Sunday Dinner

I've lost track of the number of Italian dinners so we'll just call this Sunday Dinner.


The bread, begun last night and baked late this morning. To the basic recipe I added julienned sundried tomatoes and some tomato paste. It is dusted with cornmeal. Here is the recipe.




The table in wheat and wine colors.


Yes, I have both a Kitchen Aid mixer and a hand-held mixer. Why do you ask?

I still prefer creaming butter and sugar with a wooden spoon. It feels more honest. This was the first step of the walnut-ricotta tart.


Ready to party. Yes, that young couple in the photo may look familiar.


Appetizers: the tomato bread and some Costco pugliese bread with two kinds of cheese and an artichoke spread. This photo was taken before a plate of salami was added.


Primi: Risotto milanese with shrimp.


Secondi: Chicken thighs alla cacciatora with wilted spring greens and apples, garnished with wedges of persimmon.


This is the walnut-ricotta tart, glazed with apricot jam and Grand Marnier, garnished with chocolate curls. There is orange zest in the cake itself.

Lovely company. So nice to see my friends tonight and feed them.

It took me a long while to unwind tonight so here I am posting this well after midnight. Sweet dreams, food lovers.

--the BB

Saturday Dinner

I modified plans for yesterday's dinner so I would not be on my feet so much and did manage to have a couple of lie downs as well as sit with my foot propped up during the happy hour, enjoying the company and conversation of friends.

All hot food but the peas was cooked and in crock pots when the guests arrived; the work was basically all done.

I bought bread instead of baking it. Sergio brought some delicious cheeses. On a whim I added dates stuffed with walnuts and parmigiano reggiano. Since Sergio is from the Mendoza area, Bill brought a couple bottles of Malbec, of which I drank the lion's share. Well, I wasn't driving anywhere afterwards.



Next was a butternut squash soup, at Kathy's request, served with a fresh grating of nutmeg, a dollop of sour cream, and some pomegranate arils.



The main course was pollo con le cipolle, chicken with onions, from a recipe in Marcella's Italian Kitchen, pp 192f. The link was done searching through Mad Priest's Amazon link and if you are thinking of purchasing the book, do try to do it there. Support your friends.

I used boneless, skinless chicken thighs from Costco, initially held together with toothpicks until they had fricasseed enough to hold their shape. The onions sweat for at least an hour before they are browned. This is not a quick recipe, though I did all the other dishes while the onions were doing their slow cook.

It was served with beets (another shortcut; I did not roast and peel them - bought them boiled and peeled at Trader Joe's) - glazed with honey, balsamic vinegar, and thyme. Also peas, as Kathy wondered why I never served them. Actually, I love peas but usually do more labor-intensive vegetables for company.


Skipped the crostata di mermellata that I had planned. Another day. Simple spicy pumpkin bread from a mix served with cinnamon gelato from Italian Classics from Cook's Illustrated, p 437. It seemed appropriately autumnal.


I then debuted my new demitasse cups (thanks again, Randy and Troy) and risked making espresso. It worked. (I know, I should not be surprised if something works when one follows instructions, but I was anxious nonetheless.) I used Whole Foods Espresso Roast beans, ground in my new Krups coffee grinder and steamed through a Bialetti Moka stovetop espresso maker. Not too difficult a process.


Sergio had a second cup so I guess it's truly drinkable. I, of course, would never taste the stuff because of my intense dislike of coffee flavor. I also heated and frothed milk so Kathy could have a lattè. Chef and barista in one evening.

Everybody chipped in to do dishes afterward and I could go to bed and prop and ice my leg with nothing left to worry about.

I am so blessed to enjoy the company of friends.

--the BB

The pantry reorg project 2011

I think this Día de los Muertos my Mother is hanging around. I have not done this much kitchen cleaning in forever. Hoping she can ignore the rest of the house for now and just be pleased with this much.

For about nine days I have been working on reorganizing my pantries and kitchen. Yes, pantries, as in the plural. In fact I have four: one in the kitchen, one in the hall toward the powder room, a new one in the hall closet, and a huge chunk of an upstairs closet where little-used items live. I am a pack rat and I know it. I also like equipment to cook whatever I feel like cooking. Enough with confessions.

Before and after photos were requested. There is no way I would share what any of this looked like before. Here are after photos taken this evening. Most of this was done prior to today as I am resting my infected leg.


This is the counter to the right of the stove with stirring and whisking and ladling and scraping devices. Also the many oils and vinegars, salt and pepper. An old man lives here because his pills for the week are all laid out where he won't forget to take them each morning.


This is the space to the left of the stove with the Kitchen Aid, new white dishes, more salt and pepper devices, butter dish, toaster, knives, and spoon rest.


This is "la cave" or most of it. All the reds and some of the whites, ranging from about $5 to $25 a bottle. I can't usually taste higher than that. Right now these are mostly Italian since that is the kind of cooking I am doing.


This is the kitchen pantry. I have detail photos but will spare you those. Since I am tall the top two shelves are at eye level, which is why lots of jars live on the right where I can see them easily. Pastas, grains, flours mostly inhabit the top left. Then come cooking and serving ware, then miscellaneous (including my workout supplements). Oil for frying and vinegar are hiding behind the pizza stone. The floor in this pantry was swept and mopped tonight and I am glowing with satisfaction.

Plastic containers for leftovers etc. have been matched with lids. About 40% are in another pantry (see below). 20% are in a box as take-home gifts for tomorrow's dinner guests, if they want them. The remaining 40%, largely unmatched, have been tossed in the trash. Finally.


This is the new pantry in the hall closet. It holds heavier equipment: the ice cream freezer, larger serving platters, a triple crock pot, all the cake and pie and tarte tins, overflow linens, food mill, pasta drying rack, and deep fryer.


Here is a view above the fridge that needs a new circulating fan. Nuts and dried fruits on top (and emergency healthcare directives, just in case you are at my house and I have a heart attack). A talavera dish and a print from a wine tasting trip years ago. Those who embiggen the photo may recognize some of the refrigerator magnets.


The "side pantry" on the way to the powder room: upper shelves. Here are wine carafes; dish towels and dish cloths and aprons tossed indecorously atop one another; coffee and tea devices, ramekins, and protein bars.


The lower shelves include the teas, rice steamer, cast iron devices, trivets, and storage containers. Below that is a huge bag of rice.


Saints watching over the kitchen include La Morenita (for everything), of course, San Pascual (for kitchens), Maria Magdalena (for witness and faithfulness), Genesius (for theatre folk), Antonio de Padua (because he was there and loves Jesus), Roque (for plague victims and people like me with infected legs), and Rafael (for healing). My home is dedicated to Guadalupe, Rafael, and Cuthbert. St Rock's feast is my Aunt Jesse's birthday, the Archangel Raphael's feast on older calendars was my Uncle Virgil's birthday, and Mary Magdalen's feast is Jim O'Donnell's birthday. Let us keep Jim in our prayers as he prepares to join the saints.


An overview of the stove side with decorative items above the cabinets.


And this is the table set for tomorrow's dinner. The napkins were starched a couple weeks ago. The tablecloth went from the dryer to the table without an iron. Yes, there is wicked candy corn in the little pumpkins. Grown ups gotta be bad too.

Welcome to my kitchen. No, you may not see any photos of the sink area right now. What, you want everything? Forget it.

I have done lots of rescheduling tomorrow's meal to minimize time on my feet. The soup is easy and so are the vegetables. I bought two loaves of rustic breads at Trader Joe's instead of baking them. I am not trying a new technique for dessert. Pumpkin bread (now cooling) was from a mix and I will make the cinnamon gelato tomorrow. No new techniques there, just different recipe. The chicken dish should not be hard and everything should be cooked and warming before guests arrive. Then I can sit down, with my leg up, and visit and enjoy my friends.

May you all have a safe and blessed Season of the Dead (who live in God).

--the BB

Le weekend

OK, y'all know I've been on a major cooking and entertaining jag all summer and into the autumn. It is a revival of a long-time interest. As a boy I hung out in my mother's kitchen. During my college years I worked summers as a dishwasher and cook's helper. While in college I also occasionally served as a waiter when we had formal dinners. I used to bake a lot in my junior and senior years. Bill and I both love to cook and we enjoyed entertaining.

When I became single again I retreated from the world, big time. I needed to on many levels; it was more than depression. I needed to find myself again and moving to New Mexico was a way to go into the desert and be alone with myself (and my demons and angels). Each year I feel more myself. And I am cooking again, feeding people, trying to give people an experience similar to going to a nice restaurant.

Yes, I have indulged mightily in retail therapy, buying multiple sets of dishes, linens, new flatware, and some cooking equipment. This is also an investment in my future. I certainly hope to throw dinner parties when I retire somewhere down the road.

Saturday I assembled some shelving and put it in the hall closet, which has been grossly underused. Heavier cooking equipment, the silver chest, the cake and pie tins, spare glassware (extra red wines and champagne flutes) have all moved there. They are accessible but out of the way. This has freed space in the pantries (yes, I have two of them) and I am reorganizing those so things are where I can find them. Counters are more organized and usable. I have been cleaning a lot of stuff that had been hidden away.

I also baked some plain rustic bread and a lemon-ricotta cake, the latter for a potluck. I had the idea last week of making ginger-pear gelato, so I improvised and did that. Sunday I was looking at some red lentils that have languished in a corner of the kitchen for way too long. They joined some orzo, beef broth, a shallot, a carrot, some celery, and spices to become a stew for Sunday dinner. The photos and much of this commentary have already appeared on Facebook, but here they are for my blog friends.



Red lentil and orzo stew with a mountain of parmigiano reggiano and some home-made bread.



Lemon-ricotta cake and the ginger-pear gelato that I have named "Gelato Lindy" for my dear online friend now in China.

Once I get the pantry reorg done, I will set the table for next Saturday's meal. If I remember to take photos, you will see that after it happens.

--the BB

The coffee hater

I make a very lousy Swede for at least two reasons: I hate the taste of coffee and I try to avoid eating fish. Don't even think of mentioning lutfisk. Shudder. The one Swedish thing about my cooking is the generous use of butter. Smor ock kärlek. Butter and love. That's the motto of Swedish cooking. That much I truly live up to.

Back to the coffee issue. I do not mind the smell of coffee brewing. That is homey. But I have never liked the taste of coffee in my mouth. Don't even consider bringing up mocha, thanks. If I detect coffee in my chocolate I want to spit it out, and usually do, though not in front of others.

When I went to France on my semester abroad in autumn of 1967 I had successfully navigated to the ripe age of 21 without ever tasting more than a sip of the nasty stuff. The day I arrived on the train in Montpellier my host family was all out and about. So Jean René, the son my age, arranged for a friend to meet me at the train. Said friend took me to the apartment where his family lived and his mother looked after me until my family could sweep me off to their home. The gracious lady offered me coffee. I said, as graciously as I could, that I do not drink coffee but appreciate the offer. She opined that this was because I had not had good French coffee and hers was marvelous and I must have some.

Well, I may have been a callow youth but I did not want to start an international incident on my second day in France. She brought me a (mercifully small) cup of coffee, "black as my heart" as my mother would say. Steeling myself, I took a sip. Fire hit my belly, and I don't mean passion. I thought I had just downed battery acid. And since I had not slept much on the train the night before nor eaten much, the caffeine hit my bloodstream almost instantly. My heart raced. And yes, I thought the flavor was incredibly vile. I made polite noises and probably took one or two more sips before begging off, saying it was most impressive but my body was not accustomed to it.

No, I don't ever intend to drink coffee again. Why do you ask? Yes, unless the tiramisu is beyond elegant I will spit it out. If it is truly exceptional I will eat one bite just to test the quality of all the other things that make tiramisu elegant. I believe it is a wonderful dessert, I just don't want any.

So, on Facebook I talked about my indulging in a high end ice cream maker Friday night. If I make this much gelato, why not? One tires of having to put the freezing canister of my prior ice cream device in the freezer for at least one night. One might want to make more than one flavor or greater quantities and need to keep on freezing after one batch. Well, now one can. It was a chunk of money. I said I felt I could justify this (having made gelato now five times in two months). But I could not justify the espresso machine for sale at Costco because I loathe coffee, don't even keep any in the house, and it was way too much money. Though it would be nice to be able to serve espresso at the end of a lovely Italian meal, just to round out the experience.

Allow me to compound this story with another aside. When I moved to Albuquerque and had the illusion I would entertain more than I actually did the first four years here, I bought one pound each of regular and decaf coffee and put same in my freezer. I do have a coffee grinder (two, actually, though one is for spices only). I have a coffee maker (two, actually, for "leaded" and decaf). I think it was three years later that I tossed out the two pounds of coffee. Probably had freezer burn at that point. I had made coffee once, perhaps. (I do have tea, mind you.)

Friend Randy, who keeps an eye on my Facebook posts, not only showed up with a couple bottles of wine on Saturday but he and his friend Troy also had a little host gift:


These lovely rose pattern demitasse cups and saucers for my espresso.

Knowing full well how I feel about coffee and the whole issue around it.

Bless their hearts. (And aren't the cups beautiful?)

It was not gratuitous teasing. Randy also pointed out that there are alternatives to expensive fancy schmancy espresso machines. (Oh, and tonight at Costco I noticed the espresso machine was actually about eight dollars cheaper than my new ice cream maker. That was a bit humbling.)

So I did some reading online about espresso and related topics and did a little shopping on the way home tonight.

I have a new coffee grinder. I can set it for an espresso grind without wondering if I have done it right.


And I have a stovetop espresso maker, the classic macchinetta from 1933.



I also have some Italian roast and espresso beans from Whole Foods (small quantities) and also a bag of the espresso roast Starbucks and medium roast decaf from Starbucks purchased at Costco. I need to learn how to use the new toys, of course, but I will learn.

I also know that my hand blender can whip up 150 degree milk, so I don't need no stinkin' steam device or 'spensive device à frapper.

So if you come to my house for an Italian meal, you will be able to enjoy a shot of espresso. Hell, I'll even throw some hooch in and you can have caffè corretto. A latte? We can do that too. What, you want mocha? I've got Starbucks cocoa powder. We'll do it.

This is your friendly barista, who still loathes coffee but wants y'all to have a good time (and drive home sober).

--the BB

The meal that was and the photos that weren't - updated

Last night's meal was fun to do, a lot of work, and the company was great. Part of my cooking journey is to have dinner guests that I would like to get to know better, making new acquaintances and gaining new friends. This weekend everybody had prior commitments and it appeared we would be only three for this huge meal. My friend Randy pursued it a bit, asking if I knew K and D. Yes, I said, I just met them Thursday night. He had their phone number. I rechecked old messages, and by the time we were through it was a full table of six as originally planned. Yay! Thanks, Randy. Fun lively dinner companions.

In fact, I had such a good time (or was very busy pulling the main course together) that I forgot to take any photos past the soup course.

Here we have the antipasto.


One bread dough made into a large loaf and a smaller one with olives. The olive bread is in the center with the cheeses. The other is on the sides with bruschetta. Two kinds of olives, salted pistachios, toasted almonds. We began with blood orange soda in champagne flutes and pinot grigio/pinot gris.


Here is the table.


And here is the butternut squash soup, wickedly containing whole milk and heavy cream. The fresh bit of thyme from the yard was described as the fly in the soup. "Are we supposed to eat the fly?" was the question.

The next course was stracotto, an Italian pot roast that was browned then braising in the oven for four hours. It was cooked with onion, carrot, celery, mushrooms, a can of diced tomatoes with their juice, chicken broth, beef broth, red wine, and a sprig of fresh thyme. As the meat rested I cooked down the liquid with a sprig of fresh rosemary (also from the yard), furiously reducing it to about one third. Omigod, the sauce on the meat was incredible. Served with a ladle of soft polenta, sautéed haricots verts, and sautéed mushrooms.

Dessert was blueberry gelato. I was going to make a sorbetto but did not have enough blueberry puree so I threw cream in and called it gelato. Served with cantucci.

Every course had some learnings, which is another reason I do this. I want to be a better cook with a wider repertory of dishes and techniques plus consistent results.

Very few leftovers but damn, we ate well.

Planning the next one in a fortnight.

UPDATE:

Leftovers to the rescue. I had one large serving of leftovers from the main course and took it all to work today for lunch. I also took a dinner plate and my camera. So here is what the main course looked like (except on a harsh white formica background (sorry).


I must say, the stracotto recipe is a keeper. Dayumn, them's good eats! I must do this again.


And supper tonight is pure naughtiness, just dessert. Gelato di mirtilli con cantucci.

More came out of that dinner party. To be continued in the next post.

--the BB

We the People are the government of this nation

I vicini

When my new neighbors moved in I quickly learned that Wendy loves to cook. I "speak" Italian these days and she speaks "Southern." So I will probably learn to make hush puppies and deep fry. LOL. She had never made noodles. So I suggested we cook an Italian meal together for her family and that is what we did yesterday.


Here are the appetizers: squares of fried polenta (why, they're like grits! yep) with a spread of goat cheese and roasted garlic, topped with sliced of kalamata olive, roasted red pepper, and capers. Dry toasted almonds in the upper right.


This is the loaf of bread I worked so hard on. Wendy wanted to dip it in the sauce for the lasagne and just forget everybody else. I threatened her life if anything happened to this loaf before everyone had seen it.

I combined two recipes to make it. Started a "biga" the night before so it could ferment. Added it to the dough Saturday morning and added sundried tomatoes and some sundried tomato paste to the dough. Let it rise for three hours, shaped it and let it rise more than another hour. Baked in a very hot oven on a pizza stone, with steam.


Here is the table set with Primi: prosciutto and melon with the bread cut up for passing and dipping in olive oil and balsamic.


Wendy making egg noodles. This is so much easier since I bought the pasta attachment for the Kitchen Aid and no longer crank by hand.


Noodles cooking. Then they are shocked in ice water, patted dry, and put into the lasagne.


Here you can see some of the heavenly sauce. Wendy is right; we could have made a meal of the sauce and bread.


The hazelnut-chocolate cake. It had a little flour in it but mostly hazelnuts toasted and ground with bittersweet chocolate, sugar, and eggs. We did double desserts because it was a birthday dinner for their daughter.


And here is a served dessert: hazelnut-chocolate cake, dark chocolate gelato, whipped cream.

We worked our tails off but it was fun cooking together. Wendy got to check out making polenta and frying it, making noodles, a rich meat and tomato sauce, an Italian cake, and gelato. And I did some serious sleeping in today.

Next Saturday: another adventure with an Italian pot roast. Stay tuned.

--the BB

The next big meal

Bill and I have a joke.
Q. What's is the most important meal of the day?
A. The next one.

You have to know my inner ursine nature to appreciate the humor fully. Once I've enjoyed a meal I tend to focus on the next one.

So new neighbor Wendy and I are planning to cook together this Saturday. Four courses, traditional Italian. Lasagne with noodles from scratch. Gelato. All kinds of good stuff. Then her family can walk across the street and join us in consuming it. It's their daughter's eighteenth birthday too, so a nice celebration.

Wendy is a total foodie, like me. This should be fun.

--the BB

The ongoing pizza festival of 2011

Saturday night I made a couple more pizzas that a friend and I enjoyed with some old vine zinfandel.

Here is one of them before baking.



I went for a "Greek" theme: wilted spinach, sauteed mushrooms, grape tomatoes, feta cheese (along with the usual tomato sauce, mozzarella, parmigiano reggiano, a sprinkling of basil, and a drizzle of olive oil). Here are the remnants of the second pizza.


So far my favorites are (1) sautéed mushrooms and caramelized onions and (2) pepperoni.

I came home from work tonight thinking I might bake bread. I had picked up some items at the store. Watered the garden. Sat in my rocking chair (actually it is a "glider") with some cookbooks, reading about ciabatta and other Italian breads. I fell asleep in the chair for a bit of a nap and decided I did not have the energy for bread tonight. I did, however cook some chicken and herb tortellini (from the store) and sent them swimming in vodka sauce that my neighbor had made. Yum.

I cannot stop thinking about food these days.

--the BB

Cena italiana #6

Facebook friends have put up with me rhapsodizing about ironing and the joys of starched linens. Well, one set of new linens have been inaugurated tonight. Here is the table with places for six though it was just Bill and I for dinner.


Sauteed mushrooms and onions for pizza topping.


Who said pizza has to be perfectly round? These ain't.


First round: pizza with mushrooms and onions, green salad, and a lovely 1994 Fetzer reserve cabernet.


Round two: pizza with pepperoni.


Dang, this was fun, and easy. (Though on Facebook I confessed that when I did a dry run of a pizza just for myself on Saturday I discovered that I really should have had a pizza pan. Now I have two. There were no photos of Saturday's pizza. "Before" photos would have been lovely; "after" photos could have been blackmail.

The cooking adventure continues.

--the BB