Parmesan Bowls

Quick and easy are watchwords when it comes to summer cooking and of course, fun is as essential in summertime as sunscreen. My little cousin (now a married lady and a mom) nearly lost her mind when I introduced her to the Parmesan bowl concept years ago, filling the cheesy vessel with salad and chives out of her parents’ summer garden.

Part serving dish, part Parmesan crisp, these delightful bowls always deliver a fair share of oohs and ahs. So grab some parm and get started!

Parmesan Cheese Bowls
Grab two microwave safe nesting bowls.

Line a large flat plate with parchment paper; make a circle template by putting the smaller of the bowls upside-down on the parchment and tracing a circle around the opening.

Remove the bowl, add the cheese. Spread a thin layer of grated Parmesan cheese onto the parchment, a bit larger than the traced outline.

Microwave the cheese (on the parchment) on high for about 1 minute or until melted and golden.

While still hot, quickly drape the parchment, cheese-side up, over the smaller upside-down bowl; immediately top with the other larger bowl. Let sit and cool for 3 minutes.

Let set and separate: Remove top bowl and gently invert the Parmesan bowl. Carefully remove the parchment. Allow to fully harden, about 15 minutes. 

Fill with greens (or whatever else you like) and do enjoy!

Grilled Chicken with Red Onion Jam

 

Just in time for the upcoming fireworks, here’s a bursting flavor bomb that’s super easy to prepare and can be made ahead for a sit-down dinner or to bring along to a celebratory BBQ! What more do you need?

The chicken marinates in the morning or afternoon in a delicious blend of herbs and garlic. The red onion jam can sit out all day to cool! Top the grilled chicken with the jam for a summery meal at home or wedge between slices of a hearty white bread and it’s picnic-ready.

I believe recipes are stories; some to be adapted as we go along. I thought red wine, sherry vinegar, and black raspberry liqueur was too heavy for summer, so I lightened it up with white wine, champagne vinegar and orangey Grand Marnier, as suggested below in italics. I also don’t have a backyard grill (or a backyard for that matter), but a hot skillet worked just fine, as would a grill pan.

Happy 4th of July, everybody!

Chicken with Red Onion Jam
Ingredients
For the Chicken
1⁄2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1⁄2 cup minced parsley (2 tbsp dried parsley)
1⁄4 cup minced basil (1 tbsp dried basil)
2 tbsp minced rosemary (1 tsp dried rosemary)
2 tbsp minced thyme (1 tsp dried thyme)
1 tsp crushed red chile flakes (couple of jolts of hot sauce)
4 cloves garlic, minced
Juice and zest of 1 lemon (1/4 cup lime juice, plus 1 tsp dried lemon zest)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
2 lbs boneless skinless chicken breasts, pounded to ¼” thickness, halved

For the Red Onion Jam
4 tbsp unsalted butter
2 large red onions, sliced thin
3⁄4 cup dry red wine (white wine)
1⁄2 cup sherry vinegar (champagne vinegar)
1⁄2 cup sugar
1⁄4 cup black raspberry liqueur, such as Chambord (Grand Marnier)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Method
Make the chicken: Mix oil, parsley, basil, rosemary, thyme, chile flakes, garlic, and lemon juice and zest in a gallon-size resealable plastic bag; add chicken. Seal bag, and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour (or overnight).

Meanwhile, make the jam: Heat butter in a 12” skillet over medium heat. Add onions; cook, stirring, until soft but not browned, about 15 minutes. Add wine, vinegar, sugar, liqueur, salt, and pepper; cook, stirring, until thick, about 40 minutes; let jam cool.

Build a medium-hot fire in a charcoal grill or heat a gas grill to medium-high. (Alternatively, heat broiler to high.) Working in batches, grill chicken, turning once, until browned and cooked through, about 5 minutes. Serve with jam.

Luscious Lemon Possets

I first heard of lemon possets at Dean’s, the new-ish pubtwist restaurant cleverly installed in SoHo. There we enjoyed a wonderfully modern twist on classic British pub fare, supping on Scotch eggs, perfectly crusted pasties, knockout grilled liver, and lettuces lushly dressed with coronation chicken salad cream. 

When it came time for dessert, I asked about the possets on the menu and was thrilled to learn of the traditional British dessert, similar to a pudding, but also like a tingly lemony curd.

Since our lingering afternoon at Dean’s, I’ve noticed possets trending on a few other New York tables as well—then a recipe for them popped up in the New York Times and I had to share here.

Do enjoy!

Lemon Possets
By Toni Chapman

Yield:10 servings
Ingredients
6 large lemons
2 cups/480 milliliters heavy cream (see Tip)
⅔ cup sugar
Pinch of fine salt
Fresh mint, for garnish

Preparation
Step 1
Halve 5 of the lemons lengthwise. Working over a fine-mesh sieve set in a bowl, scoop out the pulp from each half with a spoon (you can use a knife to help cut around the edges first) and press it through the sieve to extract the juice. Measure out ⅓ cup juice for the possets; save any extra for another use. Set the hollow lemon shells cut-side up on a tray, or nestle them in a muffin tin so they do not tip in the fridge. Zest the remaining lemon.

Step 2
In a medium saucepan, combine the heavy cream, sugar, 1 tablespoon lemon zest and salt. Bring to a gentle boil over medium heat, stirring just until the sugar dissolves. Let it simmer undisturbed for 3 minutes to thicken slightly and concentrate the flavor. (The cream needs to simmer for the full 3 minutes; under-reducing is one of the most common reasons a posset fails to set.)

Step 3
Remove from the heat and pour the cream mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into a heatproof measuring cup or pitcher, leaving the zest behind. Whisk in the lemon juice until fully combined. The mixture will thicken slightly as the acid is incorporated.

Step 4
Pour the posset mixture into the lemon shells while it is still warm — not bubbling hot, but not cooled either. You want it loose enough to pour smoothly; if you wait too long it will start to set. (If that happens, warm it very gently over low heat just to loosen it back up.) Slide the whole tray into the refrigerator and chill uncovered for at least 4 hours, or until fully set.

Tips
Full-fat heavy cream is the only thing that will set this. Half-and-half, light cream, or anything plant-based will give you a runny pool, not a posset.

A muffin tin is the easiest way to keep the lemon shells perfectly upright in the fridge — each cup holds one half steady.

Make-ahead: The possets can be made up to 2 days in advance. Once fully set, cover loosely with plastic wrap.

 

Thanks to lifestyleofafoodie.com for the photo!

BOOK/A TABLE - Summer Vegetable Soup

The first day of summer is only a few days away and in Manhattan, it feels as if we’ve already settled well into it. I had never read Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar until last year, and what I remember, of all things, is the striking description on the first page that evokes a New York summer so brilliantly.

“By nine in the morning the fake, country-wet freshness that somehow seeped in overnight evaporated like the tail end of a sweet dream. Mirage-gray at the bottom of their granite canyons, the hot streets wavered in the sun, the car tops sizzled and glittered, and the dry, cindery dust blew into my eyes and down my throat.”

The point is made: New York City gets awfully hot this time of year. Far better to pour a nice summer soup down your throat instead, don’t you think? My tattered issue of Saveur from 1995 has got the goods. Grab the freshest vegetables you can find and do enjoy!

Summer Vegetable Soup
Adapted from Saveur
Ingredients
6 cups simple vegetable stock
1 large carrot, peeled, trimmed, and diced
1⁄4 lb. green beans, trimmed and cut into 1" pieces
1 small bulb fennel, trimmed and thinly sliced, tops reserved for garnish
6 small red or white new potatoes, sliced
2 small yellow or green summer squash, diced
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 small sprigs fresh parsley
4 small sprigs fresh chervil

Method
Step 1
Bring stock to a simmer in a large pot over medium heat. Add carrots, beans, fennel, potatoes, and squash, cover pot, and gently simmer until vegetables are soft, about 20 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Step 2
To serve, ladle into individual bowls and garnish with reserved fennel tops, parsley, and chervil.

I Went to a Marvelous Party!

                                                Drawing by Pete

Not long after I moved to Manhattan in the early 90s, I discovered the city magic of having a backyard garden. A friend invited me to a dinner party and we were all led outside to eat, under a twinkling of summer lights.

It was a rich affair, both gastronomically and spiritually. Our host introduced us, or at least me, to fish quenelles (splendid little dumplings of a sort), before moving on to a cheese souffle, and finishing with a molten chocolate something or other.

My memory might be a bit vague on those points, but I do distinctly remember having French Breakfast radishes to nibble on over cocktails. These elegant pink-ish radishes were fanned out on a platter with their frilly green leaves still attached, and served with butter and salt to be spread and sprinkled. The fresh creamy salty crunch of it all still lingers as a delicious bite for summer and I often serve French Breakfast radishes this way to guests, or to myself, elbows bent over the kitchen counter.

You can do the simple thing here, using whatever butter or salt you have on hand, but for a proper spread on your radishes, I recommend using room temperature or slightly chilled European butter (from Normandy if you can find it) or the best available. Then just crush a pinch or two of Maldon salt crystals between your fingers and sprinkle on top. Discard the greens and repeat as necessary.

I hope you are enjoying your summer!

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.