FOOD ON THE FOOD

Grapefruit Fennel Salad

To celebrate me losing all of my dessert cookbook weight, let's have a salad!

I've been enjoying this grapefruit fennel salad for months now. It was inspired by a recipe in Amanda Cohen's cookbook, Dirt Candy. If you're unfamiliar with the NYC veggie-focused restaurant by the same name or its comic-book-themed cookbook spin-off, I suggest you seek out the latter the next time you're at the library or your local bookstore. It's an entertaining read as it illustrates, quite literally, the reality of opening a new restaurant, Cohen's stint on Iron Chef America, as well as cooking techniques for vegetables. As the author and heroine of this graphic novel, Cohen dons her chefly superpowers with wit and humility. The book is great fun, as is her blog. Check out this hilarious post on how her celery salad went over at the NYC Wine & Food Fest. If you find yourself defecting to her blog, I'll totally understand!

But back to the salad. Cohen's version includes candied grapefruit lollipops and grilled cheese croutons, which are no doubt delicious, but my version is a little more pared down (read: lazy). I've settled on this basic arrangement: mixed greens with thinly sliced fennel and red onion, segmented grapefruit, and crumbled feta. The salad benefits from having something fatty and salty in the mix, so if you forgo the cheese, fill the void with crumbled bacon, chopped almonds or pistachios, or cubed avocado with a sprinkling of sea salt. The dressing, which I make with anise seeds instead of fennel seeds, is mildly fruity and refreshing. It's the perfect pre-summer salad.

(It also reminds me a little bit of dessert!)

 

Grapefruit Fennel Salad     

Below are my suggestions, but use what you like in the proportions of your choosing. Just be sure to slice the vegetables very thinly. A tangle of radish sprouts would be a nice addition. The amounts below serve two grownups. Scale up as you wish.

Salad
1 to 2 cups mixed lettuce, spinach, and baby kale
1/2 fennel bulb, thinly sliced
1/2 small red onion, thinly sliced (only cut what you'll use)
1 red grapefruit
Crumbled feta, goat cheese, or queso fresco
Chopped salted almonds or pistachios (optional)

Anise Dressing
1 tablespoon finely grated grapefruit zest (from 1 grapefruit)
2 tablespoons grapefruit juice
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon anise seeds
1/4 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

For the salad, toss the lettuce, fennel, and onion in a bowl.

Finely grate the zest from the grapefruit and set it aside for the dressing. Cut the grapefruit in half and reserve one of the halves for the dressing. To segment the other half, place it cut-side-down and slice the peel off the grapefruit in swaths, following the contour of the fruit. Then turn it over and cut between the membranes to remove the juicy flesh in between. Set the grapefruit segments aside in a shallow bowl.

For the dressing, add the grapefruit zest, grapefruit juice from the reserved grapefruit half, lemon juice, anise seeds, and mustard to a blender. Blend on high, then reduce the speed to low and slowly stream in the oil until smooth and emulsified. Add salt and pepper to taste. (The dressing can be stored in a covered jar in the refrigerator for up to a week.)

Lightly dress the greens and veggies just before serving. Arrange the salad on plates with the grapefruit segments, cheese, and nuts if using. Serve additional dressing at the table.

Source: Adapted from Dirt Candy by Amanda Cohen, Ryan Dunlavey, and Grady Hendrix

Chicken Piccata

Don't worry, I'm not blogging about anything disgusting today. Let's try to get back on track with a recipe for a change.

Recently, I've been craving standard Italian chicken dishes. You know the ones: chicken piccata, chicken marsala, chicken cacciatore. You can find them on the menus of throwback Italian restaurants from the ubiquitous Olive Garden to more localized institutions like the Chateau in Waltham.

My cousin dropped me off an amazing book last month called Italy: The Country and Its Cuisine. That's mainly what I was reading in bed when I was sick. It's a giant, heavy 500-page hardcover cookbook filled with photographs of the food and landscape of Italy. It's pretty spectacular. No wonder I was starving half to death.

As soon as I was up and about, I was determined to make chicken piccata, a personal favorite of mine. I sliced the chicken breasts in half the flat way, dredged them in flour, browned them, and then smothered them in a pan sauce of lemon juice, capers, parsley, and butter. YUM! Next up was chicken marsala. (Sorry, kids, we're having chicken all week!) Same deal with the chicken cutlets: slice, flour, brown, remove. Then I sautéed up some shallots and mushrooms, deglazed with marsala wine, and maybe sprinkled a little marjoram on top. Yes, I did lick the pan the sauce was in clean. What of it?

The chicken cacciatore was something new for me. I don't think I've ever made it before. That may change since I learned that cacciatore means "hunter-style," so basically this stew is what the Italian hunters made on their campgrounds with whatever they had on hand. Think browned pieces of rabbit or fowl plus vegetables, tomatoes, wild mushrooms, herbs, and wine. I imagine the Italians carry bottles of wine with them everywhere they go, especially on hunting trips. If they don't, please don't spoil this image for me. The image of a dark-skinned Italian with a bottle of wine under one arm, truffles in his pocket, and a partridge slung over his shoulder. Yeah. The next time I go mushroom-hunting, you can bet I'll be making this, though my recent version relied on regular white buttons. I didn't want to tempt the Vomit Gods so soon.

I'm moving these three chicken dishes into the dinnertime rotation. They're classic for a reason.

Chicken Piccata

There are lots of variations on this theme that use garlic, shallots, and white wine. Experiment and find your favorite. This is ours.

2-3 boneless chicken breasts, skin removed
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
4-5 Tbsps. olive oil
3/4 cup chicken stock
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice (from 1-2 lemons)
1/4 cup capers
2 Tbsp. Italian flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter

Wash and dry the chicken breasts in cold water. Take each breast and butterfly it, meaning hold the knife parallel to the cutting board and slice along its width. I cut all the way through to make two thinner pieces of meat, but feel free to keep the breast intact if you like bigger portions, opening up the two sides which are now held together by a meaty hinge.

Season breasts with salt and pepper, and dredge with flour. Shake off excess.

Heat 3 Tbsp. olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. In two batches, cook the chicken breasts until brown, about 3 minutes. Flip and cook until the other side is brown, 2-3 minutes. Remove to a plate. Add more oil to the pan as needed for the second batch.

To the empty pan, add the stock, lemon juice, and capers. Bring to a boil, scraping up the browned bits stuck to the bottom of the pan. Add the chicken breasts and their juices to the pan and simmer uncovered on low until sauce has reduced and chicken is heated through, 4-5 minutes. Remove chicken and whisk butter and parsley into sauce. Serve chicken over pasta and spoon sauce over the top.

Maple-Stout Marinated Brisket

Ever wish there was a cookbook out there with seasonal recipes and sprawling, high-quality photographs that pay homage to your favorite local growers?  I’m sure there are thousands of these kinds of cookbooks that revolve around California farms, at least one cookbook per farm I imagine, but not so here in Massachusetts.  Here, there’s just one.  (So far.)  (That I know of.)

I’m talking about Fresh & Honest, a beautiful collection of recipes and seasonal sources from Peter Davis, chef of Henrietta’s Table in Cambridge.  The focus is on simple, traditional New England fare with fresh, local ingredients, but he takes that a step further by introducing us to the fishermen, cheesemakers, and farmers that supply his restaurant, including Pat Woodbury of Wellfleet, Bob Stetson of Westfield Farm in Hubbardston, and Steve Verrill of Concord’s Verrill Farm, among others.  Recipes include roasted pumpkin soup, strawberry-rhubarb compote, lobster chowder, red flannel hash with poached eggs, and grit cakes with mushrooms.  It’s such a pretty book (it recently won a New England Book Festival award), that I kind of wish I wrote it myself.  But former Boston Magazine colleague Alex Hall wrote it with Davis, so that’s close enough.  The point is that such a book exists and is available for such greedy little hands as mine.

I’ve been agonizing over which recipe to share with you, and I’ve finally settled on one: maple-stout marinated brisket, one last hearty, meaty dish before we move into summer’s lighter fare.  I know I’m in a minority among the Boston-area, beer-loving public, but I don’t love drinking stout (I’ve discussed this before).  I find its meatiness offensive in a beverage.  But I do like to cook with it, so I planned to use Moody St. Stout from Waltham’s own Watch City brewery to continue the local theme.  But, of course, they ran out right before I got there, so I had to quickly formulate a backup plan.  Twenty minutes later, their Chocolate Thunder Porter caught my eye.  Come to find out, it’s made with local Taza chocolate!  And the fact that it’s a porter, which I do like, AND it contains chocolate, meant that I had no problem helping Husband polish off the rest of the growler alongside this rich, tender, dark-chocolatey brisket.  Win-win.  

 

Maple-Stout Marinated Brisket

This is not a weekday meal.  It requires marinating, browning, and long, slow cooking for 6 hours.  Start early the day before you need to eat it. 

1 4-lb. beef brisket
1/3 cup Dijon mustard
½ cup maple syrup (the darker, the better)
2 cups stout (or chocolate porter!)
½ cup red wine vinegar
2 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
4 bay leaves
2 tsp. Tabasco sauce (I used way less because that much Tabasco scares me!)
1 cup onion, finely diced

In a medium saucepan, whisk together the mustard and maple syrup.  Add the beer, vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, bay leaves, Tabasco, and onion, and mix well.  Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer 2-3 minutes.  Let cool completely.

Soak the brisket in the marinade for 24 hours in the fridge.  Heat grill and brown over low heat on all sides, being careful not to burn it.  This can also be done in a hot, oven-proof skillet with a thin film of oil.  Preheat oven to 275°F.  In a tightly covered pan, cook brisket in the oven for 6 hours or so, basting with the marinade every hour.  When tender, remove from the oven and let rest tented with foil for 30 minutes.  Slice brisket across the grain and drizzle with pan drippings.  Serve with mashed potatoes and, I don’t know, maybe something green!

Source: Adapted from Fresh & Honest by Peter Davis and Alexandra Hall.

Local Food Sources:
Beef brisket: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA
Mustard: Raye’s Mustard, Eastport, ME
Maple syrup: Williams Farm Sugarhouse, Old Deerfield, MA
Beer: Watch City Brewing Company, Waltham, MA