i've been going through the rest of my posts, editing here and there for consistency, and i came across a top ten list of yore:
ten favorite restaurants in the boston/cambridge area, 2006
1. craigie street bistrot
2. pigalle
3. caffe umbra
4. sel de la terre
5. upstairs on the square
6. central kitchen
7. aujourd'hui
8. picco
9. rangzen
10. addis red sea
and given a chance to update that list, i would say this is what it is now, with some reasons:
1. craigie street bistrot (interesting updating of classical french food; impeccable technique)
2. pomodoro (best italian food i've ever had; best, and friendliest, service)
3. pigalle (really excellent french country food, excellent service)
4. restaurant pava (most interesting and successful flavor combinations; best bread)
5. sel de la terre (excellent french food)
6. rendezvous (more adventurous new american that occasionally misses its mark)
7. upstairs on the square (slightly overpriced, but really excellent new american)
8. central kitchen (close-to-home, unpretentious new american)
9. aujourd'hui (excellent, sophisticated upscale french)
10. miracle of science (best burger)
i would also venture to say that this list is more about what is excellent and what is memorable, so it changes over time according to what i've had recently, with some attention to meals past. another thread (alas, slightly inconsistent) is the likelihood that i would go there - so that takes into account cost, in a way. that doesn't mean that i would always go to aujourd'hui over miracle of science, but it does mean that i would go to pomodoro over pigalle, with respect to cost (i guess the cost issue is more important higher up on the list).
15 juin 2007
pork + ricotta = love
if pork and quenelles had a love child, i imagine that it would be these meatballs. not that i've ever tasted quenelles (a delicate sort of french dumpling that is made of a mild white meat or fish, and poached), but i've always thought that they would be a much more sophisticated version of chinese fish balls. these meatballs arose from pure opportunity, as i had exactly the amount of ricotta needed leftover from the homemade ricotta.
this recipe is especially excellent because each of the ingredients plays a clear role (note: this analysis may or may not be exactly correct, but it is generally correct). the binding ingredients are the eggs and the parmesan, while the ricotta and pork combine for flavor and texture. notably absent in this recipe is breadcrumbs, which are typical in most meatballs. however, the strained ricotta replaces the breadcrumbs (this is why you have to strain it - so that it doesn't render your meatballs unable to stick together) and the delicacy of its flavor contrasts extremely well with the pork, which is truly the dominant flavor. have you noticed how meatballs invariably taste like meatballs? these meatballs still taste like meatballs, but they taste undeniably like pork meatballs - there's nothing to muddle up the flavor. the ricotta gives the meatballs a very light texture that's still meaty - ie, there's something to bite into. they're not heavy like other meatballs, and the ricotta renders the meatballs edible hot or cold (ie, right out of the refrigerator for breakfast).
so essentially these are meatballs for people who like pork, and don't like heavy meatballs (where heavy relates more to their weight in your stomach rather than their fat content). the other really great thing about them is that by some combination of the circumstances of their ingredients and the fact that they are rolled in flour, they brown extremely well and tastily, without those little bits of meatball that stick to the pan and get ripped away, then burn. so these are meatballs for people who like flavorful, non-heavy, and easy to cook meatballs. despite the lengthy directions, these are pretty easy to make, and rather more rewarding than is normal for an out of the ordinary recipe.
pork and ricotta meatballs (adapted from the new york times)
1 lb ricotta (storebought or homemade)
2-3T sour cream if you're using homemade ricotta
1 1/2 lbs ground pork, room temperature (this makes it easier to mix into the ricotta)
1c parmesan
2 eggs
1t salt
freshly ground pepper
1/2c flour, plus more if needed
vegetable oil or corn oil (not olive oil, which has a low smoking temperature)
~3-4c mild, homemade tomato sauce (so as not to overpower the meatballs; do not use any sort of jarred or canned sauce - we made ours as we waited for the meatballs to chill)
1. if you're using storebought ricotta, weight the ricotta overnight to drain it of most of its liquid. Layer cheesecloth in a colander and put the ricotta inside. tie the ends of the cheesecloth together and weight with a plate and something that's moderately heavy (like a pound of butter); put the colander on a tray to catch the liquid and refrigerate. the resulting strained ricotta should be like tofu in appearance. if you're using homemade ricotta, let the ricotta come to room temperature and mix the sour cream into it with a spoon or in a food processor, to get rid of the lumps.
2. mix ricotta, parmesan, and eggs in a large bowl until well mixed. add ground pork, salt and pepper and mix with your fingers (not a spoon, and yes, it is messy) until it's mixed together well. don't worry too much about overmixing. cover the bowl and chill for 1/2 hour.
3. line a baking sheet with foil and put the flour on a plate. shape pork mixture into balls (we did ours at about 1 1/2" to 2" diameter) and roll in the flour, tossing gently in your hands to get rid of excess flour. place on the baking sheet and repeat until mixture is all used up. cover the baking sheet with plastic wrap and chill for at least half an hour, and ideally a full hour.
4. when you're ready to cook the meatballs, heat 1 1/2 to 2T oil in a large skillet over medium to medium-high heat (if your smoke detector is sensitive like ours is, use the lower heat). brown the meatballs and remove to a plate; cover loosely with a piece of foil to prevent heat loss. continue until you're done with the meatballs, adding more oil as necessary. take care not to break the meatballs apart when you turn them.
5. return all of the meatballs to the pan and add tomato sauce; shake pan from side to side to coat. keep heat on medium and simmer the meatballs in the sauce for 20-30 minutes, until meatballs are completely cooked through. adjust the seasoning and serve with pasta (you can also make the meatballs smaller and make them as an appetizer).
[serves 4-6]
this recipe is especially excellent because each of the ingredients plays a clear role (note: this analysis may or may not be exactly correct, but it is generally correct). the binding ingredients are the eggs and the parmesan, while the ricotta and pork combine for flavor and texture. notably absent in this recipe is breadcrumbs, which are typical in most meatballs. however, the strained ricotta replaces the breadcrumbs (this is why you have to strain it - so that it doesn't render your meatballs unable to stick together) and the delicacy of its flavor contrasts extremely well with the pork, which is truly the dominant flavor. have you noticed how meatballs invariably taste like meatballs? these meatballs still taste like meatballs, but they taste undeniably like pork meatballs - there's nothing to muddle up the flavor. the ricotta gives the meatballs a very light texture that's still meaty - ie, there's something to bite into. they're not heavy like other meatballs, and the ricotta renders the meatballs edible hot or cold (ie, right out of the refrigerator for breakfast).
so essentially these are meatballs for people who like pork, and don't like heavy meatballs (where heavy relates more to their weight in your stomach rather than their fat content). the other really great thing about them is that by some combination of the circumstances of their ingredients and the fact that they are rolled in flour, they brown extremely well and tastily, without those little bits of meatball that stick to the pan and get ripped away, then burn. so these are meatballs for people who like flavorful, non-heavy, and easy to cook meatballs. despite the lengthy directions, these are pretty easy to make, and rather more rewarding than is normal for an out of the ordinary recipe.
pork and ricotta meatballs (adapted from the new york times)
1 lb ricotta (storebought or homemade)
2-3T sour cream if you're using homemade ricotta
1 1/2 lbs ground pork, room temperature (this makes it easier to mix into the ricotta)
1c parmesan
2 eggs
1t salt
freshly ground pepper
1/2c flour, plus more if needed
vegetable oil or corn oil (not olive oil, which has a low smoking temperature)
~3-4c mild, homemade tomato sauce (so as not to overpower the meatballs; do not use any sort of jarred or canned sauce - we made ours as we waited for the meatballs to chill)
1. if you're using storebought ricotta, weight the ricotta overnight to drain it of most of its liquid. Layer cheesecloth in a colander and put the ricotta inside. tie the ends of the cheesecloth together and weight with a plate and something that's moderately heavy (like a pound of butter); put the colander on a tray to catch the liquid and refrigerate. the resulting strained ricotta should be like tofu in appearance. if you're using homemade ricotta, let the ricotta come to room temperature and mix the sour cream into it with a spoon or in a food processor, to get rid of the lumps.
2. mix ricotta, parmesan, and eggs in a large bowl until well mixed. add ground pork, salt and pepper and mix with your fingers (not a spoon, and yes, it is messy) until it's mixed together well. don't worry too much about overmixing. cover the bowl and chill for 1/2 hour.
3. line a baking sheet with foil and put the flour on a plate. shape pork mixture into balls (we did ours at about 1 1/2" to 2" diameter) and roll in the flour, tossing gently in your hands to get rid of excess flour. place on the baking sheet and repeat until mixture is all used up. cover the baking sheet with plastic wrap and chill for at least half an hour, and ideally a full hour.
4. when you're ready to cook the meatballs, heat 1 1/2 to 2T oil in a large skillet over medium to medium-high heat (if your smoke detector is sensitive like ours is, use the lower heat). brown the meatballs and remove to a plate; cover loosely with a piece of foil to prevent heat loss. continue until you're done with the meatballs, adding more oil as necessary. take care not to break the meatballs apart when you turn them.
5. return all of the meatballs to the pan and add tomato sauce; shake pan from side to side to coat. keep heat on medium and simmer the meatballs in the sauce for 20-30 minutes, until meatballs are completely cooked through. adjust the seasoning and serve with pasta (you can also make the meatballs smaller and make them as an appetizer).
[serves 4-6]
11 juin 2007
a little speed (homemade ricotta)
no, not speed with respect to the homemade ricotta, but rather, with dinner made from the ricotta. however, despite the lengthy instructions, the actual production of the ricotta is very easy and short. most of the work is prep work. the best ricotta i have ever had was in a salad at chez panisse (the restaurant, not the cafe) - it was light, creamy yet with definitely definable curd, pressed into a triangular slice. i think it was drizzled with olive oil, which is, i have to say, a really excellent way to eat ricotta. but if my memory is failing me, then i definitely had ricotta drizzled with olive oil on bread at some restaurant in the past.
i was thus particularly excited about homemade ricotta because it looked so easy to make. i shouldn't have been surprised, as jessica and i made paneer in much the same way in our cooking class (paneer is a slightly different mix of milk and yogurty ingredients, and is pressed and weighted instead of allowed to drain). this ricotta is richer than supermarket whole-milk ricotta, even though it's also made with whole milk, but is a bit hard in the curd - i wonder if letting it drain less would have been more ideal.
the accompanying recipe that uses the ricotta is pretty fast (maybe half an hour at most) and is prety excellent. the rotini is key, unless you have a suggestion for another pasta shape that holds ricotta as well as it does. the bell peppers and shallots provide some counterpoint to the ricotta, and the pasta essentially acts as a starch...you could also just spread the ricotta-pepper mixture on bread.
homemade ricotta (adapted from michael chiarello)
1 gallon whole milk (or some mixture of 2% and whole milk)
1 quart buttermilk
1 package of cheesecloth
candy thermometer (optional)
herbs (optional)
1. combine whole milk, buttermilk, and herbs (if using) in a large saucepan (ideally, some kind of stockpot). heat over high heat, scraping bottom of the pot with a rubber heatproof spatula to prevent the milk from scorching. it will seem like the heat is too high, but it's not. it would be good to use a heavy-bottomed pot. set up a large-bottomed colander lined with a large piece of cheesecloth, folded to a thickness of 5-6 layers (it will be about 1 1/2 feet square).
2. when the milk is warm, stop stirring it (you can give it a stir very infrequently if you're a compulsive stirrer) so the curds can form.
3. when the milk reaches 175-180F, the mixture will curdle so that you can clearly see white curds and slightly cloudy clearer liquid (the whey) around the edges of the pot. the surface will look like a white raft of foam and curds. remove from heat immediately. place the colander in the sink and ladle the curds and whey into it, making sure you don't break up the curds. when most of the liquid has drained, tie the ends of the cheesecloth over the faucet and let the curds drain weighted by its self-weight for about 15 minutes.
4. scoop ricotta into an airtight container and let cool. when cool, cover and refrigerate. the ricotta will keep for about a week.
[makes 3-4 cups]
rotini with ricotta and red peppers
1 lb pasta
1 T olive oil
2-3 large shallots, chopped finely
2 red bell peppers, sliced into small 1/4"x1" batons
1 1/2 to 2c ricotta, either whole or part-skim, or homemade
salt and pepper, and a little bit of sugar
1. heat water in a large saucepan to boil, for the pasta. add 1/2T of olive oil to a medium skillet and heat on medium-high. add shallots and saute, stirring every now and then, until shallots are translucent, about 8 minutes.
2. add remaining 1/2T oil to the skillet with the shallots in it, and then add the bell peppers. saute until soft (but not too soft), about 10-15 minutes. when water boils, add pasta and stir every now and then.
3. if your ricotta is fairly hard (this will be the case with the recipe for homemade ricotta), add to the bell pepper mix in the skillet and heat to soften for about five minutes. keep the mixture warm over medium-low heat.
4. when pasta is done, drain and return to saucepan. add bell pepper mixture; if you have not yet added the ricotta, add it now. season with salt and pepper, plus a bit of sugar to balance the salt. serve while warm.
[serves 4-6; can be halved]
i was thus particularly excited about homemade ricotta because it looked so easy to make. i shouldn't have been surprised, as jessica and i made paneer in much the same way in our cooking class (paneer is a slightly different mix of milk and yogurty ingredients, and is pressed and weighted instead of allowed to drain). this ricotta is richer than supermarket whole-milk ricotta, even though it's also made with whole milk, but is a bit hard in the curd - i wonder if letting it drain less would have been more ideal.
the accompanying recipe that uses the ricotta is pretty fast (maybe half an hour at most) and is prety excellent. the rotini is key, unless you have a suggestion for another pasta shape that holds ricotta as well as it does. the bell peppers and shallots provide some counterpoint to the ricotta, and the pasta essentially acts as a starch...you could also just spread the ricotta-pepper mixture on bread.
homemade ricotta (adapted from michael chiarello)
1 gallon whole milk (or some mixture of 2% and whole milk)
1 quart buttermilk
1 package of cheesecloth
candy thermometer (optional)
herbs (optional)
1. combine whole milk, buttermilk, and herbs (if using) in a large saucepan (ideally, some kind of stockpot). heat over high heat, scraping bottom of the pot with a rubber heatproof spatula to prevent the milk from scorching. it will seem like the heat is too high, but it's not. it would be good to use a heavy-bottomed pot. set up a large-bottomed colander lined with a large piece of cheesecloth, folded to a thickness of 5-6 layers (it will be about 1 1/2 feet square).
2. when the milk is warm, stop stirring it (you can give it a stir very infrequently if you're a compulsive stirrer) so the curds can form.
3. when the milk reaches 175-180F, the mixture will curdle so that you can clearly see white curds and slightly cloudy clearer liquid (the whey) around the edges of the pot. the surface will look like a white raft of foam and curds. remove from heat immediately. place the colander in the sink and ladle the curds and whey into it, making sure you don't break up the curds. when most of the liquid has drained, tie the ends of the cheesecloth over the faucet and let the curds drain weighted by its self-weight for about 15 minutes.
4. scoop ricotta into an airtight container and let cool. when cool, cover and refrigerate. the ricotta will keep for about a week.
[makes 3-4 cups]
rotini with ricotta and red peppers
1 lb pasta
1 T olive oil
2-3 large shallots, chopped finely
2 red bell peppers, sliced into small 1/4"x1" batons
1 1/2 to 2c ricotta, either whole or part-skim, or homemade
salt and pepper, and a little bit of sugar
1. heat water in a large saucepan to boil, for the pasta. add 1/2T of olive oil to a medium skillet and heat on medium-high. add shallots and saute, stirring every now and then, until shallots are translucent, about 8 minutes.
2. add remaining 1/2T oil to the skillet with the shallots in it, and then add the bell peppers. saute until soft (but not too soft), about 10-15 minutes. when water boils, add pasta and stir every now and then.
3. if your ricotta is fairly hard (this will be the case with the recipe for homemade ricotta), add to the bell pepper mix in the skillet and heat to soften for about five minutes. keep the mixture warm over medium-low heat.
4. when pasta is done, drain and return to saucepan. add bell pepper mixture; if you have not yet added the ricotta, add it now. season with salt and pepper, plus a bit of sugar to balance the salt. serve while warm.
[serves 4-6; can be halved]
05 juin 2007
foodie peer pressure
This article is really kind of saddening. People should listen to their stomachs and just make what they want - chances are, it's what their friends want, too. This is from the NY Times:
Dinner at the Foodies’: Purslane and Anxiety
By KATHERINE WHEELOCK
Published: June 6, 2007
RICHARD FAULK still recalls, with a twinge of shame, the day he and his girlfriend, Jeanine Villalobos, served store-bought tortillas to guests.
“We were mortified that we hadn’t made our own,” he said.
The two, who live in Park Slope, Brooklyn, make most of the elements of the meals they serve from scratch, and spend whole days going to farmers’ markets, cheese shops and specialty stores. They would no sooner dress a salad with a store-bought vinaigrette than serve a suspicious-smelling piece of fish.
“We’re a little self-conscious about being the foodie couple,” said Mr. Faulk, who teaches at Berkeley College in Midtown Manhattan. “But we don’t make everything. I haven’t started curing my own olives or making my own cheese.”
Dinner parties have been fraught with performance anxiety for as long as people have given them. Soufflés, cribbed from the pages of glossy food magazines, have been attempted and botched. Painstakingly wrought amuse-bouches have received lukewarm receptions.
But for some hosts in the age of the armchair Boulud, even a laid-back dinner with friends can be a challenge to their sense of self-worth. They may not care whether they wear Gap or couture. Their place in the Hamptons might be a share. But they would no sooner serve their guests grocery-case Drunken Goat cheese than a Vogue minion would wear an Ann Taylor dress to a party given by Anna Wintour.
Especially in New York, where there are fewer status indicators (like cars and landscaped lawns), adjectives like local, organic and free range are signifiers of taste. In some homes, primarily midcentury modernized homes in metropolitan areas with his and hers subscriptions to The Art of Eating and an embargo on iceberg lettuce, the pork, the mesclun, the salad dressing — they’re all under scrutiny.
“Entertaining and cooking have become an integral part of how certain people demonstrate their cultural cachet,” said Joshua Schreier, a history professor at Vassar College who lives in Harlem and says he is a victim, and a propagator, of culinary anxiety. “There is a specific cachet that only a fiddlehead fern can convey. Saying, ‘I got this olive oil from this specific region in Greece,’ is like talking about what kind of car you have. And people don’t want to be associated with the wrong kind of olive oil. It becomes less about having people over and more about showing off your foodie credentials.”
Colleen McKinney, a freelance food writer and editor who lives in Brooklyn, said: “Food is cocktail party conversation. You cook it and then you talk about it all night long.”
Ms. McKinney is generally confident in the kitchen, except when it comes to one particular couple. When they have her over, dinner might be asparagus three ways, fresh pasta with sausage they made themselves and rhubarb pie with vanilla ice cream — homemade vanilla ice cream. When they go to her house for dinner, they take their own pickled ramps.
“It’s become very important to be all Alice Waters,” said Serena Bass, the Manhattan caterer. “Everyone wants to know where the poor pig you’re serving came from.”
Ms. Bass also pointed out that the new strain of entertaining anxiety extended well beyond food. “You can’t just serve purslane,” she said. “You have to serve purslane on Limoges you found in a Connecticut consignment shop with a fork that has a carved ivory handle you found in a flea market somewhere.”
Andy Birsh, owner of a letterpress print shop in Brooklyn, would rather make a mad, stressful dash to Brighton Beach for smoked sturgeon an hour before guests arrive for dinner than serve the kind he can buy from a market around the corner. And for him, serving a dish that is on the menu at several good restaurants in the city right now — a fava bean salad with shaved pecorino, for instance — would be like being caught reading “The Lovely Bones” right after Oprah Winfrey endorsed it.
“As soon as something becomes overpopularized, I don’t want to serve it anymore,” Mr. Birsh said. “I wouldn’t want anyone to be able to identify something I made as being from a book or a restaurant. I don’t want anyone to be able to say, oh, I see where he got this idea to put microgreens on top of his fish fillets.”
As a graduate of the French Culinary Institute and restaurant critic for Gourmet in the late ’80s and early ’90s, Mr. Birsh may have above-average pride when it comes to his cooking. But it is not out of the ordinary for hosts in this intensely food-cognizant dinner party circuit.
For them, home entertaining can become the white whale. It turns docile cooks into aggressive obsessives, the way an engagement can turn a well-meaning woman into bridezilla or how fatherhood can make a laid-back guy an apoplectic soccer dad.
“My ex got caught up in it,” said a Brooklyn woman who is going through a divorce and asked that her name not be used. “For a while, it was great. Until it wasn’t. We had a birthday party for our 1-year-old son and I ordered pizza. He spent another $1,000 on food. There were plates and plates of cheese and cured meats from this gourmet place. For a 1-year-old.”
Alan Palmer, co-owner of Blue Apron Foods, a specialty store in Park Slope, has seen the new strain of culinary anxiety in all forms. “Some people come in and ask for the most expensive cheese because they think it’s going to be the most impressive,” he said, recalling a time when Carr’s was the must-have brand of cracker.
“But a lot of people come in and ask for help because they’re afraid they’re going to make a mistake. They want raw-milk cheese because they heard it was better, or something local because that’s the new byword. I say: ‘Look, there really is no right or wrong here. People aren’t going to throw rocks at you if you serve the wrong cheese.’ ”
Wise counsel from a cheesemonger. But there is a flip side to this breed of home entertaining agita. Serve the right kind of cheese often enough, and you can end up holding the oven mitt for life. Professor Schreier, the self-proclaimed olive oil zealot, has found that certain friends of his, cowed by his Chez Panisse-style presentations, have given up trying to compete with him in the culinary arena altogether.
“People see the potential conflict and bow out,” he said. “If you’re the biggest foodie in the group, people will have you over and say, ‘So what should we get?’ We went to one couple’s home and they hadn’t even gone to the store yet.”
Dinner at the Foodies’: Purslane and Anxiety
By KATHERINE WHEELOCK
Published: June 6, 2007
RICHARD FAULK still recalls, with a twinge of shame, the day he and his girlfriend, Jeanine Villalobos, served store-bought tortillas to guests.
“We were mortified that we hadn’t made our own,” he said.
The two, who live in Park Slope, Brooklyn, make most of the elements of the meals they serve from scratch, and spend whole days going to farmers’ markets, cheese shops and specialty stores. They would no sooner dress a salad with a store-bought vinaigrette than serve a suspicious-smelling piece of fish.
“We’re a little self-conscious about being the foodie couple,” said Mr. Faulk, who teaches at Berkeley College in Midtown Manhattan. “But we don’t make everything. I haven’t started curing my own olives or making my own cheese.”
Dinner parties have been fraught with performance anxiety for as long as people have given them. Soufflés, cribbed from the pages of glossy food magazines, have been attempted and botched. Painstakingly wrought amuse-bouches have received lukewarm receptions.
But for some hosts in the age of the armchair Boulud, even a laid-back dinner with friends can be a challenge to their sense of self-worth. They may not care whether they wear Gap or couture. Their place in the Hamptons might be a share. But they would no sooner serve their guests grocery-case Drunken Goat cheese than a Vogue minion would wear an Ann Taylor dress to a party given by Anna Wintour.
Especially in New York, where there are fewer status indicators (like cars and landscaped lawns), adjectives like local, organic and free range are signifiers of taste. In some homes, primarily midcentury modernized homes in metropolitan areas with his and hers subscriptions to The Art of Eating and an embargo on iceberg lettuce, the pork, the mesclun, the salad dressing — they’re all under scrutiny.
“Entertaining and cooking have become an integral part of how certain people demonstrate their cultural cachet,” said Joshua Schreier, a history professor at Vassar College who lives in Harlem and says he is a victim, and a propagator, of culinary anxiety. “There is a specific cachet that only a fiddlehead fern can convey. Saying, ‘I got this olive oil from this specific region in Greece,’ is like talking about what kind of car you have. And people don’t want to be associated with the wrong kind of olive oil. It becomes less about having people over and more about showing off your foodie credentials.”
Colleen McKinney, a freelance food writer and editor who lives in Brooklyn, said: “Food is cocktail party conversation. You cook it and then you talk about it all night long.”
Ms. McKinney is generally confident in the kitchen, except when it comes to one particular couple. When they have her over, dinner might be asparagus three ways, fresh pasta with sausage they made themselves and rhubarb pie with vanilla ice cream — homemade vanilla ice cream. When they go to her house for dinner, they take their own pickled ramps.
“It’s become very important to be all Alice Waters,” said Serena Bass, the Manhattan caterer. “Everyone wants to know where the poor pig you’re serving came from.”
Ms. Bass also pointed out that the new strain of entertaining anxiety extended well beyond food. “You can’t just serve purslane,” she said. “You have to serve purslane on Limoges you found in a Connecticut consignment shop with a fork that has a carved ivory handle you found in a flea market somewhere.”
Andy Birsh, owner of a letterpress print shop in Brooklyn, would rather make a mad, stressful dash to Brighton Beach for smoked sturgeon an hour before guests arrive for dinner than serve the kind he can buy from a market around the corner. And for him, serving a dish that is on the menu at several good restaurants in the city right now — a fava bean salad with shaved pecorino, for instance — would be like being caught reading “The Lovely Bones” right after Oprah Winfrey endorsed it.
“As soon as something becomes overpopularized, I don’t want to serve it anymore,” Mr. Birsh said. “I wouldn’t want anyone to be able to identify something I made as being from a book or a restaurant. I don’t want anyone to be able to say, oh, I see where he got this idea to put microgreens on top of his fish fillets.”
As a graduate of the French Culinary Institute and restaurant critic for Gourmet in the late ’80s and early ’90s, Mr. Birsh may have above-average pride when it comes to his cooking. But it is not out of the ordinary for hosts in this intensely food-cognizant dinner party circuit.
For them, home entertaining can become the white whale. It turns docile cooks into aggressive obsessives, the way an engagement can turn a well-meaning woman into bridezilla or how fatherhood can make a laid-back guy an apoplectic soccer dad.
“My ex got caught up in it,” said a Brooklyn woman who is going through a divorce and asked that her name not be used. “For a while, it was great. Until it wasn’t. We had a birthday party for our 1-year-old son and I ordered pizza. He spent another $1,000 on food. There were plates and plates of cheese and cured meats from this gourmet place. For a 1-year-old.”
Alan Palmer, co-owner of Blue Apron Foods, a specialty store in Park Slope, has seen the new strain of culinary anxiety in all forms. “Some people come in and ask for the most expensive cheese because they think it’s going to be the most impressive,” he said, recalling a time when Carr’s was the must-have brand of cracker.
“But a lot of people come in and ask for help because they’re afraid they’re going to make a mistake. They want raw-milk cheese because they heard it was better, or something local because that’s the new byword. I say: ‘Look, there really is no right or wrong here. People aren’t going to throw rocks at you if you serve the wrong cheese.’ ”
Wise counsel from a cheesemonger. But there is a flip side to this breed of home entertaining agita. Serve the right kind of cheese often enough, and you can end up holding the oven mitt for life. Professor Schreier, the self-proclaimed olive oil zealot, has found that certain friends of his, cowed by his Chez Panisse-style presentations, have given up trying to compete with him in the culinary arena altogether.
“People see the potential conflict and bow out,” he said. “If you’re the biggest foodie in the group, people will have you over and say, ‘So what should we get?’ We went to one couple’s home and they hadn’t even gone to the store yet.”
04 juin 2007
pork = love
after having dinner made for me on consecutive days (tuesday, bread pudding at 44, and wednesday, really excellent thin fettuccine with a roasted tomato and sausage sauce, at 24), i made dinner for 24 and 44. i wanted to do something fairly involved, so i did a chard tart from the joy that sonia had made a few months back - kind of like a quiche with much less egg and a whole lot of parmesan; braised pork ribs with sage and coriander seeds; arborio rice with onions and sage; roasted skinny asparagus; and a ginger cake with pears in a cognac-caramel sauce.
anyway, this was a totally unhealthy (ok, not that unhealthy, but it wasn't great for you either, what with the massive amount of parmesan and the ginger cake's caramel sauce) dinner, but it was really excellent - the coriander seeds and sage are a really excellent combination. after having made braised ribs more than a few times, they turned out especially well this time. and i think this was due to the cooking time, which was close to three hours. this is my favorite pork dish because it requires so few ingredients, and always tastes good, no matter what you do to it. this is essentially due to the cut of meat being pork that's bone-in - that's where all the flavor comes from. it's also a cheap dish to cook, as ribs often go on sale in all seasons, and are a cheap cut even when not on sale. add the onions and some herbs, and it's pretty sublime.
the chard tart was excellent as it was the other time i had it - it's a really easy thing to put together, like the pork - it turns out beautifully, as well, as it cuts neatly and is completely flat after being baked. the crust gets a special mention - the olive oil seems to make it extra crispy without generating too many crumbs - vaguely chewy and nicely crispy. the crust gets prebaked, and then baked with the filling inside. the filling is fairly dry for an egg mixture, so it doesn't soak into the crust too much, leaving the crust nicely crisp. even a day later, the crust is pretty excellent...mmm. this is one to make over and over again.
finally, a few words about the cake. i bought the pears at star market, and they were inauspiciously cheap (the cheapest, in fact) and pre-ripened. i wouldn't have bought pre-ripened fruit, but they were cheap...so i did buy them. but these pears turned out to be juicy even after sauteed, retaining their firm texture despite being cooked through. the cake was pretty good - not too heavy, and sufficiently ginger-y to overcome the molasses that provided much of the cake's moisture. it gets more gingery as time goes on, fyi. anyway, we had the cake with whipped cream - which, with the cake the pears with their caramel sauce is nothing short of a fantastic combination. i failed to read the recipe before i made it, and was expecting a cake that had the pears baked into it, but this was just as good. also, seemingly like everything else i made that day, really easy to make.
braised pork ribs
2T butter
1-2 T coriander seeds
1/2 package sage, chopped fine
3 large onions, halved and sliced into thin strips
chicken stock or water
2T butter
salt and pepper
2-3 lbs assorted pork ribs (country or southern style), bone in
1. pat the ribs dry and rub with salt and pepper. heat the butter in a large skillet and sear the ribs over high heat to brown. remove ribs to a plate with tongs.
2. reduce heat to medium-high. melt the remaining 2T butter in the skillet and saute onions, sage, and coriander seeds until onions are translucent and slightly browned, about 10 minutes.
3. add ribs and any accumulated juices back into skillet and add chicken stock/water until ribs are covered or skillet is almost full, whichever comes first. bring mixture to a simmer over medium-high heat and let simmer 1 hour. turn heat to medium and simmer 2 more hours. for the last 15-30 minutes, turn heat to medium-high to thicken the sauce.
[serves 4-5]
ginger cake with pears and caramel sauce
1/2c unsulfured molasses
1/2c sour cream
1/2c brown sugar, packed
1 stick butter, melted and cooled slightly
2 eggs
3T microplaned grated peeled fresh ginger
1t lemon zest
2c flour
1t baking soda
1/2t salt
pears with caramel sauce
8 medium pears
1T lemon juice
6T butter
3/4c sugar
12T water
3T cognac
12T heavy cream
1. preheat oven to 350F. butter and flour a 10-inch round baking pan.
4. serve slices of cake with pears and sauce, and whipped cream if you really want to punish your heart. if you like pears, you might want to up the pears per serving.
[serves 10-12]
anyway, this was a totally unhealthy (ok, not that unhealthy, but it wasn't great for you either, what with the massive amount of parmesan and the ginger cake's caramel sauce) dinner, but it was really excellent - the coriander seeds and sage are a really excellent combination. after having made braised ribs more than a few times, they turned out especially well this time. and i think this was due to the cooking time, which was close to three hours. this is my favorite pork dish because it requires so few ingredients, and always tastes good, no matter what you do to it. this is essentially due to the cut of meat being pork that's bone-in - that's where all the flavor comes from. it's also a cheap dish to cook, as ribs often go on sale in all seasons, and are a cheap cut even when not on sale. add the onions and some herbs, and it's pretty sublime.
the chard tart was excellent as it was the other time i had it - it's a really easy thing to put together, like the pork - it turns out beautifully, as well, as it cuts neatly and is completely flat after being baked. the crust gets a special mention - the olive oil seems to make it extra crispy without generating too many crumbs - vaguely chewy and nicely crispy. the crust gets prebaked, and then baked with the filling inside. the filling is fairly dry for an egg mixture, so it doesn't soak into the crust too much, leaving the crust nicely crisp. even a day later, the crust is pretty excellent...mmm. this is one to make over and over again.
finally, a few words about the cake. i bought the pears at star market, and they were inauspiciously cheap (the cheapest, in fact) and pre-ripened. i wouldn't have bought pre-ripened fruit, but they were cheap...so i did buy them. but these pears turned out to be juicy even after sauteed, retaining their firm texture despite being cooked through. the cake was pretty good - not too heavy, and sufficiently ginger-y to overcome the molasses that provided much of the cake's moisture. it gets more gingery as time goes on, fyi. anyway, we had the cake with whipped cream - which, with the cake the pears with their caramel sauce is nothing short of a fantastic combination. i failed to read the recipe before i made it, and was expecting a cake that had the pears baked into it, but this was just as good. also, seemingly like everything else i made that day, really easy to make.
braised pork ribs
2T butter
1-2 T coriander seeds
1/2 package sage, chopped fine
3 large onions, halved and sliced into thin strips
chicken stock or water
2T butter
salt and pepper
2-3 lbs assorted pork ribs (country or southern style), bone in
1. pat the ribs dry and rub with salt and pepper. heat the butter in a large skillet and sear the ribs over high heat to brown. remove ribs to a plate with tongs.
2. reduce heat to medium-high. melt the remaining 2T butter in the skillet and saute onions, sage, and coriander seeds until onions are translucent and slightly browned, about 10 minutes.
3. add ribs and any accumulated juices back into skillet and add chicken stock/water until ribs are covered or skillet is almost full, whichever comes first. bring mixture to a simmer over medium-high heat and let simmer 1 hour. turn heat to medium and simmer 2 more hours. for the last 15-30 minutes, turn heat to medium-high to thicken the sauce.
[serves 4-5]
ginger cake with pears and caramel sauce
1/2c unsulfured molasses
1/2c sour cream
1/2c brown sugar, packed
1 stick butter, melted and cooled slightly
2 eggs
3T microplaned grated peeled fresh ginger
1t lemon zest
2c flour
1t baking soda
1/2t salt
pears with caramel sauce
8 medium pears
1T lemon juice
6T butter
3/4c sugar
12T water
3T cognac
12T heavy cream
1. preheat oven to 350F. butter and flour a 10-inch round baking pan.
2. in a bowl whisk together molasses, sour cream, butter, brown sugar, egg, ginger, and zest until smooth and add flour, baking soda, and salt. stir batter until just combined and spread in baking pan. bake 25 to 30 minutes until done.
3. peel, core and slice the pears into eighths. melt 3T butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat and saute half of pears until mostly translucent, about 5-8 minutes. add half of sugar and saute a few more minutes. remove pears with tongs or a slotted spoon to a bowl. add the remaining butter and saute remaining pears. add remaining sugar as before, and remove pears to bowl. caramelize sugar until dark amber. add water, cognac and cream; the mixture will foam and bubble frighteningly but will dissolve within a few minutes. let boil for a few minutes, then reduce heat to medium and add pears back in. simmer for 5 minutes, then keep warm over low heat.4. serve slices of cake with pears and sauce, and whipped cream if you really want to punish your heart. if you like pears, you might want to up the pears per serving.
[serves 10-12]
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