The Frying Game

So, somehow it's all my fault.

My fault that storebought ricotta was not good enough any more.

My fault that we needed then to make our own ricotta, necessitating a trip to San Francisco Brewcraft for a packet of citric acid.
My fault that this somehow revived a latent beer-making inclination -- much like the reincarnation of some long dormant Egyptian demon in a Saturday-afternoon, schlock sci-fi, made-for-tv movie.

"Because of her, ENGLISH PALE ALE rises to walk the earth again."

And now it's my fault that everyone is stuffed with fish and chips, cheesecake and beer, and dragging about like overstuffed sea lions.

To celebrate Eric's first foray into beer(or ale) -making, we made a dinner over at the Linwood Brewery, as it has been dubbed. Check out the step by step (plus some unsubstantiated allegations about my invovement in this process) on his blog...

Of course, the cheesecake was made the day before so it had time to chill. (The original recipe is here.)

It's always a little startling to me how much cream cheese you need to start out with. Here's my hunka-hunka burning cream cheese.



And here is the mass of cream cheese being made more creamy by the addition of sour cream. All that is going into an 8" cake pan. Woo-hoo!

Then we lick the beaters and the bowl -- Woo-hoo!


The real key though, is the yummy pecan and graham cracker crust. A bit of sugar, a bit of butter -- perfect!

And we eat the remainder of the crust crumbs. Woo-hoo!


Ahem. Anyhow, back to the fish and chips...

So for this little adventure, we actually purchased an electric skillet. That way I could be far away from the roiling boiling ale-god procedure happening near the stove and make my own little messes over by the kitchen table. I have to say, we don't have space for a lot of fancy appliances, but I like this little jobbie, a Black and Decker fryer that will go up to 400F. Good enough for me. We tested it out and made some braised short ribs in it. It wasn't as good as you can produce over a stove, but it was easy to get going, one-pot and quite acceptably tasty.

On Sunday it did triple duty, frying up Beer Battered fish (Dover sole and Rock Cod) along with onion rings and french fries.

Beer Battered Fish, Onion Rings & French Fries

• 1 medium sized cod fillet per person
• 1 cup AP flour plus extra for dusting
• 1 cup self rising flour
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/2 pt dark beer (Guinness or porter)
• 1 tbsp of oil
• 2 egg whites
• 1 egg yolk
• Water

Combine the flours and salt in a medium bowl. Add in the beer, oil and egg yolk, then stir till blended. Let the batter rest for at least 30 minutes (it is definitely better after it's rested and the glutens have a chance to relax.)

Add a pinch of salt to the egg whites and whip into stiff peaks. Then fold these into the rested batter. Add a little more beer if the consistency of the batter is too thick. It should coat the back of a spoon.

Salt and pepper the fish and then dust with flour.

Heat about a quart of vegetable or peanut oil in the fryer (enough to make at least 1 in deep layer), until it gets to 360 F.

When the oil is hot enough, dip a fish fillet into the batter using tongs and coat completely. Let excess batter drip off and lay it in the oil. Be careful not to splatter yourself. After 3 or 4 minutes, turned the fish fillets over to get the other side crisped. Let cook another couple of minutes, then remove and allow it to drain on a rack over paper towels.

We used the same process for the onion rings. All you have to do is slice an onion into 1/4" thick slices, pop them into single rings, dip into the batter and fry away.

To make the French fries, use russets or some nice baking type potato. Cut the potatoes into french fries by slicing them into 1/4" thick planks, then slicing crosswise into 1/4" fries. You can either peel or not peel them -- either works fine. The best procedure we found for French Fries was to do a first fry in oil that's at 325F. Cook the potatoes until they're limp and cooked through, then pull them out and drain. Then crank the heat up until the oil is at 375F and do a second fry until they are golden brown and crispy. Trust me -- you get lovely tasty fries that are creamy on the inside and crisp and flavorful on the outside. That -- some roasted garlic aioli -- oh, there was no turning back.

As usual, the food was mostly gone by the time I remembered to grab the camera and take a picture ... of the last lonely piece of cheesecake.


And here was the raspberry sauce that went around it. Shavings of El Rey 71% cacao chocolate on top.

No, we don't live a spoiled life.




... And the beer? Well, let's just say that in a closet somewhere in Oakland, there's a bucket of beer huddling in a closet.

“If on a winter's night a traveler …”

What better way to warm up an unseasonably cold and rainy winter day than by invading someone else's gourmet kitchen, firing up their 65 million BTU stove and making a heap o' vittles? Mmmmmm.

Last night we trekked up to the North Country to make dinnner at the charming house of the Cowgirls from the Creamery -- a Northern Italian extravaganza that stretched from about 4:30 in the afternoon to past midnight.

We are so entirely spoiled in the Bay Area, where people make crazy, extravagant meals in their 5-foot efficiency kitchenettes, but everyone is a great cook, and your next door neighbors are wine aficionados. The best part is eating with people who just love food. No gluten-free, sugar-free, low-sodium, lactose-intolerant, "Oh-I'm allergic to anchovies...," types in this group.

Pancetta? Sure, throw it in.
Garlic? Love it.
More cheese? Hand it over.

Among the guests, our wine stewards Ms. Five-and-a Half and Mr. Thirteen brought some lovely classic Pinot Noir and Champagne from Domaine Carneros. Also trekking up from SF with us were Ms. Goat-Envy and her partner Ms. Jet-Set, who made the gorgeous Sweet Grape and Rosemary Calzones seen here (before I could even get the camera out, half of them were gone), as well as the polenta squares with rabe and pancetta and some EXTRAORDINARILY yummy Marsala ice cream.

Our hosts -- besides allowing us to destroy their gorgeous kitchen, made some beautiful broccoli and crispy potatoes, but also brought *begin heavenly choir* the Cheese *end heavenly choir*.

Here's the menu, which we titled after Italo Calvino's novel:

"If on a winter's night a traveler"

Antipasto
Shepherd’s Way Friesago (sheep)
Little Sweet Grape & Rosemary Calzones
♦♦♦
Primo
Chestnut Agnolotti with Fontina & Celery Root Purée
♦♦♦
Secondo e contorni
Osso Buco alla Milanese
Braised Rapini & Crispy Potatoes
Carchiola with Sautéed Broccoli Rabe & Pancetta
♦♦♦
Insalata
Endive with Lemon-Braised Fennel & Gorgonzola Dolce
♦♦♦
Dolce
Marsala Ice Cream
♦♦♦
Formaggio
Chèvre de St. Vrain (goat)
Willem Family’s Coolea (cow)
Jasper Hill Dairy’s Bayley Hazen Blue


The cheeses especially were intriguing. I had never even heard of some of them, but apparently the nutty Friesago (from Minnesota's Shepherd's Way Farms) is a rather new entrant in American cheese. Although it was hard, it also had buttery creamy textures and a delicious, clean sheep-iness. (The Shepherd's Way people suffered a tragic fire a year ago that devastated their flock -- so support them, buy their cheese!) The Coolea, made by the Dutch Willems family in Ireland, was rich and deep. Actually, the Coolea, St. Vrain (a salty French goat cheese) and Jasper Hill Farm's creamy Bayley Hazen Blue made a lovely little triumvirate .

The agnolotti recipe comes courtesy of Thomas Keller's French Laundry cookbook, which already tells you that it's a two day process. Here we are beginning on Friday....


Chestnut Agnolotti
with Fontina & Celery Root Purée

For the chestnut filling
1 cup roasted fresh or vacuum-packed unsweetened chestnuts
2 bay leaves
½ cup vegetable stock
½ cup water
¼ cup mascarpone
3 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 Tbsp. plus 2 tsp. white truffle oil
kosher salt and fresh ground black pepper

For the pasta dough
1 ¾ cups AP flour (8 oz.) 6 egg yolks
1 large egg
1 ½ tsp olive oil
1 Tbsp milk

For the sauce
½ cup sliced onions
1 ½ tsp chopped garlic
1 ½ tsp. unsalted butter
1 1/3 cup peeled quartered and sliced celery root
½ cup peeled quartered and sliced Yukon Gold potato
2-3 cups vegetable stock
3 cups heavy cream
1 cup lightly packed shredded creamy Italian Fontina (2.5 oz.)
Kosher salt and freshly ground white pepper
½ cup Beurre Monté
1 tsp white truffle oil

Place the chestnuts, bay leaves, vegetable stock and water in a saucepan. Bring to a simmer and cook for about 15 minutes to reduce the liquid by half and soften the chestnuts. Strain and reserve the liquid, but discard the bay leaves.

Purée the chestnuts in a food processor. With the motor running, pour in enough of the reserved liquid through the feed tube to form a thick purée.

Scrape the puree through a tamis and place it in a bowl. Mix in the mascarpone, butter and white truffle oil. Season to taste with salt and pepper. You should have 1 to 1 ¼ cups of filling (enough for 48 agnolotti). Cover and refrigerate the filling until cold or for up to 2 days before using.

For the pasta dough, mound the flour on a board and create a well in the center, pushing the flour to all sides to make a ring. Pour the egg yolks, egg, olive oil and milk into the well. Use your fingers to break the eggs up and begin turning the eggs in a circular motion, keeping them in the well. You don’t want the flour to be incorporated too quickly or it will be lumpy. Push the flour toward the eggs as you continue.

As the dough thickens and begins to lift off the board, incorporate the rest of the flour by scraping it up with a bench scraper and lifting it over the dough then cutting it into the dough. The dough will look shaggy, but form it into a ball with the palms of your hand.

Knead and press the dough till it is moist but not sticky, then let it rest a few minutes. Dust the work surface with a little more flour, then knead the dough until it becomes silky smooth. It’s ready when you can pull your finger through it and the dough wants to snap back into place. You cannot overknead this dough, so go longer rather than shorter on kneading times. Double wrap in plastic wrap and let it rest 30 minutes or up to 1 hour before rolling through a pasta machine. It can also be made a day ahead and refrigerated. Bring to room temp before using.

Cut the dough in half and roll out a portion using a pasta machine. This dough should be thin enough to see your fingers through it, but not translucent. Form the agnolotti to preference and cover with plastic.

For the sauce, cook the onions and garlic in butter in a medium saucepan for 3-4 minutes. Add the celery root, potatoes and enough vegetable stock to cover them completely. Simmer until the vegetables are tender, then drain, reserving the liquid.

Scrape the vegetables through a tamis and place the puree in a medium saucepan. Add the cream and simmer 10 minutes. Whisk in the cheese, Sauce can be made up to a day ahead and stored in the fridge, but do not add the cheese until right before it is ready to serve. Pass the sauce through a chinois into a large skillet. Add salt and pepper.

Cook agnolotti 4-5 minutes in lightly salted boiling water. Meanwhile, add the Beurre Monté and truffle oil to the sauce.

Arrange agnolotti on plates, spoon sauce around.

On the pictures above I'd like to draw your attention to the difference between our stove -- where the chestnuts are cooking -- and their stove -- on which the sauces and fennel are happily simmering. We like to use other people's kitchens. They have fun toys.

Their stove: 17,500 BTUs.
Our stove: 17 BTUs

Of course, it can be difficult for cooks to tell if the food is really all that until an appreciative audience validates it.

The ever vigilant Tater Tot inquires, "Care to drop anything else on the floor?"

While Hazel asks after the Osso Buco.

"Weren't you going to put that bone in your lap right here beside the napkin?"

Miscellaneous links for the evening:
The Cowgirl Cheese Library
Shepherd's Way
Kashrut-Jewish Dietary Law
Dancing with the Stars
"She was on his head..." (Click on "Scene from Swan Lake")
Mittelschmerz

"Honey! I'm home!"

Those of you who have lived in an apartment building will know what this is about.

You come home on a dreary night, after a dreary day. You come in the door, and there's the smell of something in the air. Lamb? Pork chops? Onions and a hint of garlic... Probably the woman who lives in 202. She's kind of grandmotherly and is always making stuff. Or maybe the young couple with the kid in 406 -- nah, they'd never have time to cook. The Russian guy in 102? Those Russians love to cook meat...

But, wait! You come down the hallway to your apartment and the scent grows stronger...is it possible? Could it be? You open the door and breathe fully.

"YAY! It's us! That wonderful cooking smell is US!"

And -- YAY -- it's veal chops!

So last week, we did a trial run of some Osso Buco alla Milanese for our big Northern Italian-themed dinner this weekend in the North Bay.


I mean, you gotta try these recipes out -- and as it turned out it was very educational. Osso Buco is not easy, but it turns out so yummy and tender. This recipe is again adapted from an old Cuisine and makes a lovely winter dinner.

Osso Buco alla Milanese

Bouquet Garni:

• Peel of 1 lemon
• ¼ cup parsley sprigs
• 2 sprigs of fresh thyme
• 1 bay leaf

• 8 veal shanks, tied around the perimeter

• 2 tsp salt
• ½ tsp pepper
• ¾ cup of AP flour
• 1/3 cup unsalted butter
• 2 Tbsp. olive oil
• 2 cups chopped onions
• 1 cup chopped carrot
• 1 cup chopped celery
• 4 tsp chopped garlic
• 5 anchovy fillets
• 1 ½ cup dry white wine
• 2- 21/2 cups chicken stock, homemade is best
• 3 cups fresh tomatoes, seeded and grated into pulp

Gremolada:

• ½ cup finely chopped parsley
• zest of 1 lemon finely chopped
• 4 cloves of garlic minced

Preheat oven to 325 F.

Assemble the bouquet garni and tie it into a coffee filter or piece of cheesecloth.

Tie the veal shanks with kitchen twine around the perimeter to help hold them together as they braise. Then season liberally with salt and pepper. Dredge the shanks in flour on the two flat faces (you don’t need to coat the sides) and place on a rack while they’re waiting.

Heat the butter and oil over a high heat in a large pan. Brown the shanks on both sides about 5 minutes per side. Remove and set aside.

Turn down the heat to medium and add the onion, carrot and celery to the same pan. Sauté until golden. Add garlic and anchovies and cook for a few minutes.

Add wine and deglaze the pan. Reduce until the wine is almost gone. Add the chicken stock, tomato pulp and bouquet garni and return the shanks to the pan. Bring the liquid to a boil, spooning some of the mixture over the shanks.

Cover the pan tightly and place in the oven. Check it in about ten minutes to make sure that the mixture is just barely simmering in the oven.

Every 30 minutes, baste the shanks with some of the sauce and after 1 hour, turn each shank over. Continue cooking and basting for a total of two hours.

When the shanks are done, remove them and take off the twine. Keep the meat warm on a platter while you work.

Remove the bouquet garni and discard, then using a food mill, process the sauce. Add salt or pepper to taste.

Mix together the gremolada ingredients.

Serve the shanks covered in hot sauce with gremolada sprinkled on top.

Serves 8.

Sneaking soppresata on a sick day

Yeah, the sore throat is going around -- different bug this time, but made me feel down and out enough so that a nice day wrapped up in flannel at home was warranted. I get lazy and a little weird on days like this.

Eric brought in some groceries and went out again. As I was unpacking them I noticed he'd bought some soppresata. I love soppresata. Before the milk and eggs were in the fridge, before the bags were off the table, I had cut open the package and was standing over the sink furtively stuffing a slice into my mouth.

There was no reason to be furtive or guilty. I was alone. And it's not like we're saving it for a reception or something (not that that would have stopped me.)

I don't know why I was acting so silly. Or why I couldn't be civilized and put out some slices on a plate with a bit of cheese, since there was one on the counter right in front of me. It's just that in my mind, it tastes better this way.

Hmmm. what else is in the fridge?