Dining Out: Scallops and Risotto!

Last week was the first night that Sarah, Vanessa and I were all home to enjoy dinner together outside on our new porch table.  Vanessa picked up some sea scallops, thinking that Sarah would not be home (she keeps kosher).  It was no problem, however, because Sarah had some leftover risotto from a previous night out with her parents.  Her risotto looked so good, that I decided to make some for everyone.

My Two Pretty Housemates

Our First Dinner Together on The Porch

It was truly a lovely night - made all the better because it followed what had been an unrelenting slew of rainy days.  The temperature was around 70 degrees, the garden looked beautiful, and the sun was still out.  It was so great to be eating dinner outside!

For supper, I pan seared the scallops with salt and pepper, finishing them with a little lemon juice.  I served them on top of some arugula, with some steamed broccoli.  The risotto that I made was simple enough; with green peas, diced vidalia onion, fresh parsley from my herb garden, and gruyere cheese.  I cooked it in chicken stock and vermouth.  When everything was done, I drizzled the whole plate with aged balsamic vinegar.  To drink we finished a bottle of Gruner Weltliner, an Austrian wine that Vanessa developed an affinity for last year in Vienna.

Seared Sea Scallops with Arugula and Gruyere Green Pea Risotto

Drizzled with Aged Balsamic Vinegar

with Steamed Broccoli

After dinner, we all hopped in my car and went out for ice cream!  We went to a place in Wilton that Sarah likes, and that Vanessa and I had never tried, called Scoops.  Pretty good ice cream, very cute place, really bad chunky hot fudge, but what can you do?  It was nice to have an evening outdoors.

Too Good to Eat Alone

In my last brief post, I was mid-preparation of a veal ragù, and had just received word that, due to a change of plans, I would be alone for dinner.  Originally, I thought I was just slow cooking a casual Sunday night meal.  But the thing about slow cooked, stewed nuggets of veal is that they make the house smell really wonderful, and it becomes rather apparent that the food is going to be pretty delicious.  This was not going to be the kind of meal that one should eat alone on a couch in front of the television.  The best food should always be enjoyed with company.

Fortunately for me, I have very supportive parents, and when I called and explained to them my predicament (I'm making a veal ragù, and have no one with whom to eat it!), they hopped in their car to make sure their son would not be alone. 

We started with a salad (not pictured), that my mom prepared when she arrived.  The dressing was one of my favorites of hers: poppy seed vinaigrette, consisting of oil, cider vinegar, Dijon mustard, honey, poppy seeds, salt and pepper.  The salad was arugula, carrots, red onion, cannellini beans, and tomato slivers.

Then we moved to the ragù, served over rigatoni.

Rigatoni with Veal Ragù

To make this sauce (I will go into detail, because mom requested a recipe), I began by browning the stewing veal pieces (just under a pound, I think).  Then I removed the meat and deglazed the pot with the remainder of a bottle of cabernet.  I added half of a chopped vidalia onion, four small sliced carrots, two small diced tomatoes, a lot of garlic chunks, some green olives (about eight, cut in half), marjoram, bay leaf, a dash of cayenne pepper, a dash of cinnamon, a couple teaspoons of tomato paste, a drop of red wine vinegar, and enough water to cover everything well.  This simmered for a few hours.

My parents told me that they would be coming earlier than I was planning on eating.  With Sarah and Vanessa frequently working late, we have gotten in the habit of rarely eating before 8:00.  Mom and Dad were coming over at 7:00, and this left less time to slow cook the meat.  Since I was using stewing chunks of veal, I needed them to cook for a while, until they had dissolved into shreds of meat, and the liquid had almost completely reduced to a thick sauce.  With the lack of time, I had to speed things up.  I removed the meat from the bowl after about two hours of cooking.  At this point it was very tender but not really falling apart without help.  I heated up a large skillet to flash boil the sauce.  For those of you who don't speak kitchen jargon, this means when the pan was very hot, I poured in the sauce, which was still very liquid.  The large surface area of the pan and the significant increase in temperature causes a lot of liquid to immediately evaporate, reducing the sauce, and concentrating the flavor into what remains.  I quickly reduced this liquid on high heat for a couple minutes, until a couple cups of liquid had become about half of a cup of flavorful paste.  I had put the meat back into some of the remaining sauce in the pot while this was going on, and broke up the meat chunks a bit with a spoon.  When the reduced sauce was thick enough, I combined the meat sauce in the pot with the goodies in the pan. At this point, I added about a half of a cup of cannellini beans, and corrected the seasonings with salt and pepper.  I stirred in a little bit of heavy cream, and continued to slow cook until my folks came and it was time to eat.  As I said, earlier, I put the ragù over some rigatoni pasta, and we had a fresh warm baguette and some Côtes du Rhône.

I tell you, it sure is nice to have such supportive parents.  It was really considerate of them to come join me for dinner.  Food is an experience best shared with friends and family.  The more the merrier at the dinner table. 

If you'd like to come over for a bite, let me know!  Friends are always welcome.

Who Will Eat My Veal Ragù?

This problem typifies my apartment:  I'm making a veal ragù, and no one is home to eat it!

Vanessa is away tonight, but Sarah told me that she would be home for dinner.  She just called to tell me that she had plans.  Alas... would anyone like some veal ragù?

The Garden

I have always loved nature, always trumpeted the belief that, "outside is better than inside."  Watching my parents toil each spring in their garden, I suspected that I too would someday tend my own garden.  I did not imagine myself reaping quite the same joy as they seemed to.  Still, with my love of the land, the forest, and the wilderness, it seemed inevitable that, when I did begin to garden, it would be something I would enjoy.

Such a garden came into fruition this May.  My small porch is now adorned with a row of window boxes, and my outside steps carry terracotta saucers and pots.  It will not surprise my readers that food provided the impetus for this garden, and everything that I planted, while pleasant to look at and sit beside, is edible.  More specifically, I should say that I planted an herb garden.  Along with your standard parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, I planted chives, cilantro, mint, chervil, Thai basil and seven common basils (with two more to come).

I also bought a small red table and set of chairs for the porch (they called it a bistro set).  Now that the weather is nice, I look forward to enjoying dinner outside in my quaint little herb garden.

This week saw the first use of the new herbs: pierogies with sauteed peppers and onions topped with fresh chervil.  This was the main event for Sarah, while Vanessa and I had it on the side with some bratwursts and grainy mustard.  Sorry no pictures were taken (my camera needed batteries).

The gals have some plans to plant some vegetables and flowering plants in front of the porch.  We really are dealing with a very small place, and do not want to crowd it, but I think it will come out nicely. 

Now, because I don't want to leave anybody hanging, here are some food pics from the last couple weeks, completely unrelated, but nonetheless delicious:

Penne in White Wine with Shrimp and Bell Peppers

Chicken Curry

Asparagus with Mustard Seed and Garam Masala

Rice and Garlic Naan

Wild Salmon Steak in a Lemon Dijon Sauce with Thyme

Rice Pilaf and Grilled Zucchini

Una Noche de Paella con Mis Padres

This past Friday, my parents came over to join Vanessa and I for Shabbat, and for paella. 

The meal was about as unkosher as it gets: shrimp, squid, mussels, clams, and chorizo.  No one seemed to mind.  We lit shabbat candles, enjoyed a challah, some salad, some sauvignon blanc, and of course, the paella.

Vanessa took this photo of me and my folks after dinner, with empty plates and full bellies.

Here are some photos from the meal:

The Dinner Table

Seafood Paella

With Shrimp, Squid, Mussels, Clams, and Chorizo

Spanish paella is a food that I had always enjoyed in restaurants growing up.  When my sister, Trish, was in college, she studied abroad a summer in Salamanca and a semester in Madrid.  The family went to visit her on the later of these trips.  Spain was my second time to Europe, and I was immediately entranced by the beauty of the landscape, the Moorish architecture, the cobblestone streets, and of course, the jamon and langostinos.

Paella became a family favorite and a special treat.  Luckily for us, we were not far from Bridgeport, CT, where a sizable Portuguese community lives.  Like their Spanish neighbors, the Portuguese cook paella.  Two Portuguese restaurants became favorites of ours for paella.  In recent years, I have come to attempt the dish myself.  It is actually a fairly simple dish to cook, and it does not take a lot of time.  Below is a pictures from the last time my parents came over for paella.  This was shortly after we moved in to the Norwalk apartment.

Another Seafood Paella

As with any dish, the more you make it, the better you get at preparing it.  This most recent paella, I think, was my best yet.  I am figuring out how to time the different ingredients so that the clams open at the same time as the mussels, and so the squid and shrimp are not over cooked.  

¡Viva España! 

Empanadas: My Ultimate Comfort Food

We did not have a lot of Latin food growing up.  Two years of medical school in Guadalajara did nothing but foster disdain in my Father for beans and tortilla.  Homemade burritos were a semi-annual dinner, if that.  Mexican takeout happened, but again, not with any frequency.  Chili, a staple in some of my best friends' houses (Ah, Jackie's mom's chili!), was never made at our house.  Foods that I have since come to appreciate and adore, foods like yucca, plantains, and chimichurri were just not on anybody's radar.

Why then, and how then, did I fall so helplessly in love with empanadas?

It happened in college.  Well, actually, it happened out of college - but during my college years.  I studies abroad junior year in Buenos Aires.  While there, I became an Argentine-ophile: I learned to dance the tango, studied Incan folk instruments, hiked the Andes, watched football, disregarded the upper buttons of my shirt, drank mate, and yes, I ate a lot of empanadas.

Buenos Aires offered wonderful street food.  There were the pan rellenos (stuffed breads) that I enjoyed every weekend at the Recoleta Market, filled with tomato, mozzarella and basil, or with meat, or cheese and oregano.  There were choripan, grilled chorizos on grinder rolls, dowsed with chimichurri sauce (a relish of oil, garlic, parsley and other herbs).  There were of course good old fashioned hot dogs, only they went by the wonderfully esoteric name "superpanchos."  Makes you wonder about the origin of our word for the thing.  I mean, really, why hot dog?  There were also the ubiquitous sandwiches available in every corner deli and restaurant, the milanesa; essentially a Weinerschnitzel, breaded veal cutlet, on bread with lettuce, tomato and onion.

But there was really nothing quite like an empanada.  A thick doughy crust, hiding delectable treats inside.  The most basic fillings in Argentina for empanadas are beef, chicken, cheese, ham and cheese, and corn.  There are, however, endless potential fillings, and I have tried, chicken liver, trout, squid, chorizo, and a variety of empanadas dulces (sweet fillings).  It is always fun to try different varieties of empanadas; you can discover a lot of great combinations and fillings.  But in my experience, no matter how tasty an exotic filling to an empanada, there is just no beating beef.

Different parts of Latin America, and even different regions within a country prepare empanadas in their own ways.  There may be differences in the dough, in the fillings, or in the seasoning.  The greatest differences between regional preparations that I have tasted come down to two choices: large or small and baked or fried.  Now I have to admit, the tastiest empanadas that have ever had were small and fried, but when I make them, I cook them Buenos Aires style, large and baked.

Because the process can be time consuming, I use pre-made empanada dough.  It saves a lot of time, and Goya makes good discs.  For the filling, I essentially follow this recipe.  Mine have beef, onion, garlic, chilies, tomatoes, raisins, olives, cumin, oregano or marjoram, and are topped with a slice of hard-boiled egg.

Assembling the Empanadas to Bake

Once together, I crimp the edges, and bake them in a hot oven, sometimes finishing them under the broiler, 10-15 minutes.

Empanadas de Carne

When I lived in Argentina, three empanadas was a typical lunch for me once or twice a week.  Occasionally I would have little homemade ones for dinner.  Then I could scarf down ten or twelve.  Vanessa and I each have four or five of these for dinner, and the leftovers make great lunches.

Empanadas con Ensalada

So for nostalgia of my Latin life, empanadas have become my ultimate comfort food.  Like Chinese dumplings, Indian samosas, and hell, like beef wellington, they prove that when you take meat and wrap it in dough, it's going to taste good.  It's going to taste really good.

The Pre-Paschal Lamb

Bread and Leg of Lamb, 1866, Paul Cezanne

The paschal lamb was the ritual sacrifice commanded by God to the Jewish people during the the time of Passover, or Pesach.  In the story of the exodus from Egypt, God inflicted upon the Egyptians ten plagues, the last of which, slaying of the first born son, convinced the Pharaoh to let the Jewish slaves go free.  Prior to the tenth plague, God commanded the Jewish people to mark their doors with the blood of a lamb.  Only by this marker, would the angel of death know to pass over the Jewish homes, and spare their first born sons.  Forty years later, when the Jews were free in the land of Israel, the ordained korban Pesach (Pesach sacrifice) came into practice.  On the eve of Passover, an unblemished, one-year-old, male lamb or goat was offered in the temple by each family.  It was then carried to the homes, and roasted on a spit.  The entire lamb (or goat) had to be eaten that night at the seder dinner with bitter herbs and with matzo.

The days of The Temple are long gone, and it has been ages since Jews practiced animal sacrifice.  In the modern seder, vestige of this ancient tradition is represented by the zeroa, a lamb bone, displayed on the seder plate.  Lamb and goat meat are rarely on the evening's menu. 

My family's seder at my brother's house in Los Angeles was no exception to this.  We had brisket, mashed potatoes, vegetables, matzo ball soup, egg salad - all traditional stuff.  But there was something special about our seder plate this year, and that was the lamb bone.  This bone was not purchased at a kosher butcher or grocery for the express purpose representing the korban Pesach.  No this lamb bone was just a practical application of leftovers.

Our Seder Plate

As I mentioned in my last couple of posts, my family was together in Los Angeles celebrating the birth of my nephew, Noah.  Normally, a family vacation is an excuse for a whole lot of restaurant eating, but with a newborn baby and a post caesarean-section mommy, we cooked in or took out every night.  One night we took out Thai food, another night it was pizza, one night I cooked ravioli in a tomato and mushroom sauce, and one night we had lamb.

We purchased a six pound leg of New Zealand lamb from Whole Foods.  The night before the feast, I marinated the leg in a mix of Dijon mustard and lemon juice, with a lot of salt, pepper, and fresh rosemary, marjoram and sage from Bill's lush California herb garden.

The meat marinated for a day, and the next evening, I placed it in a roasting pan on top of a bed of mixed potatoes and onion chunks, with olive oil, more seasonings, and some whole sprigs of rosemary.  An oversight from earlier, at this point I also slid some slices of garlic into incisions in the lamb. 

This is what went into the oven.

And two hours later, this is what came out.

For the rest of the menu, my brother took care of grilling some zucchini, squash and onion, while I open-flame roasted some red peppers.  Mom made a wonderful salad, with sunflower seeds, strawberries, grapes, and fresh tangerines grown from Bill's backyard, along with other goodness.  There was a challah, and I had bought a couple bottles of Bordeaux wine.

The Spread

Salad, Grilled Vegetables, Roasted Potatoes with Rosemary and Lamb Juice, 

Grilled Chicken (for my sister), Herbed Dijon Roast Leg of Lamb, Sesame Challah 

 The Lamb

All sliced and ready to eat

 Grilled Squash, Zucchini and Vidalia Onion and Flame-Roasted Red Peppers

Roasted Fingerling, Red and Purple Potatoes

With Rosemary and Lamb Juice

Dinner was wonderful.  I felt very proud of this meal.  It was great to have the whole family together, and we certainly had cause for celebration.  Noah lay in a bassinet next to the dinner table, and seemed equally content with his pacifier (he had been eating all day). 

A couple days later was the the next big meal, out Passover seder.  Dish preparations were delegated.  My sister-in-law's mom made the brisket.  My mom and I handled the matzo ball soup.  It was a typical week of excellent eating, made extra special by the company and the occasion.

Special thanks to Bill and Carin for the use of their awesome camera for today's pictures.  I have delicious plans for when you guys come and visit next month!  Can't wait.