Molto Mafalde

I was trying to find a restaurant for a small get-together with friends while weighing the outrageous cost of dining out against the general indifference of servers and staff everywhere these days, ie. where would be an affordable place to dine where the waitpeople don’t make you feel like they would so rather be anywhere else than attending to your dining needs. But I get it, I mean, everybody’s on edge.

Anyway, as I was searching...I came across a restaurant that included an enticing dish of mafalde with veal ragu on the menu. After some more scrolling, I discovered mafalde (or mafaldine) are flat ribbons of pasta with ruffled edges, the better to catch all the delicious meat and sauce.

We didn’t wind up going to that particular restaurant of my mafalde and veal dreams, but intrigued, I found a similar recipe and set out to make it myself. What an easy dish―and what a wonderful opportunity to enliven a typical pasta night by swapping the usual spaghetti with an unusual noodle such as mafalde and then adding the elegant flavor of veal (as opposed to plain old ground beef) and cavolo nero (Tuscan cabbage) to the mix for a special evening. 

The original recipe by Marco Masotti from Sella Vinoteca is here, but I tightened it up and my version is below (I also converted the measurements). Veal blade or shoulder is nearly impossible to find, but I think ground veal works better than diced anyway. Also, a classic mixture of veal, pork, and beef would be a great idea with a little demi-glace stirred in at the end to simmer, at the step when the ragu is turned back on.

Do enjoy!

Mafalde with Veal Ragu and Cavolo Nero 
Serves 8
Ingredients
2 lbs yellow onions
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 lbs ground veal
2 cups white cooking wine
1 bunch Tuscan cabbage, leafy parts separated from stems*
1/2 lb Grana Padano, grated (use most for the ragu, reserve some to finish the dish)
2 cups vegetable stock
Salt to taste
2 lbs Mafalde pasta (fresh, if you can find it; otherwise dried)

Method
Peel and slice the onions, place them in a large pot with the olive oil and start cooking on low heat.

In the meantime, julienne the cabbage and refrigerate.

Once the onions are soft, turn the heat up, add the meat and season with salt.

Cook on high heat until most of the liquid released from the meat is evaporated, stirring; add the white wine and cook until that’s reduced as well.

Finally add the vegetable stock, bring back to simmer and turn the heat low; cook until most of the liquid is absorbed.

Once your ragu is ready, turn the heat off and add the julienned Tuscan cabbage, stir and let rest, adjust the seasoning.

Bring a pot of salted water to the boil and cook the pasta 1 minute less than recommended.

Turn your ragu back on, add the Grana Padano.

Strain the pasta ‘al dente’ and finish to cook for the remaining minute inside the ragu.

Finish with the remainder of the Grana Padano and serve.

*To separate leafy greens from stems―stack a few stems and grab with one hand; grab the base of the leaves with your other hand and pull apart. Or just cut the stems out using a sharp knife. 

COOKBOOK/A TABLE - Watercressida Soup!

I was in high school the first time I visited Manhattan, circa ’85, having only previously dreamt of the city through the lens of Cole Porter, the Tony Awards, and my subscriptions to Interview magazine and The New Yorker. My friend and her father took me out to dinner at the legendary Café Luxembourg, a soaring bistro on the Upper West Side, full of caned chairs and a cocktail-swilling crowd at the terribly chic bar. I was beside myself, of course, because the restaurant always took out full-page ads in Interview.

The menu offered mussels, which I hardly cared for at the time—I loved oysters, escargots and clams, but I had never eaten mussels; I only knew that they hid in the mud, waiting to cut into my feet along the shores of Maine’s Muscongus Bay, where my parents used to have a cottage. Watercress & Snow Pea Soup was also on the menu—what on earth was watercress? Snow peas? Sounded rather grand and somewhat impenetrable to me. 

I’m not sure now what I actually did order, but I remember dining there was an absolutely thrilling night out in New York. It was also a satisfying measure of time when I was able to take a client to Café Luxembourg as my guest years later and then was asked to review it in a professional capacity as a restaurant critic. New York is funny that way.

Naturally, when my cousin sent me a copy of Cooking with Shakespeare by Annette Francis & Paula Hober (“A bard’s-eye view of goodly cookery created for contemporary epicures”), I was drawn to the Watercressida Soup inspired by Troilus and Cressida, similar to a summery vichyssoise emboldened with, yes, the deeper flavor of watercress. See what they did there? Peppers Cleopatra also called to me, as did Cassius Cassoulet and A Midsummer Night’s Crème, but that’s perhaps for another post.

I’ve neither read nor seen a production of Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida, but I can suggest that Watercressida Soup is ideal for this transitional time, as we slowly slide into fall while summer draws to a “close”, at least officially, next week. Snow peas optional.

If soup be the food of love, play on—and do enjoy!

Watercressida Soup
4 servings
Ingredients
2 1/2 potatoes
One bunch fresh watercress
2 tablespoons green onion, thinly sliced
One small carrot, finely chopped
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
One teaspoon salt
1 1/2 quarts boiling water
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 egg yolks, well beaten
Dash of freshly ground pepper
Croutons

Method
Peel and slice the potatoes. Remove any damaged leaves from the watercress and rinse several times. Reserve a few nice leaves to garnish the soup. Drain the remaining watercress in a salad basket. Coarsely chop the washed watercress and combine with potatoes, green onion, carrot, parsley, and salt in boiling water. Cook over high heat until the potatoes are tender. Rub through a sieve. Add to puree the butter, cream, egg yolks, a dash of pepper, and salt to taste. Heat through, stirring, but do not boil. Serve hot. Decorate with the reserved watercress leaves and serve with croutons.

“...to be wise and love exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.”

—Troilus and Cressida Act III, Scene ii, 149-150

BOOK/A TABLE - Forever ‘21’

I was ten years old when I first saw The Spy Who Loved Me in theaters. I was obsessed with the title song by Carly Simon, bought the album and toy version of the amazing white Lotus Esprit S1 car that also functioned as a submarine (with retractable fins) and launched missiles. It was awesome.

                              
I’ve seen all of the Bond movies since. Sean Connery is classic, of course, but Daniel Craig actually seems like a killer—although neither of them are how I picture Bond from the books. I recently read Diamonds are Forever (1956), and was taken in so easily by the descriptions of New York, Vegas, and the races at Saratoga in that era. I always love the chilled cocktails (check out here and here) and the groovy girls, but got a particular kick from the evocative chapter titles in this installation such as Hot Ice, Night Falls in the Passion Pit, Spectreville, and my favorite—Love and Bearnaise Sauce.

In Diamonds are Forever, Bond’s old pal Leiter takes him to Sardi’s for a grilled steak (there’s a lot of food mentioned in the book):

“And I’ve taken a chance and ordered you smoked salmon and Brizzola,” said Leiter. “This is one of the best places in town for beef, and Brizzola is the best cut of that, straight cut across the bone. Roasted and then broiled. Suit you?”

“Anything you say,” said Bond.

Then they go off to ‘21’ which is funny because I actually have the recipe for Brizzola that also used to be served there, found in my beloved copy of The ‘21’ Cookbook. Former ‘21’ executive chef Michael Lomonaco tells us that Steak Brizzola served at the restaurant (sadly shuttered in 2020) was cooked on a high-temperature grill. Outdoor grilling at home is the preferred method at home, but a broiler will work with the door ajar. Or simply pan-fry!

Here is the wagyu ribeye we picked up on huge sale at Eataly over the Labor Day weekend, before we dropped it in the pan for our own Brizzola. And then I was too eager to eat it to take any other pictures. 

Dum ditty dum dum dum dum dum dum ditty dum dum... (my approximation of the Bond theme) ...do enjoy!

‘21’ Traditional Rib Steak “Brizzola”
Serves 4 to 8

Ingredients
4 (16- to 18-ounce rib steaks)
2 tablespoons pure olive oil
2 tablespoons chopped fresh garlic
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Method
Brush the steaks with olive oil. Spread a little of the chopped garlic on both sides of all the steaks. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Over a hot barbecue grill, or in a broiler that has been preheated at least 20 minutes, cook the steaks on both sides to the desired doneness. Generally, a steak of this size, cooked over a barbecue grill, will be medium rare within 12 minutes (6 minutes on each side).

I thought to include an additional suggestion, if you would like a butter baste: Halfway through the cooking process, drop the unsalted butter, crushed garlic, and rosemary sprig into the pan. Sprinkle with a pinch dried oregano and black pepper. Continuously spoon the foaming, hot melted butter over the top of the steak until it reaches your preferred internal temperature (about 57°C / 135°F for medium-rare).

Let 'Em Eat Crab Cakes (with Saffron Vinaigrette)!

If you can decipher my besmeared and bespattered print-out, you can see I first came upon Martha Stewart’s recipe for crab cakes in 2000. I have made them pretty much every summer since—another one of the cool favorites I like to make when it is hot outside. 

Having posted about Lobster Thermidor over Memorial Day weekend this year, I thought I would include crab cakes for Labor Day weekend to bookend the summer (although the season is not yet over, in my book). Also, I figured I should create a digital copy of the recipe (no longer available online) before the print-out becomes completely unreadable. 

I don’t use any peppers as the recipe suggests, nor do I always use sourdough bread crumbs. Rarely do I splurge on lump meat; the less expensive claw meat works just fine. And I prefer Louisiana’s Crystal sauce over Tabasco. But the surprising thing here is just how much the saffron vinaigrette tastes like more traditional accompaniment to crab cakes, tartar sauce! Clever and delicious.

Should you be in the mood for more crab, look to Molly O’Neill’s wonderful Couscous and Crab Salad with Cucumber and Mint.

Do enjoy!

Crab Cakes with Saffron Vinaigrette
Ingredients
1 LB jumbo lump blue crab meat
One large egg, beaten
One large egg yolk, beaten
1 1/2 teaspoons minced garlic
1 1/2 tablespoons chopped onion
1 1/2 tablespoons chopped red bell pepper
1 1/2 tablespoons chopped green bell pepper
3/4 teaspoon coarse salt
1 1/2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves
2 pinches finely chopped fresh Rosemary leaves
1/2 cup dried sourdough bread crumbs
Tabasco, to taste
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Saffron Vinaigrette (recipe follows)
Chives, cut into 2-inch lengths, for garnish
1/4 cup peeled, seeded, and diced tomato, for garnish

Method
Heat oven to 373 five degrees. Line a baking sheet with a Silpat (French non-stick baking mat). In a medium bowl, combine crab, egg, egg yolk, garlic, onion, red and green pepper, salt, thyme, rosemary, bread crumbs, Tabasco and three tablespoons olive oil. Cover and chill for at least 10 minutes. Shape into five 2-inch thick cakes. Set aside.

In a heavy-bottomed sauté pan, heat remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil over medium high heat. Add crab cakes. And sauté until lightly browned, about two minutes per side. Remove from sauté pan and place unprepared baking sheet. Transfer to oven and bake until heated through, about 7 minutes.

Drizzle plates with saffron vinaigrette. Garnish plates with chives and diced tomato. Top with crab cakes.

Saffron Vinaigrette
Makes 1/2 cup
3 tablespoons lemon juice
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon sugar
Pinch saffron, preferably Spanish
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
5 tablespoons vegetable oil
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

In a small food processor, combine lemon juice, mustard, sugar, and saffron. Blend until uniform in color. Slowly add oils and pepper, pulsing to combine.

BOOK/A TABLE - Cowboy Caviar

I picked up Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove after having read Virginia Evans’ fantastic epistolary novel The Correspondent, where a fictional correspondence with the McMurtry occurs within the pages. I didn’t know much about the book at all, nor did I realize it was now enjoying its 41st anniversary. 

About a quarter through the considerable tome, I was thrilled to join in on a Lonesome Dove conversation I happened to overhear in a bookstore, and was stunned to see a recent article in The New Yorker about what to read after Lonesome Dove! Rarely have I felt so attuned to any sort of zeitgeist.

When I told a friend I what I was reading, he cocked an eye, raised an eyebrow and said, “A western?” I replied, “Well, sorta...” and said that although the action takes place in the Old West, the book is many things...it’s also a love story. Yes, there are those themes you’d expect, like nature’s savagery and the savage nature of man, but the characters could really be anywhere, their souls filled with hope and regrets, the same as anyone else, even as they weigh their mortality and wonder at the stars in the nighttime sky.

I also reminded my friend that Lonesome Dove won the Pulitzer. 

By book’s end, I realized I had fallen in love myself. I think the characters of Call and Augustus will saddle up to a special forever place in your bookish heart as well—and when you have your next glass of water, give a moment to appreciate how good it really is.

Now, the cowboys do travel with a cook as they make the harrowing trek from Arkansas to Montana herding cattle, and they can’t be too picky, of course, but what they actually eat sounds super gross. I will therefore spare you any sort of recipe involving worms or grasshoppers and instead, offer up a delicious recipe for Cowboy Caviar, similar to what they serve at Cowgirl back here in my home, on the range of Manhattan.

Do enjoy!

Cowboy Caviar
Adapted from loveandlemons.com

Ingredients

1½ cups cooked black beans, drained and rinsed

1½ cups fresh or thawed frozen corn kernels
2 Roma tomatoes, diced (about 1 heaping cup)
1 red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and diced
½ cup diced red onion
1 jalapeño pepper, finely chopped
½ cup chopped fresh cilantro, reserve some for garnish
2 large avocados, pitted and diced
Tortilla chips, for serving

Dressing
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Juice of 1 lime, plus more wedges for serving
1¼ teaspoons sea salt
1 teaspoon sugar
2 garlic cloves, grated
1 teaspoon ground cumin
Freshly ground black pepper

Instructions
In a large bowl, stir together the black beans, black-eyed peas, corn, tomatoes, bell pepper, onion, jalapeño, and most of the cilantro.

Make the dressing: In a medium bowl, whisk together the olive oil, vinegar, lime juice, salt, sugar, garlic, cumin, and several grinds of pepper. Pour the dressing over the bean mixture and stir to combine.

Chill in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour to allow the flavors to develop. Just before serving, fold in the avocado and season to taste. I like to add a few more squeezes of lime at this point. Garnish with the reserved cilantro and serve with tortilla chips.

BOOK/A TABLE - Marmalade Bread & Butter Pudding

It could well be that marmalade was created by one of the nurses attending Mary, Queen of Scots when her lady fell ill. The nurse is purported to have prepared a soothing concoction of sugar and oranges for Mary saying, in French, “Marie est malade...” Marmalade!

However, the idea of making this Marmalade Bread & Butter Pudding came from Blaming by one of my British authoress idols, Elizabeth Taylor. When Amy is left widowed on holiday in Istanbul, another woman comforts her and returns home to England with her, but Amy finds it difficult to maintain their unusual relationship afterward and naturally, complications ensue.  

I adore this book, like all the others in Taylor’s canon, but it was the mention of this pudding that I found particularly inspiring. Can you blame me? 

The character of James is trying to cut down on sweet things, but his resolve weakens at the discovery of this pudding that Amy made. 

“What kind?” he asked cautiously.
“That marmalade bread and butter one that your father liked so much. You did, too.”
“Bread and butter...yes, oh yes, I remember...I think I do remember.” He had forgotten until now all the delicious English puddings.

Serve your pudding warm after cooling completely and reheating—you want it to set completely. It’s also fantastic ice cold from the fridge the next day. It is “super easy” to make, as Jamie Oliver states, but you still have to crack and separate nine eggs.

Do enjoy! 

Marmalade Bread & Butter Pudding
Adapted from Jamie Oliver

Ingredients
For the flavoured butter
100g (7 TB) unsalted butter, softened
a large pinch of ground nutmeg
a large pinch of ground cinnamon
zest of 1 large orange

8 x 1cm (about ½”) slices of good-quality bread
9 large free-range or organic eggs

140g (2/3 cup) caster sugar
500ml (2 cups) semi-skimmed milk
565ml (2 1/3 cups) single cream
1 vanilla pod, scored lengthways and seeds removed
4 tablespoons good-quality fine-cut marmalade

Method
Preheat the oven to 180ºC/350ºF/gas 4.

First make your flavoured butter by mixing the butter with the nutmeg, cinnamon and orange zest. Use a little of it to butter a medium-sized shallow, ovenproof dish.

Butter the bread using the flavoured butter, then cut each slice in half diagonally. Put the slices in your buttered dish.

Now separate the eggs, reserving all 9 yolks but just 1 egg white. Whisk together the egg yolks and egg white with the sugar, then gently heat the milk and cream in a saucepan with the vanilla seeds and pod. Pour into the eggs, stirring all the time. Remove the vanilla pod then pour the mixture over the bread and leave to soak for at least 20 minutes.

Put the dish in a roasting tray and pour in enough boiling water to come halfway up the side of the dish. Then put it in the preheated oven for about 45 minutes, or until the custard has just set.

Meanwhile, gently warm the marmalade in a saucepan, then remove the dish from the oven and brush the marmalade over the top of the bread. Pop the dish back into the oven for another 5 to 10 minutes. Allow it to cool and firm up slightly before serving.

 

 

 

A Few of My Favorite Summer Things

                                                        Art by Pete

While I’m on vacation, enjoy these dishes that have become my must-makes over many summers now. For your consideration—a soup, salad, and an entree!

Take your pick of the best tomatoes and put them in this Gazpacho Andaluz.  

A sumptuous Summer Salad is beautifully made with the bounty of the season. 

Trenette col Pesto Genovese (that’s pasta with pesto, bliss potatoes, and green beans to you and me, bub) is a wonderful classic Italian dish, highly suitable for this time of year. 

I hope you are enjoying your summer!