Final Gift Guide Offering

Home-Made Bread Crumbs

 This is the best last-minute present I know, so even though I included it in last year’s gift guide, I’m offering it to you again this year. After all, you can never have too much of a good thing. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t be thrilled to find some of these spectacularly useful home-made breadcrumbs sitting under their tree. The gift is even nicer if you put them into a pretty bowl. 

Cut a good loaf of stale bread into cubes and grind it into crumbs in a blender or a food processor.  (A blender is better; it gives you a more uniform texture).  If your bread is not stale enough to crumb, you can dry the cubes out in a 200 degree oven for about 15 minutes before grinding. 

 Spread the crumbs onto a baking sheet and toast in a 350 degree oven for about 20 minutes until they are crisp and golden.  Drizzle with olive oil (about a quarter cup for every 2 cups of crumbs), season with salt and allow to cool completely before putting into containers. 

 These will keep in the freezer almost indefinitely.  Just whirl them in the microwave for a few seconds to take the chill off. 

 

Gift Guide, Day Twenty-Three

Salted Caramel Bourbon Sauce

Okay, it's two days until Christmas, and you suddenly realize that you're behind on your shopping.  It's too late to mail-order anything, and you've no time to go to the store. What to do?

Got ten minutes?  Then you can make this terrific sauce that requires nothing obscure in the way of ingredients.  (If you have no Bourbon, you can substitute Scotch, Cognac or Armagnac - or simply leave it out altogether. )

One suggestion: Before you begin, read David Leibowitz’s wonderful post on making caramel, here. Caramel can be tricky, and it will save you a lot of trouble down the line.

And another: Use a larger pot than you think you'll need.  I use a 5 1/2 quart casserole. Trust me - it makes everything easier.

Cut 3/4 of a stick of the best butter you can get your hands on into small pieces and put that next to the stove.  Let half a cup of heavy cream come to room temperature. Stir in a couple of tablespoons of Bourbon.  Now pour a cup of sugar in an even layer into a large, heavy, light-colored pot and watch it melt over moderate  heat. When it begins to liquify around the edges, begin stirring with a spatula, watching carefully. When it is completely liquid, has turned a deep copper color, and is just on the edge of smoking, stir in the butter until it is completely incorporated into the sugar. Turn off the heat and stir in the cream mixture.  It will hiss and sizzle and generally act nasty. Ignore it  - this is the nature of caramel - and whisk until you have a smooth sauce. Add a generous quarter teaspoon of coarse salt (or a bit more if you've used unsalted butter).

This is great on just about everything, and it will keep for a month or so in the refrigerator. (Rewarm the sauce in the microwave for a minute before serving.)  Divided into half cup portions and poured into pretty jars, it will make three friends very happy.

 

 

 

 

Gift Guide, Day Twenty-Two

A Perfect Way to Boil Water

I think this is the most beautiful teakettle ever made.  A big statement, but I really do love this.  

I first saw it at the Museum of Modern Art - or at least one very like it.  You can see the picture here.  Designed by John G. Rideout in 1936, it was manufactured in Ohio. But that kettle has a design flaw - the only way you can remove the lid is with a screwdriver.

 This English version, which has been made by Picquotware in Scotland since the 30s, has a removable lid.  But more importantly, it’s still being made. When I went to the company’s website, I put my phone number in and ten minutes later I got a call from Scotland. It's too late to get it in time for Christmas, but who cares? In this case, a promise would certainly do. Anyone who loves this gorgeous object as much as I do would thank you every morning when they put the kettle on.

 Incidentally, when I told the man that I had burned up the handle on my first one (the handle is sycamore), he told me very sternly that I should have sent it back.  “We refurbish them so that they look like new,” he said. “We want them to last you a lifetime.”

 

 

Gift Guide, Day Twenty-One

Carnivore's Delight

 The Chinese may call it the year of the rabbit, but 2011 was actually the year of the meat eater.  This was the year when butchers became cool, the year when the meekest people began picking up knives and carving up cows, the year when every cook worth his salt was wrestling whole pigs onto the grill.

 If you’ve got a red-blooded friend with a passion for meat, Pat LaFrieda’s Big App for Meat would make the perfect present.  LaFrieda (the man behind the famous Minetta Tavern burger), teamed up with Tony Bourdain’s producers (ZeroPointZero) to make this new app which takes you literally into the belly of the beast. There's almost an hour of video, with LaFrieda showing you how to age, cut, and cook meat.  (Along the way he reveals why he think the Porterhouse is a sucker cut.)   Any carnivore with an IPad and an appetite would be thrilled. 

  

 

Gift Guide, Day Twenty

A Food Writing Class

 These days everybody wants to be a food writer. Colleges and universities offer food-writing courses. Culinary schools do too. But if you know someone who wants to start a food blog, write a cookbook or indulge in a food memoir, you’d be doing them a great favor if you enrolled them in one of Molly O’Neill’s virtual seminars. 

Molly’s done it all - she was a reporter at the New York Times, a cookbook author, food memoirist and an internet pioneer in the food space. For these courses she’s drawn on both her experience and her connections, and she’s a born teacher.  

 (Full disclosure: I owe Molly bigtime. In 1993 she was at the New York Times, and I’m pretty sure that if she had wanted to become the restaurant critic, I never would have gotten the job.)

 

 

 

 

Gift Guide Day Nineteen

Oysters Galore

Enough oysters.  To me that is the greatest luxury.  That’s why the present I’m buying myself this year is 100 oysters from Island Creek (purveyor to many of your favorite chefs).  Order today and they’ll be plucked from the Cape Cod waters and shipped straight to your house.  Covered with a wet towel they’ll keep in the refrigerator for a solid week.  So every time the urge for an oyster hits, you can stroll to the refrigerator, pluck out a few and eat them standing at the kitchen counter. (And still have enough left for a Christmas celebration.)

Island Creek will send you salty Chathams or the sweeter Wellfleets (which I prefer).  Today’s the last day you can order them in time for Christmas. Believe me - this is a present that no one will ever forget. 

 

 

 

Gift Guide Day Eighteen

A New Way to Wash Wine Glasses

Do you know someone who ends every party standing at the sink, laboriously washing wine glasses by hand? Doesn’t everyone? Well, here’s their perfect present. Tethers fall so squarely into the why-didn’t-someone-think-of-this-before?-department that they make me a little crazy.  Such a great idea.

 The flexible plastic rods attach to the stem of your wine glasses, stabilizing them in the dishwasher so they won’t fall over.  What wine-lover wouldn’t want these? At $15 a pack, you might even want to throw in a few wine glasses as well. 

  

 

 

 

 

Gift Guide, Day Seventeen

Some Salt!

This is what I like about Maldon salt: The shape.  It comes in great fat flakes, that don't penetrate food, but sit on top, waiting to provide a little saline jolt right when it's most needed. It's exactly what you need to make a new-laid egg taste like heaven. 

And this is what I like about this salt box: It's an incredibly beautiful object.  Just looking at it makes me happy.  I'll bet you have a friend who will feel the same. 

 

This handsome wooden salt box, carved from a single piece of walnut and trimmed in leather is the sort of thing few people would buy for themselves. It's an expensive indulgence. And that's exactly why, with a box of Maldon salt from the supermarket, it would make a practically perfect present for a passionate cook. 

Gift Guide, Day Sixteen

A Tiny Grinder

Yesterday I suggested that any cook would love a masala dabba, which is certainly true. Want to embellish the gift? A spice grinder would be a very nice addition. Lately I’ve found I can’t live without mine, which has taken up residence on the kitchen counter. (It used to live in a drawer.)

This is what I like about this handy little machine. It crushes spices with extreme efficiency. It’s easy to clean (you can put the bowl in the dishwasher). But most importantly, it works wet as well as dry, so it’s perfect when you need to puree a small amount of something soggy (chiles in adobo come immediately to mind).  And at this time of the year, it’s exactly what you’ll want when it comes time to grind those nuts for tortes and cookies.  

 

 

 

Gift Guide, Day Fifteen

Something Spicy (but not hot)

When an Indian woman marries, she carries her spice box to her new husband’s home. Every Indian cook has at least one masala dabba, a perfectly designed stainless steel box with seven small containers (and a small spoon) to organize the spices she uses most frequently. 

But you don’t need to be an Indian cook to find these wonderful spice boxes useful; any cook would be happy to have one. You can find them at all price points - some are really cheap- but since you're giving this as a present, you’ll want one that will still be beautiful this time next year.  I like this masala dabba, and when I give it as a gift, I fill it up with exotic spices like kokum, dried mango powder and whole fenugreek seeds from Kalustyans. 

 

 

Gift Guide, Day Fourteen

Antique Plates and Glasses

I have to admit that sometimes, when I’m trying not to write, desperate to lose time, I find myself trolling through the beautiful vintage plates and silverware at Elise Abrams, imagining a more gracious world. Her collection of plates, bowls, and glasses is so vast that it’s like visiting a museum where everything is for sale.  Even the descriptions are exotic.  One ornate offering is described as  “ French Hand-blown Apricot Crystal Vase with Raised Paste Gold.” 

If you’re looking for a unique (and expensive) present for someone with wonderful taste, this would be a good place to begin. Even if you don’t find something to buy, it’s an awfully good way to escape into another world for a little while. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gift Guide, Day Thirteen

A Great Magazine

I often find myself looking at Lucky Peach and thinking, “I wish we could have done that at Gourmet.”  The magazine is fearless, irreverent, well-written and brilliantly art-directed.  It’s an entirely new generation of food magazine. If you haven’t seen it, you should.  And if you know someone who enjoys reading about food (and if not, why are you reading this?), a subscription to the quarterly would make a very good gift. 

 

 

Gift Guide Day Twelve

Hand Made Candy Canes 

Candy canes are as seasonal as strawberries, which is a big part of their appeal.  Every one is an instant holiday.  They’re so beautiful that I can never resist even the ordinary drugstore sort with their suspiciously strong flavors.

 But when I discovered these hand-pulled candy canes made with natural ingredients, I was instantly hooked. They come in a gorgeous array of colors, they’re charmingly uneven, and they arrive in a bright red box tied up with bows and bells. A great gift for children - although anyone who considers herself too grown up for these is probably not someone I want to know.

 

 

Gift Guide Day Ten

One Fabulous Pepper Mill

I wrote about my favorite pepper mill in one of the last issues of Gourmet. I’m writing about it again because I still think it’s the best pepper mill you can buy - and there is no better gift.  A great pepper mill is just about the hardest thing to find - and you can never have too many.

What’s so great about this one? It’s easy to fill and clean.  It’s a truly handsome creature. It keeps grinding evenly for years - not just pepper, but salt and spices too.  But most importantly, it makes me happy every single time I pick it up

The downside?  I only know one place to buy Magnus Lindstrom's hand-crafted wood and ceramic mills, and they are not inexpensive ($80 to $120, depending on size).  Quantities are limited. Still, if you want to offer someone a unique present, this one would surely do.  Magnus Lindstrom pepper mill at Rubiner’s Cheesemongers 413-528-0488).

 

 

Gift Guide, Day Nine

Hand-Blown Glass Candles

 When I walked into CM Cherry in Hudson a couple of weeks ago, I fell so hard for the hand-blown glass candles that I instantly bought a pair for myself.  Then I went back and bought them for just about everyone on my Christmas list.  I’d just never seen anything like them.

 You simply fill the elegant glass tapers with liquid paraffin and give the wicks a bit of  time to absorb the oil. Then you light them, like an ordinary candle.  They sparkle as they burn. They’re dripless. They’re also reusable.

Candle lovers (and I suppose such people do exist) would undoubtedly be thrilled to find these under the tree. But it’s hard to think of anyone who entertains -even once in a while - who wouldn’t be happy to put these unusual candles on their table. You can browse the website (the shop also has a remarkable collection of candlesticks), but it isn’t set up to take orders.  So you'll have to resort to something even more old-fashioned than glass candles: The telephone. 518-828-2452.  

 

 

Gift Guide, Day Eight

 Spherical Ice Cubes

Those big, beautiful ice cubes you see at cocktail bars aren’t just for show. They melt slowly, which means they don’t dilute your drink.

Many bars and restaurants actually chip cubes off of a large block of ice (or even an iceberg), which is not exactly ideal for the home kitchen (unless you’ve got a ton of space and a love of chiseling). Spherical ice cube trays are an excellent  alternative. A set of two is $16, and all you have to do is fill the trays with water to get perfect little globes of ice.

But if you’re looking to splurge on a serious entertainer you might want something a little splashier.  I kind of love this gorgeous professional ice ball mold, which churns out 30-40 ice cubes per hour.  It's $213 - but it assures many hours of drinking pleasure. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gift Guide, Day Seven

Shatter-resistant Stemware

 Good wine glasses break.  It’s one of the certainties of life.  And a reason why wine glasses make such great gifts: Almost nobody doesn’t need them.

But what if they didn’t? What if you could find crystal stemware that didn’t shatter when you dropped them or come out of the dishwasher covered in scratches?

They actually exist. Korin’s elegant shatter-resistant crystal glasses are both delicate and tough. I banged one on the floor and it remained magically intact. I could hardly believe it. 

The glasses aren’t cheap: $150 for a set of six. On the other hand, they could last a lifetime - and that’s an awful lot of toasts. 

 

 

 

Gift Guide Day Six

 A Small Cast Iron Skillet

 The most-used pan in my kitchen isn’t a fancy one with a designer label. It didn’t require a loan, and it doesn’t have a scientific- sounding name.  But my 6 1/2 inch Lodge cast iron skillet withstands high temperatures, retains heat, and has given me at least thirty years of nonstick cooking. I couldn’t live without it. I use it to toast spices, roast nuts and I reach for it every time I fry myself an egg.

Lots of people have large, much-cherished and well-seasoned cast iron skillets (they are, after all, almost essential for frying chicken), but the small ones are much rarer, which is why they make such swell presents. I have a hard time coming up with a better low-cost gift ($10.95).

 

Gift Guide Day Five

An Indoor Garden 

I've explored a lot of indoor urban farming options, and so far I like Windowfarms  best. This hydroponic gardening system hangs in your window looking lovely as it grows herbs and lettuces using nutrients supplied by an automated system (there is no soil). It would make a spectacular gift for any passionate locavore. 

But if you order in the next couple of days, you’ll be giving more than one gift. The Brooklyn-based business is trying to raise enough money to start manufacturing the systems in the United States. ($99 gets you the standard kit, $169 gets you a two-column version, and the options continue from there.)

The first kits won’t be sent until next March, but if you buy them as Christmas gifts your friends will get personalized cards from Windowfarms by December 24th.  It will welcome them to the windowfarming community - and give them something to look forward to. 

 

 

Gift Guide Day Four

Vintage Tablecloths

 I started looking for vintage tablecloths in thrift stores because they were portable, light, cheap...and nobody else seemed to want them. When I began giving them away I discovered that I was wrong. They are light, portable and easy to pack, but people really do want them. They make terrific gifts. 

 I’ve given most of mine away, so now I find myself actively seeking them out. The Vintage Table has a wonderful collection of linens dating from the 1930’s to the 1970’s, and ranging from the humorous (think turquoise cows) to the ornamental (think shabby strawberries or simple stripes). Priced anywhere from $10 to $500, each one is lovingly described and pictured. 

 If you match each tablecloth to the recipient’s personality they become a kind of giant greeting card. Cheerful, personal and sometimes funny they have the added virtue of being useful. 

 

 

 

 

Gift Guide Day Three

State-Shaped Cutting Boards

 You can never have too many cutting boards, which is why they make such great gifts. But the bamboo cutting boards from AHeirloom (a husband and wife duo from Brooklyn) are especially charming because they come shaped like every state in the Union. (They’ll also design any country, island, or landmass by special request.)

 This would make a great (and inexpensive) gift for anyone who's passionate about his geographical roots. So know your audience. Texans will invariably be delighted. People from Delaware? Maybe not so much. 

Keep in mind, too, that you'll get more chopping done on Kansas than California. Although the skinny states do very well for serving cheese and salume.  

 The cutting boards are custom-made, so you don't have a lot of time. Holiday orders are only taken until December 9^th. 

 

 

 

The Gift Guide: Day Two

Vintage Cookbooks

Old cookbooks are the perfect present for a passionate cook, and I can’t think of anything more fun than spending a day browsing a vintage cookbook store to pick out exactly the right book for each of my friends. My latest discovery is Amber Unicorn in Las Vegas, a surprising place with thousands of old cookbooks (and wonderful proprietors); if you can’t make the trip, they’ve got a delightful website. It’s a great way to spend an afternoon, even if you’re not in a shopping mood. The wonderful Omnivore Books in San Francisco is a lovely little store with a website so dangerously delicious that I have to limit my visits. You’re sure to come away with some fascinating book you never even knew existed.  Bonnie Slotnik Cookbooks, on the other hand, is dangerous only if you go there in person. Bonnie’s inventory is amazing, but her website’s not much.  On the other hand, few people are as knowledgable about old cookbooks, and when she invites you to call and talk, she really means it. 

 

The Gift Guide: Day One

It’s time to think about gifts again. Last year’s gift guide was so popular that I’m going to post gift suggestions every day until Christmas. Like last year, nobody is paying for product placement; these are just a few things I’d be very happy to find beneath my Christmas tree.

Last year’s guide began with pork. So let’s consider it a tradition. Here’s another pork product that I love. 

Benton’s Aged Whole Country Ham

Country ham is one of America’s glories, and at a time when everyone’s falling for prosciutto and jamon iberico, it’s time we appreciated what we have right here. People are making country hams all over this country, but I like Allan Benton’s best. Dry, complex, a little bit funky, it tastes wonderful on biscuits or sliced into scrambled eggs, and nothing looks more impressive on a party table.  At around fifteen pounds, it’s a real steal, a gift that will keep on giving for months. But order now. The waiting list is long.

 

 

 

Turkey Hash for a Cold Morning

Does anyone in your house eat the dark meat of the turkey?  In my house, they don't.  Most of it goes into the soup pot, along with the naked carcass, but I always keep some back to make this wonderful hash.  This isn't really a recipe - just a thrown together breakfast that makes everyone really happy. One helpful suggestion:  try to remember to boil the potatoes the night before and put them in the refrigerator - cold potatoes are so much easier to grate. 

 Grate 3 or 4 boiled potatoes (Yukon or white - not Russets) on the coarsest holes of a box grater.

Saute a couple of diced onions in as much sweet butter as you feel comfortable with (anywhere from 2 tablespoons to a stick),  until they’re just fragrant and translucent.  (If you want this to be spicy, add a chopped chile to the mix.)  Add the grated potatoes and a big handful of diced cooked turkey, generously salt and pepper, and cook this, turning now and then, until it turns into a golden brown hash (about 20 minutes).  

 Divide into 3 or 4 portions and top each with a crisp-edged fried egg.  If you have a little leftover gravy (and/or cranberry sauce) to add to the plate, so much the better. 

 

 

 

 

My Spicy Tuscan Kale

This is one of my absolute go-to recipes.  It's great with a roast, or a piece of fish, but you can also toss it into pasta for a quick dinner. If you want to make a vegetarian version, replace the anchovies with a few good dollops of miso - it works really well.  And if you want a vegan version, omit the Parmesan (although it will not, in my opinion, be as good).  Want it spicer?  Throw in more chiles.  And if you have good homemade bread crumbs in your freezer (I always do), it will taste especially wonderful. 

Tuscan Kale

3 bunches Lacinato Kale, (about 3 pounds), stems and ribs discarded, leaves torn into large pieces and washed 

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided

4 flat filet anchovies in olive oil, preferably jarred variety

3/4 teaspoon red chili flakes

2 medium onions, large dice, (about 2 cups)

½ teaspoon sea salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper

 4 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed

¼ cup grated parmesan cheese

½ cup toasted breadcrumbs

.  

Bring 4-6 quarts of water and 1 teaspoon of salt to boil in a large pot. Plunge the kale into the water and cook for one minute. The color will become a vibrant green within this time. Remove the kale to a colander under cold running water to stop the cooking. Drain and set aside.

Heat two tablespoons of olive oil in a medium-large skillet over medium heat and add the anchovies, pressing and stirring them into the oil until they disintegrate. Add the onions, red pepper flakes, salt, and pepper, and stir over medium-high heat for 8-10 minutes until they become translucent and soft. Add the kale to the onions along with the garlic and the last tablespoon of olive oil. Stir occasionally until everything comes together in a soft mass for about 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and toss with breadcrumbs and parmesan cheese.

 

The Easiest Apple Crisp

Ashmead’s Kernel is an ugly apple - more brown than golden, with a thick skin. But I like the way it tastes, and it gives something as simple as an apple crisp real character.  You could, of course, use any apple for this, but try it with one of the old heritage apples - Esopus Spitzenberg, Golden Russet, Arkansas Black or Calville Blanc d'Hiver are some favorites - and see what a fine experience an apple crisp can become.  

 Nothing could be simpler than an apple crisp. Simply layer peeled, sliced apples into a buttered pie plate or baking dish, toss them with lemon juice and top them with a mixture of flour, butter, sugar and salt.  I cut most of a stick of sweet butter into 2/3 cups of flour and 2/3 cups of brown sugar that have been enlivened with a dash of salt, and pat it over the top of 5 or so sliced apples.  The cooking time is forgiving; you can put it into a 350 oven and pretty much forget it for 45 minutes to an hour.  The juices should be bubbling a bit at the edges, the top should be crisp, golden and fragrant.  Serve it warm, with a pitcher of cream. 

 

 

Cleveland!

My plane did not land until nine at night, and I was expecting a hungry evening. What a surprise, then, to walk out of my hotel, near ten o’clock, and find East Fourth Street packed with people, the restaurants jammed, the air alive with excitement.  This was not the vision I’d had. 

I turned into Lola, a dark, sexy little place, for a perfectly lovely dinner. Crisp oysters.  Plump pirogi filled with beef cheeks.  Tender slices of tongue on suave slices of mushroom. A rare ribeye ringed with smoked onions and accented with blue cheese. Hearty fare - but wonderful - and served with one terrific wine after another. 

But it was the Greenhouse Tavern, the following day, that really blew me away. Jonathon Sawyer has created a fascinating menu, totally his own, and three days later I’m still thinking about some of his dishes.  He steams clams in butter and foie gras, then tosses in a hit of vinegar. The result is an entirely original version of surf and turf, clams in a velvet sauce that will haunt my dreams until the next time that I have it. 

He serves pasta in softly melted squash with crisp little bits of duck skin skittering across the top.  He offers up a pouch of paper and then stabs it with a knife until fragrant steam comes pouring out. Inside: plump chunks of porcini and silken slices of matsutake tangled into fregola with lots of butter.

His hominy is fried into crisp little bits and mixed with pickled red onion and lime juice; it’s a kind of magic trick, turning a drab vegetable into spicy stoner food.  Jonathan’s pork chop is fantastic, and he’s got a way with beets. The food went on and on, ending with a  deconstructed caramel apple that turned a sad American classic into a delicately delicious dessert. 

Afterward I wandered through the West Side Market a Guastavino-tiled hall that has been serving Cleveland for 99 years.  It’s a vibrant place that reminded me more of the great markets of Europe than anyplace I’ve seen in America. Some of the purveyors have been there since the start, and they’re still turning out old-time, hand-made smoked meats and charcuterie that’s hard to find anywhere else. I arrived home with a suitcase filled with obscure German and Hungarian sausages - a fine way to remember Cleveland. 

 

 

Chez Panisse: Forty Years Later

The museum in Berkeley has a particular smell, a combination of cool concrete and dry oil paint that always sends me right back to the seventies.  On Friday night it was also filled with food, and for a moment I was back at The Swallow, the restaurant a group of us once ran downstairs, right by the Pacific Film Archive. Making my way through the crowd that had gathered to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of Chez Panisse, I kept running into fellow members of The Swallow, and before long I was in tears.

It was that kind of night, and then that kind of weekend: emotions were never far from the surface. There were speeches - by the Governor, the Mayor, and assorted dignitaries.  There was drinking and dancing, too much food and too little sleep. But more than anything, there was the recognition of how much this restaurant has meant to those of us who care about the way we eat.

 The feasts went on for days. The major meals began with Scott Peacock’s shrimp boil at Alice’s house on Thursday night - lights in the garden, peach cobbler for dessert - and ended with an invitation only staff party on Sunday night. In between so many people fanned out into so many places that you kept missing your friends. Michael Pollan had a pig roast, Joan Nathan concocted a Roman Jewish dinner, Angelo Garro roasted a wild boar at his forge.... I was at Cecilia’s Chiang’s banquet, some 20 courses cooked by an astonishing woman who seems to laugh at time. With the help of chefs Henry He and Alex Ong this 93 year old woman created a feast - in a tiny kitchen that has no gas.

We ate with sterling-tipped ivory chopsticks. “These,” said Cecilia, “were part of my mother’s dowery.”  Abalone was astonishing, so tender you could inhale each delicate white slice.  Ethereal kidneys were like spicy clouds, numbing your tongue with the tingle of Sichuan peppercorns. Beggar’s chicken was stuffed with sticky rice, wrapped in lotus leaves and then coated with clay.  I hit it with a hammer, and as it fractured, a burst of scent leapt into the air and filled the dining room.  As one dreamlike dish followed another director Wayne Want, quietly elegant, documented each bite.  “I wanted," he said, "to do something for Alice. In the early days,  when I had no money, she always fed me.”

She fed us all. And she's still doing it. When the feasts - all of them - had ended, we gathered in the street in front of the restaurant, reluctant to let the party end.  At some point Alice came over and put a grape into my mouth.  “Taste this,” she said. 

 Sweet, intense, slightly perfumed, the flavor resonated in my mouth for a good hour. It was just a grape.  It was one of the best things I have ever eaten.  Even after a week of extraordinary food, Alice Waters can offer you one single bite that blows you right away. 

 

Think Pink: Strawberry Ice Cream

I found an old recipe for "Strawberry Cream Ice" in a Victorian cookbook, and I was fascinated by its sheer simplicity: “2 pints of strawberry juice, 3 pints of cream and 4 ounces of sugar to every pint of the composition.”

It really is that simple.  I swooshed 2 pints of strawberries in a blender and then put them through a sieve; it made about a cup of strawberry juice.  In place of ordinary granulated sugar, I used confectioner’s sugar, which dissolves more easily.  It also throws the weight off;  you won’t need more than a quarter cup or so for the cup of strawberry juice.  Stir the sugar in, and then swirl in a pint of good cream. Now taste it to make sure it's sweet enough for you. Cut up up another handful of strawberries and add them to the mixture before starting to churn the ice cream.  It should not take very long to freeze; about 15 minutes.  Leave it on the slightly soft side.

 The flavor is so pure and lovely – just strawberries and cream - the essence of pink. I can't think of anything nicer on a hot summer day.  

 

Sour Cherry Lemonade

It's no secret that I'm a fool for sour cherries.  I love their flavor, - nothing makes a better pie - and I also love the fact that their season is so fleeting. Pick them, pit them and put them in your freezer and you can have instant summer in the middle of winter.

But pitting them is - well, the pits.  The easiest way to do that is with a paper clip; if you open one up, you'll have the perfect tool to just flip the pits right out. Still, it's a process.

That's what I love about this recipe; this lemonade not only tastes great, but you can make it without removing the pits. You do, however, need to remove the stems.

Start with a quart (about 2 pounds) of sour cherries, and, without removing the pits, dump the cherries into a blender. Whiz them about until they’re all smooshed and some of the pits are coarsely chopped, then put them into a strainer or a sieve and press hard, extracting as much puree as you can.  Discard the solids.

Put the cherry puree into a pitcher and stir in the juice of four lemons, and about a cup of sugar.  (If you like things really sour, you might want less; if you’ve got a sweettooth, you’ll want more.)

This will keep for a day or two in the refrigerator. When you’re ready to drink the lemonade, pour into glasses and add water (or sparkling water) to taste. 

Want to turn this into cocktails?  Add a few splashes of vodka or gin, and garnish with a sprig of mint.  

World's Easiest Pie

This is not only the fastest pie I know how to put together (it's even faster if you use a frozen pie shell), it is also the most satisfying.  Served with a little whipped cream, or some vanilla ice cream, it is summer on a plate. The recipe is from Comfort Me With Apples.

Apricot Pie

1 recipe pie dough (for a single crust pie)

2 pounds apricots

1 stick butter, melted

3/4 cup sugar

3/4 cup flour

fresh nutmeg

Roll out the pie dough, fit it into a 9 inch pie pan, crimp the edges and put it into the freezer for 15 minutes while you preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

Break the apricots apart with your fingers; do not peel them, but remove the pits.

Melt the butter.  Stir in the sugar (brown sugar is fine), then the flour.  Grate in a bit of nutmeg.

Put the apricots into the unbaked shell.  Cover them with the sugar mixture and put the pie on the bottom rack of your oven. After ten minutes turn the heat down to 375 and bake for 35 or 40 minutes more, until the top is crusty and golden. Transfer to a cake rack and cool before serving.

 

Fresh Apricot Jam for the First Day of Summer

 

Straight off the tree, an apricot is a shy and retiring fruit, reluctant to display its charms. Add a little heat, however, and its true character is revealed.  This is a flirtatious fruit, teasing you with sweetness before turning on you with a sour smile. By turns sweet, acid and sour, a cooked apricot is a juicy and endlessly fascinating companion that likes to keep you guessing.

I love cooking with apricots, and this time of year, when the local fruit comes onto the market, makes me almost absurdly happy. They are perfect in pies and crumbles, and nothing makes a more delightful jam. 

If you've been scared of making jam because of all the sterile bottles and boiling water that comes with canning, you should know that's the only hard part. If you make the jam in fairly small batches and eat it quickly, there’s no need for any of that.

Begin with the heaviest-bottomed pan that you have and make a syrup by stirring a quarter cup of water into one and a quarter cups of sugar and bringing it to a boil. Turn the heat down and simmer, while stirring, until it is clear.

Add a pound of apricots, that you’ve pulled apart with your fingers, remove the pits, and cook slowly until the apricots disintegrate. When that happens, add another pound of halved apricots and cook until they’re soft and have turned into a consistency that pleases you. If you like the flavor of vanilla, add a whole vanilla bean at this point. Be sure to keep stirring the pot from time to time so that it doesn’t scorch.

Add the juice of half a lemon (or more), stir well and cook another few minutes. Eaten warm, on fresh biscuits, this makes a perfect summer snack.

Apricot jam will keep well, in the refrigerator, for a couple of week.  Mine never lasts that long.

Dreaming Italian

In my dreams, sometimes, I walk down a New York sidestreet and find a simple, sunlit trattoria, the tables a bit rickety, the door open wide. The chef beckons me inside.  He sets bread, cheese, and salume on the table, picks up a plate and fills it with hand-made pasta topped with the simplest tomato sauce.  Music washes through the air. There is grilled meat, sautéed spinach, a splash of wine. One tiny cup of espresso. I go dancing out the door.

In real life I run in, breathless and a bit late, having reserved weeks ahead. The music is too loud, the chairs too hard, the tables too close together. Everything’s overdesigned. The food is too fancy and it costs too much. By evening’s end my throat is sore from shouting.  I walk out unsatisfied, once again.

There are hundreds of Italian restaurants in New York City, and while there are a few I truly love, most are deeply disappointing. Finding two swell newcomers in a single week? A small miracle.

I wasn’t expecting much from Manzo.  Everything at Eataly has been so heavily hyped that I’ve looked at the entire enterprise with a slightly jaundiced eye. The room’s not much, carved awkwardly out of Eataly’s giant space. On the other hand, there’s a straightforward simplicity that proclaims, quite loudly, that food is what matters here.

And the food is fantastic.  The Razza Piemontese is manly meat with a deep, seductive resonance.  Cured in tea and shaved into thin red slices, it comes raw, the flavors underlined with the pure green taste of fiddlehead ferns and the sweet crunch of apple. There are squares of fried sweetbreads too, soft as pudding, airy as clouds, and supple slices of tongue that almost melt off of your fork.

But it’s the pasta I most admire, particularly the tajarin, thin ribbons of pasta made only of egg yolk and flour that have their own unique heft.  Served almost naked, the juice of roasted meats ladled across the sturdy strands, this should not be missed. Filled pastas – agnolotti, ravioli and the like – are also superb.

Afterward there are grilled meats (including more of that Razza Piemontese), served with very little fuss, or a fish stew, a roasted squab. This is extremely fine food.

I didn’t expect much from Ciano either. What is Shea Gallante – the guy who travels with a Paco Jet, the man who created the excruciatingly twee Cru -  doing in this lovingly rustic room, with its roaring fire, its book-filled shelves, its golden light and comfortable seats?  This is a room you want to settle into, a room you want to stay in. 

And you won’t be unhappy when you do; the food is very fine.  Starters include delicate little spheres of shrimp that fairly float into your mouth. Arancini, the little saffron rice balls, have hearts of melting cheese.  Substantial meatballs made of fluffy veal float on a river of polenta.  And those still mourning for Cru will be delighted by translucent slices of raw fluke intertwined with grapes, chiles and cucumbers that glitter up at you like gorgeous pieces of jewelry.

Pastas may be ornate, but they’re lovely.  I especially like the rich intensity of the duck Bolognese, and the saffron tagliatelle with its scattering of crabmeat.  Nicely roasted meats (a chicken for two), a fine wine list and truly impressive desserts. A cup of espresso - and I'm doing a quick, happy dance.
 
As for the trattoria of my dreams, it does exist.  But it’s two hours north of North York, in Red Hook.  That’s Mercato – and another story, for another time.

Peppery Not So Hot But Very Tasty Sauce

Mea culpa.  I've been so wrapped up in the launch of Gilt Taste that I've been neglecting my own blog. My excuse - it's been a really exciting ride, and I'm spending most of my time thinking about what this new form of media is going to be. 

So I promise more writing - and recipes - down the road. But the reason I'm posting today is that I just discovered, quite by accident, that Tabasco Family Reserve is once again available.  In my experience it sells out quickly.  If you like Tabasco, you'll love this richer, more intense, more nuanced version of America's classic pepper sauce. It's not cheap, but if you use it judiciously, it'll last you quite a while.

What do I use it on?  It's great on Jambalya (or even Spanish rice), and it gives scrambled eggs more character.  But most of all, it's the perfect condiment for people who like a little heat - but don't want their mouths to be on fire. Most of the mild hot sauces are rather wimpy; this one is made of sterner stuff.

 

 

 

 

http://countrystore.tabasco.com/prodinfo.asp?number=03581

Pink Deviled Eggs for Easter

I've always wanted to dye the eggs themselves, not just the shells.  Yesterday it occured to me that if I hardboiled eggs and plopped them into pickled beet juice, they would probably turn pink.  And they did - a vibrant, wonderful color.

I was using my neighbor's eggs - laid by happy chickens who produce yolks that are a bright marigold orange. They were gorgeous against the now magenta-colored whites, and simply cut in half they looked lovely.

But I decided to devil them so I could heap the yolks into the pink eggs. I mashed the yolks with some mayonnaise, a bit of mustard and some salt and pepper.  I added a splash of Sriracha.  And then, at the end, just for the color, I decided to top each one with a little triangle of sweet pickle.  They were gorgeous - and delicious.

(You'll need one can of pickled beets for half a dozen eggs; add a little water if the hardboiled eggs aren't completely covered. The longer you leave the eggs in the beet juice, the darker they will become, but if you leave them too long the yolks will begin to begin to take on the color.  18 hours seems about right.)

 

 

The Best Black Beans

Every cookbook gives you a list of the foods you should always keep on hand. By which they usually mean things like bottles of olive oil and vinegar.

But my recipe for good living involves a tiny bit more work.  Yes, I always have bacon, eggs, onions and butter in the house, along with dried pasta.  And I've always got lemons, anchovies, miso, soy sauce, Parmesan cheese and chiles on hand too. But my more serious staples mean that a meal is never more than minutes away. They include:

Homemade chicken stock: it is always in my freezer, ready to turn into soup, sauce or risotto, and to improve every vegetable it comes in contact with.

Cooked rice: you can't make fried rice without it.

A couple of boiled potatoes: you never know when you'll decide you have to have some hash browns.

Homemade tomato sauce: keep it in the freezer as a reminder that summer will return.

A pot of black beans: the most satisfying last-minute meal I know.  Eat it with rice, roll it into a tortilla, or top it with a fried egg. Utterly restorative. 

Wonderful Black Beans

Pick through 2 cups of black beans and remove any stones or ugly beans.  Soak them overnight. Drain them in the morning, add 6 cups of water, one chopped onion, a sprig of epazote and a few tablespoons of lard (Mangalitza if you can get it) or bacon drippings. Bring to a boil, cover, turn the heat down and simmer for a couple of hours until the beans are tender.  Remove the epazote, stir in a teaspoon of salt, a very healthy glug of cream sherry, a few splashes of soy sauce and another splash of balsamic vinegar.  Taste for seasoning.  These will keep in the refrigerator for a week - but mine never last that long.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bibliography for Eating My Words

     After I spoke at Stanford yesterday, some people asked if I would post a bibliography of the books I mentioned during the speech.  And no wonder; as I began to compile this list, I realized that I referenced a great many books - and that many of them are fairly obscure.

     The opening quote is not at all obscure. "It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others." It is from the introduction to the Art of Eating, by M.F.K. Fisher.  The book is a compilation of 5 books, and while you've got it, I recommend that you read all of The Gastronomical Me.

The next quote isn't obscure either; it comes from Winnie the Pooh.  I probably don't need to tell you that it was written by A. A. Milne.

But the next quote, about the rigid rules of the Victorian dinner table, may be less familiar.  It is from one of my favorite food historians, Colin Spencer, who wrote,  British Food: An Extraordinary Thousand Years of History.

Among the many other texts I referred to:

Jacques Pepin, The Apprentice

Eight Discourses on the Art of Living from the Studio Where Elegance is Valued, was published around 1590 by Gao Lian.

De Re Coquinaria, is a compilation of Roman recipes that is often attributed to Marcus Gavius Apicius, who lived around the first century.

Livy (Titus Livius),  a Roman historian born in 59 B.C), Ab Urbe Condita Libri, "Chapters from the Foundation of the City,"

Athenaeus wrote The Deipnosophists, (Scholars at the Dinner Table) in the third century AD.

 Allen Ginsberg, "A Supermarket in California," from Howl

William Carlos Williams, "This is Just to Say"

Meadows of Gold by Al-Masudi, who was considered the Herodotus of the Arab world, (871-957 AD)

The Cuisiner Francois, 1651

The Accomplisht Cook by Robert Mays, 1588

Il Triciante (The Carver), 1581

Marie-Antoine Careme was known as the "King of Chefs and the Chef of Kings"  He lived from 1784-1833.

A.J. Liebling, Between Meals

Joseph Mitchell, "All You Can EAt for Five Bucks" from Up in the Old Hotel

Bill Buford

Anthony Bourdain

Calvin Trillin

Laura Shapiro

Laurie Colwin

Gabrielle Hamilton,  Blood, Bones and Butter

Peg Bracken, The I Hate to Cook Book

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sriracha Bubbles!

Jon Rowley sent me to a post about Olympia Oysters (my favorites) on a blog called Salty Seattle. Linda Miller Nicholson served the oysters with this rather amazing sounding air.  I haven't tried it yet, but I'm heading out, soon, to buy some powdered soy lecithin.  If you do try it, please tell me how you like it.

Here's the link to the original:

Salty Seattle's Simple Sriracha Bubbles

Yield: enough to adorn 12 dozen oysters on the half shell

*In the interest of full disclosure, this recipe will perfume your kitchen and your nostrils with a spicy Sriracha aura. You may sneeze. Most people love it.

1/4 c sriracha or other hot sauce of your choice
3/4 c purified water
1 teaspoon powdered soy lecithin (available at nutrition stores)

1. In a small saucepan, heat the sriracha and the water over medium heat until fully incorporated and lightly simmering. Your kitchen will smell fiery and your nasal passages will love you.

2. Remove from heat and pour into a small, shallow bowl that allows an immersion (hand) blender to plunge into the liquid just barely above blade height. Add the soy lecithin.

3. Agitate with an immersion blender just at water height in order to introduce the maximum amount of air into the liquid. The more air you introduce, the fluffier your bubbles. The soy lecithin acts as a stabilizer, and once your bubbles form, they will hold for a good 20 minutes. Spoon bubbles off into a shallow serving dish and place near the ice-filled platter that holds your oysters.

 

From a Friend of a Friend in Japan

Yes, we're still in Tokyo.
I understand that many countries have advised their citizens to evacuate Tokyo, or even Japan. It seems a little too overreacting
to me, though. The nuclear threat is real, however, the readings
are really really low.
We're doing everything we can to stop the plant from exploding,
and I'm sure we'll succeed. Those men working at the site are real
heroes indeed. But we must not forget that they were made to do
this kamikaze operation by the government (and by us who elected
those politicians).

Everything looks dangerous. But I wouldn't say it's getting worse
because it's more like a seesaw struggle. One good thing is that
they have a prospect to give electric supply to the stricken plant,
which will enable the cooling system to work in a day or two.

We were overwhelmed by so many devastating news. Death tolls are
rising. Store shelves are empty. Gasoline is running out. People are
left in the cold.

But we're making an all-out efforts for relief.
Today, a major bank's system went down because of too many orders to
handle. We thought that it was because of power shortage on top of
mass hysteria over fear. But it turned out that the bank couldn't
handle all the donations made through their ATMs.
Michale Sandel wrote to a newspaper yesterday, saying that he hasn't
read or heard any price hikes in the stricken areas, which he found
amazing. There is a gas station owner who keeps some gasoline left
in the tank. He said he is saving it for emergency vehicles that will
come as soon as the roads are mended.

The list goes on and on.

So, I'm not worried about it too much. It's true that our lives have
been inconvenienced a little, but that won't last too long.

It's so ironical that this catastrophe brought us united.
I think we can rebuild the country like our ancestors did.

So, please do not worry too much!

A note from Elizabeth Andoh in Japan

Personal update:
When the first huge, terrifying quake hit on Friday afternoon, March 11, I was in Tokyo preparing for a class the following day. Having lived through several large quakes before (including one in which I was trapped in an elevator for hours before being rescued), I knew what to do. Trembling (me, and the earth together), I went into automatic mode, shutting off anything that could cause a fire, propping open the front door and one other escape route in the kitchen (door frames can shift causing them to jam shut), donned my emergency kit-knapsack (containing flashlight, extra batteries, water, essential medications, money, identification papers, gloves, face mask, first aid supplies, extra sweater with hood). The initial quake lasted for several minutes -- it seemed as though it would never stop.
 
Still trembling (me, and the earth together), I turned on the emergency news channel and learned the center of seismic activity (the largest on record in Japan, currently revised at 9.0) was Miyagi Prefecture, on the Pacific coast, north of Tokyo. Gigantic tsunami (tidal waves) were predicted, and came... and keep coming. As do tremors of varying degrees (as I type this, my desk sways slightly in a minor aftershock).
 
Transportation and communication services have been widely disrupted -- frustrating and frightening. To conserve energy, limited and rotating shut-downs are being scheduled throughout the Kanto Plains area. At this time I have access to the Internet and grab the opportunity to make two requests:
To those of you who live in Japan
To those who want to offer help to disaster relief efforts in Japan:

JAPAN update & request:
To those of you who live in Japan, especially in areas likely to be directly affected by heavy seismic activity in the next few months, PLEASE take this moment to check on your own preparedness to manage during emergencies.  I highly recommend you look at 72 hours (based in San Francisco), a wonderfully thorough site that provides good basic information.
 
 
JAPAN update & request:
To those who want to offer help to disaster relief efforts in Japan, please contribute to your favorite charity or organization collecting for this occasion. If you have no established route, please consider one of the following:
 
Japanese Red Cross

Doctors without Borders

International Medical Corps

CARE

NetHope

Why Food Matters, 1

This from someone in response to my tweet this morning:

What planet are you on? The one WITHOUT thousands dying from an earthquake? SO FINE?!?!?!

I hadn’t yet read the news when I tweeted this morning – I get up early to write before making breakfast and reading the papers -  but it made me stop and think about whether I would have written something different if I’d known about the horror in Japan. 

Perhaps. But it occurs to me that this is the same planet in which an indifferent world is watching a dictator murder his people, the same planet whose richest country allows one in eight people go to bed hungry every night, the same planet on which women are being genitally mutilated, the same planet on which…..

There is no time, ever, in which a terrible disaster is not taking place somewhere on the planet.  And thanks to modern technology, we know all about it almost immediately. As I see it, we have a moral responsibility to respond to those disasters in the best ways that we can. Write letters, send money, do whatever possible to alleviate pain, end suffering and make the world a more just place.

But in the face of ongoing disaster, it is also our moral responsibility to appreciate what we have.  That is why cooking good food for the people that I love is so important to me; in a world filled with no, it is a big yes.

So eat a good breakfast. Be grateful for what you’ve got. Enjoy the sunshine while you've got it.  Then go out and save the world.

Vanishing America

Just had breakfast at Clifton’s Cafeteria in downtown Los Angeles.  With its timbered walls, waterfalls and stuffed fauna, Brookdale was a magical little bit of forest in the middle of the city when it was built in the thirties.  Its founder, Clifford Clinton, was a man who believed in the golden rule, fed people decent homemade food at fair prices, and whose motto was “Pay what you wish.  Pay nothing if not delighted.”  He went on to become, briefly, the mayor of the city.

Today this wonderful old place looks weirdly, kitchily old-fashioned. It is filled with mostly older people who come because the food is still hand-made and decent and the prices are still fair.  Early in the morning wizened old women slide their trays through the cafeteria line, helping themselves to enormous dishes of chicken livers (I suspect this is the most protein for the least money), and big bowls of cream of wheat with raisins and brown sugar. 

The women behind the counter are all kind, and they cook the eggs and pancakes with care.  “You want bacon with that?  No toast?”  And even this early in the day there is a lively business in lunch to go, as enormous men walk off with bulging sacks of food.

As I sat eating my eggs and drinking my coffee (“you want cream in that?”) I listened to three old men arguing politics at the next table. It was an erudite conversation – I had the feeling it has been going on for years – that ranged through the Middle East, to Asia and then settled back at home.  At points it veered into German, at others it settled back into disgruntled English.

It felt comfortable in that room, despite the sign that warned that tables could be occupied for only 45 minutes, and it made me sad to think of all the people who were grabbing something to go at a drive-up window and gobbling it down in their cars. Even in the middle of downtown Los Angeles – which is a fairly sad place early in the morning – this was a restaurant that has true nourishment on offer. Looking around I wondered how long it will last?  It seems like a quickly vanishing part of the American landscape.

Notes from Paradise

Too lazy to write much, but we've been laughing, talking, soaking up sunshine, wandering the streets, staring at all the wonderfully shabby chic houses in Key West. Starry nights, rum and pink shrimp, stone crab claws and local lobster tails. Why does anyone ever leave here?

The thought of packing up and heading back to snow makes me very sad.

 

A Downtown Meal in an Uptown Place

Had lunch at Ma Peche today, with Francis Lam, his friend Winnie (such a great name!) and Doc Willoughby.  The place was half-empty, and it certainly didn't deserve to be.  Tien Ho is really hitting his stride, and the 3-course $25 lunch is a very good deal.

Just about everything we ate was intensly flavorful, surprisingly textural, and fresh.  I couldn't stop eating the spicy lamb with crunchy rice sticks or those crisp, sticky, Brussels sprouts.  I loved the freshness of the squid salad and the wonderful crunch in the summer rolls. If you love Momofuku SSam Bar but hate the noise (and the wait), this is a place you'll want to know about.

Meanwhile, Francis was raving about Miles End in Brooklyn; just listening to him talking about the smoked meat made me want to run out the door and hop on the train.

 

Sour Cherry Crumb Pie to Welcome the New Year

Every summer, in sour cherry season, I fill the freezer with as many sour cherries as I have the patience to pit.  I try to make them last through the fall, leaving just enough to make one final sour cherry pie for the first day of the next year. It's a little reminder that summer really will return.

Sometimes I make a crostata.  Sometimes I make a tart.  Yesterday, for some reason, I thought I'd like to start the year with a sour cherry crumb pie. This morning, eating the first piece, the most intense flavor memory came floating back. I was 8 years old, eating dinner with my parents at The Cookery on the corner of University Place and 8th Street, spooning up their sweet, slightly salty cherry crumb tart. The Cookery was owned by my friend Bertha's uncle, who sometimes let us waitress there - just for fun - when we were in junior high. I thought it was enormous fun, and looking back, I realize that was my very first restaurant job. One bite brought it all back: a very fine way to welcome 2011.

Sour Cherry Crumb Pie

I hate blind-baking pie crusts, but in this case it’s worth it; you don’t want to waste your precious sour cherries on a sad, soggy bottom. So make a pie crust and blind bake it. While the crust cools, make the cherry filling by melting about 3 tablespoons of butter in a skillet and adding 4 to 5 cups of frozen cherries (along with their liquid), and 2/3 cups of sugar.  This will thaw with remarkable speed, and as soon as it does, add a squirt of lemon juice, a pinch of salt, and stir in a paste made of 3 tablespoons of cornstarch and 2 tablespoons of cold water.  Bring to a boil, stirring gently.  In about 2 minutes, when the filling becomes clear and thick, turn off the heat and allow to cool.

Pour the cherries into the pie shell.

Make a crumble by melting a stick of butter and stirring in ¾ cups of sugar,  ¾ cups of flour and a pinch of salt.  Strew across the cherries and bake in a pre-heated 375 degree oven for about 40 minutes, or until the top is crisp and golden.

It would be wise to bake the pie on a foil-lined baking sheet; sour cherries have a tendency to bubble over the crust, and cleaning the sticky liquid off the bottom of the oven is no way to greet the new year.

Prime Rib Hash

This is the perfect post-Christmas breakfast - or dinner - and the best way I know to use up the final, precious bits of a great rib roast.

<li>Prime Rib Hash:
<li>What you need before you start: a couple of small whole potatoes that are already cooked (any kind of potato will do, either baked or boiled), cut into small cubes.  About 2 cups of cold roast beef, cut into tiny cubes.  A small onion, diced.  Some aromatics, and a half cup of cream (Half and Half will do; heavy is better).  Three or four eggs.

Cook the potatoes in a well-oiled skillet for about 10 minutes, stirring about from time to time until they have turned golden.  Add the onions and cook until they become translucent and the potatoes begin to crisp, another 10 minutes or so.  Add the beef and a few aromatics if you like – I sometimes add a bit of thyme, or parsley, occasionally a clove or two of garlic, perhaps a small scraping of nutmeg.  If I’m in the mood, I’ll throw in a few flakes of hot chile pepper as well. Season with salt and pepper and cook for another 5 minutes or so, until the beef gives up its fat and begins to send its scent into the air.

Pour in the cream, listen to it sizzle, stir it about and then press the hash into the skillet with a spatula. Raise the heat beneath the pan and cook, turning occasionally until the cream has vanished into the hash, forming a wonderfully crisp crust.  This will take about 8 minutes.  Top each of three or four servings with its own softly fried egg.

How to Have a Great Party: Three Tips

1. The best parties involve a certain amount of serendipity. Don't be so organized that everything's done when the guests arrive.  Let people pitch in and help in the kitchen. It’s a great ice-breaker. 

2. The guest list is important. If everyone knows everyone else, the conversation can be dull. And if nobody knows anybody else, it can be awkward. Gather a comfortable group of people who are easy with each other, mix in a few new friends, and watch the party take off.

3. Don't serve soup or any kind of first course that means jumping up while everyone is seated to prepare the main course.  Put out lots of nibbley things to begin with – pate, cheese, salume, nuts, homemade crackers, some kind of vegetable dip. Or make something hot that  people can stand in the kitchen eating right from the oven, like a quiche or boureks. Bring the salad to toss at the table, so when you sit down for the main course you won't have to get up again until dessert.  It just makes the evening easier. 

Gift Guide, Day 27

A Promise for the Future:

The best thing about January?  The coming of the Kishus. 
Alice Waters introduced me to these tiny tangerines, which carry a little sunshine into the cold winter world.  I can’t think of anything more fun than bringing out a handful (yes they’re that tiny) and watching a child’s delight in the sweet juicy fruit.

The season is very short – just a few weeks in January – but you can sign up to be alerted when they start shipping. If you’re wracking your brain for a last minute gift, this is a wonderful one. It’s a few weeks away, but your friends will thank you each time they peel a tangerine and experience that deep, golden flavor.

And speaking of tangerines – if you’ve never read MFK Fisher on the pleasures of tangerine sections left to grow fat on the radiator and then chilled on a snowy ledge, here is an excerpt:  

“...It was then that I discovered little dried sections of tangerine. My pleasure in them is subtle and voluptuous and quite inexplicable. I can only write how they are prepared.

In the morning, in the soft sultry chamber, sit in the window peeling tangerines, three or four. Peel them gently; do not bruise them, as you watch soldiers pour past and past the corner and over the canal towards the watched Rhine. Separate each plump little pregnant crescent. If you find the Kiss, the secret section, save it for Al.

Listen to the chambermaid thumping up the pillows, and murmur encouragement to her thick Alsatian tales of l'intérieure. That is Paris, the interior, Paris or anywhere west of Strasbourg or maybe the Vosges. While she mutters of seduction and French bicyclists who ride more than wheels, tear delicately from the soft pile of sections each velvet string. You know those white pulpy strings that hold tangerines into their skins? Tear them off. Be careful.

Take yesterday's paper (when we were in Strasbourg L'Ami du Peuple was best, because when it got hot the ink stayed on it) and spread it on top of the radiator. The maid has gone, of course - it might be hard to ignore her belligerent Alsatian glare of astonishment.

After you have put the pieces of tangerine on the paper on the hot radiator, it is best to forget about them. Al comes home, you go to a long noon dinner in the brown dining-room, afterwards maybe you have a little nip of quetsch from the bottle on the armoire. Finally he goes. You are sorry, but -

On the radiator the sections of tangerines have grown even plumper, hot and full. You carry them to the window, pull it open, and leave them for a few minutes on the packed snow of the sill. They are ready.

All afternoon you can sit, then, looking down on the corner. Afternoon papers are delivered to the kiosk. Children come home from school just as three lovely whores mince smartly into the pension's chic tearoom. A basketful of Dutch tulips stations itself by the tram-stop, ready to tempt tired clerks at six o'clock. Finally the soldiers stump back from the Rhine. It is dark.

The sections of the tangerine are gone, and I cannot tell you why they are so magical. Perhaps it is that little shell, thin as one layer of enamel on a Chinese bowl, that crackles so tinily, so ultimately under your teeth. Or the rush of cold pulp just after it. Or the perfume. I cannot tell.

There must be someone, though, who understands what I mean. Probably everyone does, because of his own secret eatings."

Gift Guide, Day 26

A Share in a CSA:

Snow showers, gray sky, frozen world.  It must be this weather that has me dreaming of summer, longing for green things to start springing from the earth.

 I’ve been thinking that if someone gave me a share in a local CSA (Community Supported Agriculture), as a Christmas present, it would make me incredibly happy.  It would be a reminder that spring really will come, that the world will once again be fruitful. And more than that, it would give me a warm feeling to know that I was joining forces with a local farmer; not just buying his vegetables, but becoming a small partner, participating in whatever the coming year might bring – good or bad - in the way of harvest.

The CSA movement keeps growing; I’m now a member of a chicken CSA, as well as a vegetable one. These days you can find meat and fish CSAs too.  How do you find a local one?  Put your zipcode into the link above, and your local CSAs will come up. (It’s not perfect; if someone knows a more up to date data base, please leave a comment.)

Gift Guide, Day 25

Home Made Bread Crumbs:

A couple of years ago Kempy Minifie, who was running Gourmet’s test kitchen, gave me a container filled with homemade bread crumbs for Christmas.  “This,” I thought to myself, “is a really dopey present. I can make my own crumbs any time I want them.”  But I took them home and stored them in my freezer anyway.

One day, about a month later, I reached in and found they were gone:  I had used them all up. I instantly made some more, and since then my freezer has never been without a supply of good crisp, oily, crumbs.  They’re as essential as chicken stock, a wonderful fall-back ingredient that adds flavor and texture to many dishes.  I use them on pasta, in casseroles, to top vegetables. I’d be grateful to anyone who offered me some.

And they’re easy to make. 

Cut a good loaf of stale bread into cubes and grind it into crumbs in a blender or a food processor.  (A blender is better; it gives you a more uniform texture).  If your bread is not stale enough to crumb, you can dry the cubes out in a 200 degree oven for about 15 minutes before grinding.

Spread the crumbs onto a baking sheet and toast in a 350 degree oven for about 20 minutes until they are crisp and golden.  Drizzle with olive oil (about a quarter cup for every 2 cups of crumbs), season with salt and allow to cool completely before putting into containers.

These will keep in the freezer almost indefinitely.  Just stick them in the microwave for a few seconds to take the chill off.