magic mushrooms

okay, truth: there are no actual hallucinogenic drugs in this post and/or recipe.  stand down there, people who may be involved in law enforcement.  no, these mushrooms are magic in the same way that mike is: mostly naked, a little sweaty, and tasty as all hell.  BOOM!

okay, now that we have oily male strippers on the mind, who’s ready to talk about food??  I made two soups this weekend: one magical, and one…  eh.  the second is still on the fence.  I’m hoping it perks up tomorrow, waking as if from a previous hangover, suddenly surprisingly full of vibrant conversation and witty repartee.  we shall see.  but you terribly busy and important people have no time for potentially interesting yet potentially dull recipes.  no, no.  let’s stick with the one that’s magical, sexy, and makes you tingle in all the right places.  (oh, my!)

fall is looming menacingly like a good alan rickman character here in the pacific northwest, and I for one am ready.  I adore the sunny, yet chilly days; the blue skies that accompany red noses.  were it possible to have a crush on a place, for me it might just be seattle in the autumn.  and such delightfully brisk weather doesn’t just suggest warming fare such as soups and stews, it demands them.  i take words like “braise” and “simmer” and i wrap them around me like a scarf and look forward to planning meals for those november and december holidays...

but there’s time enough for that in the months to come.  for now, let’s just make some magical soup. 

jamie oliver’s “real mushroom soup” (adapted from “jamie’s dinners”)

a small handful of dried porcini
olive oil
20oz mixed fresh mushrooms (i used shiitake and crimini.  worked just fine), cleaned and sliced
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely sliced
1 red onion, peeled and finely chopped
a knob of butter (that’s right, americans.  jamie says a KNOB of butter.  I used 2 tablespoons)
 a handful of fresh thyme, leaves picked (or a half-teaspoon of dried, if you’re me)
salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 cups chicken or vegetable stock
a handful of fresh flat-leaf parsley, leaves picked and roughly chopped (truth: I forgot to add mine.  was just fine)
2 tablespoons mascarpone cheese (truth: I didn’t have any.  didn’t miss it)

place the porcini in a small dish, add boiling water just to cover, and leave to soak, maybe 20 minutes.  

meanwhile, get a large casserole-type pan nice and hot, then add a good couple of lugs of olive oil and your fresh mushrooms.  saute for a minute, then add your garlic, onion, butter and thyme and a small amount of seasoning.  

after about a minute, add your chopped up porcini, then strain the soaking liquid to remove any grit, and add it to the pan.  continue cooking for about 20 minutes until most of the moisture disappears.

add your stock, bring to the boil, and simmer for around 20 minutes.  using an immersion blender, give it a quick whiz in the pan, then season to taste.  

if you’ve remembered the parsley and if you care for the mascarpone, add them at this point.  or, no offense to jamie and his nakedness, leave them out and it will still be a spectacular soup.  

i finished it with a little pepper and a drizzle of olive oil. mmmm, fallsy and woodsy and all kinds of magical...

breadwinner

bread is, and has always been, one of the most important food-related symbols in our world.  it exists in idioms, in religion, in 70’s soft-rock, and perhaps most importantly of all, in cockney rhyming slang.  so very deep-rooted in history, there is evidence that primitive breads might even have been baked 30,000 years ago (that is, until caveman adkins came along and grunted “carbs bad.  exist only on nuts, berries, and roast pteranodon).  bread has survived ever-fluctuating trends, fashions and diets over the centuries, remaining ever-cool; the little black dress of foodstuffs. 

now, let’s begin with an admission of sorts.  baking your own bread might just go against the general anti-faff rule i have with cooking.  that much is true.  BUT, saying that, as bread-making goes, this recipe is delightfully lazy.  there are no “starters” to be cultivated, there’s no day-long rising process, and there’s only enough kneading for you to juuust work out your aggression over the existence of the honey boo boo show, or of johnny depp shacking up with a 24 yr old, and then your hard labour is done and the dough chills (literally) in the fridge overnight.  this recipe also makes enough dough for two loaves, so when you’re seemingly baking your pals a completely altruistic loaf of freshly-baked bread, you can cackle slyly in your mind knowing that you’re getting one too.  (note to my friends: i never do that.  no, no.  it’s all for you, promise.)  so, yes, this might not be as easy as popping to the shop down the road and buying a loaf for a couple of bucks, but as far as i’m concerned, a still-warm loaf of crusty deliciousness and a house that smells perfectly like a parisian bakery might just be worth a little extra faff once in a while.

classic french bread (adapted from peter reinhart’s “artisanal breads every day”)

makes 2 large baguettes.

5-1/3 cups unbleached bread flour
2 teaspoons salt
2-1/4 teaspoons (one 7g packet) instant yeast
2 cups lukewarm water

do ahead

combine all of the ingredients in a mixing bowl.  if using a mixer, use the paddle attachment and mix on the lowest speed for 1 minute.  if mixing by hand, use a large spoon and stir for 1 minute, until well blended and smooth.  the dough should form a coarse, shaggy ball.  let it rest, uncovered, for 5 minutes.

switch to the dough hook and mix on medium-low speed for 2 minutes (or knead by hand for about 2 minutes) adjusting with flour or water as needed.  the dough should be smooth and supple (ooh la la), tacky but not sticky.

knead the dough by hand on a lightly floured work surface for about 1 minute more (or put darling daughter to work, with or without dragon costume), portion into two, then transfer each to a clean, lightly oiled bowl.  cover the bowls with plastic wrap, then immediately refrigerate overnight or for up to 4 days.

on baking day

remove the dough from the refrigerator about 2 hours before you plan to bake. gently transfer it to a lightly floured work surface, taking care to degas it as little as possible (one of the few times in the world where “gas” is actually a good thing).

to shape the dough into baguettes, gently press the dough into a rectangle, fold the top and the bottom into the center and pinch the seam shut.  let rest for 5-10 minutes.  repeat the folds to the center and pinch the new seam shut, then roll dough back and forth until you reach your desired length.

mist the top of the dough with spray oil, loosely cover with plastic wrap, and let it sit at room temperature for about 1 1/2 hours, until increased to 1 1/2 times its original size.

meanwhile, preheat the oven to 550°F or as high as it will go, heating two baking sheets inside the oven.

remove the plastic wrap and score the dough 1/2 inch deep with a serrated knife.   try not to let the knife drag the dough, as i have poorly done here.  oops.  

transfer the dough onto one of the hot baking sheets, place in oven, and pour 1 cup of hot water into the other, lower baking sheet (creating steam), then reduce the oven temperature to 450°F.

bake for 12 minutes, then rotate the pan and bake for another 15 minutes, until the crust is a rich golden brown, and the loaves sound hollow when thumped.

lumpy.  but that just means i can call it "artisanal," right??

mmm…  crusty…  enjoy with pretty much anything, but especially with salmon rillettes or oven-roasted heirloom tomatoes (see previous posts), and red wine.  because, let’s be honest, we should be enjoying pretty much everything with red wine, right??

salmonchanted evening

when you move to the pacific northwest, you're put through a rigorous screening process and asked three basic, but terribly important questions: 

1) are you willing to tell the rest of the world that it rains here every day (even though it doesn't) to stop more people from moving here?

2) are you prepared to drink coffee every morning for the rest of your life?

and...

3) do you like salmon?

lucky for me, i answered all with a resounding "yes," so they gave me my plaid shirt and welcomed me with open arms to my new home. 

of all the delicious salmon we get in seattle, copper river is truly the best of the best.  (the cream of the crop.  the kobe of the beef.  the connery of the bonds.)  darker in colour, the flavour of copper river salmon is richer, deeper, and more... salmony.  the only downfall being that copper river season lasts about 40 seconds and then POOF it's over and you're left picking between roger moore and timothy dalton at the fish counter.  i tend to stock up during those precious 40 seconds, then portion up the deliciousness into the freezer, ready to be sprung from the vaults whenever i have a craving (or whenever a pal invites me over for dinner so we can drink wine and act like snooty french ladies).  these aren’t your rillettes of yore, complete with a rather off-putting, wobbly layer of congealed fat on top.  ‘cause, no, I do not want to go to there.  no, these are tart, lemony, buttery morsels of seattle’s favourite fish, refreshing yet indulgent at the same time.  so go ahead and crank up “la vie en rose,” pull on your beret at its jauntiest angle, and dig right in.  bonne chance et bon appétit!

salmon rillettes (adapted from “around my french table” by dorie greenspan)

1 lemon

1 small red jalapeno chile

1/2 cup white wine

1/2 cup water

1 bay leaf

5 pink peppercorns (truth: i have no pink peppercorns, much to the chagrin of darling daughter, who would like all things pink at all times.  regular black ones worked just fine)

5 coriander seeds

2 small spring onions, peeled, long green tops removed and reserved.  (i used 4.  I’m crazy like that)

1/2 pound salmon filet, skin and bones removed, cut into small (about 1/2 inch) cubes

¼-ish pound smoked salmon cut into small (about 1/4 inch) dice (i use the hot-smoked salmon as i prefer the flavor and the texture)

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

salt and freshly ground pepper

using a vegetable peeler, remove a strip of zest from the lemon and toss it into a medium-sized saucepan; finely grate the rest of the zest and reserve.   cut a small slice of the red chile and toss into the saucepan; seed and finely dice the remainder of the chile and reserve. 

pour the wine and water into the pan, add the bay leaf, peppercorns, coriander, onion tops and 1/2 teaspoon salt and put the pan over medium heat.  bring to a boil, lower the heat, cover and simmer gently for 5 minutes.

add the cubes of fresh salmon into the pan, cover and poach the fish for just 1 minute.  turn everything into a strainer, drain, discard seasonings, then transfer the salmon to a mixing bowl.

with the back of a fork, lightly mash the poached salmon, then toss the smoked salmon, lemon zest, diced chile and chopped onion into the bowl.  add the softened butter and use the fork to stir and mash it into the mixture until it’s well incorporated and you have a thick spread.  add the lemon juice into the bowl, stir it in, and season with salt and pepper.

pack the rillettes into a jar (a canning jar is traditional) or bowl, press a piece of plastic wrap against the surface and chill for at least 2 hours – you want it to be firm – or for up to overnight.

serve with crusty bread, green salad, a bottle of grenache, and bad attempts at snooty french accents.