I am Genius, and So Can You.

Dear Boo,

I have no remaining physical evidence of the miracle which took place in my apartment on Easter Sunday. No image appearing on a slice of toast, no time lapse photography showing a glass of wine disappeared by an elusive Elijiah (see what I did there?), no, not even a single blurry cell phone photo in which one can barely make out the outline of a figure backlit in a halo of warm afternoon sunlight.

Oh wait, there is a blurry photo:

Can you see it? Glowing, ever so slightly? There, next to the brown smudge? No, the other one?

But you can kind of feel the power, right?

Well, you'll just have to take my word for it. Actually, you won't, since you were there and bore witness to the sacred event, but for the benefit of posterity, I am putting this down in print so that, like the gospels, future generations can hear tell of a time when inspiration led to magic and tired mothers could be geniuses.

It was Easter Sunday. Some of us wore frills.

Some didn't. All were hungry. Most were sleepy.

I planned a simple menu which could be executed easily and quickly during morning naptime. It included: Shakshuka, bacon, roasted potatoes, with delicious asparagus vinaigrette provided by the Boo, and fresh fruit and a fruit crisp from The Mother.

We all know, I hope, that when making bacon in large quantities, and especially for guests, one should always make it in the oven. Standing over a splattering pan of bacon grease, flipping and burning yourself and ruining your clothes and generally smoking up the place, when you should be drinking mimosas on the couch, is just dumb. As such, I planned to stick a package on a sheet tray and throw it in the oven a few minutes before your arrival. But there were also the potatoes that I planned to cut up and roast on a pan with olive oil, salt, pepper, and a little paprika, which would also take up oven space and time. Then I realized they both would cook at the same temperature, and could therefore go into the oven together (if not for the same duration). And Then--THEN--it hit me. Here's how my thinking went, if you can call pure inspiration, pure TRUTH and LIGHT and GOODNESS beamed directly into your soul, beyond words, beyond rational thought, beyond emotion and petty distractions of human life, "thinking."

I often roast chicken on top of chunked up root vegetables (like potatoes) in the same pan. Classic, right? This serves multiple purposes: 1: makes a delicious one-pot meal with meat and sides, 2: Seasons the vegetables with herbs and juices from the chicken, and keeps them moist, and 3: makes a sort of 'rack' for the chicken which allows air to flow on all sides, so the chicken is moist and the skin crispy, rather than having it sit in the bottom of the pan, stewing in the juices.

Well!

I've seen recipes for oven-cooked bacon which have you lay it on a rack in the pan so the grease drips down to the bottom and the bacon gets nice and crispy. And I've surely seen recipes for potatoes cooked in various fats--duck fat, chicken fat (see above)...

And most of all, a voice inside me seemed to speak, why do two dishes when you can do just one! And thou shalt line it with aluminum foil and not ask questions about the potential toxicity of this and ye shall peel it and throw it away and drink another mimosa instead of getting a cramp in thy arm scrubbing off crusted bits and it will be good. 

BAM!

I chopped and tossed the potatoes with just a touch of oil (the bacon would provide the rest of the fat), and seasonings. Spread them on a lined pan, and then carefully draped some nice applewood smoked bacon over the top. Popped the pan into a pre-heated oven at 400 and sat back while the incomparable smell of smoky salty pork overtook the apartment. Flipping the potatoes took a bit of finagling what with the bacon in the way, but it was worth it. When the bacon looked just about perfect, I pulled it out and onto a waiting paper towel. Left the potatoes in a bit longer until they were golden and crispy with fluffy interiors, and then scattered some chopped scallions over the top with a dash of more salt.

Result: I am genius, obvi. But this isn't about me. It was never about me. This is about the future. About sharing this revelation with our children, and our children's children. Its a new day, and this day tastes like perfectly cooked potatoes bathed in essence of bacon, with skins that shatter sonorously against the tooth and bacon that is even and crisp and smoky with nary a smidgen burnt or undercooked and slimy. It's beautiful.

And the shakshuka was pretty rapturous as well.

Love,

The Mouse

All Hallows Risotto

Dear Mouse,

Happy (Belated) New Year!

Halloween 2011. Myself as an obscure character from Game of Thrones, and a bottle of The Kraken rum, which is the only thing to put in your mulled cider, and which coincidentally also makes an appearance in Game of Thrones (though I think they mean the actual kraken).

Anyone who knows me knows that in some circles, Hallowe'en is seen as a New Year's Eve of sorts, and that's the way we do it Chez Boo. The season changes, the sun recedes, the Dark Half of the year begins. Out with the old, in with the new. Winter is Coming. (Ok I'm done.)

For I think seven years now??? I've made the same dinner for you all: Chase's Vegetable Tian --for some unknown, completely unseasonal reason-- and, to make up for that, the sensational Pumpkin Raviolis from Russo's on the Lower East Side. Served up with melted butter, torn sage leaves, and toasted hazelnuts, they always seemed to be the perfect tribute to Fall.

"Halloweenies" (mini pigs-in-blankets) at Mr. and Mrs. Mighty Hunter's Party.

Pictured here for no reason at all except come on, that's hilarious.

This year, in the spirit of "in with the new", I went in a different direction. My lovely friend KG had just given me The New York Times Cookbook as a very belated birthday gift and it is full of gems. Mouse, I see your pumpkin bread (which I have now baked THREE times since your post) and I raise you:

Jamie Oliver's "Pumpkin, Sage, Chestnut, and Bacon Risotto". Yeah that's right.

This was my first risotto! and I'd like to report two things: One, it is NOT as difficult as you think it is at ALL. It's simple, just a bit labor-intensive. Two, that there is almost nothing more halloweeny than having to stand over a simmering cauldron, repeatedly pouring in cups of steaming broth and stirring, stirring, stirring. I tried to get in a good menacing cackle to go along with the whole scene but I was just too happy about making this.

A few tips: 1. You can use butternut squash in place of pumpkin. It's easier to find and tastes almost the same. 2. Dont bother with fresh chestnuts. 3. I cut the amount of butter in this recipe by half and it was still oh-so-rich and fabulous. I know it's unorthodox, but it happened. 4. I dont think you need the mascarpone, but it is nice. 5. Get your sister, if you have one, to share the labor of stirring. Your arms will thank you.

All photos in this post taken by Mr. Mighty Hunter, who didn't want me to include the one of the risotto but I did anyway.

Jamie Oliver's Pumpkin, Sage, Chestnut and Bacon Risotto

Ingredients:
1 small sweet cooking pumpkin or butternut squash, peeled, about 2 1/2 pounds

(Or just buy it cut up already.-The Boo)
Olive oil
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
Sea salt and ground black pepper
12 slices bacon or pancetta
2 ounces shelled chestnuts (vacuum packed are fine)
15 fresh sage leaves
4 cups chicken stock or canned broth
3 shallots, peeled and finely chopped
5 small stalks celery, finely chopped
1 cup arborio rice
1/2 cup dry white wine or dry white vermouth
4 tablespoons butter
3/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
About 1 cup mascarpone, optional.

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Halve pumpkin lengthwise, and remove seeds; rinse seeds, drain, and reserve. Cut pumpkin lengthwise into thick slices, and spread in a layer across a large baking sheet. (If using squash, cut into quarters.)Again, you could just buy in already cut up. Sprinkle pumpkin with olive oil, and set aside. Using a mortar and pestle, pound the coriander seeds until crushed. Sprinkle over pumpkin along with salt and pepper, and bake until soft, about 40 minutes.

2. Remove pumpkin from oven (leave oven on), and spread bacon over it. In a small bowl, combine reserved seeds, chestnuts, sage and salt and pepper to taste. Add tablespoon olive oil, and mix well. Sprinkle over pumpkin and bacon. Place back in oven until bacon is crisp, 10 to 15 minutes.

3. Remove pumpkin from oven. Scrape bacon, chestnuts, sage and pumpkin seeds onto a small plate; reserve. Finely chop about half the pumpkin. Chop other half so that it is slightly chunky; reserve.

4. Place chicken stock in a small pan over medium-low heat. Bring to a simmer, then reduce heat to very low to keep warm. Place a large saucepan over medium heat, and add tablespoon olive oil, shallots, celery and a pinch of salt. Stir, cover, and cook for 3 minutes. Increase heat to medium-high, and add rice. Stir constantly until rice is translucent, 2 to 3 minutes. Stir in wine until it is absorbed, 1 to 2 minutes.

5. Begin adding broth to rice, a ladleful at a time, stirring constantly. Allow each ladleful to be absorbed before adding next; process will take about 20 minutes. When ready, rice will be soft with a slight bite. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

6. Remove rice from heat. Add chopped pumpkin, and stir vigorously until mixed; fold in pumpkin chunks. Mix in butter and Parmesan. Place a lid over the saucepan, and let sit for 2 minutes. To serve, place a portion on each of 6 serving plates. Top each portion with crumbled bacon, and sprinkle with mixture of chestnuts, sage and pumpkin seeds. Add a dash more cheese. Garnish each plate with a dollop of mascarpone if desired, and serve immediately.

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

Failed Kale (What a Difference a Minute Makes)

photo courtesy of worldcommunitycookbook.com

Dear Mouse,


I learned something. I couldn't decide how to sum it up, so here's 5 versions:

It's the little things. In cooking just as much if not more as anything else.

It is possible to ruin kale.

It is possible to ruin a tested, well-received, simple!! recipe by missing one tiny important step.

God is in the details.

The harder you try to be impressive with your dinner the more likely it is you will fall on your face.

But now wait a minute, actually, in my defense: This was NOT a trying-hard dinner. I know better than that! I wasn't going to bone a duck or make tapenade. The Date was coming over, and I was going for graceful, effortless, 'so-what-if-my-kitchen-must-be-viewed-through-a-microscope' sexiness. No stress. I chose a very very easy and tasty menu: Pasta Puttanesca (as endorsed in your Valentines post), and the Kale with Bacon and Vinegar that everybody loved at Fall Equinox. (Duh - it has BACON and VINEGAR). Fast, simple, AND impressive, right? FYI I based my version of 'Whore's Pasta' on the Amateur Gourmet's version ... though I just couldn't do the 8 cloves of garlic!!! (Sorry Adam!) and stopped at 5, as The Date's eyes were already bugging out at the pile on the cutting board.

The Kale is a breeze - into the boiling water for 5, into the pan with the fried-up bacon for 10, into a bowl, splash with vinegar, serve. I was way more focused on the Pasta of Ill Repute, having never made it before. And while flitting around trying to appear gorgeous and not sweaty, I blithely splashed the vinegar into the saute pan during phase 2. As in, I cooked with it, instead of finishing with it. But so what, big deal.

The Puttanesca - salty, savory, garlicky, sour - was a big hit. "This is great", the Date (who had claimed to hate anchovies) enthused, piling on the grated parmesan White American Man-style.

The kale, however, got this response:

"Tastes kinda weird."

And, Mouse, it did. Oh, my bruised FoodBlogger Ego. It was, like, musty, or kind of fruit-gone-bad. No denying it. And I was all, "but it has BACON and VINEGAR..." I couldn't figure it out. I'd made it before!

There was but one thing to do. Go upstairs, visit The Neighbors, and eat most of their cake. And, while there, learn a few things. Firstly, that Puttanesca was the first thing that Mrs. Neighbor had ever cooked for Mr. Neighbor, and secondly, that she had also screwed up a perfectly good vegetable recipe by doing guess what: putting the vinegar into the pan while cooking instead of using it to finish the dish. She likened the taste to a bottle of wine that had turned. Yep.

I tested out this theory a couple of days later with a whole new bunch of kale and I have to say it holds up. Delicious once again, bacon and all. photo courtesy myrecipes.com and Boo's laziness

So, while most of my posts are of the "Just get in there! Make it up!" variety, the moral of this one is: Attention Must Be Paid. Stick to the G-D recipe and stop worrying about your waterproof mascara.

Love,

The Boo

A Child's Christmas in Jersey (Second only to the literary epic, "The Goldbergs' Christmas", written by a very confused 6 year old Boo)

Dear Boo,

MMM, what a bacon-y and delicious first entry! As you mentioned, I'm sure half of our ancestors are davening in their graves while the other half are probably somewhere raising a pint and a bacon sandwich to your culinary adventures. Our christmas feast involved bacon as well, though in smaller, more contained portions than yours. I made the bacon wrapped goat cheese stuffed dates** (aka "Cherubs on Horseback", original name by Mouse,see below) which I am convinced are the key to paradise and probably peace in the middle east. The Boo: Speaking of davening in their graves...

I've heard a lot of vegetarians or former veggies say that bacon is the one thing they would either make an exception for, miss the most, or would run to first if the apocalypse were declared. (For me, my reconversion back to meat-eating came at my first job in New York in the form of little Old Bay roasted chicken wings* which I was serving day after day in the blistering heat at a certain painfully yuppified bakery-cum-restaurant to chelsea moms with enormous rocks and apparently nothing to do on a weekday except feed their brats $15 artisanal mac and cheese and generally make my life miserable. These chicken wings squawked at me day after day until I gave in and took a greasy and delicious bite...So. Chicken wings=delicious=bacon=the intersection between your Christmas and mine.)

Also in attendance at the appetizer party was the ubiquitous plate of shrimp with cocktail sauce, which oddly, was barely touched. that might have had something to do with the plethora of fried deliciousness that came in the form of many many little spring rolls made by our lovely cousins. They were stuffed with a combo of something like pork, cabbage, carrots, something something, and dried crushed angel wings. I ate about 12. seriously. Then there were the dates, (oh, the dates!), and ye olde baked brie with cranberries which I ate simply because I couldn't stand that no one else was eating it, especially since i'd made the topping. How I managed to eat a meal after this is a mystery even to me.

Mom had decided since we were 22 people, a 26 pound turkey was the only one that would do, so the enormous thing was heaved into the oven by our father who required a nap immediately after the effort. For the first time, we fell on the other side of the age old debate about stuffing in the turkey our out of the turkey. This year, due to the heft of the thing, we did out of the bird, which turned out to be easier and just as delicious. Even considering the fact that mother had made one of her first shopping mishaps and bought low-calorie whole wheat bread for the stuffing instead of white (i don't think it was ever detected. which just goes to show you, if you put enough butter and gravy on something, it ceases to matter what was underneath). On the subject of excess, there were not one but TWO enormous hams, one of which was never touched. Then there were minted peas (as a gesture towards something light and green), red cabbage (I refuse to ever do without this dish at Christmas), the best gravy yet, slightly soupy but delicious glazed balsamic onions, sweet potatoes which by some kind of odd chemical reaction, deflated and turned into a saucy kind of potato soup. Mom claimed she knew from the beginning that they were too liquidy and might end up with such a fate, but I suspect it had more to do with my discovery in the oven that they had been sitting at 350 to heat up with the saran wrap still sandwiched between the marshmallow topping and the tin foil cover. A chemical reaction between whatever frightening ingredients go into making and preserving a marshmallow and those that allow for a thin sheet of plastic to glue itself to all nearby surfaces is not all that surprising. Despite it all, they were a delicious saucy accompaniment to the turkey. The piece de la resistance was the brussels sprouts gratin which nearly gave me hardened arteries just from the smell. I think it involved a couple of sticks of butter, like an entire carton of heavy cream and a smaller one of light cream. Oh, and parmesan cheese. Oh, and proscuitto. Dad ate this and only this, which he declared "Brilliant!" and somehow got the idea that I had created it. So maybe I didn't deny it. What of it? Mom, aka Cholesterol-Party-Pooper found it slightly funky tasting and disappointing. But what does she know anyway.

For dessert, no pudding singing in the copper, as we decided to go light and simple this year. ahem. Remember that conversation, mom? So it was just a light snack of Ina's Outrageous brownies with ice cream, palmiers, a creamy lemon tart, a two layer coconut cake (baked by our fabulous aunt), and cognac balls which we made and then lost about 3 times somewhere between the kitchen and the basement fridge. I had a jolly old time wandering around yelling, "Mom! Where are my balls!?". Childish? perhaps. But it's only once a year.

Love,
The Mouse

* "Recipe" for Cherubs on Horseback (dubbed "Devils on Horseback" by the New York Times food editor, though his version involved stuffing them with almonds which i think sort of misses the whole point... Incidentally, "Angels on Horseback" are bacon-wrapped fried oysters with horseradish which is kind of amazing and which I had at a place called Fish in the west village).

Quantities are up to you--though I suggest making more than you planned since there was a near coup at my new years party when we ran out...
Use a soft goat cheese so it's easier to stuff into the dates. Take your pitted date and widen the hole with your pinky. take a pinch of cheese and squeeze it into one end until it's filled, kind of like spackling a hole in the wall. I use half a strip of regular-sliced bacon per date. Wrap around each stuffed piece and lay end-side down so you don't have to bother with toothpicks. Fill a tray with the dates about an inch apart. Put in the oven for about 5 minutes and when you're about to swoon from the aroma, use tongs to roll them over so each side gets crispy. I like my bacon on the well-done side so I'd leave them in another 7 minutes until they look browned and crispy and you can't stand it anymore. NOTE: people will want to grab these right out of the oven but for liabilities sake, dry them on a paper towel and let them cool SLIGHTLY before popping them in your mouth.

"* Recipe" for replicating Old Bay Chicken Wings (or drumsticks which I often use instead)

Take your chicken pieces. wash them. Yeah, yeah, I've heard you don't have to wash chicken, but come on. Gross. Dry and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Not too much salt because the Old Bay does a lot of that. Mince up some garlic and rub that on those birdies too. and some olive oil and maybe a squirt of lemon juice, but don't let it get too wet. Now, open a container of Old Bay seasoning (ask at the supermarket because I find they sometimes put it in a weird place, like by the ketchup instead of with the spices, or with the "ethnic" foods. (P.S., dont you just love that we still call it that??)) Sprinkle very generously with the Old Bay. Really, like go to town on those drumsticks because you really want them coated in the stuff. Now, stick them in the oven at like 350 or so. When they're partway done, squeeze a little more lemon on and maybe sprinkle more Old Bay on the bald spots. Then about 5 minutes before they're done, put them in the broiler to crisp them up. Serve with some glazed carrots or broccoli with butter and parmesan. Bring me some.