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.