BOOK/A TABLE - Grapefruit Margaritas

Summertime is margaritatime!

The famous Midnight Margaritas scene in the movie Practical Magic is not from the book, but Alice Hoffman does at least reference salt in the pages...I love this quote and its advice, particularly the last part! 

“There are some things, after all, that Sally Owens knows for certain: Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.”
― Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

The lower-alcohol version of the grapefruit margarita here, courtesy of Martha Stewart, replaces orange liqueur with honey, resulting in the same sort of summer cooler that you’ll want to sip outside. And of course, the salted rim is optional. For a non-alcoholic version, check out Alamave, a blue agave “spirit” that is also a surprisingly good tequila alternative.

Click here for my margarita round-up featuring recipes served at various resorts in Puerto Rico! 

If there is a drink you prefer in summer over the margarita, I’d love to know about it! I hope you enjoy this recipe, and remember, “It’s midnight somewhere...”

Grapefruit Margaritas

Adapted from marthastewart.com
Ingredients
1 tablespoon clover or orange-blossom honey
1 tablespoon very hot water (from the tap)
2 ounces blanco tequila
1 strip peeled pink grapefruit rind plus 2 ounces fresh juice
¾ ounce fresh lime juice

Coarse salt, for rim

Directions
In the bottom of a cocktail shaker, stir honey with 1 tablespoon very hot water (from the tap) until dissolved. Fill shaker halfway with ice and top with tequila, grapefruit juice, and lime juice. Shake vigorously until outside of shaker is cold and frosty, about 10 seconds.

Roll rim of a glass, perhaps a tall and narrow Collins, with salt. Fill glass with crushed ice and strain. Stir with a swizzle stick or straw until glass turns frosty, about 10 seconds. Garnish with grapefruit rind; serve immediately.

You Say Scallops, I Say Scallops...

Let’s call the whole thing awesome!

Depending on where you came from, scallops are pronounced either scaw-llops (like scald) or ska-llops (scaffolding). I tend to go for the latter, but I think much of my Down East brethren opt for the former.

It hardly matters, we’re heading to Italy anyway. I think you’ll love this Venetian scallop dish courtesy of the wonderful Polpo cookbook. In Venice the pilgrim scallops are smaller, as author Russell Norman tells us, so if you’re working with larger diver-caught scallops, just slice them in half horizontally. 

Fresh peas are recommended, but I found frozen works just fine. Once the ingredients are prepared, this dish all goes rather quickly, and arrives so beautifully at the table.  

How do you say...buon mangiare!

Braised Scallops, Pancetta & Peas
Adapted from Polpo by Russell Norman
Ingredients
8 rashers of thinly sliced pancetta
2 tablespoons
Extra-virgin olive oil
16 spring onions
500 g (use 1 pound) peas – fresh if you can, frozen if not
2 heads of baby gem lettuce, cut into bite sized pieces
50 g (half a stick) unsalted butter
12 small scallops (or six sliced in half horizontally if very large)
Crusty bread, to serve

Method
Cut the pancetta into 2 cm (roughly one inch) strips. Fry in a large pan with the olive oil until brown. Cut the spring onions into 5 cm (about 2 inches) pieces and add to the pan. When they have wilted slightly add all the peas and enough water to cover. Simmer for three minutes for frozen peas and 5–6 minutes for fresh peas.

Add the chopped baby gem lettuce and the butter and continue to simmer gently. After 1 minute at the scallops and simmer for 1more minute. Take off the heat and serve almost as a broth in shallow bowls.

Have some good crusty bread in the middle of the table to mop up the juices.

Lobster Thermidor

Blind dates used to be a sticky situation. The time I’m talking about was over 35 years ago, before the age of cyberstalking, when a blind date was just that—you met somebody without knowing what they really looked like, apart from a brief description that they or maybe the friend that set you up in the first place told you. And we all know people are big fat liars. Maybe the friend had shown you a photograph? But there was no checking on facebook or other social media to get a preview of the person you were meeting blindly.

I don’t know if blind dates can even exist anymore.

Anyway, let’s go back a hundred years ago to nineteen-aught-ninety (or 1990, if you’d rather). My good friend set me up on a blind date. She said he was cute, a hairdresser (no stereotype comments from the peanut gallery, please), and had a lot of money. That’s all I knew. Maybe I spoke to him first? Not sure, but it was arranged we would meet for sushi somewhere in Portsmouth, NH. I was fresh out of college and still living with my parents at the time. Naturally, since sushi is not very filling, I ate first. My mom had made spaghetti and I was pretty stuffed by the time I met they guy—Paul? Let’s call him Paul. I got ready to go—I still remember the Madras plaid shorts and white sweater I wore.

Paul and I were walking around Prescott Park (he was cute, in a Woodstock sort of way—you know, Snoopy’s yellow bird friend, as I remember) and he asked if I wanted to get stoned. Duh. So, we lit one up and it was the paranoid kind of weed. He told me we weren’t going to sushi after all. Instead, he’d made reservations at this really fancy, intimate place on Ceres Street that I’d heard about but had never met anyone who’d dared to enter. This was about the time when the paranoia started in.

The restaurant was beautiful, everything on the menu was terribly expensive, and I felt very underdressed and stupid in my shorts and probably my flip flops (again, this was in a galaxy far, far away, when dressing for dinner used to matter). I was also really stoned but I wasn’t hungry at all, thanks to the platter of spaghetti I’d had at home. I didn’t even have the munchies. I couldn’t decide on anything to order and think I said I just wanted a salad or something, but Paul kept pushing me to eat—we were out at dinner, after all. 

Then a different level of paranoia kicked in—did he think I was shy about ordering anything because I couldn’t afford it? I couldn’t, of course, having just been released from college, but apart from that, I really didn’t have room for another bite. The waiter came back a few times while I decided and finally, I relented. “I’ll just have the Lobster Thermidor,” I said, choosing the most expensive and arguably one of the bigger dishes on the menu.

I managed to finish it; all but licked the plate, in fact. It was delicious.

We may have had dessert, but honestly, I don’t know if we even had a little kiss before saying goodnight. (Maybe…?) He was a really nice guy though and we had a good time, but I at least just didn’t feel any real click. I did see him in passing once again, we had a great chat a few months later at a party thrown by the mutual friend who’d set us up.

He did pay for dinner, by the way, of course—he was a gentleman and as the restaurant was his choice, he took care of the check.

I don’t know why I never came clean and just told him how stoned I was and how I’d eaten a full dinner beforehand. I still have the shorts and sweater, although I never wore them again and have no idea why I’ve kept them after all these years.

But—I do know I still love lobster. And here’s how to make your own Lobster Thermidor. I recommend sorting and preparing your ingredients beforehand, according to the steps.

HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY!

Lobster Thermidor
Ingredients
STEP 1
3 cups dry white wine
1 large onion, thinly sliced
1 medium carrot, thinly sliced
1 stalk celery, thinly sliced
6 sprigs fresh parsley
1 bay leaf
1/4 teaspoon thyme
6 peppercorns
1 tablespoon dried tarragon
3 (2 lb) live lobsters

STEP 2
1/2 lb sliced fresh mushrooms
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt

STEP 3 - the sauce
5 tablespoons butter
6 tablespoons flour
1 tablespoon cream

STEP 4
4-6 tablespoons additional whipping cream

STEP 5
4 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup cognac

STEP 6
1/2 cup grated parmesean
2 tablespoons butter, cut into pieces

Instructions
STEP 1) 

In a large enameled or stainless steel pot, simmer the white wine, onion, carrot, celery, parsley, bay leaf, thyme, peppercorn, and tarragon for 15 minutes. (wait to add the lobsters!)
Bring to a rolling boil and then add the live lobsters. Once the lobsters are cooked (you can tell when they are done once they turn bright red and the long head-feelers can be pulled out pretty easily), remove them from the pot.

STEP 2) 

While the lobsters are steaming, stew the mushrooms over low to medium low heat in a covered saucepan with butter, lemon juice, and salt for 10 minutes.
Pour the mushroom juices into the lobster-juices pot (not the mushrooms! set aside for end of recipe) and boil down rapidly until it is reduced to about 2 1/4 cups liquid.
Strain the lobster-mushroom liquid into a large saucepan and bring to a simmer.

STEP 3) 

In another saucepan, cook the butter and flour together slowly. Be sure not to brown it!
Remove from heat, and beat in the lobster-mushroom liquid.
Boil combined liquid, stirring constantly for 1 minute. Drizzle the 1 tablespoon cream on top of the sauce. Remove from heat.
Split the lobsters in half, lengthwise, making sure to keep the shell halves intact. Discard 'sand sacks' in the heads and intestines.

STEP 4) 

Thin out the sauce with additional whipping cream (by now the sauce should be thick enough to coat a spoon pretty heavily).
Set aside, top filmed with a spoonful of cream.
Remove the meat from the lobster tails and claws, cut into 3/8 inch cubes.

STEP 5) 

Set another skillet with 4 tablespoons butter over medium heat.
When butter foam begins to dissipate, stir in the lobster meat and saute, stirring slowly, for 5 minutes, until the meat has turned a rosy color.
Pour the cognac in and boil for a minute or two, shaking the skillet, until the liquid has been reduced by half.

STEP 6)

Preheat oven to 425°F.
Fold cooked mushrooms and 2/3 of the sauce into the skillet with the lobster meat.
Arrange the split lobster shells on a shallow roasting pan. Heap the lobster mixture into the shells, and cover with the remaining sauce.
Sprinkle with cheese and dot with butter (you can refrigerate it at this point to finish up later on).
Place in upper 1/3 of the oven for 10-15 minutes, until lobster is bubbling and sauce is a nice brown. 

Serve immediately!

The recipe posted on Food was adapted from Julia Child. 

Spring Chicken!

I like the seasons to dictate my menus, using fruits and vegetables when at their peak. And rhubarb (from the latter category) is rarin’ to go right now. This recipe tempers the bitterness of rhubarb with a few tablespoons of honey. The resulting vibrant dish is super flavorful, and as easy as it is quick, leaving you more time to leave the kitchen and enjoy the spring!

If you like it sweet, think about adding some hulled, sliced strawberries to the mix in Step 4, when you toss the rhubarb and onions once about halfway through. And although either cilantro or mint is suggested as a garnish, I am team mint all the way. Lots of it.

Rhubarb Chicken with Rhubarb & Red Onion
Adapted from Melissa Clark, NYT Cooking

Serves 3-4

Ingredients
1¾ pounds bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs and drumsticks (see Tip)
1teaspoon ground coriander
1teaspoon kosher salt (such as Diamond Crystal), plus more as needed
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more as needed
1large red onion, cut into ½-inch-thick wedges
5 thyme sprigs
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more as needed
8 ounces rhubarb stalks, sliced into ½-inch pieces (about 2 cups)
3 tablespoons honey, plus more to taste
½ cup cilantro or mint leaves and tender stems, torn 

Preparation
Step 1
Heat oven to 425 degrees and line sheet pan with parchment paper. Pat chicken dry with paper towels and season all over with coriander, 1 teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper.

Step 2
Place onion wedges on the prepared sheet pan and lightly season with more salt and pepper. Add chicken and thyme sprigs to the pan and drizzle 3 tablespoons oil over everything. Toss until well coated, then spread chicken and onions in a single layer. Roast for 10 minutes.

Step 3
While the chicken is in the oven, combine rhubarb and 3 tablespoons honey in a medium bowl. Lightly drizzle with oil, add a pinch of salt and pepper, and toss until rhubarb is well coated.

Step 4
Remove chicken from oven and carefully spoon rhubarb onto the hot pan around the onions and chicken. Continue roasting until the chicken is cooked through, and the rhubarb and onion are tender and caramelized, 25 to 35 minutes longer, tossing the rhubarb and onions (not the chicken) once about halfway through.

Step 5
Stir the rhubarb and onions very well, making sure to incorporate all the browned bits and chicken juices from the bottom of the pan (this is the tastiest part). Then sample a piece of rhubarb. If it’s very tart, drizzle with a little more honey, tossing well. Serve chicken with rhubarb-onion mixture garnished with herbs.

Tip
You can substitute bone-in, skin on-breasts for the thighs and drumsticks. Just start checking 10 minutes earlier since white meat takes less time to cook than dark meat.

“I loved rhubarb... Not everyone was a fan, especially of the bitter, mushy, overcooked version. Yet sometimes a little bitterness could bring out the best in other flavors. Bitter rhubarb made sunny-day strawberry face the realities of life―and taste all the better for it.” ― Judith Fertig, The Memory of Lemon

Photo Credit: David Malosh for The New York Times

BOOK/A TABLE - A Very Literary Cocktail

I list the American Bar at The Savoy and Rules (both in London) among my favorite places in the world that I know. Napoleon House in New Orleans is another. So I was thrilled to come across a mention of The Savoy in Anthony Horowitz’s Marble Hall Murders, brought to life by his depiction of it: 

“The revolving doors spun me into another world that began with the entrance hall and its black-and-white tiled floor, the black-and-white columns and the brilliant flower displays on black marble tables. I asked for Leyla Crace at the concierge desk and was directed to the American Bar...”

Marble Hall Murders is the third installment in the Atticus Pünd series—the PBS adaptations of the first two books are also marvelous. In the scene at The Savoy, Horowitz’s heroine, editor Susan Ryeland orders a drink: “The waiter arrived with my cocktail. By now, I needed it...The Jabberwock Sour was ice-cold, very dry, golden-coloured, with a twist of lemon.”

I was immediately intrigued because I had never heard of The Jabberwock Sour, had missed seeing it even in my own copy of The Savoy Cocktail Book, where it is more humbly tagged as a Jabberwock Cocktail. Suffice to say, my test kitchen (aka my husband) found it utterly delightful, as did I, concocting the non-alcoholic version, which still feels like a real drink. 

Here is an image from Lewis Carroll’s vision of the original Jabberwock from Through the Looking Glass, which also resembles a wicked hangover:

And here’s an extraordinarily fun image from the cocktail book itself; I love the sloe-eyed flapper slinking around a overflowing casket of jewels that may or may not belong to her!

Jabberwock Cocktail*
2 Dashes Orange Bitters.
1/3 Dry Gin.
1/3 Dry Sherry.
1/3 Caperitif.

Stir well and strain into cocktail glass. Squeeze lemon peel on top.

*This will make you gyre and gimble in the wabe until brillig all right, all right.

For the non-alcoholic version, look to Tanqueray 0.0 to replace the gin, Lyre Aperitif Rosso for the sherry, and dashes of Roots Divino and Pentire Coastal Spritz to step in for the suggested Caperitif. 

BOOK/A TABLE - Pea Soup and Mint Jelly

The very thought of fresh mint bouquets fills my head with bright notions of spring, the approaching Kentucky Derby (always the first Saturday of May), and Mint Juleps.* In New York, we’ve had a wonderful spring that has actually felt like a real transitional season, instead of an amorphous gray sheet of rain lasting until somewhere around Memorial Day. Summer has already felt like it is just a breath away.

I love this quote from Elizabeth von Arnim’s The Enchanted April: “Mrs. Fisher...had a curious sensation, which worried her, of rising sap. She knew the feeling, because she had sometimes had it in childhood in specially swift springs, when the lilacs and the syringas seemed to rush out into blossom in a single night, but it was strange to have it again after over fifty years. Yet oftener and oftener, and every day more and more, did Mrs. Fisher have a ridiculous feeling as if she were presently going to burgeon.”

The following recipe for Pea Soup and Mint Jelly is perfect for the blossoming season, and any personal burgeoning is certainly encouraged as well.

Marc Veyrat, a French chef who appeared on Martha Stewart Living nearly thirty years ago, showed us how it’s done. I’ve never forgotten the episode and have recreated the soup many times since myself. Using fragrant mint leaves and bright green peas, it’s a stunning, completely refreshing soup to be sipped out of a glass!

Although the recipe calls for pouring hot pea soup over the firm minted jelly, suspended above in a separate layer, I like to chill the soup first before topping with the jelly. I also like it served with long, elegant spoons. 

Fresh Pea Soup and Mint Jelly
Adapted from marthastewart.com
Serves 8
Ingredients
6 1/2 cups vegetable broth
60 mint leaves
2 tablespoons creme de menthe
2 gelatin packets
1/2 medium leek, well washed and thinly sliced
2 teaspoons unsalted butter
4 pounds fresh peas, shelled
Coarse salt

Method
In a medium saucepan, bring 4 cups vegetable broth to a boil. Cook until reduced to 1 1/3 cups. Add mint and creme de menthe. Using a handheld immersion blender, puree to break up the mint leaves. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve.

Add gelatin packets to broth mixture, and stir to dissolve. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into eight 5- to 6-ounce heat-proof glasses. Each glass should be one-third full. Transfer glasses to freezer, and chill until just set, about 10 minutes (I find it takes more like 20 minutes or so).

Combine leek, butter, and peas in a medium saucepan. Add remaining 2 1/2 cups vegetable broth. Bring to a boil, and simmer until peas are tender, about 10 minutes.

Using a handheld immersion blender, puree soup until smooth. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve. Season with salt. Remove glasses from freezer. Pour hot soup over minted jelly. Wait 4 minutes, and serve immediately. Giddyap!



*For a non-alcoholic julep, try mixing your concoction with Ritual Zero Proof whisky alternative!

Chicken Breasts Chasseur

I met renowned French chef Alain Sailhac at The French Culinary Institute and we got along rather well, so he came to my apartment a number of years ago to help me properly prepare Sole Meunière for what I intended to be a fine dinner party.

P.S. A disaster. 

Perhaps it is better to say the dish came out fine, but the evening hardly went as swimmingly as I’d hoped. More recently, I tried his recipe for Chicken Breasts Chasseur. This was done all by myself, and I had an infinitely more enjoyable evening. I love this dish elegantly composed of tarragon, shallots, and cognac because it’s impressive and yet not too complicated.

Butchers don’t seem to carry veal bones these days, and veal stock or veal demi-glace is all but non-existent. I subbed half mushroom stock and beef stock to make up the veal stock in the recipe. 

I suggest serving your chasseur with roasted potatoes and a simply dressed green salad!

Chicken Breasts Chasseur (Supremes de Volaille Chasseur)*
Ingredients
4 bone-in chicken breasts with skin (6 ounces each)
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 medium carrot, chopped
1/2 cup chopped onions
2 cups brown veal stock (I used half mushroom stock and half Better Than Bouillon beef stock)
2 cups sliced button mushrooms
2 shallots, minced
2 tablespoons cognac
1/2 cup dry white wine
2 tablespoons chopped fresh tarragon

Directions
Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Season the chicken with the salt and pepper. Warm 1 teaspoon of the oil in a large nonstick saute pan over medium heat. Carefully, lay the chicken breasts, skin side down, in the pan. Sear for 3 minutes, or until the skin has nicely browned. Transfer the chicken, skin side up, to a nonstick jelly-roll pan. Reserve the saute pan.

Bake the chicken for 20 minutes, or until the juices run clear when the chicken is pierced with a knife.

While the chicken is cooking, remove most of the fat from the saute pan. Add the carrots and onions to the pan. Saute over medium heat for 3 minutes, or until the vegetables begin to caramelize. Add the stock and raise the heat to high. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium. Simmer for 10 minutes, or until the liquid has reduced by half. Strain through a fine sieve into a small bowl; skim off any fat that rises to the surface.

Warm the remaining 1 teaspoon oil in a medium saute pan over medium heat. Add the mushrooms and shallots. Saute for 5 minutes, or until the mushrooms are golden. Season with the salt. Remove the pan from the heat and add the cognac. Carefully ignite the cognac with a long match. Allow the flame to burn out, then add the wine. Return the pan to the heat.

Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to medium and simmer for 10 minutes, or until the liquid has reduced by half. Add the reserved stock and simmer for 5 minutes, or until the sauce is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Stir in the tarragon. Taste and adjust the seasoning.

Remove the skin from the chicken breasts. Carefully cut the breast meat from the breast bone and then cut each breast, on the diagonal, into 2 pieces. Place a divided chicken in the center of each of 4 warm dinner plates.

*Recipe courtesy of The French Culinary Institute’s Salute to Healthy Cooking by Alain Sailhac, Jacques Pepin, Andre Soltner, International Culinary Center, Jacques Torres

COOKBOOK/A TABLE - Curried Mushroom Soup with Rosie!

Rosie’s back! I have spoken of my love of Oprah’s former personal chef Rosie Daley, and in particular, her Unfried Chicken. Daley’s cookbook In the Kitchen with Rosie really taught me a whole methodology of how to prepare food when I was just beginning to cook for myself. She also enlightens us with tricks to keep recipes...light and ways to eat healthier. 

This recipe for curried mushroom soup has been on the back burner for a while—too long! It’s low in fat, easy to make, and so tasty too. 

In the mood for more mushrooms? Click here for a toothsome mushroom lasagna, here for a duxelles preparation—and read about my first dubious experience with mushrooms here!

Curried Mushroom Soup
Ingredients
2 cups boiling water
1 cup dried oysters
1 cup morel
1cup porcini mushroom
1 1⁄2 cups chopped leeks, white part only
2 tablespoons flour
1 tablespoon curry powder
4 cups skim milk
1 chicken bouillon cube
2 cups chopped fresh portabella mushrooms
4 cups chopped fresh shiitake mushrooms
1 tablespoon dry sherry
1 tablespoon chopped fresh chervil (if you can’t find chervil, a blend of parsley and tarragon works out nicely)

Directions
Pour the boiling water, the oysters and dried mushrooms in a bowl and set aside to soak.

Preheat a heavy stockpot over medium heat for about 1 minute, then spray it twice with the vegetable oil. Add the leeks and sauté for about 3 minutes, stirring constantly, until translucent. Add the flour and curry powder. Stir with a wooden spoon until the leeks are well coated. Add the milk and bouillon cube. Raise the heat to high and cook just until bubbles begin to form around the edge.

Reduce the heat to low and whisk until all ingredients are thoroughly combined. Stir in the fresh mushrooms and cook for 5 minutes.

Meanwhile remove the reconstituted mushrooms from their soaking liquid, strain, squeeze out excess moisture, and roughly chop. Add to the stockpot and cook for 1 minute more. Stir in the sherry.

Garnish with the chopped chervil.

Do enjoy!

Steak Diane Keaton

Oh, if only Diane Keaton had been in The Deer Hunter, I could have tied together this post about venison steaks and the legendary actress that much easier.

But how about this:

After living in Manhattan for so long, every corner has become a memory, a friend; every crosswalk, a chance to step back in time. I always think of Diane Keaton in the scene above from Woody Allen’s Manhattan Murder Mystery whenever I walk past The National Arts Club (below), where it was filmed. Sad as it was to lose her last year, for me, she will always be seated in that window, looking out over Gramercy Park.

I’ve stopped into the exclusive club a few times too, having been invited to some event or other—I seem to recall a bartender who, appropriately enough, made a pretty mean Manhattan. 

But apart from Miss Keaton, we are here to discuss venison steak, perfect for those still nippy days that intervene with spring! We ordered our venison from the always reliable D’Artagnan site, but you can certainly pick up a petit filet from your butcher instead. I certainly appreciate making any dish that requires it be lit on fire and Steak Diane (as well as this variation with venison here) fits the bill, served in a deeply flavored, creamy mustard sauce. 

Diane Keaton is not the Diane for whom this dish is named of course, but I wanted to share a little slice of my Manhattan with you while paying tribute to an iconic lady who gave us such a lovely light.

Venison Steak Diane
Ingredients
1 Tbsp butter

1 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
(4) 6-oz. center-cut venison tenderloin, ¾-inch thick (loin or top sirloin) or petit filet!
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
½ cup onion, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
1 cup mushrooms, diced
¼ cup cognac or other brandy
2 tsp Dijon mustard
2 tsp tomato paste
⅓ cup heavy cream (substitute evaporated skim milk to lighten things up)
⅓ cup veal demi-glace (try beef stock, mushroom stock, or consommé)

2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 Tbsp scallions, finely chopped
1 tsp flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

Directions
1. In a large skillet, melt butter with olive oil. Pat the meat dry with a paper towel. Season meat with salt and pepper, and cook over high heat until lightly browned on the bottom, about one minute (do not turn or move steaks). Turn steaks and cook for one minute on the second side, then remove and tent in foil.

2. Add shallot and garlic to skillet and cook over medium-low heat, stirring, until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add mushrooms and cook until softened, about two minutes—transfer contents into a bowl.

3. Remove the pan from heat and add the cognac. Carefully ignite it and ensure there is nothing overhead. Let it burn for 20 seconds and stir the flames out. Add the mustard, tomato paste and cream, and stir until simmering on the edges. Stir in the veal demiglace, Worcestershire sauce, scallions and parsley, and stir to heat. Add the mushrooms and shallots.

4. Add meat and any juices to the pan and bring to a simmer for about one minute. Plate the meat and cover with sauce. Steaks can be sliced or served whole.

Dirt For Dinner

In honor of April Fool’s Day, I thought I’d share some of my foolish, food-ish notions...and a few recipe ideas!

I don’t mind telling you I ate dirt once. I was about five or so and I wanted to. I also used to wash my own mouth out with soap. In the event that I ever sassed my parents and was to be punished, I wanted to be prepared for the taste. Same went for when I would eat stale bread with a glass of water, in case I was ever thrown into jail. Also I had great plans for eventually opening a restaurant comprised only of marshmallows, served any way my clientele wished—lightly browned, a good fire on, or burned. Oh yes, left much to my own devices as a youth, I had a vivid interior life.

I held a couple of waiter jobs when I was in college and was terrible at it. As it wasn’t up to me to cook the food, I wasn’t overly concerned if it never made it to any of the customers’ tables in a timely manner. I was too busy anyway scarfing down the lobster meat from the walk-in refrigerator at one place and devouring chocolate peanut butter pie off the dessert cart at another. 

I learned some things though during those particular posts. I would recreate at home some of the dishes I served such as boboli crusts baked with gooey cheese, chopped fresh tomatoes, and crispy bacon, along with a few spoonfuls of indecent sour cream. I still love that. Once when I was a kitchen fledgling, I called my friend after I’d bought a chicken. I asked for any suggestions as to what to do with it. She suggested a sprinkling of lemon pepper in a 350 degree oven for 40 minutes or so depending on the size of the bird. Brilliant! 

But I never made a real meal until I was in my early 20’s. It was an asparagus souffle from the pages of the Silver Palate cookbook. I would call it successful, but having tried my hand at souffles subsequently over the years, let’s just call it beginner’s luck.

Working from home, I sometimes forget to eat. But even when I remember, I exercise portion control: I try everything on my plate, but I don’t eat all of it. Unless it’s absolutely astounding.

Thankfully I figured out how to cook and got a feel for creating a meal through persistence and experimentation, discovering what goes with what. My dinner guests are the better for it too and eagerly rush over, knowing I will earnestly try to serve them something else other than dirt for dinner.

BOOK/A TABLE - Halibut Burgers Dugléré

Going through books I’d read and probably no longer needed to keep in my already overstuffed bookshelves, I came across The Pigeon by Patrick Süskind (also author of the fantastically creepy Perfume: The Story of a Murderer). Before parting with it, I flipped through the pages and found I had tagged the following quote:

“People went off to drink an aperitif, to go to a restaurant, to go home. The air was soft with a slight fragrance of flowers. It had grown quiet. Paris was eating.”

Gorgeous! Now, how could I leave that book to languish in my building’s lending library in the laundry room?

I also thought the quote was an ideal accompaniment for my Halibut Dugléré recipe, inspired by French Chef Adolphe Dugléré, who toiled famously at the Café Anglais in 1866. He created Pommes Anna as well as Fish Dugléré made with his classic vin blanc sauce of wine, tomatoes, and parsley.

I created a variation of Fish Dugléré (the more elaborate recipe is below and linked here) by using pre-packaged halibut burgers and streamlining the rest for those evenings when you’d like something nice to serve, but don’t necessarily have a lot of time. My apologies to the great Chef Dugléré, who might have taken umbrage with such shortcuts!

Start by making the fish fumet (a concentrated, aromatic fish stock) or as I call mine, the much simpler faux fumet. This will be added to your sauce, which is similar to a tomato bruschetta. Also, I used evaporated lowfat milk to give body to the sauce, without all the fat from heavy whipping cream.

Halibut Burgers Dugléré

Serves 2

Ingredients
1 small can diced tomatoes
2 TB butter
2 teaspoons flour
1 cup faux fumet*
2 teaspoons chopped parsley
¼ cup evaporated lowfat milk

Salt
2 halibut burgers (or other fish patty, such as salmon), cooked according to packaging

Melt butter in a frying pan on medium heat, stir in flour, and cook for 2-3 minutes. Add tomatoes and faux fumet, bring to a simmer, and cook for 3-5 minutes more. Add parsley and heat, then stir in condensed skim, but do not let boil. Finish with a pinch of salt.

Plate the fish and top with the sauce. Bon appetit!

*Faux Fumet (simple fish stock):
Ingredients
2 lbs fish bones
Peel of lemon, pith removed
5 peppercorns
Handful of frozen or fresh onions, chopped
Handful of frozen or fresh carrots, chopped

Handful of torn parsley 
2 bay leaves
Salt, to taste

Method
Cover fish bones with water in a large pot. Add other fumet ingredients and do something else while it simmers for about an hour; strain and set aside.

Fish Dugléré
Serves 4 
Ingredients
1.2 to 1.4 kg of round fresh white fish that can be filleted
20 g (0.7 oz) of butter
20 g (0.7 oz)of shallot (finely diced)
40 g (1.4 oz) of onions ( finely diced
400 g (14 oz) of tomatoes (skinned seeded and diced)
20 g (0.7 oz) chopped parsley
50 ml (1.7 fl oz) of white wine
300 ml (10 fl oz) pure cream (heavy whipping cream)

To make the fish stock:
20 g (0.7 oz) of plain butter
20 g (0.7 oz) of shallots (finely diced)
40 g (1.4 oz) of onions (finely diced)
40 g (1.4 oz) of carrots (roughly diced)
1 small handful of mushroom trimmings
Remaining fishbones from filleting the fish
1 bouquet garni
1/2 tsp of black peppercorns
1 tsp of salt
200 ml (6.8 fl oz) of white wine
Water to just cover the fish bones

Method
Start by washing, peeling and cutting the vegetables.

To make the chopped tomatoes: plunge the tomatoes into boiling water for 30 seconds then take them out and plunge them into icy water. The skin should detach easily with a knife. Remove the skin, cut the tomatoes in half and remove the seeds with a teaspoon. Roughly chop the tomatoes.

Wash and clean the fish and cut the fins with kitchen shears. Pat the fish dry and then fillet each fish. Transfer the fish filets to a container and keep covered in the fridge.

Keep the fish bones in a pan with cold water ready to make the fish stock.

To prepare the fish fumet, place a large sauce pan on the stove on medium heat and melt the butter until it starts to foam.

Add the vegetables and cook for 2 minutes. Drain the fish bones and add them to the pan mixing well.

Pour in the white wine followed by enough water to just cover the fish bones. Add the bouquet garni and the salt and pepper.

Bring the stock to the boil then simmer for 25 minutes uncovered.

Filter the stock through a sieve into a separate container and leave to cool down.

While the stock is cooling down, prepare the rice, potatoes or sides you plan to serve with the fish,

To cook the fish, coat the bottom of a a deep saute pan or large stainless saucepan with butter followed by some salt and pepper. Then sprinkle in the shallots, onions and parsley.

Place the fish filet over the garnish next to each other and pour in the wine (avoid pouring the wine directly on the fish filets to avoid them turning a dark greyish colour). Add some cold fish stock, 3 quarters of the way up to the fish filets. Then cover the fish with a circle of baking paper which will act as a lid.

Turn the heat to medium and bring slowly to a simmer. As soon as the stock is simmering, transfer the pan to a preheated oven at 170°C/338°°F and cook for a maximum of 5 to 6 minutes.

As soon as the fish is out of the oven start making the sauce. Things have to happen quickly as your fish will starting cooling down.

Transfer the fish cooking juices to a clean large bottom pan (this will facilitate the reduction).

Reduce the the cooking juices to a syrupy consistency on high heat and then add the cream. Reduce by half until the sauce starts to thicken. Add the chopped tomatoes and stir gently taking care not to colour the sauce too much with the tomatoes.

Turn the heat off and add 20 grams of butter, stirring gently until the butter is melted into the sauce.

Serve immediately on individual plates or in a dish.

The Clue in the Laundry Room

I have this memory of a book about house plants my first grade teacher Ms. B. had. She was also growing an avocado on her desk, which was right next to mine. During Reading Time, I remember being interested in her book more than my own, staring fascinated at some sort of frilly greens on the cover. I can picture her too, with the gentle sunlight on her shoulders, as she read her book of plants. There was something so civilized about it, seems to me now. I was also quite curious about that avocado pit she had stuck with toothpicks and suspended over a glass of water.

Flash forward to roughly fifty years later. While perusing our building’s lending library in the laundry room, my attention was drawn to the spine of a book lettered in green. I felt a slight tingle. Investigating further, I saw it was Joan Lee Faust’s Book of House Plants, a title unfamiliar to me and yet, was it...? I suddenly thought it might the same book my teacher once had. I slid it out of the shelf, and noted it was published in 1973, just about the time I was in first grade. And there were instructions inside about how to grow an avocado from a pit!

I called my mother (a.k.a. the Miss Marple of my hometown in NH) who is still friendly with Ms. B. Mom was happy to tackle the case and asked my teacher if she knew what book I was talking about. She did. It was certainly Joan Lee Faust’s Book of House Plants that I had gazed upon in the first grade. What are the chances of that? She still had her time-worn copy, too—and was more than happy to send it to me, perhaps somewhat astonished that I remembered the whole thing at all.

Although I have yet to grow my own avocado plant, I delight in this fresh as spring avocado and grapefruit salad a friend once made for me when I was still learning my way around the kitchen. It is so  simple to make, yet deliciously clever enough to truly impress your guests!

And just to be clear, homegrown avocados are great, but in this case, store-bought will do just fine.

Grapefruit, Avocado and Arugula Salad

Ingredients
1 small pink grapefruit (or perhaps a jar, if you’d rather)
1 small or 1/2 large avocado
1-1/2 cups baby arugula or mixed lettuces
2 tsp walnut or hazelnut oil
1-2 tsp aged balsamic vinegar
Coarse salt and fresh ground pepper

Method
With a sharp knife, cut off the ends of the grapefruit and slice off the peel and pith. Working over a bowl (it saves the juice and cuts way down on mess) cut into segments by slicing on either side of each piece of membrane to release the slices. If the grapefruit sections are very big, cut in half lengthwise. (If you’re doing this ahead of time, leave the segments in the juice so they don’t dry out.)

Just before serving, cut, peel and slice the avocado. Lay it cut side down on the board and slice into 5 or 6 slices.

To serve, divide the arugula or lettuce between two salad plates. Interleave the grapefruit and avocado slices over the greens (depending on the size of your grapefruit, you may have more grapefruit than avocado).

Drizzle with the oil and balsamic, then sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Do enjoy! (And thanks to Ms. B., a wonderful teacher and a true inspiration!)

BOOK/A TABLE - Cabbage Tarte Tatin

With the advent of St. Patrick’s Day, we find the first day of spring around the corner (next week!) and hopefully, the Blizzard of 2026 far behind us. This savory tarte tatin, dressed up with white balsamic, thyme, Dijon mustard, and Gruyère is a perfect use of the cabbage so closely associated with the holiday. And this quote furnished from my mother’s copy (1901!) of Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch by Alice Caldwell Hegan delightfully sums up the eagerness we feel with the change of season.

“But the Cabbage Patch knew it was spring, nevertheless; something whispered it in the air, a dozen little signs gave the secret away; weeds were springing up in the fence corners, the puddles which a few months ago were covered with ice now reflected bits of blue sky, warm sunshine that clung to the earth as if to love it back into beauty and life again.”

Now, although Mrs. Wiggs lived in the Cabbage Patch, it was not an actual patch of cabbage, but rather a ‘queer neighborhood where ramshackle cottages played hop-scotch over the railroad tracks.’ 

I hope you do enjoy this Cabbage Tarte Tatin in whichever patch you may find yourself celebrating St. Patrick’s Day. Also, consider this Guinness Beef Stew with Horseradish Cream—with Chocolate Guinness Cake for a staggering conclusion!

Cabbage Tarte Tatin
Serves 8

Ingredients
1/2 refrigerated store-bought pie dough 
1/2 cup granulated sugar (4 ounces; 113 g)
6 tablespoons white balsamic vinegar (3 ounces; 90 ml), divided
2 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 ounce; 28 g)
1 tablespoon (15 ml) Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme leaves, plus more for garnish
1 1/2 teaspoons (5 g) Diamond Crystal kosher salt; for table salt, use half as much by volume or the same weight
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 small green cabbage head (2 to 3 pounds; 908 to1.3 kg), cut into 1-inch wedges with core intact
1 tablespoon (14 g) unsalted butter, softened
2 ounces (56 g) Gruyère cheese, shredded (1/2 cup)

Directions
Remove dough from packaging, and transfer to a large, flat plate lined with parchment, or another similar arrangement. Working around circumference, fold 1/2 inch of dough over itself and pinch to create 9-inch round with raised rim. Cut three 2-inch slits in center of dough, and refrigerate.

Meanwhile, preheat oven to 400°F (200°C). Place sugar and 2 tablespoons (30ml) of the vinegar in a 10-inch oven-safe stainless-steel skillet; heat over low, undisturbed, swirling and tilting pan occasionally, until mixture is light golden brown, 12 to 15 minutes. Increase heat to medium-low; swirl in butter, Dijon, thyme, salt, black pepper, and remaining 4 tablespoons (60ml) vinegar; cook, stirring often, until thick and deep golden, 7 to 9 minutes. Remove from heat, pour in even layer into bottom of a 13-by 9-inch baking dish; clean and dry skillet. Place cabbage wedges in baking dish, overlapping as needed. (They won’t fit in an even layer, but will shrink as they cook). Bake, gently turning wedges every 20 minutes, until very tender and golden brown, about 1 hour.

Line a baking sheet with paper towels. Using a slotted spoon or slotted fish spatula, transfer cabbage to the prepared baking sheet, arranging wedges in an even layer, and allow drain. Discard remaining liquids from baking dish. Using clean paper towels, firmly press cabbage wedges to soak up any excess moisture.

Grease cleaned skillet with softened butter; arrange roasted cabbage wedges tightly in an even layer in rose pattern: Beginning in center of skillet, place small leaves/bits, slightly overlapping as needed; working out towards sides of pan, place cabbage wedges with narrow edge facing toward center, overlapping as needed until all wedges are used. Sprinkle evenly with Gruyère.

Carefully place pastry, rim side down, over cabbage, making sure it is centered and not touching skillet sides. Bake at 400°F until crust is golden brown, 30 to 35 minutes. Transfer skillet to wire rack set; let cool for 5 minutes. Run a sharp knife or small offset around edges to loosen; place a plate over skillet, carefully invert tarte tatin onto plate. Garnish with additional thyme; slice and serve immediately.

Kitchen Cupboard Duck

Instead of rescuing lost dogs or cats, my father would often return home with stray produce, such as sugar cane and pomegrantes, gathered up from the wilderness formerly known as the 1970’s supermarket. It was a way of encouraging us to be curious about trying new things. 

Similarly, my husband orders random kitchen gadgets online that show up at our door and he also brings home various stray cuts of meat when Whole Foods has 50% discounts (which is usually the last day of sale). Duck went on offer not too long ago and we made duck confit from the legs and froze the breasts. 

I was eager to get going when I found this super recipe for pan-fried duck breast from British celebrity chef and restaurateur Jamie Oliver. After scouring the cupboards for the few other ingredients, I set to work. We certainly already had the duck!

The dish features Oliver’s singular, simple style, which has alway found lots of flavor from a wild assortment of fresh herbs. Here, you’ll just need rosemary—and as I discovered, a tablespoon or so of fine herbes works just fine in a pinch.  

Pan-Fried Duck Breast
Ingredients
1 free-range duck breast (250g)
2 rashers of higher-welfare smoked streaky bacon (I used some leftover Polish bacon but any hearty strips will do)
2 cloves of garlic
2 sprigs of fresh rosemary (or a tablespoon or so of fine herbes)
Red wine vinegar
1 x 560g jar of white beans (a 15 oz can of butter beans worked out quite nicely)
100g spinach (I only had a bag of frozen green beans in the house, great substitute!)

Method
Score the skin of the duck breast at roughly one inch (2 cm) intervals, then season with sea salt and black pepper.

Place the duck skin-side down in a cold non-stick frying pan, then turn the heat on to medium-high. Cook for 8 minutes without moving it, or until the fat is well rendered and the skin is golden and crispy.

Meanwhile, finely chop the bacon. Peel and finely slice the garlic.

Turn the duck over and cook for 4 minutes on the other side, then remove to a plate to rest, leaving the pan of duck fat on the heat.

Sprinkle the bacon and garlic into the hot pan, strip in the rosemary leaves and cook for 2 minutes, or until golden, stirring regularly.

Add a splash of red wine vinegar and stir to pick up any sticky bits, then pour in the beans, juice and all. Simmer for a couple of minutes, then stir through the spinach until wilted (I added in the frozen green beans, simmering until warmed through).

Slice the duck breast at an angle. Divide the bean mixture between your plates and arrange the duck on top, spooning over any resting juices, to finish.

 

 

 

 

 

BOOK/A TABLE - A Simple Supper

When I’m fed up with take-out options (and delivery fees!) and don’t crave anything in particular, but still feel the need to be fed, I start freezer-diving, sifting through the bergs of various meats to see what’s available for supper. Following the selection of a worthy protein, I then try to utilize one of the cookbooks lining our kitchen shelves to find a recipe that features ingredients we already have on hand. 

In these last-minute instances, I don’t want to run out to the grocery store of course or make anything overly complicated: chicken breasts from the freezer and my good old reliable Barbara Pym Cookbook won a recent round.

I ended up making fragrant Chicken Tarragon, served with a side of canned lentils, and unboxed some Jell-O chocolate pudding for a finish. It was as simple as you’d suppose, and oh-so-tasty.

The lentils can be prepared with a bit of simmered white wine or broth, garlic, and a bay leaf thrown in, but if you have time and the inclination, try these gorgeous Lentilles du Puy. Should you wish to think outside of the Jell-O box, look to this Mousse au Chocolat.

From Barbara Pym’s Excellent Women, Mrs. Bone speaks most vividly of The Dominion of the Birds, that apocalyptic scenario where our avian friends end up ruling the roost: “I very much fear it may come to that...I eat as many birds as possible,” said Mrs. Bone when we were sitting down to roast chicken. “I have them sent from Harrods or Fortnum’s, and I sometimes go and look at them in the cold meats department. They do them up very prettily with aspic jelly and decorations. At least we can eat our enemies.”

Chew on that. Delicious!

 

 
Chicken with Tarragon
Ingredients
One chicken, cut into 8 pieces (I just used two chicken breasts)
3 tablespoons butter or oil
One small onion, chopped
One tablespoon flour
One glass white wine
Half cup chicken stock
Finely chopped tarragon leaves to taste (dried worked out well)
Salt and pepper to taste

Method
Sauteed chicken pieces in butter or oil until lightly browned. Removed to a platter and keep warm period in the same pan, sauteed chopped onion, stir in flour, and cook 2 to 3 minutes. Add wine, stock, tarragon, and seasonings. Cook to reduce somewhat. Return chicken pieces to pan, cover, and simmer in sauce 20 minutes. To serve, place chicken pieces on a platter and pour sauce over.

BOOK/A TABLE - French Onion White Bean Soup

Cooking is often one disaster after another, Julia Child once said (or something like it) and I was reminded of that very notion while making this vegetarian French Onion Soup from The New York Times. The melted butter for the crouton sauce curdled when I added mustard and when I opened the thrifty portion of shredded Gruyère cheese I’d been harboring in the fridge, I discovered the underbelly had gone green. 

French Onion Soup without cheese? Quelle horreur!

I threw out the curdled mess and brushed my croutons with plain melted butter instead and skipped the cheese all together (I wasn’t going out shopping for more). However, despite these setbacks, the dish turned out to be quite full-flavored, even without the cheese! The use of white beans laced with thyme is a genius idea and I heartily suggest you try it. 

The meal was just for me and my husband, not a panel of judges (or unruly acquaintances), so it would have hardly mattered if I’d just decided to scrap the whole thing and ordered pizza instead. I would have preferred to have made this particular recipe as written, but the point is that guests rarely need to be any the wiser of your culinary disasters. 

In other words: what happens in the kitchen stays the kitchen. 

And as I’m currently poring over Emile Zola’s L’Assommoir, how could I not include this quote from it? 

“‘Coo!’ remarked Coupeau when they reached the first floor landing, ‘it don’t half niff of onion soup! Somebody’s been having onion soup, that’s certain!’” 

Perhaps, Coupeau. But I doubt very much it was made with white beans! Do enjoy. 

French Onion White Bean Soup
By Hetty Lui McKinnon
Makes 4 servings

Ingredients
For the Soup
2 tablespoons salted or unsalted butter
4 medium yellow onions (about 2 pounds), thinly sliced
1 teaspoon thyme leaves (from 4 to 5 sprigs)
1 teaspoon sugar
Salt and pepper
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon soy sauce or tamari
4 cups vegetable stock
2( 14-ounce) cans white beans, such as cannellini or butter beans, drained

For the Gruyère Croutons
2 tablespoons salted or unsalted butter
1 teaspoon Dijon or whole-grain mustard
1 teaspoon thyme leaves (from 4 to 5 sprigs), plus more for garnish
Salt and pepper
½ pound bread, such as sourdough or ciabatta, cut into 1-inch chunks
3 ounces Gruyère cheese, finely grated

Preparation
Step 1
Prepare the soup: Melt the butter in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium-high. Once the butter has melted, add onions, thyme, sugar and 1 teaspoon salt, and stir to combine. Cover and cook, stirring every 2 minutes, until the onions are very soft and caramelized, about 20 minutes. If the onions start to burn, reduce heat to medium.

Step 2
Meanwhile, make the croutons: Heat the oven to 350 degrees and line a sheet pan with parchment paper. Place the butter in a large bowl and microwave on high for 30 to 45 seconds (or melt over medium heat in a small pot or skillet). To the butter, add the mustard and thyme, season with salt and black pepper, and whisk to combine. Add the bread pieces and toss very well until coated. Transfer the pieces to the lined sheet pan, spreading them out into a single layer, and scatter the cheese on top. Bake until golden, 16 to 18 minutes.

Step 3
Uncover the onions and add the balsamic vinegar and soy sauce. Stir the onions vigorously to deglaze the pan. Stir in the vegetable stock and the beans. Cover and cook on medium heat for 10 minutes. Season with salt and lots of pepper.

Step 4
To serve, ladle the soup into bowls, top with the croutons and scatter over thyme leaves.

 

Happy Valentine's Day!

 

“Emotions would be half starved if there were no candlelight.”

—Desperate Remedies, Thomas Hardy