Everything is better with butter. Even tomato sauce. Even fiction.

Dear Boo,

So I'm probably like the 200 millionth person to try, and subsequently extol the virtues of this revelatory recipe, but that's not going to stop me from writing you about it. It's that good. And yes, butter has a lot to do with it, but equal parts of the goodness comes from the simplicity, the near magic that occurs when four simple ingredients come together in a way that is just SO right it makes you sigh, wipe your plate clean, and sigh again.

As you know, I've been part of this amazing little fiction writing group for well over a year now, a group which came together somewhat spontaneously, serendipitously, leap of faith-like, when four (now five) ingredients people came together to try out a (for many of us) new medium. What's come out of this is so much more than any of us anticipated, an artistic home, a motor which keeps us moving forward, a buoy that keeps us bobbing to the surface when we would have otherwise been sunk long ago. And what's come out of each of us, has been surprising and exciting, little pieces of ourselves, down on paper, images and ideas and people who come to life each week as we gather and read and listen. It's really phenomenal.

Of course, since I'm involved (along with a few other serious foodies), there's been a lot of eating as well as writing. Somewhere early on we transitioned from the rotating host providing snacks, to a full-on dinner at each meeting, of which I am--natch--a big fan. I swear my writing has improved tremendously since we implemented this. Of course, as the lovely J-Bow pointed out in a meeting recently after reading a section of my novel, "there's a whole food theme going on in this book..." So maybe it's seeped into my work a bit as well.

(Exhibit A, from one of my chapters:

If it weren’t for the platter of cold cuts on the kitchen table, little rolls of salami and ham and turkey and yellow and white cheese tucked into concentric circles ringed with wet, wilted lettuce leaves, you would never know anyone had died. That platter’s always a dead give-away. It’s the same platter we had on that same table when Uncle Jeff died in that swimming accident. And it showed up about three other times I can remember—one for each of my mother’s sisters. The only thing that ever changes is the lettuce. Sometimes it’s curly (Judith), sometimes it’s shredded (Suzanne), and sometimes it’s those huge flat green leaves that unroll to the size of a ceiling fan (Anita). Today the table is pushed out from the wall, I guess so people can get to the food from all sides, which would make sense if we were expecting a crowd, which means that whoever set this thing up, didn’t know my mother very well.) 

Anyway, for me, too often providing dinner for the group involves calling up Rocco's for a Grandma Pizza and salad (so delicious, highly recommend) as I rush from work to home to printing out my pages and neatening up before the group arrives. But the other day, I just wasn't up for this. I wanted something cheap, and something from my kitchen. And my options were somewhat limited, as I had about 45 minutes to shop and prep and do the dishes. That's when I thought of this sauce. Shopping for it takes about 10 minutes, costs less than ordering a pizza, and the whole thing can be ready in 45 minutes with only about 10 minutes of hands on time. Toss together some greens with good olive oil and vinegar and you have an absolutely lick your plate delicious meal. Also, the sauce magically tastes like its been cooking for hours, so you get a ton of credit.

Here's my deep thought of the day: to my mind, some of the best fiction--or I should say, writing in general, or for that matter, art in general!--comes when few, simple ingredients: a painfully honest line, a character who comes to life with one stroke describing the way their jacket falls over their shoulders, a truth that is rendered so simply and precisely we cannot help but see the deepest parts of ourselves reflected back; collide at just the right speed and velocity and time and space to create something utterly beautiful. Not to put too fine a point on this sauce, because, let's be honest, it's tomato sauce, but this, like so many good recipes, does the same thing. Make it, and have a delicious, cheap, and comforting dinner that might just make you a better artist as well. Hey, I'll take inspiration wherever I can find it.

Love,

The Mouse

Marcella Hazan's Tomato Sauce with Butter and Onion 

MAKES 3 CUPS

8 tbsp. unsalted butter, cubed
1 (28-oz.) can whole, peeled tomatoes in juice, crushed by hand
1 medium yellow onion, peeled and halved lengthwise
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Bring butter, sugar, tomatoes, and onion, to a boil in a 4-qt. saucepan over medium-high heat; reduce heat to medium-low, and cook, stirring occasionally, until flavors meld and sauce is slightly reduced, about 45 minutes. Discard onion, and season sauce with salt and pepper before serving.
**One time I made this, I left half the onion in and pureed it with some of the sauce. I also put in a clove of garlic, whole, to simmer along with the sauce. Both of these options were lovely, though not completely necessary. It'll be delicious either way.

The Kitchen Where We Meet The World (Potluck 2011)

Dear Mouse,

"I don't mean to be a Posshole Asta", said Leon, looking over my shoulder, "But you have too much water in that pot."

Ah, out of the mouths of Lions...

Jamie Oliver's 'Chicken In Milk'.
Photo lovingly recycled from a Mouse Post Past



He meant, of course, "Pasta A**hole" (as in, someone who claims at least partly Italian background and has things to say about the way you're making dinner), but a slip of the tongue created this fabulous new job title. I told him he should start an Italian Cooking Advice Column, "Ask the Posshole Asta", and then I said to get out of my kitchen.
(He stayed though... because he was also cooking the meal.)

Yes, Mouse, it's a new year, bringing with it new vocabulary words, new humans (welcome to the world, Little Poet!! born 12/30/10), new relationships, and most importantly, new ways to approach eating things. My 2011 began with a Potluck Dinner Party.

What with Little Poet and the new year, I was inspired to do a little digging into the significance of the number 11. Like any good, new Agey friend, I printed out her astrological chart (the 'snapshot' of the planets' positions at the moment of birth). Little P had a few big planets in the 11th House, which meant approximately nothing to me. But what I learned straight off I really liked:

"The 11th is the house of friends... our first experience of tribal society, the playground where we meet the world." (astro.com)

New Year's Eve 2011 found me close to friends indeed - very close, as three of us tried to prepare four dishes simultaneously in my very tiny kitchen. How did this happen, I wondered. Firstly, my plan had been for a solo New Year's (silent meditation retreat, two days of yoga, or similar). But there I was, two days to go and no closer to a plan than "Kripalu costs what?" Then I realized that several friends, none of whom know each other, were without plans. I offered to host a potluck dinner, and it was On like the silver top hats grudgingly worn by the staff at Cafeteria this year.

Secondly, 'potluck' is not a word that often escapes my (food snob?) lips.It always sounds like "good luck with that". Oh, sure, it's fine for an office lunch or maybe a church dinner? But it's an entirely different thing in your home. You're letting someone else deck your table with their god knows what creations, and even - gasp - commandeer your stove to prepare. A dinner party is something you either host or attend. Right? Something well-planned and harmonious. A potluck is, like, every man for himself. You won't be hungry but you also probably won't be satisfied. Right?

rigatoni alla vodka, photo courtesy recipebridge.com. But ours looked like it.
(I really need to unpack/locate my camera)

THE MENU

Leon, aka Posshole Asta: homemade vodka sauce, homemade marinara type sauce w/veggies.

J-Mas (Posshole Asta #2): rigatoni and fresh raviolis from place in Jersey, homemade (vegan) chocolate chip cookies, surprisingly tasty.

A-Mac: spinach salad with dried cranberries, walnuts, and goat cheese.

The Boo: Jamie Oliver's Chicken in Milk, as seen above. (Really, so easy and people freak out. Make it.) Roasted Brussels Sprouts w/bacon and rosemary.

The Mayor: red wine and mulled cider, witticisms.

To drink: kir royales for some, seltzer and pomegranate juice for the teetotalers, a word that I think must have been invented as an intoxication test (ie, if you can say or spell it, you're not drunk)

Highlights: the TWO pasta courses (oh, 2010 decadence past). The digestive walk around the block before midnight. The viewing of Times Square Fireworks from my fire escape! The after-dinner 'Double Dream Hands' rehearsal. The brief loud chorus of Auld Lang Syne. Going to sleep to the sound of hooting noisemakers on 7th avenue.

There's something about learning to feed and be fed at the same time. In 2011, let us play in the 11th house of communal creativity. Let us open our kitchens and our hearts to new tastes and new lessons. Sometimes, we can let someone else boil the water and make the sauce.

May I suggest your local Posshole Asta?

Love,

The Boo

Barbuto Answers my Pasta Prayers

Dear Boo,

Do you ever just get a hankering for something tasty that stays with you all day (or week) until you finally give in and feed the beast? Yesterday I was haunted by just such a craving for a hot bowl of saucy noodles. I had plans with A-Mac to meet up for tea or a bite to eat after my rehearsal around 4, but as everything ran late, we didn't end up meeting up until about 6. By then, having been in rehearsal since 11am straight, I was starving. We wandered around a bit debating where to go, as my hankering for pasta amped up to epic proportions. We were somewhere along Bleecker when inspiration hit. "Ooh I want you to try that place Barbuto I was telling you about!" said A-Mac. Having walked by the airy corner space many times before, and being quite sure my noodles would be somewhere on that menu, I agreed, and we set off to the west side.

Jonathan Waxman's Barbuto is off on a corner of Washington Street just beyond the Saturday night West Village roving bands of 30-somethings and better yet, just south of the meatpacking's roving bands of 20-somethings. It was a little chilly last night but the wide garage doors were open out onto the street and we sat just inside the walls of the restaurant which was lively but not crowded, with a relaxed vibe. A bowl of olives appeared on the table to help ease my increasing hunger pangs and damn were they good. We decided on a half-carafe of rose (I love when a restaurant offers half-carafes) and I immediately liked our waitress when she recommended the cheaper option.

A-Mac and I quickly decided that though this wasn't one of our planned ahead dinner splurges, now that we were seated and content, there was no reason to not go all out. Anyway, nothing on the menu is above $20, or if I'm lying, there are only a couple of items which are, and not by much. We ordered the shredded brussels sprouts salad, the fresh pappardelle with sausage ragu for me (hurrah!), the signature roast chicken with lemon salsa verde for A-Mac and roasted cauliflower with anchovies and capers to share.

Everything was delicious. The sprouts in the salad were raw which was suprising and crunchy with a little bite, the cauliflower was salty and tangy and the chicken was moist and lemony with crisp skin.

But the pasta. Oh, the pasta. It was simple--just broad fresh noodles with plenty of sausage in a light tomato sauce and a sprinkle of cheese. Miraculously, it was EXACTLY what I had imagined when my stomach first fixated on a bowl of pasta for dinner. It was steaming and on the salty side and so so satisfying.

I highly recommend treating yourself to a spontaneous nice dinner. Maybe I spent a little more money than I had anticipated that night. Maybe it tasted a little better than it would have had I not been so hungry or so happy to be sitting in flattering light, on a quiet village street, for an overdue chat with a great friend. But that was the best, most satisfying and comforting bowl of pasta I have had in a long time.

I have no pictures to offer since this was a spontaneous culinary experience. But I can offer you this recipe from a profile of Jonathan Waxman in Gourmet. It looks pretty close to the light crunchy salad we started of with, though I think our version involved bread crumbs instead of walnuts....

Ripped directly from Gourmet...
Shaved Brussels Sprouts Salad

1 1/2 lb Brussels sprouts (preferably on the stalk), any discolored leaves discarded and stems left intact
1 cup walnuts (3 1/2 oz), lightly toasted
2 tablespoons finely grated Pecorino Romano, or to taste
1/4 cup olive oil
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Holding each Brussels sprout by stem end, cut into very thin slices using slicer. Toss in a bowl to separate layers.

Lightly crush walnuts with your hands and add to Brussels sprouts along with cheese, oil, and lemon juice, then toss to combine. Season with pepper.

Love,
The Mouse

P.S. My cab driver was playing Foreigner on my ride home. What a night.

Top Ten (+1)

Dear Boo,

Aren't you kind of shocked that our mother didn't email this Times article about the 11 healthiest foods to us with the message:
GIRLS--BOUGHT YOU BOTH A CASE OF CANNED PUMPKIN. THEY SAY IS BEST WAY TO AVOID ALZHEIMERS!!! PS. WHAT ARE GOJI BERRIES? SOUNDS FUN. MAXOXO.?
Is it a sure sign that I'm turning into her that I'm the one doing the emailing instead? Maybe. How about the fact that I went out and made dinner with 3 of these ingredients the day I read this? Yep, thought so. Just call me Maxo.

While I shopped for my life-saving groceries, I got to thinking about my own personal 11 food list, which looks a little different. Here goes.

The foods that about 85% of the time, I would rather drop what I'm doing and eat:

1) Potato chips. I'm inclined towards salt and vinegar but I wouldn't kick a sour cream and onion or bbq out of bed either.

2) French Fries. I'm sensing a theme here. I like em salty, hot, and crispy, but honestly I'll eat them cold if it comes to that. I love the spicy curly fry, or anything with a multitude of dipping sauces is seductive. Ketchup remains my ultimate but sometimes I cheat on it with that hussy mayonnaise. I know, you hate it.

3) A really good caesar salad. The strong garlicky dressing with a good right hook of saltiness and tang from the anchovies, brightened up with a splash of lemon, all over crispy cold romaine. Unexpectedly, one of my favorite late night eats. Don't ask.

4) Pizza--I'm talking the good stuff here: Totonnos in Coney Island, the proscuitto/arugula pizza at Otto, or Highland Pizza in our hometown where they used to make my sad little childhood allergic self a cheeseless slice while I leaned over the counter and watched. OR if it's 3am and I'm slightly off balance, a slice from Crispy Pizza around the corner from me. Note from the Boo: Hello - Don Pepi's in Penn Station? and (hamana, hamana, whatever its name is) on 14th and 9th Av... perfeection.)

5) Crusty french bread (preferably warm) with butter. The stuff of the gods. Do you really need me to justify this one?

6) Tuna on a bagel. Talk about good for what ails you. I should have added this to the list of morning-after foods, but really, it's good any time. I like mine on an everything bagel. Remember when you worked at "The Bagel Dish" in our home town and you got fired for bad slicing technique? ha.

7) Nim Chow. Am I spelling this right? These vietnamese summer rolls were everywhere in Providence and during college I would often get a serving of 2 for lunch for something like $4. Today, the best I've found for my fix is at Nha Trang on Baxter Street (Get the salt and pepper shrimp while you're there. You'll thank me). Always eat them with a little chili sauce, and a lot of the nuoc cham sauce with crushed peanuts that's ubiquitous in Vietnamese cooking.

8) Pasta with Tomato Sauce. I know you're a serious fan of this one too. I'll go for any pasta, but spaghetti is really the most satisfying and reminds me of childhood. Plus you can twirl up on your fork all the flavors of tomato, garlic, basil, cheese and pasta all tangled together into one perfect steaming bite. ahhh.

9) Sushi. There's really nothing like a good spicy tuna roll from Yama where they use a big delicious slice of fish and just dab the spicy sauce on top--none of that mashed up day old crap. I'm really broken up about this whole mercury in tuna thing because as you can see it makes it onto my list twice. The thing about sushi is that it's the one food I can fully love without any guilt about it being not so great for me. So quit the shenanigans, Tuna, you're ruining my buzz.

10) Pretty much anything Grandma used to make. Roast chicken with apricot jam, corn fritters, minnie's rollups (a sort of crepe stuffed with leftover ground seasoned meat, lying in wait at the bottom of the freezer to be loaded into the trunk of any unsuspecting visiting relative), chicken soup, and chocolate chip cookies with just enough salt to make your mouth water with anticipation of the next melty chocolate bite.

11) Harry's Cupcakes. I hesitated including this on my list, but I DID stop right in my tracks to taste one of these. As you'll remember, we were walking (with two wheelie suitcases our mother had purchased and inexplicably foisted upon us for some unknown future trip we'll apparently be taking) up Broadway when on the corner of 9th street were stopped by the appeals of a woman with her small child (Harry) who were selling homemade cupcakes. Harry ran down the list of our options: chocolate/chocolate, chocolate/vanilla, vanilla/chocolate, and vanilla/vanilla. I ask you, how can you NOT drop whatever you're doing when a small cute boy NAMED HARRY offers you a cupcake he's made HIMSELF, and is selling ON THE STREET, to earn his ALLOWANCE. I challenge you not to. You heartless bitch. And by the way, they were DELICIOUS.

So, what's your list?

Love,
The Mouse

In an attempt to make up for all the swilling of alcohol and eating of copious amounts of pork and beef over the holiday weekend, I give you a
Sautee of Swiss Chard (1), Sweet Potatoes*, Red Onion, and Pumpkin Seeds(2) with soy sauce and a sprinkling of cinnamon (3).

*If you want to up the health score on this one you could sub beets for the potatoes, in which case I'd say use balsamic vinegar for the sauce instead of soy. disregard the whole eating beets raw thing. that's just crazy.

Here's how it went:

Peel and chop two sweet potatoes into cubes. Place in large sautee pan with enough water to just almost cover. Cook over high heat with lid on pot until potatoes become tender.
Drain water, add olive oil, 2 cloves of minced garlic, one very thinly sliced red onion, salt and pepper, and a good sprinkling of cinnamon. Sautee until potatoes are fully cooked and slightly browned.
Add chopped swiss chard, a bit more olive oil, a dash of rice vinegar, and a good dousing of soy sauce.
Toss ingredients and put lid on pot long enough to wilt/steam swiss chard. Taste and reseason. Just before serving, sprinkle with handful of pumpkin seeds. Feel virtuous.