The Omnivorous Fish -

Market Report Redux

JoeFish — Mon, 12 May 2008 15:13:44 -0400

I have been standing on the beach at Camp Pendleton Marine Base since we last talked. I am much like a Mercedes from the sixties: alternately brown, red, red or black.

I left you hanging with that last market report, sorry. The menu did evolve a little, here’s what really happened:

Mostarda of Celery (this is where celery [though usually fruit] is cooked in a syrup with spices to make a conserve) with fresh ricotta on crostini with my special olives: oil-cured sicilian olives macerated with blood orange juice and zest
Check.

Nettle and rice soup with bacon- a venetian style minestra-risotto
Well, the nettles didn’t survive my trip to Vegas, so they got bounced to compost duty, and I reached into the freezer for a little backup and came up with a last-minute risotto.

Panelle- Fried squares of chickpea flour polenta- palermo style- with a salad of favas, salame calabrese (spicy), ricotta salata and whole chopped (meaning pith and all) meyer lemons
Check, although I seasoned this with mint and oil, and it was great, but the lemons were a mistake. They didn’t become the bright counterpoint I thought they would be…they ended up being too strong for the delicate fava. The salame was enough of a contrast, and also went well with the cheese, which the lemon did not.

Pork Butt Roast (the top part of the foreleg that I sometimes call shoulder, but is not accurate in English) with braised leeks and Sicilian potato salad (cooked potatoes, extra virgin olive oil, red wine vinegar, fresh mint)
As planned, and it was SO good. I used those French chestnut potatoes, and though they fell apart a little, the flavor was superb. I burned the leeks, though they tasted good. My bad.

Strawberries alongside Lebanese rosewater-flavored baklava. Yes, Rose, Danny Thomas was one, too.
Yeah, I wasn’t feeling the baklava. I made a lemon mousse instead, with some lemon curd and whipped cream, which I set out in bowls around the table with a huge bowl of chopped strawberries in the center. Like a make-your-own-fool.
Good times.

Listening: NPR: Fair Game with Faith Salie

Weeds

JoeFish — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 17:08:01 -0400

So, if you’ve ever planted mint, you know that you can’t kill it. Mulching, acid, weeding, DDT, whatever, that mint, much like dandelions, is coming BACK. And although it is a pain, when I weed the garden, I leave the mint, the dandelions and the purslane until last. Know why? They all taste great. They’re like free money. The purslane can get dropped into any salad. The dandelions can join the salad, or hop into pasta, risotto, or just get cooked by themselves with some fatback or – especially good with dandelions- chicken skin. The mint isn’t always as easy to use up, but if you can put together a pint or so of it, then, as they say, when life gives you mint, make mint ice cream.

Ice cream is a joy when made at home. Ice cream from the store can, frankly, suck it, because that’s what it does. It’s lower in fat than it should be, and often in industrial dairy, the milk that’s too old for yogurt gets made into ice cream since its flavor will be obscured by god only knows what fruit, nut, marshmallow, peat moss, plus good old-fashioned cold.

That doesn’t cut it for me.

Generally speaking, ice cream is a light custard, sweetened and flavored with myriad possible things, and stirred in a freezing environment, to slowly chill and permeate it with air. I have made ice cream with cream, milk, eggs, yolks and prayer in every possible combination, but the most reliable recipe I’ve had is from the Chez Panisse Menu Cookbook, and it comes from a recipe for Honey Ice Cream. I like it because unlike many recipes that call for milk, I can get consistent results using supermarket dairy. Ultra-pasteurized cream behaves reasonably well when there’s enough fat to help the mixture along. If I can’t get cream I’m really thrilled with, but I still want ice cream, I add clarified butter to the custard, about a third cup.

The original recipe calls for strong-flavored honey, and makes a fine ice cream all by itself. I, however, almost always use honey for ice cream, because I like the flavor, and it lowers the freezing temperature of the custard, making it easier to scoop later. You could substitute so many things for the mint: Rose petals, lavender flowers, bay leaves, basil, cloves, orange blossoms, ground pistachios, or a plain old vanilla bean. You would not want to use as much lavender or cloves as the mint, but taste the custard as you go. If it’s getting too strong, strain it out, if it’s not strong enough, add some more. It’s ice cream, no one’s going to get hurt. Just keep in mind the custard will taste somewhat less strong when it’s frozen.

Mint Ice Cream
4 cups heavy cream
5 egg yolks
½ cup mild-flavored honey, like clover or thyme, NOT buckwheat or thistle
1 1/2 cups loosely packed mint thinnings, stems and all
2-3 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped (optional)

Heat the cream slightly in a heavy saucepan, or in a double boiler if you’re squeamish. Beat the egg yolks in a medium bowl. Add some of the warmed cream and stir it in quickly. Add the honey, mint and the egg yolk mixture to the cream, and stir it in well. Cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon or heatproof spatula, over hot water or medium-low heat for about ten minutes, until the consistency of a very light custard sauce is reached (it thoroughly coats a spoon). Be sure to scrape the sides and bottom of the pot as the mixture cooks. There is also a smell associated with a ready custard… but I’m at a loss as to how to explain it. Keep your nose out for it, and you’ll know for next time. Cooking is more than a recipe, after all.

Pour the mixture into a bowl set in a larger bowl of ice and water. Stir occasionally until cool to the touch, then strain it- pressing on the solids to milk out that green elixir- and put it in the refrigerator. Chill for several hours, or overnight.

Put the chocolate and the custard in the freezer while you dig out the ice cream machine. After about ten minutes, process the custard in the ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions. Add the frozen chocolate about halfway through the process.

Freeze the ice cream until firm, then it’s ready when you are.

Listening: This American Life

Spinach, Pinot Noir and the Green Lantern

JoeFish — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 16:31:40 -0400

This whole eating from the garden thing is blowing my mind. I know; Captain Obvious rides again. The spinach loves getting thinned, and exploded after its last trimming.

There are a number of ways to cook spinach, and they can really influence the nature of its flavor. Spinach is one of the most distinctly flavored greens, but that flavor can run the gamut from a bright omigawd to a subtle what-is-this-kale? kind of reaction. A salad of young, tiny spinach with a light sherry or balsamic vinaigrette could practically get up, walk around and tell you how good and fresh and vibrant it is. Blanched, pureed and cooked in beef stock and butter, spinach has a very deep voice and the character of an ent. Chopped and added to something like risotto, spinach can play both roles, adding both freshness and earth to a dish.

So, there’s this boy who’s been around for a few months now. I kept waiting for him to wise up and move on, but I guess there’s no judging taste: he seems to like me. And good thing, too, since he’s a Green Lantern. So, blog, Green Lantern, Green Lantern, blog.

Anyway, when he’s not saving the world, he works one of those grown up jobs. You know, the kind where you go every day, and it’s always Monday through Friday. I’ve heard about these, but I’m not anxious to try one. Sometimes I treat him after a long day with something like this:

Pantry and Garden Thinning Risotto

Er, uh, I mean:

Risotto of Spinach with Porcini

Serves 4 as a first course, 2-3 for dinner

½ cup dried porcini mushrooms, morels or others would be good
2 cups hot water

four slices bacon, chopped
1 small onion, chopped
salt, pepper, freshly grated nutmeg

1 cup short-grain rice, arborio or carnaroli for example
1 cup white wine (or pink wine)
2 cups (or more) stock, water or other flavorful liquid (dried mushroom soaking liquid, cheese rinds (not wax ones) simmered in water for a half hour, half-strength bouillon from Knorr brand cubes, water from cooking vegetables, almost anything) In this case, water from soaking the mushrooms simmered with some bay leaves.

2 cups, loosely packed, chopped fresh spinach or thinnings or young shoots from any garden green, like dandelions, arugula or sorrel (yes, if you don’t use pesticides in your garden, you can absolutely use the dandelions you pull out of the flower beds)
3 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup grated pecorino romano cheese

Pour the hot water over the mushrooms and allow to soak while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. When they are thoroughly softened, remove them from the liquid, chop them coarsely and set them aside. Strain the soaking liquid, or allow the grit to settle to the bottom.
Heat the stock in a pan adjacent to your risotto pan, you will be ladling from one pot to another almost continuously. It should barely simmer.
Cook the bacon over medium heat in a heavy, nonreactive pot, like copper lined with tin or stainless steel or enameled cast iron. Aluminum may darken the risotto. When it begins to crisp, add the onion and sweat, stirring frequently. Sweating means to cook without browning, so keep your eye on it, you want to cook the onions until they are just softened. Season onion with salt and pepper. Add the rice and stir well. When the liquid from the onions has evaporated, the rice will begin to brown, stir frequently and listen for the rice to begin to whistle. No, I’m not kidding. When the natural moisture in the endosperm of the rice breaks out it will make a little whistling noise. This means the rice grains are getting in the mood.
After the rice has been whistling for a minute or so, add the wine all at once. When wine is mostly evaporated, add half the mushroom soaking liquid. Stir it in well and adjust heat so that the mixture bubbles excitedly but not vigorously while you stir. From this point on, the risotto must be stirred regularly. Stir, and stir with a purpose, scraping the bottom and corners to avoid the risotto scorching. When there is just barely enough stock in the pan to keep all the rice submerged, add the rest of the liquid and the reserved mushrooms. Again, when that liquid is almost gone, add a half cup of stock and continue stirring, adding stock every few minutes as needed. Meanwhile season the risotto with salt and pepper.
In about eight minutes (or longer, depending on your rice), start tasting a grain or two of rice to determine its consistency. Much like pasta, the rice should be neither crunchy nor mushy, and that last little white pearl of starch should remain inside the rice. This is not fluffy white rice with a stir fry, don’t expect it to be. This whole process will take from 15-20 minutes, depending on heat, rice and humidity. When the rice is almost there, add spinach to heat through and season with some nutmeg. When the spinach is wilted, adjust the seasoning with salt, pepper and nutmeg. When you believe it to be thrirty seconds from being done, add the butter and cheese and stir thoroughly. Add stock to adjust the consistency to your liking and serve immediately. It’s not as urgent as it is with pasta, but don’t wait around. Get everybody sitting down before you add the cheese.

We drank this with one of many refreshing but unremarkable pink wines that we drink so much of this time of year. The Chateau D’acqueria Tavel is ubiquitous and good, the Tin Roof Pinot Noir Pink is really nice, and I had an Umbrian pink the other day that was great, but I forget the name of the producer (but it had Umbria in the name, like Azienda Umbria or something, although it wasn’t that). This time of year, I’ll try anything pink that’s under ten bucks. Ha ha ha.

Listening: NPR: national. public. radio.

It's Alive!!!!

JoeFish — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 12:41:26 -0400

What do this spinach and arugula have in common? Yes, they are both organic. There’s something else. Yes, they’re both green, duh. Yes, they’re both grown in California. But you know what else? I grew them both.

Whoa.

I have often said that time and distance are reflected in the food we eat, so something flown in from Chile last week will never be as good as something picked yesterday on the local farm. Well, try picking the salad on your way inside from work. I’m not saying it was the best arugula I’ve ever tasted, but I will say that it had a taste and a vibrancy unlike anything else one can eat. Even a tomato eaten warm from the sun- one of the best things you can do with clothes on- as beautiful and explosive as that experience is- and it is- there is an urgent greenness inherent to salads and herbs this fresh that eclipse even the sacred tomato.

So I called up some of the crew and had them over to try it, and to help clean out the fridge from earlier in the week. The cupboard was relatively bare, but here’s what I came up with:

Bruschetta with Ricotta Salata and Oregano- that’s the recipe, essentially. Toast some bread with olive oil on both sides in the oven, grate over ricotta salata and sprinkle with chopped oregano- preferably from the garden.

Arugula (and spinach) Salad with Eureka Lemon Segments (god I love lemon segments in a salad)

Fava and Tuma Ravioli from Easter with sage butter… guess where the sage came from

Apple Tart- courtesy of Laura

I also had guacamole and chips out. Fresh fresh fresh guacamole and blue corn chips, THAT is MFing snack food. Boo-YA.

Listening: A soundstage. Oh jeez.

Sicilian Words, the Answers and More

JoeFish — Sat, 12 Apr 2008 17:52:46 -0400

Sicilian - Italian - English

Ammaru - Gamberi - Shrimp

Babaluccia - Lumache - Snail

Cumoigghiu - Copertura - Cover

Droco - Laggiu - Over there

Eccu - Ecco - Here you go

Fuinu - Forno - Oven

Gridari - Gridare - To scream (not a good example)

Iddu - Lui - Him

Jelu - Gelo - Pudding or Gel

Lagnusu - Pigro** - Lazy

Manjari - Mangiare - To eat (also pistiari, but this is usually used as “to dine” or “to eat a meal”)

Niuro - Nero - Black

Ojo - Olio - Oil

Pumuruoru - Pomodoro - Tomato

Quannu - Quando - When

Racina - Uva - Grape

Scecchu - Mulo - Mule

Travagghiari (sometimes Travajari)- Lavorare - To work

Unne - Dove - Where

Vogghieri - Volere - To want

Zainu - Zaino - Backpack (another bad example, but I didn’t know the Italian word for backpack until I looked it up)

Notice that we have “j.” Yes, we have j. Italian doesn’t generally have j, k, w, x or y. In fact, in Italian, j is “long I”, k is the greek word (kappa), w is “double-v” (why it isn’t for us, who knows), and y is “Greek I”. J pops up in dialectical words, and modernisms like “Jugoslavia.” You occasionally see K in Northeastern dialects that are German-tinged, like in Alto-Adige, and is having a surge of popularity in the under 40 crowd, in text messages and IMs, as in “ke” (che- what). Likewise X, which is, of course the mathematical symbol for “times,” which in Italian is per (times, for, per) so you might ask Perche- in a text message with “xke-”

**I got the word “pigro” from babelfish but I have never heard an Italian person say it. In my experience they say “non vuole fare niente” – “he doesn’t want to do anything”- in place of the word lazy. Sicilian people usually say lagnusu. As a topic for chop-busting (the national pastime) utility or industriousness is a common topic. Insults might include innutile (useless) or scecchu (a mule, or a horse that is mentally damaged, something that works hard, but not smart).

The Language

There are some obvious relationships that may have jumped out at you. The vowel o often becomes u. A soft g often morphs into j and becomes a /y/ sound. Clusters like li and gl will drift lazily along:

olio /OH lee oh/ to ojo /OY-yo/
tagliare /tal YAH reh/ to tagghiare /tahg-GYA-re/.

Another good example I neglected to include is a double l, which hardens into a double d:

bello /BEL-low/ to biddu /BEEHD-doo/.
capello /ka-PELL-oh/ to capiddu /gah BEEHD-doo/

There is a glottal replacement before double consonants in Sicilian that I tried to emulate with the H in the preceding examples. There is a subtle ejective consonant at the end. I admit, it’s a really strange accent, and the Agent said it sounded like I was speaking Russian. Funnily enough, a lot of those sounds come from Arabic.

Looking at these examples in isolation, you might be tempted to think “this is mostly an accent; this isn’t a language, it’s a dialect.” Well, it’s not. It has its own syntax and verb forms, and the conjugation rules are pretty different. We could draw the same parallels between Italian and French or Spanish words. We’ll get to all that… at some point.

Listening: Panic at the Disco “9 in the Afternoon” Live in studio.

Sicilian Words

JoeFish — Fri, 11 Apr 2008 01:28:25 -0400

How many can you guess? Or do you know?

Ammaru

Babaluccia

Cumoigghiu

Droco

Eccu

Fuinu

Gridari

Iddu

Jelu

Lagnusu

Manjari

Niuro

Ojo

Pumuruoru

Quannu

Racina

Scecchu

Travagghiare

Unne

Vogghieri

Zainu

Notice that we have “j.”

Market Report

JoeFish — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 01:55:35 -0400

Well, I’m in Vegas, but this morning I hit Santa Monica Farmers’ Market. A an old, dear friend’s mom is in town, and it’s criminal that I have yet to cook for this woman, so Monday we’re rectifying that. Here’s what I found that really blew my skirt up:

Celery- Yes, not usually much of a fan, but this was no ordinary celery
Nettles- Stinging nettles, but big mofo stinging nettles, perfect for soup
Fava beans- need I say more?
Strawberries- not good enough to kill for, but good enough to get down on the ground and vibrate for
Leeks- beautiful, tiny leeks from Rutiz Farms, home of the Orgasmic Arugula
Green garlic- what’s better about spring, exactly, than green garlic?
French fingerling potatoes- just a hint of chestnut in the flavor- excellent for composed salads
Citrus- holy shit I will never cease to be blown away by meyer lemons and blood oranges at the farmer’s market

So here’s what I have in mind for monday, criticism encouraged:

Nettle and rice soup with bacon- a venetian style minestra-risotto

Panelle- Fried squares of chickpea flour polenta- palermo style- with a salad of favas, salame calabrese (spicy), ricotta salata and whole chopped (meaning pith and all) meyer lemons

Strawberries alongside Lebanese rosewater-flavored baklava. Yes, Rose, Danny Thomas was one, too.

I have several interesting pink wines laid in to help this process. Let me know what you think of the menu as a whole.

Quoting

JoeFish — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 15:01:41 -0400

Apropos of nothing, I read this at I Heart Farms today, and although the whole passage is moving, the following bit just struck a chord with me.

I’m sick of dynasty politicians and dynasty wealth. I’m tired of the rich getting richer. I’m sick of corporations ruling and brainwashing, and I’m sick of people having no reason to hope. I want to feel part of that greater America, and I believe we can do it with the “once-in-a-lifetime” leader that Barack Obama is.

I hope we prove you right, Tana.

Rite of Spring

JoeFish — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 14:23:09 -0400

Well, crap, I lived. Thanks to everybody who came for Easter, from as far away as Simi Valley… sheesh!

Having its roots in a pagan festival, Easter brings to mind the cycle of life for me. There’s still a nip in the air, but here we are, eating peas. There are some dead leaves still visible in the mulch, but there’s enough sun to get artichokes. It’s a time of transition and renewal, much more than New Year’s, which- especially in the Northeast- is a time where gray and cold transitions into grayer and colder. Some lentils and pork don’t quite signify the revolution that a change in weather and new life do.

It’s easy to be philosophical when you spend a lot of time in the garden. To take dirt and some alien seeds and eggshells and mere effort, then to yield- with the forbearance of time- something alive that will perfume the sights and smells and energy of your home, and eventually nourish your body; this is a miracle. It’s especially dramatic, of course to live in California, which is rife with biology in a way that I can’t imagine any other state being. The shifts in temperature, not only from time of year, but from elevation, landform and ocean, along with an abundance of conserved areas not far from- and often within- populated areas make for a surrounding of life unlike any I’ve seen in this country.

artichoke in flower

So, all that said, I still have a mountain of peas to deal with, and- out of nowhere- the strangest craving for meatballs. I haven’t historically loved meatballs, but I figure there has to be a way for me to like something that is made of ingredients that I like. My mother’s recipe reads not unlike a meatloaf recipe, with beef, breadcrumbs, eggs, parsley (always dried, which smells of grass clippings to me and may well be), romano cheese… and that’s about all I can think of. So I said to myself, what could be different?

This brings me to one of the cookbooks in the Reference Section. These are seminal volumes that we go back to for answers, not necessarily for new inspiration (unless we’re feeling retro/classical). Among these are, of course, The Iliad and The Odyssey, that is to say Mastering the Art of French Cooking, volumes 1 and 2; Larousse Gastronomique; its Italian sister Il Cucchiaio d’Argento; The Joy of Cooking; and baking treatises, like The Cake Bible and The King Arthur Flour Baker’s Companion. These are all stately final-authority type tomes, but there are some more modest books in the category, too. One of them is Marcella Hazan’s Classic Italian Cooking, a book truly ahead of its time, and while it makes no claim to be an exhaustive study of the cuisine, it is a collection of historically sound, well-tested recipes designed to capture the interest of an American audience. The Lutece Cookbook is a similar study of the evolution of haute cuisine in America’s restaurants. These books have something over the encyclopedias that precede them: they give us a solid answer without exhausting us with information. Case in point, Marcella’s Classic Italian Cooking > index > meatballs > answer. The answer? Milk soaked in bread in place of the breadcrumbs. I should have known this, having made many forcemeats exactly the same way, but hey.

So, peas and meatballs. But not together- not for me, anyway, although my old buddy Marianna puts peas in damn near everything. I used to think this was a palermitana (Palermo-style) but I later learned this was a Marianna, in an effort to get her kids to eat something green. I know I talk about Sicilian food a lot, and I love food from all over the country, but I have a special fondness for Northeastern Italy. Friuli, Alto Adige and Veneto- not to mention Istria and the Slovenian provinces that are no longer part of Italy politically- are regions that straddle cultures, truly. Sicily’s food culture is a fascinating sum of its parts, but the Germanic and Italianate influences in the Northeast- although coherent- are distinct.

And the Venetians love their rice. They love rice so much that it would be impossible to say that any way of cooking rice is the “Venetian style” since there are about 30 ways they cook rice that are all more or less “standard.” They even have different styles of risotto. In springtime, when the peas first arrive, people go nuts with the classic risi e bisi, rice and peas. Not exactly a minestra, but decidedly not a risotto, it’s a thick soup of rice, peas, onions, stock and just a taste of pancetta (the salt of cured pork always makes peas taste sweeter). How thick? I describe it like this: you want it to be like a cooking risotto that you’ve just added liquid to, but it has yet to be absorbed.

This is one of those dishes that every Mamma in Veneto will tell you definitively that this is how much pancetta is right and this amount of liquid. However you make it, you can hardly go wrong. It’s a light but flavorful primo that follows the grows-together-goes-together truism: try serving it with grated piave and a young Soave (not Rico).

And really, why not follow this with a rich meatball in a slightly acid tomato sauce? With a little frisee salad, it’s dinner.

Listening: “The Preacher” Jimmy Smith

Here Comes Peter Cottontail, Again

JoeFish — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 22:43:09 -0400

Well, last year, I fantasized about Easter dinner. This year, I’m doing it. I made 120 ravioli and did mise* for 3 easter pies plus bread tomorrow. 15 ladies and gentlemen are coming to eat all this stuff sunday, and I am psyched. If only I had had time for landscaping. Living in an apartment, you forget that there even is an outside to your home. It’s an amorphous concept, like Detroit.

Well, here’s the menu, if you can’t wait to find out. It’s a mixture of Neapolitan, Sicilian and Southern Californian influences, with nods to tradition, availability and pragmatism. And no, unfortunately, I did not find a goat.

Pizza Chena Easter “Stuffed” Pie in the style of Acqua Bella, Campania: A rich yeast dough with butter and eggs, filled with basket cheese, ham, pecorino romano and herbs.

Torta di Zucchini Another Easter Pie, this time Filo filled with a custard holding together Salame Napoletano, zucchini and spring onions.

Pane Pasquali A festive yellow bread dough braided with whole eggs, covered with poppy seeds and baked.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Ravioli of Fava Beans with tuma cheese, sauced with butter, olive oil and marjoram, with caciocavallo cheese

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Lamb Leg Cacio e Uova: Braised Lamb with onions and white wine with an enriched sauce of eggs, lemon and cheese

Braised artichokes
Roasted potatoes with rosemary

Arugula Salad with Lemon

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Pastiera Napoletana Easter grain pie

Risu Niuro Sicilian Black Easter Risotto (with cocoa, not squid ink, you knucklehead)

So, as you can see, I have to get back to work. I hope you all have a great holiday.

Listening: NPR, Fresh Air