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.