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!

LobsterThermidor
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.