for auld lang syne

it’s been a busy few weeks of gastronomy in my household: a time of indulgence, of experimentation, of research and development, and of fabulous gluttony.  now, don’t get me wrong, i can’t possibly condone gluttony as such; obesity is a true problem in this country and this world in which i live, and i’m a true believer of treats in moderation.  but still…  there’s something about the december holidays that turn me back into the 9 year-old girl who wants to eat the chocolate coins from my stocking for breakfast, my cadbury’s selection box for lunch, and mince pies and christmas pudding for dinner.  surely those are four separate food groups, right?  done.

now, though not religious as such, i am all about getting together with friends and family (or, even better, those marvelous people who blur the line) and raising a cup of kindness as we cheers to good times shared over a meal cooked from love.  this year we roasted the traditional meats for christmas, offering up a turkey and a big fat ham to the baby jesus.  we cooked deliciously crisp latkes for my newly-jewish 3 yr old for hanukkah, and explored the cuisines of jerusalem with my supermensch of a matey.  and if anyone has any kickass african recipes they want to share, then i frankly might just start celebrating kwanzaa too.  the december holidays also incorporate my birthday: no rest for the weary digestive system.  this year i tried geoduck for the first time, like the good pacific northwestern girl i am.  it was finely chopped and served with potato gnocchi and matsutake mushrooms.  it was tender and earthy and insanely delicious, but there was a part of me ever so slightly disappointed to not be served a big old penis on a plate.  (don’t know geoduck?  look it up.  it’ll make you blush.)

speaking of blushing, my steamy love-affair with mushrooms is long-documented.  it is the notebook to my ryan gosling, the dear john letter to my channing tatum, the message in a bottle to my kevin costner.  (had i actually read any nicholas sparks novels, these analogies might just make sense?  as it is, it’s truly anyone’s guess.)  regardless, bad chick-lit aside, i have a bit of a culinary boner for the funghi.  epicurious do a wild mushroom and leek stuffing that i invite to almost every holiday dinner.  it shows up on time, it wears only the most stylish of reindeer jumpers, it tells charming anecdotes, and it never outstays its welcome.  in short, there’s a reason i invite it back to my table year after year.  oh, yes; it’s also completely do-ahead and utterly delicious.  boom.

leek and wild mushroom stuffing (adapted from epicurious.com)

1 1/2 cups hot water

1/2 ounce dried porcini mushrooms

2 sticks butter (yup, that’s a lot of butter)

2 pounds fresh mushrooms (i use a blend of cremini, chanterelle and oyster)

3 leeks, chopped (white and pale green parts only)

6 garlic cloves, chopped

1 cup dry white wine

1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme

1 baguette, halved lengthwise, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch-thick slices

1 large egg, beaten

combine hot water and dried porcini in small bowl. let stand until mushrooms soften, about 30 minutes.  meanwhile, slice fresh mushrooms and enjoy 6 yr old’s dance party to shakira in the background.  

transfer softened porcini to work surface and chop finely. reserve soaking liquid.

melt butter in heavy large pot over medium-high heat.  add fresh mushrooms and sauté 10 minutes.  add leeks and garlic and sauté 5 minutes.  add wine, thyme, and porcini mushrooms.  cook until almost all wine evaporates, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes.

mix bread into mushroom mixture.  season with salt and pepper; mix in egg.  butter 13x9x2-inch glass baking dish and transfer stuffing.  add enough reserved mushroom soaking liquid to moisten.

if not baking straight away (this recipe is begging to be made ahead), refrigerate until ready to cook.

preheat oven to 350°F.  bake uncovered until heated through, about 40 minutes.

i was clearly far too busy gorging on mushroomy goodness to take any pics of the finished product, but trust me when i say it’s a thing of beauty.  and it also goes bloody brilliantly in a leftover sandwich the next day with turkey, gravy, and cranberry sauce.  oh baby. 

so let’s say a toast to the wonderfulness of the past month, and here’s to more cookbooks, more recipes, more successes (and more disasters), more experimentation, more fabulous cooking partners, more fun in the kitchen, and maybe even just a touch more indulgence in 2013.  let’s raise a cup of kindness yet for auld lang syne.

"Hey, Girl" Pasta

i am somewhat of a fan of trying things from scratch.  a scratching ho, if you will.  i think it’s something of a challenge to my past self.  young jo always had a glint in her eye and something to prove, and that was okay.  “you wanna try this???  come on, let’s go!” 

look at that, my brother is 3 years older than me, and i am kicking his pasty white bum.  (well, kind of.  let’s, for the purpose of this bloggy post, pretend that i am.)

moving on!  to homemade pasta…  i have a bit of an unadulterated love affair with carbs.  bread?  yes, please.  spuds?  okay, one more.  pasta?  oh, baby…  pasta might just be the one standing outside my bedroom window wearing a trenchcoat, holding a boombox over its noodle, and blaring out peter gabriel’s “in your eyes.”  

now, deciding to make homemade pasta is not a crazy decision.  it’s not terribly hard, it’s actually kind of fun, and it pays dividends that will make your taste buds sing.  however, deciding to make homemade pasta with only a 6 yr-old and a 3 yr-old to help you is a different story.  it might have aged me 10 years, but by god we did it.  now let’s all take some deep breaths and pour another glass of wine…

unsure of what to do with your homemade (and criminally self-aging) noodles?  so many options…  i decided to do some simple meatballs and a quick sauté of garlic, tomatoes and beet greens.  now, i have long championed the much-maligned veg that is the beet, but what about the poor greens?!  they are forgotten faster than a bad revenge movie starring liam neeson.  sadly tossed in the compost faster than they are in the sauté pan, the beet green might be the most overlooked veg in the modern world; the ryan gosling of the People Magazine Sexiest Man Alive awards.

year after year goes by and still poor ryan is overlooked, passed over in favour of other vegetables with manlier chins or longer stalks.  “hey, girl.  how about you go throw those beet greens in a sauté pan and you and i go snuggle by the fire?”  oh, ryan.  don’t mind if i do.

stephanie izard’s basic pasta dough (adapted from, well, let's be honest, stephanie izard)

2 cups all purpose flour

5 egg yolks

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

reserve ¼ cup of flour, put the remaining portion on a clean, flat workspace.  using your hands, make a well in the centre, then add the egg yolks, ¼ cup cold water, and the olive oil into the well.  using first a fork, then your hands, work the dough until it is firm and smooth, about 5-7 minutes.  wrap the dough in cling film and place it in the refrigerator for 20 minutes to rest.

divide the dough into four pieces.  set your pasta machine at setting-1 and roll the dough out four times.  try not to shout at kids when it gets buggered up and you have to start over again.  switch to setting-2 and roll it out two more times.  scroll through the settings until you reach your desired thickness (usually 7 for me.  anything less is doughy, anything more falls apart). 

cut to desired length/shape.

basic meatballs:

1 lb ground beef

1 lb ground pork

½ cup breadcrumbs (i use panko) mixed with ½ cup milk

1 tsp dried oregano

salt & pepper to taste

mix lightly and form to 1” meatballs.  bake in 400 degree oven for 20 minutes, or until cooked through.

olive oil

3 roma tomatoes, roughly chopped

3 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

beet greens from 6 beets, washed and chopped

fresh parmesan

lightly sauté greens, tomatoes and garlic in olive oil.  add meatballs to pan, then toss with delicious, ryan-gosling-approved pasta.  sprinkle with fresh parmesan.  

hey, girl, you want another glass of wine with that? 

let my pita go

it’s no secret that i’ve had a year-long steamy love affair with yotam ottolenghi, the swarthy chef & author of “plenty.”  a cookbook about vegetarian cuisine, though by no means a vegetarian cookbook (there’s a difference), “plenty” has enriched the plates of my family for the past year, consistently serving up delicious, nutritious, and only occasionally faffy recipes.  yotam puts lentils on a pedestal, he marvels at mushrooms, and he says in his best swayze impression that nobody, but nobody puts eggplant in the corner.  my kind of chap.

(sadly, eggplant is still, i think, a much-maligned vegetable.  it’s the kind of ingredient that, when mentioned, people often flinch at slightly, whether they mean to or not.  much like when you hear the word “kardashian.”  or perhaps when you hear that they’ve made another fast & the furious movie.  (we get it.  there are cars.  they’re fast.  and also quite possibly furious.)  loosen up, people, eggplant’s not that bad.  it’s actually delicious, it probably won’t release a sex tape anytime soon, and it has nothing to do with vin diesel.  whew.)

back to yotam and the recipe at hand.  i recently got my mitts on his newest tome, “jerusalem,” and blimey, wouldn’t you know it, he’s done it again.  mazel tov, yotam!  inspired tri-fold by my new favourite book, by my mensch of a friend, and by my 3-yr-old daughter’s recent conversion to judaism, i decided to show a little chutzpah and cook up a yotam-worthy feast.  we had shawarma, preserved lemons, pipelchuma chili paste, a bunch of other pungent and piquant dishes, and to wrap it all up in, some homemade pita bread.  

this was a first for me, but buoyed by no recent major baking catastrophes, i decided to give it a go.  much like baking baguettes, or making your own bacon, let’s be honest, we’re talking some faff here.  it’s not going to be easier (or cheaper) than just buying some from the shop.  but, by god, it’s going to be better.  these were the lightest, fluffiest, tastiest pitas i’ve ever had, with wee pockets inside just perfect for stuffing with deliciousness.  oh, baby.  and sometimes, at least in my eyes, a little faff goes a long way.  so go ahead: crank the dirty dancing song on the stereo, let yotam grab you by the hips and throw you into the air, and get ready for the time (or at least the pita) of your life.

homemade pita bread (adapted from “smitten kitchen”)

3 cups plus a scant 1/4 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons salt
1 7g packet instant yeast
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 1/4 cups water, at room temperature

the day before you plan on baking the pita, prepare the dough:

combine all ingredients in the bowl of a stand mixer and, using the paddle attachment, mix on low speed until just combined, about 20 seconds.  then, using the dough hook, knead at medium speed for 10 minutes. the dough will be very soft and smooth and a bit sticky.

sprinkle a bit of the reserved flour onto the counter and scrape the dough onto it.  knead for 5 minutes, adding as little of the reserved flour as possible.  use a scraper to help you gather it as you knead - you’re going to need its help as this is by now the stickiest dough you might ever encounter in your life.  it’s like glue, people.  cover it with an upside-down bowl and allow it to rest for 20 minutes. 

knead the dough for another 5 to 10 minutes, knead and scrape, knead and scrape, until it is soft and smooth and just a titch sticky.

scrape the dough into a lightly greased large bowl and cover with a lid or plastic wrap.  refrigerate the dough overnight (or up to 3 days), checking every hour for the first 4 hours and pressing it down if it starts to rise (mine didn’t need this).

on baking day:

preheat the oven to 475°F one hour before baking. place an oven shelf at the lowest level and place a baking stone, cast-iron skillet, or baking sheet on it for preheating.  i used a cast-iron skillet, so for the purposes of this recipe, we’ll go with that.

cut the dough into 12 pieces and cover with a damp cloth.  on a lightly floured counter, with lightly floured hands, shape each piece into a ball and then flatten it into a disk.  cover the dough with greased plastic wrap and allow it to rest for 20 minutes at room temperature.

roll each disk into a circle a little under 1/4 inch thick. allow them to rest, uncovered, for 10 minutes before baking.  lightly spritz or brush each pita with water roughly 3 minutes before baking.

working quickly, place 1 disk of dough directly on the skillet, and bake for 3 minutes.  it should puff up marvelously, but not brown.

repeat with the remaining pitas, letting the oven get back up to temperature halfway through if it dips.  keep pitas warm in a clean towel, or reheat later for a minute or two in a warm oven.

stuff with shawarma, hummus, or whatever filling you desire.  use it to break bread with friends and family this holiday season, whatever their faith may be.  merry christmas, joyous kwanzaa, and shalom.

bits and bobs

bits and bobs, this and that, ducking and diving, apples and pears, rashers and knobs, cor blimey someone stop me before i’m arrested by the cockney police!

truth: this is a cop-out post.  no real cooking.  it’s a mere 3 days before thanksgiving, and though i have no large plans for cookfest 2012, the rest of the country does, so i shan’t cloud your already food-addled brains with thoughts of more recipes.  no, no.  instead we shall be celebrating a fancy-for-no-reason sunday lunch; a long-standing tradition in my family. 

when you look “bit” up in the dictionary, you find definitions involving drill components, horse bridles, and occasionally hatchets.  rustic.  cosy.  but when you ask anyone in my family to tell you the definition of “bits,” they’ll inform you without hesitation that it involves a lunch consumed on sundays and special occasions, consisting of cheeses, cured meats, crusty bread, and wine. 

this tradition reaches back to my childhood in asia, when we would spend our sundays taking our big wooden boat out for leisurely cruises and weighing anchor off one of hong kong’s outlying islands.  we’d spend the morning sunning ourselves silly and diving off the roof of the boat into the murky water, praying that no tiger sharks were lurking that day.  by early afternoon, my mum would whip out the cooler that she had packed full of deliciousness that morning, and a spread of glorious bits would be carefully laid out, then devoured in minutes, washed down by a bottle or two or something cold & yummy.  a few decades later, the wooden boat might be gone, and there are certainly less tiger sharks about (whew), but these lunches remain a firm doctrine of fuller family tradition. 

so let’s say that the main four ingredients of bits are your sex and the city gals: cheese is carrie, appeals to pretty much everyone.  cured meat is samantha, you know she enjoys a good salami.  wine is miranda, a little bit sassy.  then bread is charlotte: can be kind of boring, but you need it to balance out the other ingredients.  boom.  then, of course, you also have your supporting cast of characters: your pickles and olives who are your bigs and your aidans.  their storylines might be on the periphery, they might not make an appearance every week, but they certainly make the show more yummy.  i found a pack of quails eggs at my local asian supermarket the other day, and decided to add these to this episode’s Very Special Guest Stars.  i’ve always had a fondness for these teeny eggs, from the beautiful pale blue of the inner shell to their delicate and somehow rich flavour.  

i also noticed after taking this picture that they are the exact same pattern as my countertops:  

what?!  where’d they go?  stealthy quails…

there is no recipe here, my turkey-focused friends.  you are in control of your own bits (as they say).  make it your own.  but i will say this: with no cooking involved, it makes a spectacular option for the day after, say, cooking some kind of 12-course feast.  and as traditions go, you could do a lot worse.  so enjoy your jours du turkey!  i wish you all things moist and perfectly browned and well-behaved guests.  being foreign, i have no turkey traditions as such, though i shall be helping my matey prep for her feast the day before, the sous chef to her in-law invasion, as we no doubt raise a glass together.  and perhaps good food and good wine and good friendship is something that we can all be thankful for.  even foreigners such as myself.  gobble gobble!  cheers!