu.  Gently toss to heat.  Serve with extra raw bean sprouts and sprinkled peanuts.

Yummy with beer.

Leftover Cranberries?

Or cranberry sauce?  Made this tasty dish last night.  Quick and easy.

Roasted Salmon with Cranberry Shallot Relish

4 6-oz. salmon fillets
3 Tbsp. olive oil
2 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
½ cup cranberries
¼ cup brown sugar
1/8 tsp. cardamom (optional)
1 medium shallot, chopped
2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar

Preheat oven to 400˚F.  Whisk oil and mustard together in small bowl.  Lightly oil roasting pan.  Place fillets in pan skin side down.  Season with salt and pepper, and brush half of oil/mustard mixture on fish.  Roast until medium rare, about 13-15 minutes.

To bowl of food processor, add cranberries, brown sugar, and cardamom.  Pulse until relishy.  Add to remaining oil/mustard mixture, along with shallots and red wine vinegar.  Season and stir well.

Brown salmon under broiler, if desired, then serve topped with relish.

Source: Adapted from Bon Appetit (original recipe here)