You Devil You

I love deviled eggs, but the rest of my family doesn’t. So, as a consequence, if I make a batch, I have to eat them all … no problem. I guess I relish them so much because they remind me of my childhood picnics … and I also enjoy their taste and convenience. So here is my take on them.

First the eggs … place six eggs in a pot of cold water to cover. Bring this water up to a rolling boil and then turn off the heat. Let stand and cool in this water for at least 15 minutes. Then run cold water in the pot, cracking the eggs on the side so that some of the cold water gets inside the shells. This should make the job of peeling the eggs a breeze … and also keep the yolks from forming a green ring. Now cut the eggs in two longitudinally and ease out the yolks into a separate bowl … placing the 12 half eggs on a serving plate. Mash the yolks well with a fork and add:

- two well-minced shallots
- a tablespoon of good Dijon mustard
- a heaping tablespoon of Hellmann’s mayonnaise
- a tablespoon of chopped capers
- a big pinch of salt
- five grinds of fresh pepper
- a few squirts of Tabasco sauce (optional, but they are called “deviled” eggs)
- a tablespoon of sweet pickle relish (optional)
- a teaspoon of well-chopped parsley (optional)

Now mix well, taste for seasoning, and spoon into the yolk craters in the egg whites. (There is no need to use a pastry bag for this process unless you double or triple this recipe.) Finally, sprinkle some paprika on top and refrigerate for at least an hour.

Pop them in your mouth in between bites of crispy fried chicken.

Gazpacho

When the farm stands are full of large ripe tomatoes (and their price is beginning to come back down to earth), this is the time for gazpacho soup. I can make a few quarts of it and, as my wife will surely testify, eat the entire batch myself. In fact, I will sometimes sneak out of bed late at night to raid the refrigerator’s last few bowls of it … climbing back under the sheets reeking of garlic.

Gazpacho is a fairly simple and flexible recipe. Start by peeling, coring, and chopping about five large, dead-ripe tomatoes. Put them in a large stainless steel bowl. You may de-seed them or not depending on your taste. (I don’t.) Next peel, de-seed (I do), and chop two large cucumbers. Add them to the bowl. Then de-seed and chop two large Italian peppers … add them. If you can’t find Italian peppers, use Bell peppers, but be sure to peel them first. Clean and chop a large Bermuda (preferred), Vidalia, or red onion. Add it. Then mince at least five large garlic cloves and add them. Finally, include a handful of fresh chopped Italian parsley. (At this point you might save a good cupful of these chopped vegetables to add as a garnish to the top of the served soup.  I usually don't however.) 

Then, process all these vegetables in a blender until just a little chunky, adding some V8 juice, if necessary, to get the blending going … placing the results in a large, pretty serving bowl. You’re almost done but for a few more steps: Add a large handful of fresh Italian bread crumbs, the juice of one large lemon, a tablespoon of good wine (or Balsamic) vinegar, about a quarter cup of extra-virgin olive oil, a palm-full of kosher salt, five turns of a pepper mill, and about ten good squirts of Tabasco sauce. If the result is too thick, add some more V8 juice until it is the consistence you desire. Mix thoroughly and refrigerate, covered, overnight. If you don’t cover this, everything else in there will pick up a garlic flavor.

Serve well chilled (with garnishes, if desired) as a first course for about six people (or just one, me.)

Spaghetti American

By now most foodies know how to make spaghetti the highly stylized and sublimely tasty way that Italians religiously do. I also love it this way. But here I am going to offer an Americanized version. Just as imported bees have “Africanized” our native docile breed, so there is a version of spaghetti that we Americans have morphed out of the original Italian import. I will give you my interpretation here.

As per my recipe for meat loaf, start with the meat, “a mélange of ½ pound of ground beef, ½ pound of ground pork and ½ pound of ground veal is certainly a winner. However, if your taste runs to all beef … cajole your butcher into grinding you 1 ½ pounds of beef neck meat. It’s the sweetest and tastiest of all the beef cuts.” One thing that ruins my appetite for such ground meat is gristle … so make sure that your butcher is equally averse when preparing your order.

Now, place a large enameled pot on high heat and add a quarter cup of good olive oil. Dice a large Bermuda onion and sauté until translucent. Then add four (or more) minced garlic cloves and cook briefly. Next add the ground meat and brown thoroughly … breaking it apart completely. (Use a potato masher if you can’t do a good enough job with a fork.) Add one small can of good tomato paste (Red Pack) to a cleaned-out space and let it cook for a minute or so ... prior to adding four large cans of good crushed tomatoes (Red Pack or Muir Glen).

Next add a good wine-glass-full of the red wine you intend to drink with dinner (a Pinot Noir or an old-vine Zinfandel?) and the following: a quarter stick of butter, a palm full of salt, a good pinch of red pepper flakes, a tablespoon of fennel seeds, about 5 good dried mushrooms (Cremini or Polish ones), a good pinch of oregano, and a teaspoon of dried basil. (Yes, dried basil … I know that many believe that dried basil has no taste, but I strongly disagree.)  Stir real well.

Cover this concoction and gently simmer for about an hour until well amalgamated. Then, uncover and cook for about another half hour to fill the kitchen with those great childhood aromas. It is now permissible to dip a chunk of baguette into this sauce to assuage your galloping hunger and adjust the sauce’s seasonings. Finish the sauce off with a handful of chopped Italian parsley and a good drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil.

Finally, boil your spaghetti (I prefer angel hair or vermicelli, my wife likes the thicker kind) in a good amount of salted water until it is just done (a little past al dente)… and then drain well in a colander. With a pair of tongs place a small mountain of pasta on your plate, at least a ladle-full of sauce and a generous sprinkling of grated Parmesan cheese. I realize that this later ceremony diverges markedly from the way that real Italians do things, but this is the way I often like it. I also enjoy my accompanying crusty baguette with lots of butter and a tall cold beer (certainly not Peroni … how can Italians drink that panther p*ss?) or the aforementioned red wine.

(Left-over spaghetti sauce can be made into chili quite easily.  Just add a can of drained pinto or kidney beans, a handful of chili powder (you choose the number of alarms), more oregano, and a good tablespoon of cumin.  Heat and serve over rice or on some steamed hot dogs in their buns.  In some parts of the Midwest U.S., they even serve chili over cooked spaghetti.  Try topping any of these variations with diced sweet onion, diced jalapeno peppers, and a grated cheese of your choice.  How's that for morphing an Italian classic?)

Vichy Water

Vichyssoise can be served either hot or cold. Each is appropriate depending on the weather … cold in summer, hot in cold weather. And it can also be pureed or chunky. I like it pureed when cold and chunky when hot. But, to me the secret to good vichyssoise is the quantity of leeks, the quality of the chicken broth, and the herbs used to flavor.

So start with one huge or two smaller leaks. Clean them well according to the myriad of advisories on just about every other cooking show (split and de-sand under running water). Then cut them crosswise into ¼ inch pieces. I like to include at least ½ of the green part, but purists disagree and eschew the verdant. Sauté these leaks in about a quarter cup of butter or good olive oil adding a palm full of salt and a good pinch of fresh-ground pepper as you stir. Next add about a quart or more of good low-sodium chicken broth (home-made if you can) and a quart or more of cold water.

Then peel, roughly dice (1 inch pieces), and add about six or seven good sized Russet potatoes. Bring up to a boil and cook until the potatoes are soft (at least 15 minutes). Now add either two teaspoons of minced fresh tarragon (my preference) or fresh chervil (half this amount of these same herbs, if dried), stir, and heat for another few minutes. Now carefully add more salt to taste … as potatoes have a way of reducing salt’s impact.

Now you can use an immersion blender (or potato masher) briefly to chop things up a bit … or take this soup all the way down to a puree. Again serve hot or cold according to your want and the weather. But in either case sprinkle a goodly amount of chopped chives on top of each bowl and have the pepper mill handy. Serve with a nice salad (Caesar?), crusty rustic bread, and a well-chilled white wine (vino verde?).  Serves about six people.  Is even better the next day.

Simply Simple

Here is a recipe for an hors d’oeurve that contains only five ingredients and about which I have had continued raves. (And it was given to me by my wife’s father, Leo, a former chef at Luchow’s.) The ingredients are: a large package of room-temperature cream cheese, 5 scallions chopped into bite sized pieces, 5 radishes (preferably French Breakfast) chopped into bite sized pieces, a good pinch of salt, and a good pinch of freshly-ground pepper. That’s it. Put all this into a pretty bowl, mix well and refrigerate for a few hours. Serve with crispy crackers or thinly sliced crusty bread and your favorite cocktails. Enjoy ... and then look up and thank Leo.

Addendum: the reason that they are called "French Breakfast" radishes is that the French often eat them in the AM, thinly sliced on a well-buttered baguette with salt and pepper.  Try this tip with what you have left over from the above recipe.

Soup to Nuts

When the frost is on the pumpkin, then it’s time for the soup bumpkin ... OK, I’m not quite a bumpkin, but my wife does accuse me of overcooking my vegetable-beef soup. She makes a delicious, fresh, crisp version of said soup, whereas mine tends to be comfortably overdone almost to the point of mushiness. So let me give my version here and she can riposte me later in this blog (actually, it would be higher up). I consider a few things to be essential to a good vegetable soup … lots of meaty beef shank bones with plenty of marrow … and cabbage. Both provide the essence of vegetable soup. After that, there is lots of leeway as to what goes in this soup. Here’s how I make it:

In a large pot place about a quarter cup of good olive oil. Heat this up and add three or four meaty beef shank bones (well salted and peppered) and maybe a few more just plain marrow bones. When this is well browned, add two large diced onions, four minced garlic cloves, three or four diced carrots, an equal number of diced celery stalks, and a tablespoon of tomato paste. Stir this around to brown lightly. Next fill this pot to 2/3rds full with cold water. Follow this with at least a quarter of a cabbage head shredded. (This can be a Savoy cabbage … but not a red cabbage.)

Add a handful of salt, about five allspice berries, seven peppercorns, three bay leaves and a bouquet garni. Bring this up to a slow boil, cover, and simmer about an hour until the meat starts to tenderize. And then add about four cleaned and diced Russet potatoes. Cook about another 15 minutes. It is now time for the rest of the vegetables. I like string beans, wax beans, broccoli, zucchini, fresh peas (if available), and a can of good crushed tomatoes (Muir Glen). I don’t like to add any peppers, corn, or turnips as I think they add a slightly bitter taste to things. The amount of the vegetables I mentioned will depend on how much room you have in the pot. (At this point you can add pasta or noodles ... but don't go overboard. I would suggest orzo , broken-up capellini or schnittnudeln.) Now, here is where my wife and I diverge. She would cook it only for about five or ten more minutes. I like to cook it for about another half hour.

When fully cooked, remove the shank and marrow bones and de-bone, de-gristle, and chop up the meat and clean out the bones’ marrow. Add all these good things back into the soup and remove the bouquet garni and the bay leaves. Now, comes my secret. (Don’t tell my wife.) I like to add about a quarter to a half cup of Heinz tomato catsup. Mix well and serve hot with lots of crusty bread and butter. It should serve a small army. And I think you will find that it tastes even better reheated the next day.