Last Night’s Dinner

We don’t dine out often, but Friday nights are usually when we do. After the long, chilly week we’ve had, we decided to just head home and eat in, but since I hadn’t planned ahead and didn’t have anything thawed, we had to punt. I was working a bit later than Mike, so he volunteered to stop at the market at Grand Central Terminal on his way home and pick up something for our dinner.

He called me before getting back on the subway to say that he had picked up a whole Dorade from Wild Edibles. I had never cooked Dorade before, but my initial thought was to stuff it with lemons and herbs and roast it whole, which was basically what I ended up doing.

I seasoned the fish with salt and pepper, then sliced up a Meyer lemon and placed it into the cavity along with several sprigs of fresh thyme. I then dusted the outside with a bit of flour and placed it into a hot skillet which had a few glugs of olive oil in it. I let it cook on the first side for a few minutes until the skin was brown and crisp, then carefully flipped it and let it cook on the second side for the same length of time before placing the pan into the oven to finish (I had preheated it to 350). I let it roast for 10 minutes or so, then removed the pan and transferred the fish to a platter.

I had thawed a box of frozen artichoke hearts while the fish was cooking, so I added those to the pan with a bit of salt and pepper and let them begin to brown. I added the juice of a second Meyer lemon to the pan and let it reduce it bit, all the while stirring and scraping up the browned bits the fish had left in the pan. I finished the sauce by stirring in a big chunk of butter and whisking it through, then I served this over the filleted Dorade. Mike had also picked up some frisee and butter lettuce at the market, so I tossed them together with a little champagne vinaigrette.

I’m incredibly pleased with how this turned out. The Dorade was excellent - the flesh had a nice firm texture and an almost buttery flavor, which contrasted nicely with the crispy skin. The artichokes and lemon provided a nice brightness and acidity. This was a light and delicious meal that came together quickly and with little fuss (and minimal cleanup!). It’s a definite keeper.

Wine Note: After selecting the fish for our dinner, Mike went to Grande Harvest Wines and asked for a wine recommendation. They suggested the 2005 Domenico Armani Pinot Grigio, which paired beautifully with our meal.

One of my grandma’s simplest and most popular dishes with my family is something she calls “garbage” soup. It’s a fridge-and-pantry-staples sort of dish, made up of leftover chunks of beef or pork, lots of veggies, beans, and elbow macaroni in a rich, savory broth. There’s nothing fancy about it - it’s just good, solid comfort food.

I have made my own variation of her soup often over the years, generally omitting the macaroni and using slices or chunks of good smoked sausage instead of the chunks of meat. I have been feeling a bit under the weather the last few days, so when Mike and I were discussing what to do about dinner last night, this soup was the first thing that came to mind, and was really the only thing that sounded appealing.

One of the attorneys I work with has an uncle who has a butcher shop in Greenpoint, and she recently brought me three different types of kielbasa from his shop. We had a variety of veggies that needed to be used up, so I combined those with some chopped tomatoes and juice, canned red beans, water, and spices, and let it all cook for about half an hour. Mike brought home a bottle of Oracle Pinotage and some fresh potato rolls, I threw together a salad, and we sat down to a simple but deeply satisfying meal that came together in about 45 minutes. It was just what the doctor ordered.

Not-Quite-Grandma’s Garbage Soup

*The particular veggies listed here are what I had on hand, but feel free to use whatever fresh or frozen veggies you like

4 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1/2 red onion, peeled and chopped
3 small leeks, white and pale green parts only, sliced
1 shallot, peeled and chopped
3 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
2 stalks celery, sliced
4 carrots, peeled if necessary, chopped
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 lb. good quality smoked sausage sliced and/or chopped
1 cup chopped tomatoes with liquid and/or tomato puree
1 15.5 oz. can red beans (or beans of your choice), drained and rinsed well
1 bay leaf
several sprigs of fresh thyme
1 tbsp. red chile flakes
1 tbsp. chipotle powder (or other chile powder)
1-2 cups water
1 bunch swiss chard, ribs removed, chopped
a handful of haricots verts or small green beans, trimmed and cut into bite-sized pieces
kosher salt

Add the oil to a deep, heavy-bottomed pot placed over medium heat. Add veggies (onion through bell pepper), season with salt, and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the sausage, tomatoes, beans, and seasonings, and add enough water to cover. Cover and bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, stir and taste, adjusting the salt if necessary. Add the swiss chard, cover again, and cook until chard is softened. Add the haricots verts and stir well. Cook for another 5 minutes or so until the haricots are bright green and tender, then serve.

Mike and I have traditionally stayed in and cooked at home for Valentine’s Day, but this year we talked seriously about going out. As it turned out, those discussions occurred far too late for us to actually secure a reservation anywhere. In the end we were lucky - the city was hit with a blast of wintry weather Tuesday night that continued through the day on Wednesday. Both Mike’s office and mine closed early due to the weather, and we were happy to be able to head straight home and be in for the night.

For whatever reason, our VDay dinners have usually featured lamb, but we got a beautiful pork tenderloin from Flying Pigs at the Greenmarket a couple of Saturdays ago, and it had been sitting in the freezer waiting for just the right occasion. Inspired by the Schneider/Borogove “Fig & Pig Thanksgiving,” I decided to wrap the tenderloin in pancetta and make a figgy pan sauce.

We had a nice bottle of champagne chilling, and we definitely wanted oysters to pair with it. Mike had recently made a batch of Francois Payard’s delicious Fried Oysters with lemon and balsamic, so he decided to make them again (and only a fool would complain - they’re addictive).

So we had a starter and we had a main, but I wanted to do one more course - Valentine’s Day does call for a little indulgence, after all. The Daily News had recently run a feature discussing the popularity of gnudi, and between that and a gnudi-centric episode of Lidia Bastianich’s show I saw recently, both of us were craving them again. I had never made them at home, but we both remembered loving the ones we tried at The Spotted Pig (ages ago), so I thought I’d give it a try.

We got a pound of sheep’s milk ricotta from 3-Corner Field Farm, and I combined that with two beaten pullet eggs, salt, pepper, nutmeg, grated pecorino and some chopped spinach (I initially planned to cook down and chop some swiss chard, but by the time I got home, I wasn’t feeling it. Half a bag of frozen chopped spinach worked just fine, thawed and squeezed completely dry). I added about 1/3 cup of pastry flour to that and gently mixed it with my hands until everything was incorporated.

I grabbed small bits of the dough and gently rolled them into ovals in my hands, then dusted them with a little more flour. These went into the fridge to set for half an hour, and then I added them to a pot of rapidly boiling salted water until they floated to the top. I had melted a hunk of butter in a separate pan and let it begin to brown, and I stirred in a small splash of the pasta water. I pulled the gnudi out of the boiling water and added them directly to the butter sauce, turning them very gently to coat them, then I spooned the gnudi and sauce into shallow bowls. Taking a page from Del Posto, I topped the gnudi with a dusting of ground chipotle, which added a lovely smokiness and depth to the finished dish.

I had prepped the tenderloin earlier in the evening, so it didn’t take long to finish it. I browned it on all sides in our cast iron skillet, then chucked the whole thing into the oven to finish cooking (400 degrees for 15 minutes or so). Once the pork had reached our desired doneness, I pulled it out of the pan and set it aside to rest. I had mixed a couple of big globs of fig jam with half a cup of water, a splash of balsamic and a splash of tawny port, so I added those to the pan and began scraping up the browned bits. Once the sauce was reduced, I turned off the heat, whisked in a small hunk of butter, then spooned the sauce over the slices of tenderloin (which I served on a bed of sauteed haricots verts).

There were a few things I’d like to tweak in the future - we loved the chipotle with the gnudi, but we both thought the butter sauce needed a little more oomph, and my slices of tenderloin weren’t as pretty or uniform as I would have liked - but all in all, this was a great meal. It’s nice to go out to a restaurant, enjoy great food and not have to do the dishes afterward, but I’m always going to prefer sitting at home with my sweetie, sipping a drink, listening to some music, and enjoying the smells and flavors of a meal prepared with love.

Wine Note: We drank Magenta Brut NV with the oysters, and paired the tenderloin with the 2004 Benson Ferry Old Vines Zinfandel, one of our favorite wines to serve with pork.

Nothing too fancy last night - I took a couple of wild Alaskan sockeye salmon filets, seasoned them with salt, spread a mixture of grainy mustard and wasabi on the flesh side, and sprinkled a layer of panko over the top. These went into a 400 degree oven for about 20 minutes, then were briefly blasted under the broiler to brown the crust.

Harold McGee posted about red rice on his blog yesterday, which reminded me that I had an unopened bag of Bhutanese red rice in the cupboard. I figured it would be as good a night as any to try it, and Mike and I were both pleased with the flavor and the texture of it. The rice was a beautiful color, and had a nice nuttiness and bite to it.

I had spaced on a vegetable accompaniment, so I mixed up a quick vinaigrette using rice wine vinegar, ponzu, and sesame and canola oils, and tossed it with some mixed lettuces and carrots.

Wine Note: We drank the 2005 Channing Daughters Sauvignon, an absolutely beautiful Sauvignon Blanc/Chardonnay blend.

Mike and I had a date with Jack Bauer last night, so dinner had to be something quick and easy. Our Monday dinners are generally meatless, and I had recently been given some beautiful imported “paglia e fieno” (straw & hay) pasta from a friend, so I thought this might be a good opportunity to use it.

Inspired by this recipe, I decided to make a gorgonzola cream sauce to toss with the pasta. While the water for the pasta came up to a boil, I melted a hunk of unsalted Evans Farmhouse Creamery butter (2-3 tablespoons or so) in a saute pan. I whisked in a couple of tablespoons of flour and let it cook briefly before adding a cup and a half of milk, some kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper. I grated in a bit of nutmeg and stirred in 1/4 lb. of creamy imported gorgonzola cheese, then let it thicken away while the pasta cooked.

Once the cheese was melted and incorporated into the sauce, I stirred in about a tablespoon of chopped fresh sage. When the pasta was just short of al dente, I added it to the sauce along with a bit of the pasta water, gave it all a good toss, and served it with a little grated Parmagiano Reggiano on top.

Including the time it took to bring the pasta water to a boil and prep everything, this meal was on the table in about half an hour, and it was incredibly satisfying. Too bad I can’t say the same about last night’s 24 episode.

Wine Note: Roberto Donna’s recipe suggested pairing the pasta with a Barbera d’Asti, so that’s just what we did. We chose La Casaccia Barbera D’Asti, which complemented the creamy texture of the sauce and tang of the gorgonzola nicely.

When Mike and I set out for the Greenmarket in Union Square on Saturday morning, my original plan for dinner was to pick up a nice fat chicken to use in a Provencal-style stew with lots of garlic and herbs, but when we saw the beautiful guinea hens that Violet Hill Farm was offering, we had to get one.

I decided on a whim to do a google search for guinea hen preparations when we got home from the market, and turned up this recipe for "Guinea Hen with Red Wine: Faraona al Vino Rosso" from Mario Batali. We had everything we needed for it with the exception of grappa, but we swapped in an equal amount of Armagnac instead. (Ah, the joys of having a well-stocked bar…)

I made a few other minor adjustments to the recipe: I cooked the crumbled sausage first (not sweet sausage as indicated in the recipe, but Flying Pigs Farm’s excellent “Mike’s Grandmother’s Hot Italian”), drained most of the fat, then added a bit of tomato paste and allowed it all to caramelize before adding the sausage to the stew. I also added a bit of marjoram and the soaking liquid from the dried mushrooms.

The resulting stew was rich and deeply flavorful, the flavors of the wine, mushrooms and sausage all definitely present, but none overpowering. The meat was some of the most tender and juicy poultry I have ever tasted. I was satisfied with one bowl, but I wish I had had room for another (Mike did). I bet it’s going to be fantastic reheated for lunch.

Cold winter days just cry out for meals that fill up your entire home with savory aromas and that fill up your belly with something warm and nourishing. One of the most satisfying things to make when I know I’m going to be housebound on days like that is a big pot of Ragu Bolognese.

The recipe I generally follow is Marcella Hazan’s ragu from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, and I think it’s just about foolproof. What always strikes me about the recipe is that it is actually quite simple in terms of what goes into the ragu - the quality of your ingredients and the length of time you let the sauce simmer make all the difference.

Marcella’s recipe calls for softening onion, carrot and celery in a mixture of butter and oil, but since we always have lard on hand (the good stuff, leaf lard rendered down at home from pasture-raised pigs), I often use that. Add the onion to the pan with a good pinch of kosher salt and let that cook for a couple of minutes, then add the carrot and celery, a little more salt, and let those go for a few minutes more. One thing I do that is NOT in Marcella’s recipe, but which I think adds more depth of flavor, is that I add about a tablespoon-or-so sized dollop of tomato paste (from a tube - one of the best inventions ever) to the pan and let it caramelize for a few moments before stirring it through with the softened veggies.

Add the meat (I use two parts ground beef to one part ground pork) and season with salt and a few grindings of pepper. Once the meat browns, add whole milk and a grating of nutmeg and simmer until the milk evaporates away, and then add a cup of white wine and allow that to evaporate as well. Keeping an eye on the sauce while you are waiting for the milk and then the wine to cook off is probably the hardest part of the process - it takes some time, and you do have to watch the pot closely and stir often so you don’t scorch the bottom - but I think it really builds good layers of flavor into the sauce.

Canned tomatoes (preferably San Marzano) with their juices go in next - you can smoosh them with your fingers to break them up or stick a knife in the can to chop them before adding. Give everything a good stir and leave the pot to cook away uncovered over the lowest heat possible for at least 3 hours, checking on it and stirring from time to time, and adding a little bit of water if the sauce gets too dry.

I don’t recall the proportions for Marcella’s original recipe off hand, but I do remember it yields about 2 cups of sauce. When I make this I generally do a big batch so I can portion it out and freeze what I don’t use right away – it freezes beautifully.

These are the proportions I generally use:

2 lbs. ground beef
1 lb. ground pork
1 cup each red onion, carrot and celery, diced
About 1 tbsp. tomato paste
1 cup whole milk
1 cup dry white wine
Freshly grated nutmeg
1 28 oz. can whole peeled tomatoes, preferably San Marzano, broken up or roughly chopped
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Water as needed

This makes a BIG pot of sauce – enough to properly sauce a classic lasagna Bolognese, share with your friends, and still have a few cups left over to freeze for later. It’s totally worth the time and effort.