Shouldn't You Just...?

Return the Tupperware that was filled with the leftovers your host gave to you after dinner, if only in the hope of being invited back again?

Modern advice on etiquette for the not-so-new millennium

Next Magazine Review - Mari Vanna

Imagine that your little Russian grandmamma had invited you into her elegant home for dinner…then take a deep breath and behold Mari Vanna. The food is often fantastic, but it’s the moments found in the gorgeous mismatched plates, the intricate linens, the drape of the lovingly lit chandeliers, and the careful placement of every storied detail that create a journey pulled from the pages of the Russian novels that line the bookshelves and graciously welcome all who enter this humble abode.

When in Russia, you know—we started with a few Vodkas ($9), one infused with tarragon and lemon, and another honey, and ventured further with some shots of the classic Russian Standard ($9) while gleefully slurping our Oysters ($4/ea), presented on a regal bed of shaved ice, with red wine vinegar mignonette and marinated horseradish. While the meaty Malpeques whispered slightly metallic, the slenderer Kumamotos spoke of a brisk plunge into the sea.

The Cod Liver Pate ($12) was certainly good, Pirozhki ($10) not so much, but the Blinis with Red Caviar ($25) stole the show anyhow—traditional blinis, similar to a thin crepe, were lightly brushed with butter and sugar. We made short work of the juicy caviar with a dollop of crème fraiche here, some chopped egg and onion there. If the fresh Vinegret ($12) beet and vegetable salad was like a stroll through a leafy glade, then the Vegetarian Svekolnik ($10) beet soup was like a gentle dip into a cool, refreshing pond nearby.

We loved the hearty (but pricy) portion of Chicken Kiev ($25), lightly breaded and tenderly cooked. Beef Stroganoff ($27) was another story, however: although it made a grand arrival in what appeared to be a Babushka-type tea cozy, alas it was regrettably bland, with indistinguishable mushrooms, and also just too expensive.

Smetannik ($10) with strawberries is a signature dessert, but I prefer to address it as an incredibly moist, creamy cloud. If we were dreaming something out of a Russian fairy tale, which would be easy to do at Mari Vanna, such a luscious confection would be the perfect thing to float away upon.

Sunday Meatloaf

Baby threw his back out, so he was alternately resting and sleeping this past Sunday. With not much to do apart from take care of him when he was awake, I grew bored and as I often do, I began to putter in the kitchen. We had just thawed some left over ground beef from one of our numerous meatball adventures, but hadn't decided what to do with it yet. So, I set to work to make dinner: Sunday Meatloaf with Tomato Jam for Two. For something so off the cuff, with ingredients we had on hand, it came out really well--and so did Baby, after a trip to the chiropractor Monday morning.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees

For the tomato jam:
1 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes (I had Ragu spaghetti sauce and used most of the jar)
2 garlic cloves, crushed

2 Tb olive oil

2 cloves
1/4 cup or so, honey

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

Saute the garlic in oil until golden. Add tomatoes. Simmer with cloves for about a 45 minutes (if you are using a jar of spaghetti sauce, as I did, this won't take as long). Remove from heat and add honey; stir in pepper and let thicken.

For the meatloaf:

1 lb. ground beef (we used short rib, rib eye, skirt steak meat)

About a cup of homemade bread crumbs

Roughly a 1/4 cup Old Bay Dip & Crisp seasoned bread crumbs (if you can't find this, just add more bread crumbs and some plain Old Bay seasoning)

1 egg

Several dashes of Penzey's Shallot Pepper

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

Mix the meatloaf ingredients together, form into a loaf and place into an appropriately sized baking dish, sprayed three times with fat free Pam. Glaze your meatloaf with the tomato jam and cook in the oven for about an hour.

In The Kitchen With Tadashi Ono - Halibut Hot Pot

I recently enjoyed a staggeringly good dinner at Tadashi Ono's cavernous Matsuri restaurant anchored in Manhattan's Maritime Hotel. He personally selected a recipe for a Halibut Hot Pot from his new book, Japanese Hot Pots, to be featured here. Domo Arigato Tadashi!
Halibut Hot Pot
Inspired by Ara Nabe (a variety of grouper from Fukuoka)

Serves 4

1 pound halibut fillet
1/4 teaspoon salt, plus more for curing the fish (to concentrate the flavor and make the fish denser)
2 (6-inch) pieces kombu
1 ounce harusame (thin, tranparent starchy noodles), soaked in water for 15 minutes
1/2 pound napa cabbage, sliced
1 negi (a Japanese onion, or sub two large scallions per negi), sliced on angle into 2-inch pieces
1/2 package (about 1/2 pound) firm tofu, cut into 4 pieces
6 ounces oyster mushrooms, trimmed and pulled apart
3 1/2 ounces (half of a 200-gram package) enoki mushrooms, trimmed and pulled apart
4 cups water
1 cup sake
1 cup ponzu (the sweet citrusy ponzu sauce may be found in Japanese markets), for dipping
1/4 cup momiji oroshi (a blend of Japanese chilies and daikon available in Japanese markets), for garnish
1/2 cup thinly sliced fresh chives, for garnish

To cure the halibut, very lightly salt it on both sides and place it in the refrigerator, loosely covered, for 30 minutes. Remove the fish, wipe off excess moisture on its surface with a paper towel, and cut into 1/2 inch thick slices. Set aside.
Place the kombu on the bottom of a hot pot and the harusame over the kombu. Place the cabbage, negi, tofu, oyster mushrooms, and enoki mushrooms on top of the harusame, arranging each ingredient in a separate, neat bunch. Pour in the 4 cups water and the sake, and sprinkle in the 1/4 teaspoon salt.
Cover the hot pot and bring it to a boil over high heat. Decrease the heat to medium and simmer for 5 minutes. Uncover the pot and arrange the halibut slices on top of the other ingredients. Simmer until the fish is cooked through, about 5 minutes more.
While the hot pot is simmering, pour the ponzu into four small bowls.
Transfer the hot pot ot the dining table. Garnish the ponzu with the momiji oroshi and the chives. Dip the ingredients into the ponzu, and eat.

Serve with rice zosui:
This is basically a soupy rice, a shime that typically complements thinner, more delicate broths. The technique is simple. For four servings, add 2 cups cooked Japanese short grain rice to the remaining broth in a hot pot. Bring to a boil over medium heat. As soon as the hot pot boils, turn off the heat, mix the contents well, and serve in individual bowls.

Variations:
You can also prepare this hot pot with cod, Chilean sea bass, turbot, pollack, North American grouper, or barramundi.

Tableside Cooking Option:
Arrange the ingredients on serving platters. After curing the halibut, do all the cooking at the dining table. Add the supporting ingredients all at once, or reserve half or more to cook later. Cook a little of the fish at a time.

To order Tadashi's marvelous book, click here or here!

The Waldorf=Astoria

Interior Design magazine is celebrating the 25th Anniversary of the Hall of Fame on December 2nd. I've had the privilege of working with the magazine and assisting the Director of the Hall of Fame in throwing the annual awards party at The Waldorf=Astoria since 2002. The glittery evening tops the list of events in the industry as the revered publication inducts select designers to join the ranks of their celebrated comrades, hosted by Interior Design's natty publisher Mark Strauss and vivacious editor in chief, Cindy Allen.

My favorite contribution to the always glorious night is creating the attire of the menu, suiting up what the guests will eat and the wines they'll drink. Reggie and I met in the lobby in the early afternoon, as we do, to meet with the gracious Jim Blauvelt, who once again led us to the belly of the Waldorf: the kitchen. We were seated at the chef's table and well taken care of as we worked out what was to be served this year.

We begged the staff to let us try some of the fried chicken that they happened to be cooking up for Bette Midler's Hula-Ween Ball. We actually got to try it this year even before The Divine Miss M did; one version was with buttermilk and lotsa pepper, flour and corn flakes. Another version added whole grain and Dijon mustard into the mix. Both were absolutely sumptuous and Hula-riffic.

Sips from a Canyon Ranch chardonnay, a Kenwood Sauvignon Blanc and a Bellerache Cotes du Rhone Blanc set the ball rolling as we lingered over our greens first and then other things, to wit:
Spinach Salad with pancetta, polenta croutons, hon shemijji mushrooms and a sherry vinaigrette; Organic Greens with a fantastic goat cheese brulee, an oven-roasted tomato, and carmelized endive with a honey lemon dressing; and a traditional Caesar Salad.

Tastes of red wine included a Cabernet, Pinot and California Zinfandel as we debated main courses.

Entree suggestions were Herb Roasted Chicken with sweet garlic and rosemary stock, with a side of ricotta gnocchi, smoky bacon and roasted root vegetables; Parmesan Crusted Chicken with morel risotto, asparagus and roasted tomato.

For desserts, we drooled over Classic Waldorf Red Velvet Cake with cream cheese and mascarpone icing; extraordinary Chocolate Griottines, a chocolate blackout cake with marscarpone mousse, sour cherry gelee and Rice Crispy pistachio crunch; over the top Peanut Butter and Caramel Mousse with a tres-leches center, white chocolate and peanut butter cookie crunch topped with a quenelle of whipped ganache.

So what did we choose?

There was no doubt that the crisp French Bellerache Cotes du Rhone Blanc was our white to pair with the meal; the others were fairly indiscriminate. The Dancing Bull Zinfandel from the Rancho Zabaco vineyard in California was the winner for the red.
Organic Greens won out over the other salads. Goat cheese brulee, anyone? The Caesar had a great dressing, but the romaine was pale and a far less appealing plate.
While the Herb Roasted Chicken was really good, and the ricotta gnocchi in cream sauce topped with the bacon was delicious, we'd served it in past years, so we embraced the new and went for the Parmesan Crusted Chicken. We chose a red onion marmalade to replace the roasted tomato that came with, as it was already in our salad, and would have been repetitive. I thought that was an excellent idea.
Classic Waldorf Red Velvet Cake had to be our dessert; it was created at the Waldorf after all and seemed entirely fitting. Besides the cream cheese and mascarpone icing had us dancing on the ceiling.

Citations to the most admirable crew that filled the kitchen on our wonderful afternoon:
Peter Orledda, executive sous chef
Peter Betz, executive banquet chef
William Lustburg, sous chef
Geron Douglas, saucier

A Fine Kettle of Fish

A little over a week ago, I observed Rosh Hashanah with Baby's family in Long Island, as I recently transcribed the events here, and this past Monday we broke the fast on Yom Kippur in Manhattan. Having been brought up as a Catholic, we'd have a single day of Christmas with a generally drunken bacchanal on the eve, and then we'd eat alot at Easter. Of course there is the trial of Lent where the Catholics are supposed to give up something like smoking, chocolate or soda for about a month prior but I don't think I really know anybody who ever did that. However, Baby's family and Jewish friends atone, fast and reflect and ultimately celebrate for what seems like weeks at a time.

I had been itching to make chicken livers with shallots and marsala and thought this might be a good thing to bring to the break fast--nothing like a good shot of iron, and a little wine, you know? I avoided somewhat of a gaffe when I spoke to our Yom Kippur hostess of my plan and she told me that meat is generally not eaten on this holy day: it's pretty much just fish. I immediately turned my thoughts to gefilte fish and a recipe I'd seen on Martha Stewart's show several years ago where the dish was served with beet horseradish. Now, I used to think of gefilte as the gray, gelatinous muck that looks like little brains bottled up for laboratory experiments on grocery store shelves but I remembered being so struck with this particular recipe on Martha's show and the idea of making it fresh that I wanted to try my hand at it. So finally I had the chance. Baby told me that people rarely make their own gefilte fish and that bringing it homemade to the table would be a real treat. I just hoped that I would be successful in the execution, as I had no idea what it was supposed to taste like.

We bought the pike and whitefish on Saturday, all six pounds of it! There was more pike than whitefish, which concerned me, as the recipe suggests an even amount of each but the fishmonger assured us it would be fine, as whitefish has a very persistent flavor. We asked that he grind the fish for us, and reserve the head and bones for the stock. Once we purchased the rest of the ingredients, when we got home, I took off my watch and set to work with sheer abandon.

Before long, I was up to my neck in ground fish and chopped onions, with dashes of sugar, kosher salt and matzo meal thrown in, mixed well with several large eggs and water to bind everything together. The fish mixture sat in the fridge for about two hours, until firm.

I felt like a char woman: I hacked apart the fish bones with kitchen shears and tossed them with the heads into a pot with quartered onions and carrots (there was no peeling, they went in skins and all) and ripped celery into pieces with my hands. A few cloves and dill sprigs followed, and everything was just covered with water and brought to a boil to make the stock. It simmered for about 45 minutes and was a delight to sniff as the fish and vegetables became acquainted. We strained the solids from our stock and set aside.

In the meantime we grated fresh horseradish and peeled cooked beets, and tossed them together with a little salt and cider vinegar, to serve as the delicious, pungent accompaniment.

When the fish mixture was ready, we dug in, frequently wetting our hands with cold water to form delicate oval shapes (about 2 tablespoons each) and gently placed them into our reheated stock, to which we had added a few carrots. We did this in batches, 20 minutes each. Once they had all cooked, we arranged in a large baking dish, poured the broth over the fish, covered and let it cool. The whole thing went into the refrigerator and we awoke the next morning to gefilte fish, suspended in a perfect jelly.

At the break fast Monday evening, the spread was full out--we had creamed herring, pickled lox, smoked salmon, whitefish salad, an assortment of bagels, a variety of flavored cream cheeses, incredibly ripe tomatoes, egg salad, Baby made deliciously inventive wasabi tuna devilled eggs topped with caviar, and ice buckets were filled with white wine and prosecco for mimosas. I humbly set out leaves of rich purple radicchio on a platter topped with my gefilte fish and a little of the jellied broth. The beet horseradish went on one end, with a side of chilled jullienned carrots on the other for balance. Traditionally, the carrots are cut into coins, but being the goy, I wanted to assert just a touch of something different. I forgot the dill garnish.

So how did it taste, this journey into the unknown? Well, I loved it. It wasn't too fishy, the onions mellowed, the texture seemed just right and the beet horseradish did the trick. After several compliments (including one from our hostess) I think it's fair to say it was a success. What I took most to my heart was when a guest I had just met told me, "This is better than what my Grandmother used to make."

Imagine? Needless to say, I was rather verklempt.

A Taste of Honey

When I first met Baby's father several years ago, he hugged me and said "welcome to the family." Indeed this was how all of the in-laws reacted; this wonderful, crazy Jewish family has embraced me and welcomed me on all of the high holidays or any other visit. And believe me, it's alot of family. I never had that. Basically, my Catholic parents were only childs and had also lost their parents early. My mother lost her mother when she was born and my father's father walked out on him. Being so welcomed by Baby's family was tremendous to me as my middle brother is rarely able to make the trek home to New Hampshire from Tennessee with my beloved niece--and my oldest brother who lives only about five minutes from my parents rarely has the interest. My cousins always get together over the holidays however and I love being part of that assemblage, but I've always felt somewhat removed, I think because when my Mom and I would visit over Christmas and Easter, it was almost as if we had nowhere else to go. Actually, apart from being with each other at home with my father, we didn't. And I at least felt, before I met Baby, like a lone wolf as my cousins were all married with children and there I was, traveling single-o.

When I made my first schlep to Long Island to celebrate Baby's niece's Bat Mitzvah, that time I first met the whole family, I had a reason to be there. I was with my honey, to celebrate his niece's coming of age. I was, at last, part of a huge family that loved and drove each other wild but cared enough to be together, and allowed me to be part of all of it.

We traveled to Long Island again for Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year) this past beautiful Saturday, and the Friday night before, Baby made challah bread.* I watched from the wings, but also helped braid. For this holiday, the bread is round, not elongated, to represent the circular nature of life. Our challah was made with four strands of dough, crossed under and over, each end piece braided and tucked underneath to make a perfect loaf, set aglow with a glaze of egg wash and topped with sesame seeds.

At the all-day affair in Dix Hills, our lunch started out around 12 o'clock with a platter of bagels, vegetable cream cheese and lox and incredibly fresh white fish, tuna fish and egg salad, a spread of vegetables and hummus and sweet noodle kugel. I even tried herring with onions and cream in a mid-celebration nosh. Very rich! We also had gorgeous, delicious Honey Crisp apples with honey, as tradition dictates, in hopes of a sweet year. A trip to the Mister Softee truck and requisite naps here and there followed in the lazy afternoon before we all broke bread in the evening over chicken noodle soup with matzoh balls, brisket, mashed potatoes, barley and mushrooms and Schnitz's special chicken with fried onions and Peter Luger's Steak Sauce.

And it's not over yet of course. For Yom Kippur I'm going to try my hand at gefilte fish with fresh beet horseradish to break the fast. L'shana tovah, everyone.

*Here's what we did to make challah bread from The Silver Palate Cookbook by Julee Rosso and Sheila Lukins, published by Workman Publishing, with a little more milk and egg yolks to make three loaves instead of two.

Ingredients:
2 cups milk
8 tablespoons (1 stick) sweet butter
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 packages active dry yeast 4 eggs, at room temperature
2 teaspoons salt
6 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
1/3 cup cornmeal 1 tablespoon cold water poppy seeds
1. Bring milk, 6 tablespoons of butter, and the sugar to a boil together in a medium-size saucepan. Remove from heat, pour into a large mixing bowl, and let cool to lukewarm (105° to 115° F).
2. Stir yeast into the milk mixture and let stand for 10 minutes.
3. Beat 3 of the eggs well in a small bowl, and stir them and the salt into the milk-and-yeast mixture.
4. Stir in 5 cups of the flour, 1 cup at a time, until you achieve a sticky dough. Flour a work surface lightly and turn the dough out onto it. Wash and dry the bowl.
5. Sprinkle additional flour over the dough and begin kneading, adding more flour as necessary, until you have smooth elastic dough.
6. Smear the reserved 2 tablespoons of butter around the inside of the bowl and add the ball of dough into the bowl, turning to coat it lightly with butter. Cover the bowl with a towel and set aside to let dough rise until tripled in bulk, 1 to 2 hours.
7. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and cut into halves. Cut each half into 3 pieces. Roll the pieces out into long "snakes" about 18 inches long. Braid three of the snakes together into a loaf and tuck the ends under. Repeat with remaining snakes.
8. Sprinkle a large baking sheet with the cornmeal, and transfer the loaves to the sheet. Leave room between the loaves for them to rise. Cover loaves with the towel and let rise until nearly doubled, about 1 hour.
9. Preheat oven to 350° F.
10. Beat the remaining egg and 1 tablespoon cold water together well in a small bowl. Brush this egg wash evenly over the loaves. Sprinkle immediately with poppy seeds to taste.
11. Set baking sheet on the middle rack of the oven. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until loaves are golden brown and sound hollow when their bottoms are thumped. Cool completely on racks before wrapping. Makes 2 large loaves.