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

Mousy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

Dear Boo,

I am oh so thankful this year for you, my sister, this, our blogtastic creation, our wonderful family who appreciates the subtle superiority of a brined turkey, an aunt who makes a kickass Thanksgiving spread set on a table that would knock Martha's Wellies right off, the optimism displayed by our country in these hard and sad times, the awesome boots I just got for a fraction of the price, my nice cozy apartment on a cold winter night, a city with infinite answers to the question "what do you feel like for dinner?", a reasonable amount of disposable income with which to explore said answers, our aunt's recipe for perfect and easy pumpkin bread, the book I just finished that made me sob before I even had a chance to realize how good it was, you, dear readers, and other things too numerous to mention.

To celebrate, the annual parade of floats gargantuan, elaborate, and colorful:


The turkey. Brined in cider, salt, pepper, herbs. Moist and crispy. Usually it's all about the sides for me, but this year the turkey was where it's at.

Mid-carving.


The spread. Stuffing. Brussels sprouts with pecans. Sweet potatoes. Sunchokes (jerusalem artichokes).Turkeyleaf Mise en place.

Plate o bird.

Pumpkin bread. Corn muffins.

So good it deserves it's own picture.


Pumpkin log stuffed with gingered mascarpone.


Best. Pie. Ever.
You gonna eat that?
You gonna eat that?
You gonna eat that?
I'll eat that.

--"Birch" by Karen Shepherd

With love and admiration for auntie and uncle for feeding us all so darn well.

Love,

The Mouse

Three Vegetarian Dinners

Dear Boo,

I know I promised a pie post, which is forthcoming, but before you have dessert don't you think you should eat your vegetables? I do.

A certain member of the Brown Theater Faculty used to like to say, "Twice is repetition. Three times is motif." Or something. Which, though not all that helpful as an undergraduate actor, does make some sense. Think of the banana/orange knock knock joke. Or Santa. Two Ho's just doesn't seem right. (get your head out of the gutter, you hussy.) The point is, threes are good. And thusly this post will be a trifecta of meals. All vegetarian. All delicious.

Dinner #1:

We begin with Election Night. I was in a STATE to end all states all day which culminated in me nearly driving the Boyfriend to leap out the window by obsessing over our dinner plans. SHOULD we ORDER IN??! Should I COOK SOMETHING?? SHOULD I WAIT until our GUESTS ARRIVE to get THEIR OPINION??!! Should I LIE on the FLOOR NOW and GUZZLE VODKA until I pass out and you can just wake me up when it's OVER FOR LORD'S SAKE??!!!

In the end I concluded I needed something to do to distract me so I decided to cook some comfort food. Specifically, grilled cheese made with cheddar and fontina (and a little slather of chutney for me), tomato soup with cilantro stems and lime from Orangette, and our Uncle Barry's salad, a fabulous alternative to caesar. The soup channeled my anxious energy, the grilled cheese soothed me and reminded me of a time when I didn't care about politics, and the salad gave me something to pick at nervously throughout the night. In the end--well, we all know how that turned out. :)



Uncle Barry's Top Secret Salad

Chop one large clove of garlic. Put in the bottom of the salad bowl you plan to serve in. add a good pinch of kosher salt. With the back of your spoon, smush the garlic and salt against the bowl until it becomes a paste. Add black pepper. Add one Tablespoon of worcestershire sauce and one Tablespoon of dijon mustard. Add 3 Tablespoons of Olive Oil, whisk until emulsified. Add chopped romaine, about the equivalent of 1 head. Toss with dressing. Squeeze one half a lemon, and sprinkle with parmesan. Tada.

Dinner #2:


One of the members of our household who shall remain nameless had a weekend that looked a little something like this: Friday night: bacon cheeseburger & beer. Saturday brunch: Turkey Burger, Saturday dinner: Short rib burger and beers, Saturday late night: Tacos. Pizza on the way home. Sunday breakfast: Leftover pizza. yyyeeeaaahh. I wanted to cook something on Sunday but was implored to make it vegetarian and on the light side. There went my fantasies of standing over a steaming pot of beef stew. Instead I concocted what will now be known as Prague Cous Cous Salad, after an item on the menu at the Globe Bookstore in Prague where I ate probably 2 meals a week at while studying abroad. My version, also influenced by this recipe from 101 Cookbooks, goes a little something like this:

Prague Cous Cous Salad

1 butternut squash, carefully peeled and cubed.
4-5 small red onions, peeled and quartered in wedges.
3 zucchinis, chopped.
Few big handfuls of cremini mushrooms, quartered.
1 orange or yellow pepper, chopped.
Toss the above with a good few glugs of olive oil, some kosher salt, pepper, and garlic powder.
Spread on a roasting pan that's been preheating in the oven at 400. Roast for 30 minutes or until nicely browned and soft. You might want to do the onions and squash first, then the rest.
Take two cans of organic chick peas and a couple big handfuls (sorry, I don't have the foresight to measure most of the time) of pepitas (pumpkin seeds), toss with olive oil, salt, pepper, and maybe some other seasonings to shall we say, kick it up? Throw those on the roasting pan for a couple of minutes until toasted a bit.
Make some whole wheat (if you're feeling super virtuous, which I was) cous cous according to the package directions. I think this would also work well with wild or brown rice, or quinoa.
To serve, pile some arugula (or baby spinach) on a platter--a big one. I've inexplicably given you a recipe for about 10. Dress with olive oil, squeeze of lemon, salt and pepper.
Pile cous cous jauntily (what?) on top.
On top of this, layer the roasted veggies, chick peas and pumpkin seeds.
Garnish with chopped scallions and cilantro.

To make dressing: whisk a cup of greek yogurt (i like Fage 0%), juice of half a lemon, quarter cup olive oil (or thereabout), kosher salt, pepper, and a handful of finely chopped cilantro. Drizzle over top.
Eat for weeks.

Dinner #3:

So at physical therapy for my elbow, we do all sorts of exercises to re-buff my arms and then when that's all over, sweet Ashley puts me in a private room where I lie down with a special ergonomic pillow under my knees, two electrodes attached to my arm to give me slight tingly kisses, and an ice pack. And then she dims the lights and leaves me there for 15 minutes. During which, for the past couple of sessions, I've taken to sleeping. Like, full on dreaming. It's lovely. So the other night, I had just woken up from just such a nap, hungry, as I always am after napping, and was walking home to the above leftovers, when I passed a gorgeous bin of brussels sprouts at the farmers market. I couldn't resist.


We had enough roasted vegetables at home to last a month at least, so I fantasized about how else I could prepare my bounty as I headed across 17th Street. A gratin, I thought, would be just the thing. And I already had most of the ingredients at home. Consulting Ina Garten's recipe for zucchini gratin (because any recipe with butter and cheese will inevitably be insanely good when made by the Barefoot Contessa), I came up with this:

Deliciously Sleepy Brussels Sprout Gratin:

2 lbs brussels sprouts, sliced thinly--you can use a mandolin, but I kind of really enjoy the shook-shook-shooking of the knife through all the crispy layers of cabbage, so I do it by hand.
4-5 large shallots, sliced thin
1 cup of low-fat milk (I had low-fat, but I'm sure it would be even awesomer with whole)
2 T flour
1/2 C (I think that's about how much I used) grated parmesan
1/2 C shredded cheese (I had cheddar and fontina from the grilled cheese night, but I think gruyere is what this dish was really calling out for to give it a little sour stinkiness)
Few Tablespoons of bread crumbs
salt and pepper to taste

Sautee the shallots in a few glugs of olive oil until soft but not brown. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add brussels sprouts and stir, sauteeing until bright green and tender (cover for a couple minutes if you need to). Reseason. Add milk and flour and mix. Sautee until it thickens a bit. Add half the parmesan and half the cheese. Mix. Pour into baking dish. Sprinkle with bread crumbs and cheese. Bake at 350 for 20 minutes or until brown on top and bubbling. mmmmmmmmm


Eat your veggies. Vegetables, that is. Not vegetarians. Too gamey.

Love,

The Mouse

Sounds Bad... Tastes Great... Leftovers!

Dear Mouse,

Is that not the WORST title for any food-related post? It's like saying "Eewwwwwwwwwwwwwwthis food."

Remember in high school a group of valiant parents banded together around an idea to raise money for the school theatre (excuse me, "performing arts program") and came up with the "Angels Cookbook"?

It was a cute little blue-and-yellow spiral-bound book full of recipes solicited from the kitchens of willing parents & faculty. I used to cook from the recipes with titles like "Aunt Ruthie's Ohio-Baked Brownies" and "Pretty Pound Cake". And this one mom, bless her, submitted a recipe titled

"Sounds Bad-Tastes Great-Chicken!"

Um, it starts with the word "bad". Why would anyone read any farther? "Sure", I remember thinking, "sure it tastes great." I think it involved rice krispies... ? that's all I remember.

"Lady", I thought, "if it sounds bad it probably is. No dice. I'm gonna make me some Snickerdoodles."

What an irony then, that in preparing to post the recipe I created this week, I found myself thinking, "well I can tell them that it might sound bad... but it tastes great!"

Even worse, it showcases a certain tiny furled green vegetable, and I can't think of anything worse than "Sounds Bad-Tastes Great-Brussels Sprouts!" Let's go with "Odds and Ends Salad", maybe. Or "Warm & Cold Brussels Sprouts Melange". Or "Things He Left In the Kitchen".

The GC just left town for a month-long gig, leaving me with only a frozen calzone for company. (He made a bunch of them last week and this one is supposed to compensate for distance. If I get lonely, I am allowed to defrost and eat it. That's romance, friends.)

The spectacular calzones (mozzarella/parmesan/turkeysausage/pepperoni) had been made for a dinner with friends (roasted broccoli and Ina Garten lemon cake by Boo) earlier this week.

This was the last in a pre-departure parade of Serious Carb Showstoppers ( homemade challah for a dinner in Williamsburg , homemade pizza for Election Night). I came home today from the Farmer's Market with a $3 box of brussels sprouts, determined to eat a vegetable and too tired to do an actual grocery shop. I cast about in the fridge and came up with:

The Sprouts He Left Behind, by Boo

In serving bowl:

Chopped up end of stick of hard salami or pepperoni (salami is better-the cracked pepper kind)

handful or two of leftover shredded mozzarella (or leftover grated parm)

Chopped apple (ideally granny smith) in large chunks

In a roasting pan:

brussels sprouts, halved, ends sliced off

leftover red sweet pepper, in chunks

small onion in chunks

a garlic clove, peeled

chopped fresh rosemary (or sage or really whatever herb lying around. keep it simple though.)

Pour olive oil over the items in the pan; toss to combine. Salt & pepper and toss again.

Roast in oven on 425, flipping/stirring veggies occasionally, til sprouts begin to blacken/get brown. I'd say 10 min. Mix hot ingredients with cold in bowl and vigorously toss. Cheese will melt and get all over. A good squeeze of lemon (apple cider vinegar would work too) over and toss more. Handful of breadcrumbs. Maybe some more salt & pepper. Taste.

Eat.

Long live leftovers and the Angels cookbook.

Love,

The Boo

P.S. The Mouse did something very similar this week, taking one item from the farmers market, and adding it to a slew of pantry ingredients to create a new and tasty (and questionable sounding) dish. The Boo thought twice about coming over when I described it as "some type of a bean and kale concoction." Note from Boo: Sounded bad, tasted GREAT.

Bean and Kale Pantry Concoction, by Mouse

Sautee one chopped medium onion and two garlic cloves with some olive or vegetable oil in the bottom of a nice sized pot.
Add one minced serrano pepper (or jalapeno) with or without seeds, and one chopped red bell pepper.
Sautee a few minutes over medium heat.
Add 28-oz can of whole tomatoes and their juice, breaking up the tomatoes (sometimes i just fish them out and squeeze them in a fist until they're crushed. Good for anger management.)
Add 1 large can of kidney beans (or whatever beans you have on hand), with a bit of their juice.
Season with salt and pepper, chili powder, and perhaps a bit of blackening seasoning or some of a leftover packet of chili seasoning or something else like that if you have it lying around and feel like a shortcut.
Chop one large bunch of curly kale and add to pot. Stir a bit, salt and pepper, and put lid on pot until wilted a bit and more manageable. Add 1/2 Cup of chicken broth if you have it and a little bit of water.
Simmer uncovered until kale is cooked and liquid reduced a bit.
At this point I decided it needed a bit of a starch to round it out though you could serve it as is as a light chili/soup. I added 3/4 Cup of white rice to the pot, stirred, and covered. Let simmer for 20 minutes over low heat until rice is cooked and some liquid has been absorbed.
Serve with chopped scallions as garnish and a dollop of sour cream.

If you have any leftover meat, you could throw that in too--shredded chicken would make it a poor man's arroz con pollo, shrimp: a poor man's paella, sausage like a chili or gumbo. I think this dish would make a good catch-all for whatever veggies or meat you have lying around. And the nice thing is, unlike boiling or steaming kale, you don't lose any of the vitamins in the discarded liquid. Very healthy. And cheap.

Hamlet Prince of Pigs

Dear Boo,

Before we begin let me disclaim a bit...If you are a vegetarian, or someone who eats meat but would prefer to remain detached from the form that meat took while it was alive, or if you have a pig as a pet, you may want to not continue reading. (also, if you don't like long entries save yourself now.)

Personally, I feel that if I'm going to eat meat I better be willing to confront where it comes from. I'm someone who has struggled with being a meat-eater and even wandered into vegetarian territory for a few years. But I think, with responsible choices and some knowledge and perspective and a sense of proportion, I've come to terms with the fact that I, at times, consume other animals. And enjoy it tremendously.

All this is to say that a couple weekends ago, we cooked a pig. A WHOLE pig. In our apartment. Why, you might ask, did we do such a thing? Well, mostly I wanted to do this because I knew it would be tasty, but also because I thought, given the above, this experience of seeing an animal from slaughter (well, almost) to plate would bring me one educational step closer to taking full responsibility for what I put in my mouth. Of course feeling the little hooves paw at my chest as I slid across the cab seat after purchasing it, made me wonder if I could even look this pig in the snout, let alone eat it.

Here's where it all started. My old high school friend, Jake, has his own organic and local meat company called Dickson Farmstand Meats which is totally f-ing cool if you ask me. Recently I got an email from him about the fact that one of his pig farmers had a customer who had ordered about 70 pigs and then fell through at the 11th hour leaving them with quite a few little piggies to find homes for, so to speak. The Boyfriend also happens to love everything pig. And we missed our invitation about a year ago to a whole pig roast party which he has yet to forgive me for. So, when this pitch found its way into my inbox, I forwarded it to the Boyfriend and the resident Chef friend (Josh) and said, we have to do this.

I wasn't free to pick up my pig at the arranged time, so Jake told me to come to his apartment later that night and he'd take me down the block to his truck where the pigs were. Now, to be honest, I don't have a lot of experience buying drugs. But I can say with a lot of assurance that if drug dealers accepted checks, this whole situation taking place on a dark city corner would bear a striking resemblance to an illegal exchange of that kind. Of course, instead of a duffel bag full of coke (in my fantasy I'm big time), I left with a plastic bag-wrapped whole pig, and a purse full of two porterhouse steaks, lamb shanks and a package of breakfast sausages.

After bidding Jake adieu I lumbered awkwardly down the street carrying what probably looked like a small dead body. Since my arm is still technically injured and the pig was oh 20+ pounds, I had to carry it hugged to my chest like a baby bjorn. I was desperate for a cab to save my aching arms and the bizarre sense of shame I felt when anyone passed me looking suspiciously at my bundle. Well not ANYONE--down the block, a guy working at a warehouse (actually, a meat market, ironically enough) said "Hey, baby, you lookin good" and then "are you single?" Seriously. I WAS CARRYING A PIG, LADIES. pretty sexy. Note from the Boo: Well, he works at a meat market...

At home, I threw the pig in the fridge and shut the door quickly. I would wait until the Boyfriend was home before I attempted to unwrap the pig as I had been instructed. And by "I attempted", I mean of course, I would make the Boyfriend do it. Bravely, with only a few squeals and moments of reassurance about the pig's happy life (from both of us), we unwrapped the pig and laid it on the fridge shelf with a paper towel laid over its face. I wasn't ready yet to take in the whole thing at once. Are you? Okay, ready? Here it is:

One of these things is not like the other....


Now I've seen suckling pigs before and they all look kind of like they're sleeping, with a sort of sweet grin on their faces like they're dreaming of being 3 inches deep in warm soggy mud. Not ours. Ours looked kind of shocked and dare I say, a little accusatory. I resolved to keep the paper towel on until we were ready for the big day.

I had asked Chef Josh to help with the pig part of the dinner as I didn't know the first thing about what to do with our new addition. I'm sure I could have pulled something off, but it all just seemed too daunting to do alone. Also, what a gastronomic opportunity. I didn't want to blow it. Josh quickly agreed. Actually, what I think he said was, "We shall call him Hamlet." Done.

Josh and Kate arrived at 9am on Sunday, the Day of the Pig. Josh came pushing a granny cart with a standing mixer (in case we wanted to "take some of Hamlet's extra meat and make a sausage to stuff him with") and a fancy knife kit. Kate came bearing her laptop, the Times, and some breakfast goods to sustain us in our task.

First on order for the day was butchering the pig. Boo: Goodnight, Sweet Prince!!!!!!Still in my pjs, we began the arduous task of removing the head. Yes, a risky move right after breakfast but to be honest, I really wasn't disgusted as I had anticipated. Maybe it was from having grown accustomed to the pig in our fridge over the past few days (every time we'd open it in the morning we'd exclaim, "OH my god there's a pig in our fridge!!"), but it all seemed rather natural to me. I mean, I've dealt with raw meat thousands of time in my life, so why should this be any different? Kate, the resident vegetarian who was taking all this rather well, turned up the music to drown out the hacking noises.

Over the course of the next couple of hours, Josh (with an occasional flick of the wrist from me) removed the head which we decided not to use as it's a lot of work for not that much meat (also, um, gross), then removed the hind quarters which he split apart into the two legs, and the same for the front legs. Then, putting his knife skills to use, he deboned the center portion (I guess this would be the loin?) removing the ribcage. What you're left with is one large rectangle, which is perfect for stuffing the rest of the meat from the legs, shoulder, neck, cheeks, etc, in to create one nice neat pig package. The meat was seasoned with salt and pepper, some blackening seasoning and perhaps some garlic powder, then stuffed and rolled like so:


The various bones which had been scraped clean ended up in a stock pot for the gravy. To accompany the piece de la resistance, my plan was to make some macaroni and cheese with the honkin piece of cheddar our uncle had brought me from Vermont, and some sweet potatoes glazed with maple syrup also from the uncle, and some roasted brussels sprouts with shallots. I had made a couple of apple crisps from Ina Garten's recipe the night before so dessert was covered. Of course, this couldn't possibly be it. On Sunday Josh mentioned casually, "So maybe we should make some more greens in addition to the brussels sprouts. Like collard greens? And I was thinking we could make some red beans and rice. Is that cool?" IS THAT COOL?! why yes.

For the next 4 or so hours my kitchen and apartment smelled like heaven with the pig roasting, the cheese sauce melting for the macaroni, the stock pot simmering (I only freaked once when I stirred it and a tail curled out over the edge of the pot), and the red beans and rice with andouille thickening deliciously on the stove.

Somehow, miraculously, Josh managed to coordinate things so everything came out of my tiny, impossible kitchen at the right time. Oh, and did I mention it was enough to feed a small army? We had to buy those disposable aluminum trays to put everything out because literally nothing I had was large enough for the quantity of food we'd made. The place looked like a church potluck.
Note from Boo: It was awesome. And may I say that I timed my arrival for about this point... ie, after all unpleasant hacking and butchering. Good work there.

Before we ate, we all joined hands and the Boyfriend said a few words of thanks to Hamlet and everyone along the way who had contributed to his life and its celebration in the form of our feast. He could not have fed a more appreciative group of folks. Truly an amazing experience. I'll let the pictures Iracel took speak for themselves....

Boo: OMG the Mac and Chee:

Boo: Loaves by the GC ( hey my notes are rhyming):
Boo: Ahem. Lucky, lucky, lucky ME! (and you guys. but, the rhyme).

I think I speak for everyone including you, Boo, when I say it ROCKED. And also that I needed like a full 24 hours to recover. Josh, having worked late the night before and worked his ass off at our place all day, upon putting out all the food, had a glass of bourbon, laid down on the floor and managed to sleep through most of the rest of the party.

Rather than give you a recipe, since I can't decide which one, and let's be honest, this post is already wearing out its welcome, I give you instead, a list of everything I know I learned from cooking and eating Hamlet.

TIP #1: If you make a pig, they will come. Expect a 100% rsvp rate.
TIP #2: Best to leave your pig uncovered, on a dry surface in the fridge. If left to stew in its own moisture it can go bad quickly. Also a good idea to turn him over every so often.
TIP #3: when hacking with a cleaver, position the meat near the leg of the table you're working on. If you whack in the middle of the table, the give will absorb most of the shock and make your cut less precise and forceful.
TIP #4: Stevie Ray Vaughn is good pork eating music.
TIP #5: When roasting brussels sprouts (or any such veggie) you'll get the max crispiness for your buck if you put the empty pans in your hot oven til they get scorching hot before tossing the veggies in.
TIP #6: Maple syrup and cayenne pepper make for a good flavor combo on sweet potatoes.
TIP #7: Homemade bread is the perfect contribution to a friend's dinner party. Thank you to the Boo's Gentleman Caller for his gorgeous loaves. that sounded dirty. tee hee.
TIP #8: Something tangy like a dash of hot sauce added to bechamel sauce (for the mac & cheese) really gives a great depth of flavor and cuts the creaminess a bit.
TIP #9: Say yes to your friends when they offer to make something. Thanks to Iracel for her kickass spinach salad (with bacon of course), and Jeremy and Abby for the black bottoms--mini chocolate cakes with a cream cheese center. mmm.
TIP #10: Get to know your meat supplier. It feels good to know the animal you're eating was treated with respesct, love, and care to keep it healthy.
TIP #12: Go to http://www.dicksonsfarmstand.com/ to read up about where you can get some delicious meat from this awesome company.
TIP #13: It's okay to use paper plates sometimes. At least you're saving water by not washing 87 dishes.
TIP #14: No matter your intentions, if you let a chef into your kitchen, he will end up doing most of the work (bless him). Just do your best, ask questions, and take notes. You'll learn a lot.

Oh, and you'll have amazing leftovers.

Love,
The Mouse

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.

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.