SEASONAL INGREDIENT: Jerusalem Artichoke

What a year. What an awful year 2020 has been, and 2021 has been no picnic so far, either. Amid this terrible time, it's basically been a whole year since I've posted in this blog -- since last Passover, really. So now here we are, experiencing the second pandemic Passover (celebrating surviving a plague while surviving a plague -- you can't make this stuff up!) And after a year of home cooking, by necessity, day and night, week after week, I have come to focus on the minutiae. There is little joy to be found in the big-picture, the large-scale suffering, so I've trained myself to find joy in the small and the quotidian. I derive happiness from the family of deer visiting our back yard most Friday afternoons, as if keeping sabbath among our evergreen bushes. I breathe a sigh of relief when our mounds of recycling are picked up every other Thursday. It's finding the calm that comes as I drift off to sleep cradling my baby boy on a stormy afternoon, the sound of wind and rain drumming on the window. And it is enjoying the culinary minutiae as well: the smell of garlicky cannellini beans stewing on the stove, the anticipation of waiting for a loaf of sourdough to rise, the sensory pleasure of digging into some messy smoked BBQ ribs. And sometimes above all, I derive the most pleasure from simply eating a favorite fruit or vegetable in its seasonal glory: the turgid raspberry that stains my fingers, the deep earthiness of a roasted beet used to scoop up some fresh chevre, a slice of eggplant fried to perfection. Included in this group of favorite foods is a vegetable that happens to be in season now and through the spring: the Jerusalem artichoke.

Now, I love a good artichoke. The carciofo, in Italian, is the symbol of Rome, and no city does a vegetable (a thistle, really) justice like the romani di Roma. But my love for the "OG" artichoke may be eclipsed by its sort-of cousin, the Jerusalem artichoke, also known as the sunchoke. It's got many monikers, really -- the Canada potato, the French potato, and most melodic of all, the topinambur (in Italian and various other European languages). So let's begin at the beginning.

First, for the etymology:

The Jerusalem artichoke has nothing to do with the city of Jerusalem, and is not technically an artichoke, though they are distantly related as both are members of the daisy family, and the genus Helianthus. The Jerusalem artichoke's taste is sweet and earthy, much like an artichoke. But the origin of "Jerusalem" is still uncertain. Italian settlers in the U.S called the plant "girasole", their word for sunflower, which translates roughly to "turns towards the sun", since this is exactly what these flowers do. Over time, the word girasole in southern Italian dialect sounds a lot like "Jerusalem" and therefore English speakers may have corrupted the term "girasole artichoke" into its current day moniker. Another theory for the name is that the Puritans who came to the New World considered America the "New Jerusalem" and the plant they found growing there was named after this place. The plant had various other names as well, including lambchoke and sunchoke -- which is another name by which is it known today, created in the 1960s by a produce wholesaler who was trying to revive the tuber's appeal. It looks a lot like ginger root, but its skin is more translucent and slightly more golden in color.

And then, the history:

The Jerusalem artichoke had been cultivated by Native Americans long before Europeans landed on American soil. Apparently, Lewis and Clark ate Jerusalem artichokes, prepared by a Native American woman in what is now North Dakota. It was fairly common in the U.S. and the plant really proliferated in both the Americas and Europe, and grew so easily that it was principally used as animal feed in England and France. The French in particular had a soft spot for the vegetable, which reached its peak popularity at the end of the 19th century. But by the time of the second World War, the Jerusalem artichoke (along with the rutabaga) had become associated with the deprivation of the war years and the Nazi occupation, since they'd become a staple of the French diet thanks to rationing and the paucity of other traditional foods. Once the war was over, they returned to their previous purpose as animal feed. It wouldn't be until the 21st century that the Jerusalem artichoke would find favor again with top chefs, winding up on countless tasting menus in Michelin starred dining rooms.

The nutritional value:

Potassium, iron, fiber, niacin, thiamine, phosphorus, and copper are all nutrients found in abundance in the Jerusalem artichoke. The tuber also contains inulin, a form of soluble fiber that cannot be broken down by our digestive system. It's metabolized, instead, by bacteria in the colon, thereby balancing blood sugar. Inulin also stimulates the growth of bifidobacteria ("good bacteria") and fights harmful bacteria, making the Jerusalem artichoke one of the best food sources on earth for prebiotics. It's also high in soluble fiber, which may help lower total blood cholesterol levels by lowering "bad" cholesterol (or "LDLs"). And finally, the sunchoke is high in potassium and low in sodium, which may aid in the reduction of blood pressure and inflammation. The only negative by-product of all of this healthfulness is that consuming Jerusalem artichokes can cause some serious gas. Forewarned, as they say, is forearmed.

And finally, enjoying the Jerusalem artichoke:

Beyond all of the health benefits of the tuber, and its interesting history, there is the matter of taste: the Jerusalem artichoke is delicious. And versatile.

When treated as a tuber, the sunchoke makes for a wonderful puree and a more healthful alternative to the carb-heavy potato. Thinned with broth or water or milk, it makes an amazing soup, and can be made into a sauce in this way as well. The Jerusalem artichoke can be oven roasted and served as any root vegetable, and also alongside other roasted vegetables in a medley. Finishing a roasted sunchoke on the grill also brings out its sugars and caramelizes the outside of the artichoke. Few finishing touches are as tasty as a Jerusalem artichoke that's been thinly sliced and fried in a top-quality oil. Once fried, they can be a crispy topping (as in the photo, with tuna tartare), an accompaniment to proteins or other vegetables, or as the star in an appetizer in its own right.

One lovely way to prepare Jerusalem artichokes for spring is in a rich and vegetal risotto. Here, I've prepared a classic risotto with the addition of a sunchoke puree stirred into the risotto as it cooks. It's topped with sliced fried crispy Jerusalem artichokes, and flavored with sumac, red onion, lemon zest and juice, and fresh mint -- all flavors redolent of dishes you'd find in the city of Jerusalem, and a way to pay tribute to the name of the tuber itself. It's an Italian dish with an Israeli flavor profile.

Another great way to enjoy the tuber is in this delicious roasted Jerusalem artichoke soup. It's a multi-step process to concentrate the flavor through oven roasting, but beyond that it couldn't be simpler to prep. Just spread out the cleaned Jerusalem artichokes on a lined baking sheet, toss with olive oil and salt, and oven roast at 375 until they're caramelized and soft in the middle, about 45 minutes to an hour. Once cooled slightly, puree in a Vitamix/blender or food processor with some tasty vegetable broth and a glug of extra-virgin olive oil until you get the consistency you want. Season with salt and pepper, and any other spices you might enjoy. The version I made here is seasoned with roasted garlic (roasted alongside the Jerusalem artichokes) and finished with a bit of fresh lemon juice and zest, and za'atar. I fried eggplant slices and served them atop the soup, with a bit of pistachio pesto as well. This has been a winner for both Passover Seders and everyday eating. It takes me to Israel and the Mediterranean in general, and it's a really healthy way to reset your gut bacteria while satisfying your belly.

As we say during the Seder...Next year in Jerusalem (artichoke)! Enjoy, and Happy Passover, Happy Easter, and Happy Spring, everybody!

RECIPE: Italian Wedding Soup

To be honest, I had been planning to write a blog post on Italian Wedding Soup, a perennial favorite, for quite a while. But now, with a worldwide epidemic on our hands, and my beloved Italy stuck as the primary western country to have suffered through the outbreak, somehow this post becomes even more relevant. For all of us all over the world who are hunkering down, locking in, sheltering in place, and whatever else (hopefully by now, everyone is starting to realize that social distancing is NOT ENOUGH) -- soup is a palliative. It allows you to use your pantry items to produce something that, here, is much greater than the sum of its parts. The weather of late, both here in the NY metro area, and in Italy as well, remains mostly wintry. Gray. Bleak. It even snowed a bit in Rome and Umbria the day before yesterday, which rarely happens. This weather, and staying inside (#iorestoacasa), creates an atmosphere at home that's perfect for slow cooking, for soups, for a bubbling cauldron of something nourishing and delicious -- and one that will last for days if cooked in a big batch.

Which brings me to...Italian Wedding Soup. It sounds so festive, no? Like it has a long history rooted in Italian matrimonial banquets and traditions of amore. But in reality, this is a dish that seems to be Italian-American in origin, although certain regional soups up and down the Italian peninsula look a lot like Italian Wedding Soup, give or take a few ingredients. And to get it out of the way, its name has nothing to do with when or where or to whom it's served. Instead, it's a reference to the "marriage" of fairly disparate ingredients that all come together in this soup -- a harmonious blended family, if you will, of greens and meatballs, vegetables, sometimes beans, perhaps an egg whisked into the finished product, and of course a little pastina (this is Italian, after all. Did you expect it to be carb-free??). E basta. More or less. And in true Italian fashion, at this matrimonio, the more the merrier.

My version depends on my mood when I'm making it. In a recent version, I left out the carrots to please my husband, who is only eating lower-carb veggies at the moment (and to keep the peace in our marriage, ovviamente!) -- so it made for a darker, mostly green soup, plus a little purple kale and the meatballs. But normally I like carrots as part of my mirepoix, so I am including them in my recipe below. Hell, toss in some finely diced red peppers if you love punchy color in your food, like I do. If you're going completely low-carb, you could leave out the tiny pasta -- or just get creative if you're including it (try finely broken angel hair). Some add in beaten egg at the end just before serving, though I tend to leave that tactic to classic Roman stracciatella soup or Chinese egg drop soup. But, every marriage is different, and every wedding is its own thing. So make Italian wedding soup in your own individual way, to your own taste. That's what home cooking is all about, vero?

Stay safe and healthy, everyone. And stay home!


RECIPE: ITALIAN WEDDING SOUP
Serves 4-6

For the Meatballs:

5 ounces ground beef
6 ounces ground pork
5 ounces ground veal 
1/2 onion, grated
1/3 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley
1 large egg
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup bread crumbs
1/3 cup grated Parmesan
Freshly ground black pepper

For the Soup:

1/4 cup good quality olive oil
1 medium onion, small dice
2 medium carrots, small dice
2 stalks celery, small dice  
3 cloves garlic, chopped
Optional: 2 leeks, small dice
12 cups rich homemade chicken broth
14 oz. cooked cannellini (white) beans, or similar beans of choice (drained and rinsed) 
8 oz. small pastina: ditalini, orso, stelline, fregola, acini di pepe, etc.
1 pound greens: Tuscan kale, purple kale, escarole, curly endive, etc.: coarsely chopped
1/2 cup minced flat leaf parsley
4 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan, plus extra for garnish
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste Meatballs:

- Place beef, pork, and veal in a large bowl. Add in bread crumbs, onion, parsley, oregano, parmigiano, egg, 1 tsp salt and 1/4 tsp pepper
- Gently toss and break up mixture with hands to evenly coat and distribute. Shape mixture into very small meatballs, about 1/2 - 3/4 inch, and transfer to a large plate.
- Heat 1 Tbsp olive oil in a large non-stick skillet over medium-high heat. Add half of the meatballs and cook until browned, turning occasionally (to brown all over), about 5 minutes total.
- Transfer meatballs to a plate lined with paper towels while leaving oil in skillet. Repeat process with remaining meatballs (note that meatballs won't be cooked through at this point; they'll continue to cook through in the soup) 

Soup:

- While meatballs are browning, heat 3 Tbsp olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add carrots, onions and celery and saute until veggies have softened, about 7 - 8 minutes.  Add garlic and saute for one more minute.
- Pour in chicken broth, season soup with salt and pepper to taste and bring mixture to a boil. Add in pasta and meatballs, reduce heat to light boil (about medium or medium-low).
- Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until pasta is tender and meatballs have cooked through, about 10 minutes.
- Add in your chopped greens during the last 3 minutes of cooking (and don't cover the pot). Taste for salt and pepper. Stir in chopped parsley.
- Serve warm, sprinkled with parmigiano and a drizzle of great quality extra virgin olive oil.

RECIPE: Cauliflower, Broccoli, and Chickpea Spiced Soup

Ahhh, January. The dead of winter. If ever there was a time for making and enjoying soups, it's in the first few months of the calendar year. Winter, post-holidays in particular, calls for meditative cooking, low-and-slow dishes that eke out all of the nutrients from bones, vegetables, tubers, and aromatics. So for the next few months, I'll be highlighting all of the soup and stew dishes, the multi-step baking dishes, the read-the-Sunday-Times-in-your-fluffiest-socks kind of cooking that I find comforting when the mercury dips below any temp that might tempt a sane person to venture outdoors.

The recipe below was one I created last week, and I really liked the results. A lot. I wanted to use the leftover cauliflower and broccoli I had from cooking for private clients. It's cruciferous vegetable season and though I love the old reliable Italian garlic/olive oil/peperoncino pan-roasted preparation for these (and all!) veggies, I wanted something different. I also like the idea that vegetable soups are wonderful ways to both A.) eat a delicious, filling, meatless meal, and B.) retain all of the nutritional value of the veggies that gets "cooked off" in other preparations. Veggie soups are essentially vegetables stewing in their own vitamin and mineral-infused broth. Brilliant! And, I might add, easy. Add to all of this the fact that soup freezes really well, and it's clearly the perfect large-batch, meal-in-a-bowl cooking that lends itself to accompanying Netflix binge-watching. Or napping. And freezing for easy meals all winter long.

So, the recipe. I was looking for something more tasty than a simple, straightforward vegetable soup. The spices are vaguely Indian in flavor, though this is no traditional dish that I know of -- even though, if not pureed, this might be a vegetarian stew inspired by an Indian chana-gobi (chickpea-cauliflower) curry. I sauteed the broccoli, and then the cauliflower, in a large rondeau/pot to the point of getting a bit of caramelization on the florets. Then I cooked a base of sauteed onions, garlic, ginger, and spices, added some chopped fresh tomatoes, and then returned the broccoli and cauliflower to the pot, along with vegetable stock and the cooked chickpeas. Then you just let time and the stove work their magic. Note that I used two Indian spices that are likely not in everyone's pantry: amchoor and tamarind powders, which give the soup notes of fruity-sourness that amps up the interesting flavors here. They're not necessary, and you could substitute a little tamarind paste or concentrate, or even a bit of lime zest, if you like.
At the end of the cooking process, I added a touch of coconut milk and I used an immersion blender to blend half of the soup (as in the photo here), for a mix of textures and to leave it a little bit chunky in a mostly creamy pureed soup (with no cream, of course). You can puree it all, if you prefer a velvety-smooth soup, or puree very little of it if you like more of a vegetable stew feel to the dish. Here, the taste is what shines through. 
My advice? Serve with a crusty piece or two of toasted bread -- best are the darker, multigrain, sourdough, or brown bread varieties. There's so much good bread out there these days (or make your own!). I toast mine and drizzle it liberally with great Italian olive oil. It goes with everything. And it makes this soup an utterly satisfying winter meal.

CBC Spiced Soup (Cauliflower, Broccoli, and Chickpea)
Serves 4-6 

1 head broccoli, cut into florets (and stems)
1 head cauliflower cut into florets
5 cloves garlic
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 c. extra virgin olive oil
1 onion, sliced thinly
2 vine-ripened tomatoes, diced
2 knobs fresh ginger, finely diced
1 tsp. ground cardamom
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. ground ginger
1 tsp. dried tamarind powder (optional)
1/2 tsp. chili powder
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. turmeric powder
1/2 tsp. ground mustard powder
1/2 teaspoon ground amchoor (dried mango powder), optional
pinch of peperoncino 
Approx. 12 cups rich vegetable stock (or enough to fully cover the vegetables)
1 14-oz. can of cooked chickpeas, drained
2/3 cup coconut milk

Squeeze of lime juice
Prosciutto slices, cooked in a little olive oil in a pan, on both sides, until crispy (optional)
Cilantro to garnish
 
- In a rondeau or large round soup pot, on medium heat, warm a few tablespoons of the olive oil with a clove of garlic. Heat for 30 seconds.
- Toss in the broccoli and cook until bright green and starting to caramelize (brown) in the pan. Salt, add a mini pinch of peperoncino, then remove from pan and set aside. Repeat with the olive oil, garlic, and cauliflower.

- Heat the remainder of the olive oil in the same pot, add remaining garlic cloves, and warm for one minute. Add the onions and saute over medium heat until softened, about 5 minutes. Add all of the spices and the chopped tomato and cook to activate the aromas of the spices, about 2-3 minutes.
- Return the broccoli and caulflower to the pot, and stir to mix all of the flavors together. Cook for another 2-3 minutes.
- Add the vegetable stock to the pot to cover the vegetables, along with the chickpeas. Cover and cook until it all reaches a boil, then turn the flame down to low and let the soup simmer for approximately 30 minutes.
- Uncover the soup, stir in the coconut milk and the lime juice, and add salt and pepper to taste.
- When the flavor is where you want it, puree half of the soup (or all, or only a small portion of it) with an immersion blender, in the pot itself. Stir to mix the chunkier vegetables throughout the pureed soup. 
- Garnish with cilantro and crispy prosciutto slices, if you like. And serve with crusty toast.

Like most soups, this gets better with a few days of sitting in the fridge, allowing flavors to meld. Keep for 4-5 days in the fridge and freeze any leftovers -- you'll be happy you did!

HOLIDAYS: Hanukkah, Italian Style: Fritti

The essence of Hanukkah foods comes down to one important adjective: fried. In Italian, this is a category of food unto itself, called fritti (plural for fried thing). And why not? Fried foods, when done well, can encapsulate the essence of said food, whether it's fish or meat, potato or herb, sweet or savory dough...you get the point. (Ask a Scot about fried food and you may encounter a person waxing poetic about candy bars you never imagined should be battered and cooked in bubbling oil. But I digress). Yes, good fried food is great.

And so, as we celebrate Hanukkah, the festival of lights, I look to the Italian Jews and specifically the Roman Jews of my beloved second home in the Eternal City's quartiere ebraico, known as the Jewish Ghetto. It was in this ghetto that I gorged myself on carciofi alla giudea, which are "Jewish style" artichokes that are twice deep fried, opened up like a flower, with a tender heart and outer leaves like the best verdant version of Cape Cod potato chips you can imagine. It was here and in the nearby streets leading to the Campo de' Fiori that I enjoyed filetti di baccalà (fried codfish) at places like the fry shop known simply as -- you guessed it -- "Filetti di Baccalà" which served only fried codfish and fried zucchini.

And it was great. Oh -- and that fried zucchini, when served marinated in some vinegar, chili pepper, and garlic with some fresh herbs (basil, mint) -- is called concia. That too is a Roman Jewish specialty, and it's killer. Try it on a panino with mozzarella and a slathering of harissa. Buoooooono.

Of course, every Roman pizzeria serves their classic fritti as antipasti to pizza, and this includes the Roman specialty of fiori di zucca, the zucchini or pumpkin flowers stuffed with mozzarella cheese and a kick of anchovy for salt and umami. Like everything else in Italy that's delicious, alas, these items are seasonal. So fresh fiori di zucca are available in warmer months, and artichokes are available now, in the cooler months from roughly November to April. This means I include them in most of my Jewish holiday menus for both Hanukkah and Passover.

Perhaps the most surprising Hanukkah food that Italian Jews eat is actually something we Americans consider our own specialty: fried chicken. Pollo fritto. Of course, we're not talking KFC or standard fried chicken of the American South, here. This is made, in Italy, with heritage breed chicken that's not plumped up by commercial feed and penned in to get American-sized, overgrown breast meat. So in North America, the least commercially-raised chicken would be the best approximation. These chicken get butchered into 10 pieces so they're all more or less the same size. Then, they're marinated overnight in lots and lots of freshly-squeezed lemon juice. I add a little yogurt or buttermilk as well, plus a glug of olive oil, garlic and rosemary. When frying the chicken, a bit of spiced flour with lemon zest and chopped herbs is all you really need. Italians cook everything in olive oil, and you can deep fry in it as well. In this country, I usually use half olive oil, half vegetable oil or safflower oil. The chicken is served with fried and fresh lemon slices, and fried herbs like sage and rosemary. Plenty of Sicilian sea salt finishes it off. And that's it. 

It's a simple preparation for a fried Hanukkah main course that's a real crowd-pleaser. But then again, most fried food is crowd-pleasing by nature. And I just can't celebrate Hanukkah without latkes, no matter what kind of meal I'm making. (Any excuse to have the trifecta of potato, fat, and salt, amiright?)

Celebrating Hanukkah through food means a celebration of foods cooked in oil. So from antipasti like Roman Jewish-style artichokes, to a fried chicken main course, through to fried sweetened dough in any iteration (castagnole are Italian fried donut holes -- try them drizzled with honey!), a menu consisting of fried Italian specialties makes a perfectly delicious, crispy, Italian Jewish meal worthy of a most interesting Hanukkah celebration stateside. It beats the same old matzo ball soup and brisket any day!

Enjoy this year's festival of lights. Happy Hanukkah, everyone!

QUICK BITE: Whole Vegetable Eating

I'm an October baby, and autumn is my favorite time of year (okay, besides the warmth and fun of the summer. That's pretty great too). Fall's many harvest-season gifts make it a pleasure to cook, and eat, now. What many people don't realize is that the popular ethos of "nose-to-tail" eating can be applied to vegetables as well. You don't need to eat the whole hog to go, well, whole-hog. Often the skin and seeds, roots and leaves of vegetables are just as delicious as the thing itself.

A trip to the farmer's market at this time of year is a revelatory experience, the changing colors of the leaves on the trees reflected in the market haul of reds and greens in apples and pears, oranges and yellows and umbers in all varieties of pumpkins and squash. The cruciferous vegetables of winter are coming in, even as Indian summer golden peaches are still being sold alongside them. This is the perfect time for what I call "whole vegetable eating" -- sometimes called root-to-fruit, or some such rhyming variation. What's most important is not what it's named, but how it's done. I'll give you a little help.

As the weather turns cooler, we look to root vegetables and foods that start producing in autumn to last us through the winter. We know that carrots and beets are healthy root veggies, but often the greens (or carrot tops, in the case of carrots) are overlooked, or worse, removed before we can use them. And they're delicious!





I love serving the Greek dish skordalia, which is a whipped potato-garlic puree (try this with purple potatoes!) along with roasted beets and wilted beet greens. It's the perfect dish served warm or at room temp, so it's incredibly versatile. And it looks beautiful as well.

For whole-vegetable eating with carrots, I love making a carrot-top pesto (with nuts and cheese) or salsa verde (with other herbs, capers, and scallions), and roasting the whole carrots, serving them drizzled with the sauce made from their greens. It's also a gorgeous presentation, and...no waste!

Just as we know these roots better than their stems and stalks, we know the stalks of celery and parsley better than celery root and parsnips -- though all parts of these veggies are tasty and worth exploring in their own right. I love using celery root raw, slicing it into a thin julienne and tossing it with homemade mayonnaise for celeriac remoulade, the simplest of French treats. And I love, especially during cold months, using celery root to replace potatoes by 80%, making a puree for all of the stews and slow-cooked braises I cook at this time of year.

Parsnips are another great substitute for potatoes, but they also provide a delicious pairing with roasted carrots -- they look a lot like white carrots anyway -- and their sweetness when roasted mimics that of carrots' sweetness, so they're great hit with a bit of acid, tossed in either a balsamic vinegar or some citrus juice before and after roasting. I also love a good celeriac or parsnip soup. They puree so nicely and they have a verdant undertone that potatoes don't. Again, they pair well with sweet and acidic, so I usually top off the soups with a maple gastrique or some kind of sweet-sour accompaniment.

Though usually summer squash is found -- you guessed it! -- in the summertime, you can usually find zucchini and yellow squash well into the fall in many markets. And often, the zucchini flowers are actually pumpkin flowers (fiori di zucca in Italian), so these are also a part of the pumpkin to be utilized in whole vegetable eating. We know we can clean and roast pumpkin seeds. Of course the flesh itself works for preparations from savory to sweet, and even the flowers of the pumpkins are a great gastronomic delight -- stuffed, fried, sauteed and tossed in a pasta or risotto. This is the definition of whole vegetable eating.

Stuffed zucchini flowers

My homemade gnocchi with cherry tomatoes and chive blossoms

And speaking of flowers, many people don't realize that most herbs go to flower if allowed. Usually, for the purpose of the herb itself (which is generally comprised of a leaf), we pick the leaves before they go to flower -- but not always. And the flowers can be an intensely flavorful and beautiful form of the herb itself. I love snipping chive blossoms into salads and main courses, adding a burst of purple color to otherwise monotone dishes. The coriander flower (cilantro is the herb, and coriander as a spice is the dried seed) is also a lovely floral version of an already fragrant herb. I remember the first time I saw prodigious use of coriander flower to transform dishes from simply delicious to ethereal, by chef Iñaki Aizpitarte at Paris's excellent Le Chateaubriand restaurant. I always note the innovation of a chef when she or he uses all parts of produce so that nothing is wasted, and we get many different aspects of the primary ingredient's flavor profile at once. It's something I try to practice in the kitchen as often as possible.

In this approaching season of cold weather and soup-eating, there's no better opportunity to practice whole vegetable eating than by making a vegetable stock out of any and all vegetable trimmings and scraps you have on hand from making any produce preparations. Just toss all the "unwanted" parts into a large stock pot, cover with water, and keep it going on a low rumble on the stove for hours on end. Skim the scum (yes, that's the actual technical name for the discolored bubbly foam that should be discarded from any stock preparation) and then just ladle out what you need from the pot. The stock will continue to get richer with time.

Happy Harvest Season, everyone. Enjoy your autumns!

SEASONAL INGREDIENT: Late-Summer Tomatoes

On late summer days, when the sun hung low in the sky an hour or so before tramonto, we'd drive home with the windows rolled down on our way back from the beach at Sperlonga. This whitewashed coastal town perched on a hill between Rome and Naples is not only a gorgeous spot for a day trip to dip into its crystalline waters and overflowing plates of pasta con le vongole. It's also nestled beside seemingly endless fields of tomatoes, which are grown next to where the water buffalo of northern Campania happen to graze. These water buffalo supply the milk for the world famous mozzarella di bufala. It's basically like driving past a living, breathing caprese salad!

So, when heading back to Rome after a day toasting ourselves in the hot Italian sun, we'd pick up the still-warm, freshly made mozzarella and some of those tomatoes grown in the nearby fields, with a mazzetto (bunch) of fresh basil -- che profumo! -- from a roadside stand selling just these few items. Our predetermined dinner on those nights was light and hit the spot, along with a very-chilled glass of crisp Falanghina. The sensory memory surrounding those Sperlonga trips that's strongest to this day for me? The smell of those tomato fields. It was the smell of sweet, ripe pomodori warmed by the sun just enough so that the scent would waft above the fields and greenhouses, and make its way into our open car windows. It was Pino Daniele or Jovanotti playing on the car radio. It was that time before dusk, when the waning sunlight signaled the promise of what the evening held in store for us in Rome.

Pomodorini grown on my friend's terrace in Rome

My Turkish tomato salad

And in that Eternal City, on market trips to Campo de' Fiori (the closest major market to my apartment in the Jewish ghetto), I always relished my August and September visits to Claudio's stand, where he displayed a variety of tomatoes so extensive, it was hard to wrap your head around them all. You had pomodori al grappolo (vine-ripened tomatoes), San Marzano (plum tomatoes that are actually genuine San Marzano DOC, grown in the volcanic soil in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius).

You had pomodori d'insalata (half-green salad tomatoes, which stayed firm when you sliced them) for salads, and pomodori da riso to be stuffed with rice and baked in the oven. There are at least a half a dozen other varieties I'm forgetting, before moving on to the varieties of pomodorini, or small tomatoes. These range from standard ciliegine (cherry tomatoes) and those specifically from Pachino, Sicily, to datterini (little date tomatoes, like very mini plum tomatoes -- a variety of which is dubbed a grape tomato in the U.S.). These small little gems were always my favorite, perfect crimson orbs seemingly ready to burst (and burst they do, in my burst cherry tomato pasta sauce!) -- so good, Claudio would let me pop a few in my mouth like candy. They were just as sweet.

We've come a long way in the U.S. with the rise of the farmer's market, and the bevy of heirloom varietals of produce that abound now. There are green and black and red, yellow, and orange tomatoes, striped tomatoes, and everything in between these days, if you know where to shop, and at the right time. Hell, I come from the garden state where we're infinitely proud of our homegrown Jersey beefsteak tomatoes. And they have a place in our American culinary canon. I love a wedge salad with beefsteak tomatoes and red onion and some blue cheese to begin a steakhouse meal, for example. And I've been overwhelmed at the sight of overflowing market tables with gorgeous specimens of endless types of tomatoes, locally grown and tended, sharing display table space with fresh mozzarella (cow's milk, natch) and hydroponic basil with leaves the size of maple leafs. And while that's progress, it's still not perfection.

Italy, I can state with certainty, has perfected the tomato. They took a New World fruit and made it into so much more, and they consistently grow the most delicious tomatoes I've ever tasted. Or smelled, for that matter. Now, when I return to Italy, I always make my way to a market, especially in September. They sell tomatoes at this time of year, especially Rome and south, where summer weather lingers well into October. And I breathe in the scent of the tomatoes baking beneath the sun and azure sky, and my heart breaks a little bit -- for the gorgeous smell, for all that this smell holds for me, and for the fact that I can't have this sensory-memory experience anywhere else in the world.

Believe me, I've tried.

The beauty of a simple tomato and basil salad

SEASONAL FOODS: BLUEBERRIES

Blueberries. The name carries with it such an association with summer, especially in certain parts of the country. I happened to have enjoyed a childhood living in a blueberrry-producing state (New Jersey) and vacationing for several wonderful summers in another (Maine). My childhood memories of the heat of the summer are colored blue: Augusts spent picking wild blueberries near the coast in Maine, stained tiny fingers nimbly plucking the small inky orbs from the low bushes. In Rockport and Camden and the surrounding areas of rocky coves and brambly pine forests, it seemed like everything was all about wild blueberries. We started the day with the sweet, miniature berries in and on our pancakes, they perfumed our locally-milled soaps at bath time, and they found their way into our lemonade, our ice cream, fudge, and cakes after dinners. Wild blueberries are still one of my favorite fruits in the world.

Back in New Jersey, sometimes dinners on particularly sweltering summer evenings were comprised of nothing more than a simple bowl of "berries 'n cream," as my father referred to it. This was what I now consider to be an inexpensive, cold meal, possibly with Eastern European roots, that requires no turning on the stove nor much of an ingredient list. As a kid, it just seemed heavenly -- it was something of an illicit meal, kind of like how breakfast-for-dinner always seems like you're flouting the rules. We'd put berries in a soup bowl -- often blueberries -- and top them with a couple of dollops of sour cream, and a sprinkling of sugar on top. We'd mix, and spoon the concoction straight into our mouths. It also got us back outside with a quick turnaround: the fireflies weren't going to catch themselves!

Blueberries: the name is so simple. Self-explanatory. Basic. But the berry itself is anything but simple or basic. It's a tiny berry that packs a lot of flavor, nutritional value, and antioxidant content along with its deep pigmentation. These things are linked, by the way. It's the anthocyanin in the blueberries that gives the berries both their color and their health benefits. They're high in soluble fiber. This means they slow the uptake of glucose, making them a fruit helpful in maintaining healthy blood sugar, and also helps lower cholesterol. These little berries are antioxidant bombs, in the best way, helping to support heart and skin health, bone strength, and fight against cancer. And they're high in vitamins C and K as well as the mineral manganese.

Blueberries: they are as American as a berry gets. They are a berry in the Vaccinium family which also includes cranberries, bilberries, huckleberries, and Madeira blueberries. We enjoy two main types of blueberries in this country, both of which are native: "lowbush" blueberries are the ones dubbed "wild", and the "highbush" blueberries are the cultivated, larger berries found in most farmer's markets and grocery stores nationwide. The highbush blueberries were introduced to Europe as recently as the 1930's. (Most of the blueberries you find overseas are a relative of our native berries, most likely huckleberries or whortleberries or bilberries). Commercially sold blueberries are species that are native to eastern and north-central North America. The bulk of U.S. blueberry (highbush) harvesting happens in Oregon (number one with 131 million pounds in 2018), followed by Washington, Georgia, Michigan, New Jersey, California, and North Carolina. Maine produces the bulk of wild blueberries -- the official fruit of Maine -- and British Columbia produces the bulk from Canada. Overseas, Mexico, Peru, Poland, Germany, France, and Spain have gotten in the blueberry game as well. Hammonton, New Jersey claims to be the "Blueberry Capital of the World" and the town hosts a popular festival every year to celebrate the berry. In fact, Hammonton boasts 80% of New Jersey's total blueberry production. And another fun fact: North America dominates the world stage in blueberry production (596,813 tonnes in 2017), with the U.S. contributing 40% of total worldwide production, and Canada with 27%.

Blueberries: they're as versatile a fruit as you can get. They're great out-of-hand, of course. But they're wonderful cooked down into sauces, purées, dressings, jams and jellies. They make a wonderful bbq sauce (I've made ribs with blueberries in the sauce, and my husband waxes poetic about a rib joint in Asheville NC that makes blueberry-chipotle ribs). I like to pickle blueberries every summer, as they're a great addition to cheese and salumi platters, salads, and even a fresh corn soup I make with basil oil and pickled blueberries. Sweetgreens makes a summer salad with arugula and kale, jerk chicken thighs, goat cheese, onion, sunflower seeds, and a spicy smoky blueberry dressing. I had it yesterday. It was pretty delicious. So blueberries are great on their own, and in savory preparations as well.

We already know how great blueberries are for breakfast, whether in a bowl or topping cereal or granola or yogurt, in a muffin or in pancakes (and the syrup!), in a coffee cake or in a pie. And now we're getting to desserts. Blueberries shine here too. Blueberry ice cream, pudding, mousse...blueberries in cakes and pies and anything containing lemon...candies and syrups and infusions and I could go on and on. The photo above is of a dessert of which I'm very proud. I made it for a client's dinner party out in the Hamptons, using wild Maine blueberries to make individual-sized blueberry galettes (free-form tarts) with cornmeal in the crust, homemade sweet corn ice cream, and basil gelée with a burnt marshmallow on a stick (an allusion to s'mores and childhood summers). I love the combination of blueberries, corn, and basil -- 3 distinct flavors, one fruit, one vegetable, one herb -- as they're all summer produce that loosely fit the mantra "what grows together goes together." And visually, I love their colors together too. Blueberry and corn is a classic combo, of course.

Top Southern toque and owner of McCready's in Charleston, South Carolina, Sean Brock, offered up the dessert pictured here on his menu: a frozen polenta (cornmeal) pudding with a corn tuile in a blueberry emulsion. It was delicious, of course. And the combination actually harks back to the time of the original colonies, when Native Americans instructed the pilgrims how to grow corn and blueberries, two early native crops in America. Blueberries were even used as a natural stain for textiles and garments. (If you've ever dropped blueberries on your shirt or a tablecloth, you know how effective a coloring agent they can be).

Blueberries. However you eat them, from the simple handful to the most elaborate preparation by the top savory and pastry chefs in the world, they're a summer treat and an American classic. Enjoy them while they're at their peak. Just be careful if you're wearing summer white!

QUICK BITE: Spring Side

Nothing says spring in the kitchen like bright green veggies of the season. This means something different for each person, depending on where one lives, since fresh spring vegetable medleys reflect the local terrain, growing season, and food culture.

For me, in New York City, I can see spring in the markets when veggies cover the stall tables in all shades of green, from the pale green of artichokes and spring onions to the kelly green of asparagus and ramps, to the darker forest greens of swiss chard and spring kale varieties. Mushrooms vary depending on the season, and morels are a classic spring funghi -- though many are imported from the Pacific Northwest, and they can be difficult to find here in the northeast... and expensive when you do find them. But they're sooo delicious! In reality, a good spring vegetable medley is comprised of whatever you love and whatever you can find locally, so don't let any set idea of what this medley should be get in the way of putting together a personalized, killer mix as an accompaniment to any main course, or AS the main course. (I love throwing a great veggie medley on top of a soft polenta made with generous lashings of whole milk and grated grana padano or pecorino romano cheese).

So, for tasty dinners this May and early June, try taking a cue from the farmer's market, and make a simple sauté of spring veggies: mostly green, with some mushrooms in there for good measure. The mix is a celebration of the verdant offerings from the garden, and the earthy flavors that spring from the shaded floors of forests and fields as the days grow longer. 

In the large photo at the top of this post, I sauteed some spring garlic in olive oil, and added asparagus, freshly cleaned and sliced artichoke hearts, zucchini, ramps, and shiitake mushrooms. All they need is a sprinkling of sea salt and they work with just about anything you can serve alongside them for lunch or dinner. Or, toss with fresh pasta, pile on top of polenta, or stir into a risotto. Most important is enjoying the veggies of the season at their peak. 


Eviva la primavera! Long live spring!

MARKETS: Hamptons Farmers Markets

The Eastern end of Long Island is a magical place, particularly for those who know it, for those of us who grew up heading out there with family and friends during summers and for special weekends. It's a wonderful place for "newbies" too, though I often feel they lack a clear picture of how the Hamptons has evolved over time. A lot of people see the Hamptons as Manhattan and Brooklyn East, a place where you lounge at the beach or by the pool by day, and head out to eat at trendy, expensive restaurants at night followed by the thump-thump of the Hamptons post-prandial club scene. And of course, the Showtime series The Affair has certainly brought attention -- desirable and undesirable -- to Montauk and the Hamptons in general.

But sadly, many don't know about The Hamptons of years ago: this part of New York was farm country surrounded by gorgeous beaches, clean Atlantic tides. Montauk was a fishing village, not a hipsters' paradise, and before 18-room monstrosities were constructed in Sagaponack, that land was one sprawling beachside garden, filled with potato fields and flowers, tomato plots and pumpkin patches. 

Some of that has remained, thankfully. And one Hamptons staple that I hope will never get "gentrified out" is the omnipresence of the Hamptons farm stand. Every Hampton (town) has at least one, and often they have several. These stands offer seasonal snapshots of the fruits (sometimes literally) of the farmland out east, and they reach their peak, in my humble opinion, in late summer. Now. Because in the northeast, your shoulder seasons can be questionable. Perhaps spring came late, and the farm stands won't have strawberries and fresh peas until June.

This can push everything back -- or forward, depending -- and so peaches may come in June or may not really come in until mid-July. But late August is undeniably the time, for me, when stands are at their most beautiful, overflowing with lingering stone fruit, gorgeous crimson tomatoes, summer corn, squash, berries, eggplant, those famous Long Island fingerling potatoes...really, an abundance of everything. Some pumpkins may even start coming in this early, but we still have several weeks left of summer, technically, so everything is at its peak. I don't need to mention that by purchasing at local farm stands, you're supporting local agriculture and farmers, and of course everything just tastes better when you're close to the hands that harvested that food. Period.

Below is a list of some of my favorite farm stands, as well as a photo montage that makes the term *food porn* seem like an understatement. Enjoy! It's the best time of the year for produce out east. Perhaps I'll see you on Sagg Main...

Dana's Favorites:

Green Thumb Organic Farm
829 Montauk Highway, Watermill
Amazing selection of heirloom veg and fruit, herbs and edible flowers.

Babinski's Farm Stand
160 Newlight Lane, Watermill
Good quality, plus some great baked goods.

Pike Farms
82 Sagg Main, Sagaponack
Great stand in front of their fields, so couldn't be fresher!

Round Swamp Farm
184 Three Mile Harbor Road, East Hampton
If there is a Bulgari of farm stands, this is it. Prices are head-spinning, but great prepared foods and baked goods.

Amber Waves Farmer's Market
367 Main Street, Amagansett
All-around great Hamptons farm stand with a wide selection.

Schmidt Brothers Produce
120 North Sea Road, Southampton
Though not technically an outdoor farm stand, they source some amazing, impossible-to-find greens, sprouts, herbs, and international produce that can be hard to find out east.

And for a P.S., here are some resulting dishes from Hamptons Farmers Market hauls...

Lobster boil with local corn, fingerling potatoes, green beans

Greek salad

Balsamic roasted carrots with carrot top pesto

Eggplant with labneh, pomegranate and pomegranate molasses

Heirloom tomato and green plum tart with herbed ricotta and fried shallots

New York cheesecake with summer fruits

SEASONAL FOOD: Cantaloupe

I've always adored cantaloupe. It was the melon toward which I veered, from a young age. And I've never tired of it. As I've gone from the messy gobbling of freshly-sliced cantaloupe passed to me from my father's deft hands, to the more sophisticated pairing of the melon with salty, unctuous prosciutto at countless outdoor cafes all over the Italian peninsula, my love affair with the orange melon has not faded.

So imagine my surprise when I started researching the cantaloupe, and found that the etymology of cantaloupe comes from the Italian word cantalupo, taking the name of the town Cantalupo in Sabina, a former papal seat outside of Rome in the province of Rieti, where the melon was supposedly first popularized in the west, grown in the papal gardens in the 15th and 16th centuries. The melon most likely originated in South Asia or Africa, and was introduced to Italy via Armenia. But most importantly for my personal connection to cantaloupe, the town of Cantalupo in Sabina is quite close to the town of Torri in Sabina where my dear friends live, and where I've spent a lot of wonderful weekends relaxing and cooking in the countryside near Rome. I dare say we've indulged in plenty a plate of prosciutto e melone in the area of this melon's namesake!

Cantaloupes are members of a family of vegetables and fruits that includes cucumbers, squashes, pumpkins, and gourds, called the cucurbit family.This family also includes lots of types of melons, including crenshaw, casaba, Persian, canary, and watermelon. The European cantaloupe's outer skin is gray-green and is lightly ribbed (like a basketball), whereas the North American cantaloupe has that familiar net-like skin covering, with a light grey rind.

Of all of the cantaloupe's nutritional elements, it is highest in vitamin A/beta carotenes and vitamin C. It also contains a variety of antioxidants and anti-inflammatory phytonutrients, among which are the flavonoid luteolin. The melon is also rich in potassium, fiber, folate, magnesium, and vitamin K.

Perhaps most interesting and potentially promising about cantaloupe's nutritional benefits is its capacity to prevent metabolic syndrome, presently in research studies with humans. This could translate to health benefits as relates to heart health, since many heart issues are initiated by inflammation and oxidative stress. It is also thought that cantaloupe consumption can help improve blood sugar metabolism and insulin resistance in humans the way it has in animals. 

The cantaloupe didn't become a commercial crop in the United States until the very end of the 19th century, but now it's available everywhere in the summer -- though in my opinion, it's best purchased from a local farm stand where you can smell the musky scent of ripe melons that have been sitting in the summer sun. 

The best way to consume a cantaloupe? Whichever way you like it best, of course. But besides the joy of eating it in slices out of hand, or halving it and filling the scooped-out center with berries and eating it with a spoon (both classic modes that will always be delicious)...I've started to use the melon in savory preparations too.

If you pair it with another member of the cucurbit family, toss in some fresh herbs, maybe a little red onion, and use some vinegar and olive oil to dress it more like a savory salad, the melon takes on a whole new dimension. It's great with cucumbers, given a bit of an Asian treatment with rice vinegar, lime juice and zest, olive or avocado oil, sea salt, and fresh herbs like cilantro and mint. You could, alternatively, puree the melon and along with the usual vegetables, sherry vinegar, ground almonds, and olive oil, turn the cantaloupe into a memorable savory-sweet gazpacho. It's great along with other fruits and vegetables in a salsa to accompany summery grilled meats, and even steak fish like swordfish or tuna.

And of course, cantaloupe is always a sweet ending to a summer meal. I sometimes serve the interesting combo of sliced cantaloupe with a salad of pitted cherries tossed with lemon juice, pistachios, and mint. Its unexpected flavor and textural combo gives a bit of a middle eastern lift to the final course of a meal. And it's refreshing. So whether you prefer sweet or savory preparations for your melon, the important thing is to consume as much of it as possible before cantaloupe season is over!

POP-UPS: Marble House Project Farm-to-Table Dinner

When I received the email telling me I'd been selected from among roughly 700 candidates to win a residency at the Marble House Project in Dorset, Vermont, I was a little incredulous. I'd applied on a bit of a whim, never expecting to be awarded the culinary residency, especially since so few of these residencies exist for those of us in the food world. I thought about applying as a writer (something I'd end up doing a lot of anyway during my chef residency, since I'm working on various culinary book projects) -- but since my primary career for the past 18+ years has been as a chef, and this opportunity was so rare, I went for it. Culinary residency it was.

Marble House Project hosts one of 3 culinary residency programs in the U.S., and the other two are really year-long paid chef positions cooking for the other artists in residence. This was different. At MHP I was considered to be an artist in my own right, and though we'd all rotate cooking dinner for our fellow residents Monday through Friday, I wasn't expected to do more than anyone else in the Marble House home kitchen. As the sole culinary resident in my session, I was given my very own work kitchen/cooking barn in which to experiment, test recipes, and just generally cook up a storm. When other artists retreated to their studios to create (film and photography, sculpture, music, dance, film, animation, and writing), so did I. Nobody had any imperatives to complete projects during the program. This was a safe haven in the verdant hills of Vermont where we could just create, and hopefully show our work to the public during "Art Seed" the final SAturday of our session. Except, well...I had the imperative of creating a farm-to-table dinner for 40 people, on the Friday night at the end of our three week residency. So, there was that.

But we chefs live to cook for others, to bring people pleasure, to feed bellies as well as souls. So I was enthusiastic about making this farm-to-table meal a happy task, and an excuse to get to know the area a bit, speaking with the local farmers and food purveyors. Since I was simultaneously working on Italian recipe testing, I decided to marry the Mediterranean flavors I dealt with on the daily, with the local culinary strong suits of Vermont. This meant putting the amazing dairy products of the Dorset area front and center. I made my own ricotta cheese with the high-quality milk from Larson's Dairy Farm in nearby Wells. (Bonus: the owners were an absolute pleasure to work with!). 

I sourced specialty items from the Dorset Farmers Market. I sourced local organic chicken from a nearby farm, and the only fish I used was river trout, a local substitute for sardines in a classic Venetian preparation. There were a surprising amount of "Italian connections" for lack of a better term, in the Dorset-Manchester area. Al Ducci's Italian market (featuring Bennington's Maple Brook Farms' homemade mozzarella and burrata) and Fortuna's sausage for some great homemade salumi were two mainstays. I worked with the Vermont Butcher Shop to source locally made guanciale (cured pork jowl) -- and though it was nothing like the original Roman version, it was its own version of the classic, and it gave my pasta all'Amatriciana a hyper-local touch. 

My husband collecting freshly laid eggs

Of course, we have our own Marble House hens for delicious, fresh eggs from happy chicks; these made for some delicious fresh egg pastas and helped to make one of the main dishes, shakshuka, a stand-out. And although the cooler spring weather had caused most of the Marble House garden to run close to a month behind season, I used what we had and what we could forage -- herbs, strawberries, asparagus, ramps, edible flowers -- to speak to the seasonality of the menu. And of course, I had to incorporate Vermont's finest local dark maple syrup into dishes wherever I could! This syrup came directly from a local neighbor's trees and it was delicious and flavorful. The entire meal was accompanied by Mediterranean wines picked (with the help of owner John) from the local natural food store, Nature's Market, in Manchester, where they know their wines!

The prep required a whirlwind four days of intensive shopping, sourcing, and prep. I had great help in the form of Marble House staff and volunteers from among my fellow residents, assisting me with everything from candying flowers to rolling out homemade gnocchi, from sautéeing and smoking to chopping, slicing, and dicing. It was a series of small miracles, but it came together on Friday, June 1st in what turned out to be a magical night at Marble House. Below, I share the menu and a collection of photos from the constantly-changing buffet. It was a culinary journey through the Mediterranean, from all over Italy, north to south, to Spain, Greece, Israel, Lebanon, Morocco, and beyond -- all filtered through the flavors and spirit of Vermont.

I explained to the crowd, seated in the big barn at two long, family-style tables decorated with MH flowers and greens, that this was a feast created with my fondest food memories in mind. It was both a nostalgia trip and something completely new for me, with the influence of the community of food producers I'd found in Vermont married with my love of Mediterranean meals, the tradition of which is to linger at the table for many hours. 

I explained the buffet would always be changing, morphing, and when some serving platters were emptied, often, that was it for the dish. This was a marathon and not a race. Those who stuck around for the dessert buffet would reap the rewards. And the diners were kind enough to come and tell me how much they enjoyed the marathon after it was over. I hope you enjoy getting a glimpse here!

*Please scroll down for gorgeous photos, many of which are thanks to fellow resident and photographer, Francisco Vazquez Murillo.

MARBLE HOUSE PROJECT DINNER: Mediterranean Meets Vermont

APERITIVO

Signature Spring Cocktail: Rhubarb-strawberry-basil spritz

Selection of local cheese, salumi, homemade black grape mostarda, honey, grissini

Crostini, Vermont mozzarella & burrata, homemade ricotta with herbs, heirloom tomatoes

Green gazpacho shots

DINNER

Salads and Antipasti

Israeli Salad

Orange & fennel salad with red onions + kalamata olives

Fregola sarda, sautéed vegetables, herbs, Vermont honey-saffron-lemon vinaigrette

Lebanese eggplant with pomegranate & tamarind, Vermont yogurt, pistachios, mint

Local Chioggia beets with Vermont goat cheese, lavender vinaigrette

Primi

Pasta all’Amatriciana with Vermont guanciale

Homemade gnocchi with heirloom cherry tomatoes, basil, Calabrian chile oil

Homemade fettucine with ramp-almond pesto

Timballo of anelletti in tomato sauce with eggplant and ricotta salata

Mains

Grilled chicken kebabs, beet hummus, sumac onions & warm pita

Koufounisi-style gigante bean stew

Wood fire-grilled shakshuka with Marble House eggs

Pork tonnato

Trout en saor with Vermont maple syrup agrodolce

Sides

Moroccan potato salad with harissa vinaigrette, green olives, preserved lemon, sumac, parsley

Grilled leeks, ramps, scallions with Romesco sauce

Grilled green and purple Marble House asparagus

**

Desserts

Homemade ricotta cheesecake, balsamic strawberries

Vermont maple cheesecake topped with blueberry-tarragon sauce

Torta sbrisolona

Torta caprese

Biscotti & meringue baci

Baklava with local Vermont honey

Chocolate salami

Orange, fennel, and black olive salad

Chioggia beet and goat cheese salad with lavender vinaigrette

Fregola sarda with vegetables, herbs, Vermont honey-lemon-saffron vinaigrette

Lebanese eggplant with pomegranate and tamarind, yogurt, and mint

Koufounisi style stewed gigante beans with tomato, Greek oregano, and warm spices

Homemade fettucine with homemade ramp-almond pesto

Pasta all'Amatriciana with Vermont guanciale

Homemade potato gnocchi with fresh heirloom cherry tomatoes, basil, and Calabrian chile oil

Green herb-marinated locally farmed chicken kebabs, sumac onions, beet hummus

Lightly smoked shakshuka with Marble House Project eggs and herbs

Pork tonnato

Grilled ramps, leeks, and scallions with Romesco sauce

Moroccan potato salad with harissa vinaigrette, green olives, chickpeas, preserved lemon, sumac, parsley

Chocolate chip cheesecake made from homemade ricotta, MH strawberries in balsamic

Homemade baklava with Vermont honey

Chocolate "salami" with pistachios and candied ginger

Torta Caprese (flourless chocolate cake with ground almonds)

Homemade almond and hazelnut biscotti

Marble House

Marble House

MARKETS: Santiago's Mercado Central

Chile's capital city is a bustling metropolis, a modern Southern hemisphere hub featuring the juxtaposition of an ancient, dramatic mountainscape alongside glass-and-steel skyscrapers. The modern and efficient city planning leaves room for lots of wonderful green space as well. This is fitting for the city that represents this South American nation on the Pacific coast -- one that boasts a bounty of agricultural wonders and an amazing assortment of seafood to fill a grand market space like the Mercado Central in Santiago. The market's neoclassical structure was inaugurated in 1872, and is today a protected Historical Monument of the city.

This vast covered market offers food sellers of all stripes, but is overwhelmingly known as the fish market for its exhaustive selection of Pacific "fruits of the sea". There are all kinds of fish in the categories of white flaky fish, there are darker-fleshed oily fish high in Omega 3s. And you can find every kind of shellfish and cephalopod imaginable in this market. Just be careful to keep an eye on where you're walking, as the market floor tends to get a bit hazardous from the constant hosing-down of the seafood stalls. (It would be no fun landing in a puddle of seafood-scented saline sludge!)

One item that I'd never seen in any market before, in all of my travels, was the Pacific giant squid. In the photo here, those crab claws are not baby-sized. They're normal-to-large as far as crab claws go (another local treat). Those rectangular-shaped pieces of what are calamari steaks are essentially sliced rings of the giant squid. They're enormous! The squid are monstrous in size and can grow to be as large as 45 feet long and weigh as much as 600 pounds! These squid sold here may not technically be THE giant squid, but they're really large and are at the very least related to them. And despite what you might think about these large creatures -- my initial thought was that they may be incredibly tough or rubbery when cooked -- they're actually delicious and tender.

No market would be complete without meat for the landlubbers among us. Chile is more of a seafood nation compared to its beef-consuming neighbor, Argentina. But there are still plenty of carnivorous Chileans keeping the meat markets frenetic and literally filled to the rim (of the refrigerator cases) with the king of meats in these parts: beef. The stalls I checked out had impressive displays of all types of bovine cuts, and they were all ruby-red and seemed to be as fresh as they were plentiful.

The Mercado Central of course has lots of fruit and vegetable vendors inside and outside of the market building. When I was there, stone fruits and tropical fruits alike were flooding the bins at the mercado. Gorgeous, brilliantly-colored cherries and tomatoes sat next to pineapples and mandarins. 

I was probably most impressed, however, by two items, not only because of their outrageously good flavor everywhere I ate them while dining out, but also because they were so inexpensive while being so flavorful: avocados (paltas in Chilean Spanish) and strawberries -- big, juicy, magenta strawberries called frutillas in Chilean Spanish. I consumed both in whatever form I could, wherever and whenever I could. 

Besides boasting all of the magnificent market stalls in the Mercado Central, the market is also home to 22 restaurants within the market space where shoppers can dine on -- what else? -- market-fresh foods ranging from snacks and fruity drinks to multi-course seafood and meat feasts. It was here that I finally got to indulge in the local dish that Pablo Neruda made famous: Caldillo de Congrio, or conger eel stew. He actually wrote a poem called Oda al Caldillo de Congrio! I must admit, it was tasty enough to make anyone wax poetic.

What else? Well, the palmito salad was pretty much worth the price of admission as well. It's a common ingredient in these parts of South America, but in the U.S. it's rare to find a hearts of palm salad. It's refreshing and delicious and always reminds me that I'm in South America when I eat it. Happiness!

Another treat for all the other seafood lovers out there: scallops pil-pil. These are succulent medium-sized scallops with the roe sacks still attached, sautéed in a generous amount of garlic-and herb-infused butter and olive oil. This, people, is why we prepare good seafood simply. Period.

So, when heading to Santiago's Mercado Central, you can shop for a little while, and then be sure to time it so you can check out the teeny but charming restaurants around the perimeter of the market building. Try to go for authentic, less touristy-looking places. You will be rewarded with delicious food, cooked to order, so you have a full belly to go along with your full shopping bags.

MERCADO CENTRAL 

San Pablo 967, Santiago
Sunday - Thursday 6 am - 5 pm
Friday 6 am - 8 pm
Saturday 6 am - 6 pm
https://www.mercadocentral.cl/

SEASONAL INGREDIENT: Citrus

Normally, at this time of year, the citrus season is winding down. But with the numerous nor'easters to hit us in late March, a lot of the U.S. still looks like it's in the throes of winter. The especially awful flu season this year has run unabated, too, so our need for the Vitamin C that citrus provides is still as relevant now as it was in mid-January. Sigh.

Still, the days are thankfully longer now that we've sprung forward, and at least with April's approach, we can see a light at the end of the tunnel. But for now, the variety of citrus fruits available to us is a great bridge to get us from cold months and snowy storms over to budding life and milder weather. Citrus just tastes like the sun, doesn't it? And I've found that using it in unexpected ways, in both savory and sweet dishes, allows us to sprinkle a little sunshine throughout our meals, throughout our weeks.

We've long had winter access to Florida and California citrus (I'm partial to Florida, as I'm an east coast gal myself). My father occasionally sends me "care packages" of wooden crates filled with grapefruits and oranges, salve for my soul during my months of harsh hibernation in Manhattan. I eat these out of hand, or scoop out the sections of a grapefruit as a mid-morning snack. But I also use the grapefruit (ruby red, mmm) in my work, like in the homemade grapefruit-rosemary sorbet that I paired with the pine nut tart at left.

A close sibling of the grapefruit in use and flavor is the pomelo. It's more dry than the grapefruit, so the sections peel out with less mess. And the actual pieces of pulp are large and pull apart easily. Pomelo is used in a lot of southeast Asian cooking, often paired with savory and spicy dishes like the spicy grilled river prawns and pomelo salad I once ate poolside in Bangkok. Pomelos are also a part of the Vietnamese salad with shredded chicken and cabbage that I love so much -- it's often replaced by grapefruit here in the States, but the original uses pomelo. Other large citrus that we use mostly for their skin or rind or juice -- and really, above all, we often use their scent -- are the citron, bergamot, calamansi, ugly fruit, and the etrog. Since we're focusing on what we eat and drink from the citrus species, we'll skip the details on these guys. They do provide the flavor for some delicious drinks, liqueurs, and vinegars however. Another time, another post.

In Italy, I look forward to two types of citrus showing up in the markets. One is clementini, or clementines, which always signal to me the approach of the winter holidays. Christmas in Italy means that pretty much every household has a gorgeous painted ceramic bowl full of clementini on the kitchen or coffee table. The second type of citrus I pine for until winter is the Sicilian blood orange, known as arancia rossa in Italian. Their flesh ranges in color from fuchsia-tinged bright orange to deep, dark magenta. These sweet, barely-acidic babies become happily ubiquitous at the end of the calendar year and throughout winter. They're in salads -- particularly those of Sicilian origin, like the blood orange-fennel-olive salads I love at this time of year. They're in desserts. They go into spremute, or freshly-squeezed juices sold in bars and in markets all over Italy. They're also great paired with prosecco, for a gorgeously colored aperitivo cocktail that's better than any mimosa you've ever experienced.  

They're squeezed into vinaigrettes and made into sauces -- they happen to pair really well with steak fish to brighten a typical white wine sauce. They're an unexpected touch anywhere you'd normally use lemon or regular orange. They're delicious seared on the grill and paired with pork or duck. They're also great candied, dipped in chocolate. The possibilities are pretty endless, actually. And they're accessible now that they've become popular in the U.S.

And then we have the other categories of orange-skinned citrus. Mandarins and tangerines are often slightly sweeter versions of oranges, larger than clementines but just as delicious and versatile. They're great paired with pomegranate in a spremuta, and my vendors in Campo de' Fiori in Rome have been selling these alongside their market stall now for years. Of course, the smallest of all these orange cousins is the kumquat -- a slightly tricky fruit, but one that can actually be eaten whole, peel and all (these are thin-skinned little guys), and do really well sliced and cooked in a sugar syrup so they're softened, half way to marmalade. 

This kumquat syrup can be made into a compote with the addition of other fruits, it can be made into a chutney with spices and some savory elements, or used as a flavoring syrup with an herb or two to be used as the base for a cocktail or to be topped off with sparkling water. Kumquats also do well included in other dishes like the composed salad here, with shaved fennel, beets, wild asparagus, avocado, and sunflower seeds on a bed of Greek yogurt. Other varietals of orange-skinned citrus like the satsuma, the tangelo, and various cross-breeds have been flooding the citrus market in recent years. I try to sample these fruits when I see a variety I've not yet tasted, and I have to say I've liked just about everything I've tried.

When it comes to a delicious acidic kick in cooking, limes are probably my star ingredient. They bring ceviche to life, they cut the richness of grilled meats in Mexican tacos and fajitas, they are pivotal in Southeast Asian marinades and dips, and they're the perfect finishing agent for freshly cooked seafood and freshly grilled veggies like corn on the cob -- I love smothering corn in a miso-lime butter. Limes are a must on any cocktail bar (dark and stormy, anyone?). Lime is also a wonderful ingredient for desserts. 

A truly well-made slice of key lime pie is hard to beat. The key limes are deliciously tart and work well in tropical cuisine that matches the environment in which they're grown. Lime sorbetto is ultra-refreshing. And lime curd is delicious, and pairs well with berries, like in my raspberry-lime-ginger tart at right. We're now starting to see the availability of other varieties like finger limes in specialty markets these days. These are to regular limes what pomelos are to grapefruit, and are excellent when the pulp is used in savory preparations. Kaffir limes are amazing, particularly in southeast Asian cuisine, but they're relatively dry and so are best used for their aromatic zest and above all, for their gorgeous fresh leaves. Nothing, for me, compares to the flavor kaffir lime leaves impart to curries and stews and soups. And dried limes are a big part of the flavor profile in Persian cooking, a cuisine I love and am learning more about all the time.

And then, of course, we have the lemon. I could write an entire post alone on lemons -- and I will, at some point. Having honeymooned last year on the Amalfi Coast of Italy, we walked through a pergola of lemon trees just to get from our suite to breakfast each morning in Anacapri. My friends had luscious lemon trees in the back yard of their B+B in Puglia. Even my friends with more than a corner of terrace space in Rome have citrus trees. And I've used lemon leaves in my cooking as well - they're great for wrapping things in and grilling. The amazing Italian lemons themselves go into everything from a light salad dressing to sauces for seafood to desserts and cakes and gelato and sorbetto and mmmmm, granita. They are served alongside tea (tè al limone) as well as a bistecca alla fiorentina. But lemons from all over the world help to add flavor to marinades and ceviches and meringue pies and tarts and candies, and anything at all that needs a little brightening of flavor.

They are a part of the sgroppino, an after-dinner drink which I've already highlighted on this blog here: http://bluaubergine.blogspot.com/search?q=sgroppino -- but it's so delicious it's worth mentioning again. And the lemons of the Amalfi coast have long donated their rinds to the best cause of all: limoncello.  What lemons have added to our world of drinks alone makes them worthwhile! Limonana, the Israeli slushie drink of lemon and mint, is a refreshing glass of wonderfulness, improved upon by the addition of a little vodka. And the coccolimone drink and grattachecca sold on the streets of Rome in warm weather are a revelation.

With the creation of the meyer lemon, which is a cross between a lemon and an orange, we have a best-of-both-worlds situation which allows us an interesting, mellowed citrus flavor to utilize in both sweet and savory. Lemon bars are given a tweak, and meyer lemon curd adds interest to the coconut cake and chocolate tuile at left. They're great in sauces and to make an aioli ethereal. Grilled and squeezed on seafood, they lend amazing dimension. There's very little a regular lemon can do that a meyer lemon won't improve. Give them a try the next time you find them in the market. In fact, pick up as many citrus varieties as you can get your hands on, then store them in the fruit bin in your fridge, and go in search of recipes that utilize these wondrous, versatile fruits. They'll help you bring on the spring!

Haricots verts with almonds, beets, and orange supreme

Branzino topped with meyer lemon aioli, over roasted artichokes and sea beans

Moroccan honey-citrus cake, orangeflower citrus, roasted figs, sweetened yogurt

Lemon sole over beluga lentils and wilted chard, roasted citrus beurre blanc

Southeast Asian style soft-shelled crabs with citrus-cucumber nuac mam, citrus segments and butter lettuce

Rustic Italian flourless lemon-almond-poppyseed cake, four berry sauce, lemon sugar whipped cream

SEASONAL INGREDIENT: Beets

Anyone can write about chocolate or champagne or romantic getaways for Valentine's Day. But to me, beets are actually the perfect food on which to focus for San Valentino. (Witness the heart-shaped beets in the salad above).

And beets are having a moment. In the 20th century, this would have confounded me. I was, seemingly, a born beet-hater,notorious for my acrobatic skills and back bends to avoid having pureed beets spoon-fed to me from the time I was a wee baby. As a child, I knew beets mostly in borscht form in Jewish delis, and as the coloring agent in the horseradish that accompanied my father's beloved (and to me, gag-inducing) matjes herring. It was all very eastern European old-school. In the interim, however, I've grown to adore beets, and like to play with their flavor and texture as much as I love using their bright color to make gorgeous plates of food, fuchsia dressings, and aiolis and sauces. The beets greens are delicious too -- which really speaks to my adoration of whole-vegetable cooking.

The rich, wine-dark magenta of many beets (they come in other brilliant colors and patterns, of course), are a perfect late winter vegetable: a root veggie to brighten cold weather cooking, which can get heavy...and a gorgeous color that speaks to the love and romance of February's romantic holiday: Valentine's Day. That these veggies are actually good for your heart is just the icing on the (healthy) cake.

So first, some history. The wild beet, the ancestor of the beet with which we're familiar today, is thought to have originated in prehistoric times in North Africa, and grew wild along Asian and European seashores. In these earlier times, people exclusively ate the beet greens and not the roots. The ancient Romans were actually one of the first civilizations to cultivate beets to use their roots as food. (You have to love the ancient Romans). The tribes that invaded Rome were responsible for spreading beets throughout northern Europe where they were first used for animal fodder, and later for human consumption, becoming more popular in the 16th century. 

Beets' value grew in the 19th century when it was discovered that they were a concentrated source of sugar, and the first beet sugar factory was built in Poland at that time. And when access to sugar cane was restricted by the British, Napoleon decreed that the beet be used as the primary source of sugar, catalyzing its popularity even further. Around this same time, beets were first brought to the United States, where they now also flourish. Today the leading commercial producers of beets include the United States, Russia, France, Poland, and Germany. 

As for the nutritional benefits of beets, preliminary research shows beetroot juice to reduce blood pressure in hypertensive individuals and so it may have an effect on mechanisms of cardiovascular disease. Beets are a unique source of phytonutrients called betalains. Betanin and vulgaxanthin are the two best-studied betalains derived from beets, and both have been shown to provide antioxidant, anti-inflammatory, and detoxification support -- which make beets a good source for likely risk reduction of many types of cancer, including colon, stomach, nerve, lung, breast, prostate, and testicular cancers. Even well before current-day scientific evidence, those living in the middle ages knew something was special about beets: back then, beetroot was used as a treatment for a variety of conditions, especially illnesses relating to digestion and the blood.

More good news: beets belong to the chenopod family — along with chard, spinach and quinoa — which continue to show an increasing number of health benefits not readily available from other food families. The red and yellow betalain pigments found in chenopods, their unique epoxyxanthophyll carotenoids, and the special connection between their overall phytonutrients and our nervous system health (including specialized nervous system organs like the eyes), point to a unique health value in beets. 

When selecting beets at your local market, choose small or medium-sized beets whose roots are firm, smooth-skinned and deep in color. Smaller, younger beets may be so tender that peeling won't be needed after they're cooked. These beets are also wonderful grated or sliced paper-thin in salads, and for topping proteins. While the quality of the attached beets greens does not reflect that of the roots, if you're going to consume this very nutritious part of the plant, look for greens that appear fresh, tender, and have a lively green color. One great way to utilize beets and their greens in one single dish is the Greek-inspired preparation of skordalia: it's a whipped potato-garlic mixture that's half-way between a sauce and a dip, and very delicious, usually served with a combination of roasted or boiled beets, which can also be served with their greens sauteed in olive oil, lemon juice, and garlic. Here, I've made it with purple potatoes for a colorful dish that's great for a gathering.

I often speak about the connection between color and nutrition: the more colorful your plate, the better-balanced your nutritional intake will be. And we also eat with our eyes, so what better way to have a gorgeous, healthful meal than to "eat the rainbow" as it were? Beets help in bringing bright colors and their inherent vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants to the plate. Beets can range in color from pure white to golden to deep, dark burgundy. This dish pictured is a Moroccan-spiced salad of beets and carrots that have been roasted, peeled, and cubed. I used the carrot and beet greens to make a pesto to serve along the outer rim of the plated salad. This is an elegant appetizer, vegetarian-friendly, and nutritious and delicious. It checks all the boxes!

Chioggia beets, or "candycane" beets as they're nicknamed, are amazing, with concentric circles  visible as you slice through them, in brilliant crimson and white or pink. The liquid you get from cooking beets or marinating beets can be used to make countless beautifully-colored sauces and dishes. It's the great base for a magenta vinaigrette, and it makes one gorgeous pink aioli just perfect for a romantic Valentine's Day meal. You can still make that electric-colored borscht, which when updated seems very modern and in line with the popularity of Eastern and Northern European foods. You can still pickle eggs in the briny beet juice, which makes for very pretty deviled eggs.

As a vegan-friendly substitute to beef tartare, I often do a beet tartare, which is meaty and earthy and delicious. A beet-tahini dip served with crudite is also a great party hors d'oeuvre. And around Hanukkah, and in fact year round, an interesting version of potato latkes is the beet-and-carrot latke. And since veggie juicing has become so popular, and beets-and-vodka are a natural Eastern European pairing, you can even make your cocktails healthy: beautiful, vibrant beetini anyone? 

Beets are so versatile! You're really limited only by your own imagination...

Happy and healthy Valentine's Day, everyone! xoxo

SEASONAL FOODS: Persimmon

I am a big fan of what many consider "exotic" fruit -- though nothing is terribly exotic considering that nowadays in New York City, we can find just about anything, from anywhere, if you now where to look. Perhaps it's better to say that some fruits are not yet "mainstream", or "everyday" fruits. Everyone knows what an orange, or a banana, or an apple looks like, tastes like. But the persimmon? There are a lot of people out there who are unsure what a persimmon even is (or if it's a fruit at all), much less how it tastes or how it's eaten. I'm here to declare that persimmons are great eating out-of-hand, but are also a wonderful ingredient in salads, in savory dishes, and for baking. It's worth getting to know these beauties. So, let's take a closer look at the versatile, brilliant persimmon, in season throughout late fall and into the winter.

There are two main categories of persimmons, generally speaking: hachiya and fuyu. The hachiya variety is acorn shaped, usually a deep or bright orange, and should only be eaten when ripe and soft (unripe, these guys are incredibly astringent and seem pretty, well, inedible, thanks to their high tannin content). The fuyu variety is more squat and round, can range in color from a pale orange or more golden hue to the bright orange of the hachiya variety, and can be eaten like an apple when it's more firm, even crisp, as it's much less astringent than the hachiya variety. Much like the tomato, persimmons are technically a berry in terms of botanical morphology, though most people don't lump them into the berry category with raspberries, blueberries and the like. (It's actually amazing how many foods are technicallyberries!) There is a third type cultivated in Japan, and prized for its rich brown flesh when ripe (instead of bright orange). "Chocolate persimmon" contains dark brown flesh within, the maru variety is sold as "cinnamon persimmon" for its spicy taste, and "brown sugar" is prized for its deep sweetness. A fourth variety, grown in Israel and known as the Sharon ("shah-RON") fruit, named after the Sharon plain in Israel, is the marketing name for the Triumphpersimmon, an Israeli-bred cultivar. This variety has no seeds, is very sweet, and can be eaten whole. In Valencia, Spain, one can find a variety that's variegated called the Spanish persimon (one "m"), in Spanish called Ribera del Xuquer or Rojo Brillante. In Italian and Japanese, the persimmon shares the same name: kaki (pronounced more or less "cocky").

As you can probably guess from their varietal names, the persimmon is of Asian origin, native to Japan, China, Korea, Burma, and Nepal. Cultivation of the persimmon extended throughout east and south Asia, and was later introduced to southern Europe and California (they have similar growing climates) in the early 1800s, and to Brazil by the end of the 19th century. In Korea, the matured fermented fruit are used to make a persimmon vinegar called gamsikcho(I'm now obsessed with the idea of this vinegar!), and for hundreds of years, the Japanese have consumed persimmon leaf tea made from the dried kaki leaves. In the northwestern U.S., persimmons are a commonly-found ingredient in pies and various desserts, like persimmon pudding (baked to the consistency of pumpkin pie, but resembles more of a brownie), almost surely topped with whipped cream. And Mitchell, Indiana is the proud home to an annual persimmon festival. As for nutritional value? Persimmons are high in dietary fiber and some dietary minerals, and offer a significant source of vitamin C and iron. They are also, when ripe, high in glucose (that sweetness comes at a cost), so make note.  

Most importantly, how do we use the persimmon as a seasonal ingredient? I love baking with persimmons, in cakes and tarts in which the fruit holds its form and beautiful color, but I also love using its puree in cakes and cheesecakes, and frozen in ice cream or sorbet. You can whip up a great smoothie with persimmon flesh, and it's easy to transform into a jam or mostarda to spread on bread or to accompany a gorgeous cheese plate. But arguably the best way to enjoy the pure flavor of the persimmon flesh is to eat it out of hand -- or rather, by removing the green-brown stem of the fruit (if it's ripe, it should "unplug" to remove easily), and scooping out the tender, sweet flesh with a spoon. It's like a ready-made fruit custard. 

Beyond utilizing the fruit to finish a meal, I also like to incorporate the persimmon into savory preparations, as a counterpoint to sharper bitter or salty flavors. it works marvelously well in seasonal salads, like this Tuscan kale, feta, and persimmon salad with pomegranate and sunflower seeds. Dressed with a white balsamic-pomegranate vinaigrette, this salad hits all flavor and texture notes and is a nutritional fall or winter salad to boot. Move over, avocado toast! Toasted bread with a shmear of fresh ricotta, sliced persimmon, and cracked pepper is insanely good. The fruit even works in highly-spiced dishes, like a curry or a spicy salsa dressing for fish or meat. I love it in a winer ceviche too. Really, it's all about using this seasonal ingredient however you enjoy it most. The important thing is to try it, get used to its flavor, and soon the "exotic" persimmon will become for you, as it is for me, an everyday winter food love affair!

RECIPES: Pasta con Cavolfiore, Sultane, Mandorle, e Molliche

The Italians know a thing or two about parsimonious cooking, about making something incredibly delicious and soul-satisfying out of something lowbrow or unexciting. And the further south you go along the Italian peninsula, the stronger that capacity grows. Sicilian cuisine is the shining example of this modo di cucinare.

A delicious Sicilian pasta dish that highlights the culinary transition from everyday-to-divine is one using a "lowly" cruciferous vegetable, often overlooked because of its pale color, and considered (mistakenly) to lack nutritional content: cauliflower. Cauliflower itself is actually very nutritious, as are all cruciferous veggies (like broccoli and cabbage) -- it's full of Vitamin C, Vitamin K, folate, and a slew of antioxidants and anti-carcinogens that make weekly consumption of the vegetable a real boon to anyone's diet. And with a preparation as delicious as this one, it can become a fabulous staple in a nutritious meal plan. As for its use in this dish, it's enhanced by the agrodolce (sweet-sour) combination of the dried sultanas and toasted almonds -- classic Sicilian. And because even grated cheese is a luxury many in the poorer areas of Sicily can't afford, herbed toasted bread crumbs are used in place of cheese. If you need the dish to be wholly vegetarian, you can leave out the anchovy.

Please note: this dish can be prepared without the pasta, served as a side dish to round out a meal. Tossing it with pasta just makes for a satisfying lunch or delicious dinner, and one that's quite wallet-friendly as well. It's perfect for everything from a meatless Monday meal to a dinner party dish. Buon Appetito!

PASTA CON CAVOLFIORE, SULTANE, MANDORLE, E MOLLICHE
(Serves 3-4)

1/2 to 3/4 head of cauliflower, cut into florets
400 grams pasta (4/5 pound)
1/2 cup olive oil -- good quality Sicilian extra virgin is best
3 cloves garlic
1 small yellow onion, thinly sliced into half moons
1/4 white wine
1/3 cup dried sultanas or raisins
1/2 cup slivered toasted almonds
2 TBS. capers
1 anchovy fillet chopped, or 1/2 tsp anchovy paste
pinch of dried peperoncino flakes
1/2 cup herbed toasted bread crumbs
1/2 cup chopped flat leaf parsley
salt & pepper to taste

- Start by par-cooking the cauliflower in a large pot of boiling water, salted well. Keep the water to cook the pasta in, and remove the cauliflower from the boiling water once cooked until softened, about 5 minutes. Drain in a colander or bowl.

- In a large saute' pan, heat 1/4 cup of the olive oil with the whole garlic cloves. After 1 minute of heating up, add the anchovy, onion, and peperoncino and cook until the onion turns translucent, about 3 minutes.

- Add the cauliflower to the saute' pan and the white wine, and cook until the wine has burned off a bit, about a minute. Then cook, covered, for about 5-7 minutes, until the caulifower has softened and begins to break down a bit.

- Toss the pasta into the boiling, salted cauliflower water and cook until just barely al dente.

- While the pasta is cooking, add the sultanas and capers to the cauliflower and cook to brown the cauliflower a bit. Add olive oil as needed. Add salt and pepper to taste.

- When the pasta is just shy of al dente, remove from the cooking water and transfer t o the saute pan with the cauliflower. Add the slivered almonds and the parsley, and toss to coat. Cook for an additional 2 minutes in the pan and at the very end, toss the rest of the olive oil and half of the breadcrumbs in with the pasta, toss to coat.

- Serve the pasta in pasta plates and sprinkle with the toasted bread crumbs. Enjoy!

SEASONAL FOODS: Cherries

Is there a fruit happier than the bright red cherry? It decorates flirty dresses and bags, tops sundaes, plops in fizzy drinks like the Shirley Temple. And at the same time, is there a fruit more luscious and seemingly forbidden, aching to be popped off of its stem and into your mouth, leaving a wine-dark juicy stain in its wake? I won't get into the cherry as euphemism, but suffice it to say cherries are a beloved fruit, versatile in both sweet and savory preparations, and an absolutely delicious seasonal food. And, bonus: cherries happen to be great for you.

First, a little history. Cherries and cherry trees as we know them are native to the temperate regions of the northern hemisphere, with several species in the U.S., a handful in Europe, and the remainder in Asia. The cultivated cherry (as well as fellow stone fruit, the apricot), is recorded as having been brought to Rome by Lucius Licinius Lucullus from northeastern Anatolia (also known as the Pontus region, or Asia Minor) -- most of modern day Turkey's Asian land, in 72 BC.

Today, Turkey is still the number one producer of cherries in the world, with the U.S. as number two, followed by Iran, Italy, and Spain in 3rd, 4th, and 5th positions worldwide. In America, sweet cherries (prunus avium) are grown mostly in the western part of the country -- Washington, Oregon, and California. Tart cherries (prunus cerasus) are grown mostly in Michigan, Utah, and again Washington state. (Anyone who has bought cherries in supermarkets in the U.S. has seen the widespread domination of Washington state cherries -- and rightly so. They're delicious!)

As for nutritional value and benefits, sweet cherries are rich in beta carotene, potassium (a blood pressure reducer), and vitamin C. One serving of sweet cherries (about 1 cup) contains 90 calories and 3 grams of fiber. The catechins and flavanals in cherries contribute to the fruit's healthfulness as well.

Cherries are rich in anthocyanins and quercetin, bioactive compounds which studies indicate may work in synergy to combat cancer. This power pairing may also prevent some genetic mutations that can lead to cancer, and keep cancerous cells in check -- particularly breast, colon, prostate, and lung cancers. They are also anti-inflammatory, and provide cardiovascular benefits as well as mild fat-burning capabilities. (Note: tart cherries contain these elements but sweet cherries contain three times as many, found in the cherry's skin). And, the riper the better, as darker, ripened cherries contain more antioxidants.

Cherries also help with gout, a form of arthritis caused by an excess of uric acid in the blood which causes inflammation and swelling. Growing research shows that consuming cherries (both sweet and tart), and drinking tart cherry juice, lowers uric acid and inflammation. In the same way, cherries' anti-inflammatory properties ease joint pain as well as muscle soreness. Good news for those watching their sugar intake: cherries have among the lowest glycemic index (22) and glycemic load (3) values of all fruit. And, since tart cherries are rich in melatonin, a compound that regulates the body's natural sleep-wake patterns, the fruit and its juice act as natural sleep aids and improve the quality of that sleep.

Before you drift off to dreamland, though, let's discuss the fun stuff: that is, all the ways in which delicious cherries can be consumed! We all know and love cherry pie, which just may be second only to apple as the most American of pies. (The George Washington-cherry tree legend also reinforces the fruit's American appeal).

There are many forms of desserts, pies and pastries that are excellent with cherries, including tarts and crostate, cherry clafoutis, black forest cake, and cherries jubilee. But cherries also work wonderfully in savory dishes, sauces, and even cocktails. From the oxblood bing cherries to the yellow-blush Ranier cherries, look for a firm skin without blemishes, and a green stem as a sign of freshness.

Cherries happen to pair well with meats, and make a wonderful sauce for duck breast, seen here with a cherry port sauce. Cherries add a fruity note to a barbeque sauce in place of the tomato base found in many bbq sauces. Pitted diced cherries also make an interesting base for a salsa. I like to make one with red onions, chopped pistachios, fresh mint and basil, which I pair with grilled meats and sausages in the summertime. 

I also make an interesting savory pasta dish with cherries: first I prepare a veal ragu in bianco, meaning there are no tomatoes in this ragu, simply onions/celery/carrots. I cook the the veal ragu for a coupe of hours over low heat, and at the end, while I'm cooking the pasta, I toss in some chopped cherries along with some freshly chopped sage or rosemary, parsley and chives. It may sound strange, but it's one of the best pasta dishes in my repertoire. 

Of course, cherries are great as a plain old fruit, and as a part of fruit salads and plates. Served cold, they pair really well with melons. As for drinks, I love a sour cherry spritzer, because not only are they refreshing, but they're also helpful in regulating my sleep patterns. I love cherries with mint, so they're a natural in a summery mojito. 

And they also work well with dark liquors, so using cherry syrup or fresh dark cherries smashed with some bourbon or whiskey topped with club soda and a lime is good when you're in the mood for something with a real kick. Kirsch is a cherry liqueur delicious on its own and as a part of many mixed drinks. And of course, the original cocktail fruit was the maraschino cherry, an integral part in many classic cocktails recipes. Finally, let's not forget the beloved chocolate covered cherry. The classic is a cherry set inside a chocolate shell, and when you bite into it, the syrup in which it sets oozes out. I love a good cherry-chocolate pairing, but my preference is for a rich, baked chocolate mousse cake. In my version, a mousse-like chocolate cake batter is baked and then topped with an almond-scented whipped cream, and finished off with dark chocolate-dipped fresh sweet cherries. It's decadent, and dark, and perfectly sinful: just how I like my desserts.

QUICK BITE: The Milanese

Back in the days when I was toiling away in the kitchen at San Domenico NY, we used to have some regular VIP clients who would come in and order "off menu" as it's called -- requesting favorite dishes that were neither daily specials, nor a part of the restaurant's written menu. These items are usually part of the culinary canon that the restaurant represents. In the case of San Domenico, it was Italian classics, mostly hailing from the north of Italy, like our executive chef. Our most (in)famous VIP client to order off-menu was one Signor Bulgari, of the world-renowned, Rome-based Bulgari jewelry house.

Bulgari holds a special place in the hearts of Romans, in particular. The brand is known for its impressive jewels and even more impressive price tags. I've heard, on any number of occasions, Romans referring to something that was shockingly expensive as being Bulgari: as in, "so I picked up these little Sicilian tomatoes and a bag of organic arugula da Bulgari..." It is Roman slang for saying that the precious gem of an item you purchased was paid for through the nose...but probably worth the indulgence.

So, the irony of cooking for Signor Bulgari, off-menu, making his favorite dishes -- a big plate of sliced San Daniele prosciutto, a dish of Maria's famous caponata, and a platter-sized, paper-thin pounded veal Milanese topped with the aforementioned gorgeous cherry tomatoes and arugula -- was not lost on me. The fact that he would boorishly push open the swinging doors to the kitchen from the dining room, asking where his food was after having to wait an entire ten minute stretch, post-order, and that he'd fight the waiter on the bill claiming overcharge on most visits, is just the icing on the torta: the man whose surname is synonymous with pricey didn't like to pay our prices on his special orders. Ha. But luckily, we always knew when he was coming. Forewarned is forearmed. And after a perfectly-prepared Milanese, all is right with the world. Even with Signor Bulgari.

The Milanese is a go-to meal of mine at home, as well. It's comfort food in cooler months, just on its own with some hearty side dishes, but it's at its best now: as in, during the summer months when the tomatoes are bursting with sweetness and taste of the sun, and the peppery bite of the arugula is matched by that of the olive oil drizzled atop this salad, which is then cut with some real balsamic vinegar from Modena. That's the stuff, right there. The veal (or chicken, or turkey) is pounded extra thin, dusted with flour and dipped in organic eggs, and the breading -- this is key -- is a mix of bread crumbs, panko, herbs, and grated parmigiano cheese, which forms a thin, molded crust and keeps the meat juicy within. You need to cut this with a steak knife because it deserves precision. This should not be torn or shredded, but treated with reverence. Because it's deceptively simple, and when prepared well, like most Italian classics, the Milanese is a thing of beauty.

HOLIDAYS: Passover + Pesce en Saor Recipe

Venice: La Serenissima, the only city in the world with streets of water, where we're made to slow down the pace. It's home to delicious seafood and fresh veggies pulled from and grown in the briny waters of the lagoon. And, it's the birthplace of the term ghetto (based on the Venetian dialect term for foundry, original site of the neighborhood that became the ghetto...also gettare in Italian means to toss aside, throw out, which is essentially what happened to the Venetian Jews).

This ghetto was created for Jews in the 16th century and has morphed into terminology for an area into which a specific ethnic or racial group is pushed, isolated. This original ghetto separated the Jews from the rest of the Venetian population, but it also allowed, on some level, for the city's Jewish population to insulate itself and strengthen its traditions, though perhaps not into a singular Venetian Jewish community -- as evidenced by the five different diminutive synagogues in the neighborhood, catering to Italian, German, Levantine, Portuguese-Spanish, and French Jews practicing in Venice. 

Venice was truly a city at the crossroads of the spice trade and was the hub of trade routes between the east and the west for centuries before the ghetto was created. Jews were a vibrant and integral part of trade and banking for centuries in the middle ages and early Renaissance, and then once the Inquisition started driving Jews out of Spain and Portugal, many settled in Venice, and its Jewish population grew. So, on March 29th, 1516, the Venetian Jewish ghetto was established, more or less to keep the Jews "in check." Their movement about the city was limited and there were curfews set in the evenings, as entry points on the water were blocked and guarded by Venetian security men in boats. And while this was certainly oppressive and limiting, Jewish cuisine in Venice still flourished. So much of what we think of simply as "Venetian food" or "Roman specialties" or "Sicilian cuisine" originated in the kitchen of Jewish Italians. Artichokes, eggplant, and squash and pumpkins are all examples of food items that were not eaten by non-Jews, even up until the 19th century in many cases. Now it's difficult to imagine Italian cuisine without these items.

One of the signature flavor profiles of typically Jewish-Italian dishes is the element of sweet and sour, or agrodolce, in Italian. This comes from the pairing of vinegar and sugar (and honey well before sugar was widely available in Europe). The use of vinegar to preserve food is a classically Jewish one, because no work is allowed to be done on the sabbath, so all the food for sabbath meals needs to be prepared in advance -- and so the dishes are often served cool or at room temperature, having been cooked the day before. This happy coincidence allows for the flavors to develop, resulting in an even-more-delicious dish eaten a day or two after it was prepared. The sugar added to the vinegar is simply to cut the acidity of the vinegar (or citrus juice, or wine). Pesce en saor is Venice's shining example of a practically-conceived dish in the Jewish cuisine canon, going mainstream (pun intended). 

This dish is often made with sardines and called sarde en saor -- it's on most Venetian trattoria menus -- but it can be made with any fish fillets, really, though more oily fish like Spanish mackerel are suited to the sweet-and-sour preparation (they're also good for you, with lots of Omega-3s). A typical pairing would be with polenta, soft if you're making it and serving right away, or made a day in advance, cut into squares, and either served cold or grilled before serving. The addition of carrots and celery is optional, as is the choice of red or white onions. But the raisins and pine nuts are key to matching the sweet and sour flavors of the dish, and add texture and interest. it's the perfect make-ahead dish for Passover, and serves as an interesting substitute for gefilte fish on the American/Ashkenazi Passover table. Try it this year -- you may do as the Venetians have done, and incorporate the dish into your personal repertoire of favorites. HAPPY PASSOVER!

PESCE EN SAOR

(6 servings)

1 whole fish (about 2 pounds), cleaned, or 1.5 pounds fish fillets -- Spanish mackerel is a nice choice

½ cup red wine vinegar

3 tbs. sugar

1 onion, thinly sliced into half moons

2 small carrots, thinly sliced into a thick julienne or shavings

1 celery stalk, sliced into thin Vs

½ cup toasted pine nuts

½ cup raisins, plumped in hot water

6 tbs. extra-virgin olive oil

salt & pepper to taste

- In a small bowl, stir together vinegar, sugar, pine nuts, and a little of the raisin plumping water. Set aside.

- Warm 2 tbs. of the olive oil in a large saute’ pan over medum heat. Sprinkle the fish with salt just before placing it in the saute’ pan. Saute’ until golden brown. Flip and brown on the other side.

- Remove fish from pan, add 2 more tbs. olive oil, and saute the onions and carrots an celery in the pan until softened, about 4 minutes.

- Add the vinegar mixture, cover, and cook over medium heat until the fish is done – about 10 minutes for a whole fish and 5 minutes for fillets.

- Transfer to a platter and serve warm or, better yet, the next day at room temperature.

* This dish pairs really well with polenta squares, grilled or pan-seared.

Posted by Dana Klitzberg at Friday, April 22, 2016

SEASONAL INGREDIENT: Winter Veg

We're still suffering through winter weather (yes, snow in New York City today, people!). But the cold outside doesn't mean we can't enjoy some wonderful produce -- and specifically, winter vegetables -- indoors in our kitchens. There's beauty in their variety of flavor but also in their shapes, sizes, colors, and uses. It's never been easier to "eat the rainbow" of colors in vegetables alone, and many of these items are hearty enough to make into a soup, to pair with the rich meat stews of the season, or to skip the meat altogether and enjoy these gifts of nature on their own as a substantial, diet- and environment-friendly alternative to animal proteins. Below are some great options, as well as some ideas as to what to do with these wonderful winter veggies:

- Radicchio tardivo: This elegant, elongated variety of radicchio di Treviso comes from northeastern Italy around the town of Treviso in the Veneto. It has slim leaves that are white and tipped with burgundy, a result of a second "forced" growth process when the harvested heads are placed in growing tanks with flowing water for a second growth; they're then harvested late (hence "tardivo"). Their crisp, bitter leaves are a thing of beauty, and work especially well in dishes of the area, like a risotto or pasta with radicchio, gorgonzola, and walnuts. This veg is great grilled, or oven-roasted with a little balsamic and a sprinkling of sugar to take away the bitter edge. It's also great in a winter salad with endive and perhaps some kale or watercress.

- Celery root, or Celeriac: This is quite literally the root of celery, but as a root vegetable it's got a bit of starch to it. You can slice into matchsticks to enjoy raw in a salad, or cook it with a potato or two to make a healthier, lower-carb version of mashed potatoes
(trick: the lack of gluten in the celeriac makes its substitution for mashed taters a great healthy upgrade, and you can put it in a food processor for a smooth puree without the gummy mess of potatoes alone). This also means it makes a fabulous soup -- it's great comfort food in cold weather, especially with some fried leeks and a drizzle of maple syrup on top.

- Cauliflower: Much has been made lately of the previously-lowly, pale head of cauliflower, and with good reason. This pallid cruciferous vegetable is actually really healthy for us, and is incredibly versatile. Cook the florets as is traditional and you can toss them with pasta, pine nuts, and raisins in olive oil with a splash of wine and you have a great pasta dish, Sicilian in origin. Pulse in a food processor and you have gluten-free couscous. Roast whole in the oven rubbed with olive oil, salt, and spices, and you have an excellent main course meat stand-in (You can also slice the cauliflower into "steaks" and serve vegetarian versions of steak preparations: cauliflower au poivre, anyone?).

- Broccolo romano, or Romanesco: This is what Romans refer to simply as a "broccolo" -- they think the dark green version that is our standard is "broccolo siciliano" (Sicilian broccoli). This is a popular side dish in Rome, cooked until meltingly tender in olive oil, with garlic and peperoncino. Mammamia! It's also tossed with pasta, and served in the disappearing-but-traditional Roman soup, broccoli ed arzilla made with stingray and roman broccoli in broth -- really delicious.

- Winter squash: This family includes butternut, spaghetti, acorn, delicata, and on and on. Roasted with just a drizzle of olive oil, a few cloves of garlic, and a sprinkling of sea salt, winter squash are healthful and a great substitute for potatoes alongside proteins. They can be pureed into amazing soups. They can be roasted alongside other vegetables. They can become filling for pastas like ravioli. Spaghetti squash can be served like its namesake pasta, in place of the pasta itself! And delicata squash can be served skin-on, for extra ease in prep...and extra fiber. These nubby veggies are versatile and amazingly delicious, and even the seeds should be saved, cleaned, and roasted to make into a healthy snack, to sprinkle on salads, to grind into a pesto...even to candy for dessert!

- Brussels sprouts: These mini-cabbages named after a Northern European city (still a mystery) have caught on again since the "new" century, and have become a ubiquitous side dish in restaurants from Manhattan to Minneapolis. And good for them! Because they're very good for us, another cruciferous veggie full of fiber and vitamins. I make mine with pancetta, shallots, balsamic or sherry vinegar, and a touch of honey -- and they're a perennial Thanksgiving favorite.

- Cabbage: Big brother to the brussels sprouts above, cabbage is another healthful, incredibly versatile veg. There are many varieties, including regular green or white cabbage, red cabbage, and savoy cabbage with its slightly curlier, thinner leaves. Cabbage can be shredded and eaten raw, as in cole slaw, or cooked, as in stewed cabbage (I like mine sweet-and-sour, like they make it in central Europe, stewed with some vinegar, salt and sugar). It can be fermented and transformed into kimchi, or simply eaten as part of a salad. It can be stuffed with ground meat or vegetables and stewed for stuffed cabbage or other savory packets or spring rolls. It's also great in a simple soup with a veggie broth, brightened with the acidity of a splash of vinegar. 

- Beets: Another underdog root veggie we root for (food pun!), the beet was and is still "having a moment" on menus across America. These former outcasts have experienced a renaissance, and I'm happy about that, because they're gorgeous and packed full of vitamins and antioxidants, and they make a great soup (borscht), a great salad ingredient, and a great side dish.

They're a substitute for the deep ruby color of raw beef, so vegan tartares now have new life. They can be golden or fuchsia or swirly candy-cane colored (chioggia beets), they can be sliced thinly or fried into chips or served julienned in a salad with lots of carrots and pistachios and fresh herbs and warm spices like cumin and ras-el-hanout...They pair really well with those carrots, but also with goat cheese and ricotta cheese, with nuts and herbs, they're great dressed with vinegars or with sweet-sour pomegranate molasses or silan date syrup for a Middle Eastern-North African vibe, and they're great in Central and Eastern European preparations, with dill and meat and potatoes and flaky smoked fish...they're as versatile as they are pretty, and as inexpensive health powerhouses, they can't be...well, you know...

Enjoy the healthy vegetable variety that comes with the winter season, and get your fill while you can!

Posted by Dana Klitzberg at Friday, March 04, 2016