weekend report

From top to bottom:

tossed salad
red romaine lettuce with pear, blue cheese, toasted walnuts, and a champagne vinaigrette

butternut squash risotto with sage
This super-easy recipe from Everyday Food has you saute chunks of butternut squash in butter from the start, where you would typically saute onion or shallots. Stirring in the stock is a tad bit challenging with the squash jostling the rice for attention, but eventually the squash chunks reduce in size, thus contributing to risotto’s inevitable sauciness.

braised pheasant with polenta
My childhood was marked by the South Dakota pheasant opener (October 20 this year), which my parents approached with all the ceremony others reserve for Christmas and the Fourth of July. Pheasants define the fall so it only seems fitting to start clearing the freezer for more! While visiting my mother-in-law this past August, I found a copy of John Ash’s American Game Cooking among her wonderful cookbook collection. The pheasant recipes were especially appealing to me so she graciously allowed me to borrow the book. The rustic-Italian braised pheasant with polenta is adapted from a Lidia Bastianich recipe. I shredded the pheasant, which is the easiest method I’ve found for removing the lean meat from this tendon-laden bird. Hambone plated by piling the pheasant on a mound of creamy polenta. The pan sauce was strained and enriched with butter, then spooned over the plate, napping pan-sauted brussels sprouts along the way. Since food does not mix in the four separate chambers of our children’s stomachs, and since their alien race does not digest any sauce other than cheese sauce, Hambone did a “four squares” presentation for Alpha and Beta.

wine
Claudia Springs, a Mendocino County winery, makes one of our favorite pinot noirs. Their ’03 zinfandel was exceptional, and I look forward to replenishing our supply.

No Cal '07: Chez Panisse

It has long been a dream to eat at this seminal restaurant, and sharing a meal with my handsome husband on a special birthday was ideal. A lot has been written about Chez Panisse and its owner, Alice Waters, and there isn’t anything meaningful I can contribute to that body. However, I want to say that I think Waters is brilliant. I applaud her advocacy for organic, locally grown, and sustainable food and for supporting the family farmer. But I am most awe-struck with this singular fact—her restaurant has thrived and remained relevant for thirty-six years.

Here is an account of my birthday dinner: Finding the restaurant wasn’t easy. I’m not completely incompetent as a copilot, but I do have lousy night vision. The building is located on a bustling commercial street, and there is no obvious sign identifying the place. Even though I knew this, we still drove by restaurant a number of times before we parked and walked a few blocks.

We ate in the main-floor restaurant where a four-course prix fixe meal is served nightly (there is also an upstairs café featuring an a la carte menu). A confluence of elements—walls clad in dark-wood paneling, brass wall sconces and ceiling lamps with Arts-and-Crafts styling, hand-tinted woodcuts of fruits and vegetables, and intimate seating arrangements—all make for an elegant and comfortable dining room.

The kitchen sent out a bowl of olives with fresh thyme. For some reason, Chez Panisse olives taste better than almost any other olives I ever eaten. We nibbled on these and sipped champagne (Pierre Peters, the house pour), toasting the best birthday ever (so far). That evening’s menu was a farewell to summer and previewed the wonderful fall produce trickling into California markets:

slow-roasted king salmon with green beans, cucumbers, tomatoes, and fennel This composed salad boasted exquisite, large flakes of salmon, adorned by perfectly sweet and tiny cherry tomatoes, tender-crisp baby fennel, cucumber ribbons, and slender green beans.

chanterelle mushroom soup No one loves mushrooms more than Hambone does. Yet we found this course a little lacking. For starters, the enormous, odd-shaped bowls in which the pureed mushroom soup was served were less than optimal. Then, the soup was missing something that may have been as simple as salt. We did like the meaty whole mushrooms around which the soup had been ladled and would happily have eaten more.

spit-roasted loin of Laughing Stock Farm pork with fig chutney, sweet corn, and fried onion rings I’m sure you know that identifying the source of Chez Panisse’s food was started and made practice by Jeremiah Towers. Now everyone does it, even food bloggers, many of whom label the provenance of their greenmarket finds. I love pork loin, especially when someone else is cooking it. The spit left a tiny hole, which was encrusted with rosemary, and the loin was moist and beautifully porky. On the side, lightly battered onion rings and a fresh fig chutney and sweet corn, which was my favorite item of the entire meal. I could have eaten four courses of the corn. This course neatly bridged the seasons. Since it's important to know where our food comes from, here's more on Laughing Stock Farm.

apple and quince galette with burnt honey ice cream The burnt-honey ice cream was moderately addictive. Once I figure out how to approximate the caramelized honey, I’ll be making this ice cream at home as often as I can. My dessert was presented with discreet fanfare—a candle and happy-birthday wishes from the kitchen.

wine: Joseph Swan Vineyards ’02, zinfandel We managed to stretch out a bottle through the entire meal. The wine can be characterized with big berry flavors and a mellow, long finish.

Following dessert and a pot of French-press coffee, a small plate arrived with more gifts from the kitchen: tangy candied orange peel and chocolates with pistachio cream centers, dusted with gold leaf. I'm still thinking about the orange peel and wondering how fussy it is to make as I wouldn't mind having a stash. In all, the meal was simply amazing.

We experienced local, seasonal, and fresh—and we were not disappointed.

back from Cali

Wow, what I wouldn’t give to be back on vacation. Hambone and Spice have been home now for five days, but our heads, hearts, and stomachs are still in Northern California. The week has been a blur of deadlines, faces, and other obligations. I’m just getting caught up on mail, email, phone calls, and blog reading, so soon the food highlights from a long, wonderful weekend will follow.

Until then, Dara Moskowitz recapitulates the ever-changing restaurant scene in St. Paul—and previews a new, top-secret restaurant in Minneapolis, featuring Steve Brown!

California here we come

T minus 50 hours until Hambone and Spice are seated at the French Laundry for a very special birthday meal. Spice couldn’t think of a more fitting celebration for a milestone birthday. She’s also thinking about flying without a net—no camera, no notebook—just five senses to imprint a memory.

The French Laundry isn’t the only exceptional restaurant we’ll visit while in the Bay Area. Tomorrow night we’re dining at the Chez Panisse restaurant. Either Zuni Cafe, which is on my 2007 food resolution list, or Piperade for Basque on Saturday night—we have reservations at both and will see what mood strikes us. And, for our final meal: dim sum at Yank Sing, which comes highly recommended by bloggers and the Chronicle.

Mignardise: [The posted menu] was irresistibly ambitious, full of things you never see, like local chèvre dusted with zahtar (a Middle Eastern spice blend based on sumac), house-made chorizo, and—be still my beating heart—a ragout of Wisconsin rabbit. Dara Moskowitz is wowed by the Napa Valley Grille in the MOA, where I have had my share of subpar meals during my job-with-an-expense-account days. Read her review, and tell me you’ve had a change of heart too. This gives me something to look forward to upon my return home.

october on my mind

For the record, October is my favorite month of the year. I love the crisp weather that allows me to wear lightweight sweaters. Lining Summit Avenue and River Road, trees ablaze in red, orange, and yellow offer a breathtaking sight. I can revel simultaneously in warm, sun-dappled afternoons or in cold rainy days. I love curling up on the chaise lounge in the screened porch or on the couch in the den, getting lost in a thick, narrative-rich novel.

But, my favorite part of fall is the change in the menu. By this point in the year, I cannot face another bratwurst. Meals that required little or no cooking hold no appeal. I’m hard-pressed to find yet another marinade or rub to enliven the chicken breasts, pork tenderloins, or flank steaks we like to throw on the grill. I long to turn on the oven, allowing complex aromas to waft out of the kitchen and the residual heat to warm our home’s core.

The first two weeks of fall are usually quite warm here, and I try to eek out another summery meal on the grill. We savor the last time we eat an ear of corn, a ripe red tomato, garden-fresh green beans or zucchini or pungent melons. When the squashes and local apples make an appearance we proclaim we’re not ready.

Then October arrives and we give ourselves over to that which we can no longer deny. It’s time to turn on the oven, spend Sundays tinkering in the kitchen, and linger over hearty meals. Hambone and I are anticipating many favorite meals and food items—chili, soups, osso buco, risotto (butternut squash, wild mushrooms), lasagna, polenta or pasta topped by thick sauces, goulash and beef stroganoff with luscious egg noodles, pheasant and other game, quick breads (banana, pumpkin), crisps (pear, apple), just to name a few. And, we’re looking forward to trying our hand at some new dishes—I’m looking at you cassoulet.

Braising and roasting and baking, oh my.

We toast the a new month with this chicken pot pie, which I love for its old-school flavors, including sherry in the cream sauce.

Chicken Pot Pie with Corn and Bacon
The Best Recipe (editors of Cooks Illustrated)

1 recipe pie dough or biscuit topping
1-1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 cups homemade chicken broth
6 strips bacon, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch strips
1 medium onion, chopped fine
3 medium carrots, peeled and cut crosswise 1/4-inch thick
2 small celery stalks, cut crosswise 1/4-inch thick
Salt and ground black pepper
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup flour
1-1/2 cups milk
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
3 tablespoons dry sherry
3/4 cup frozen corn kernels, thawed
3 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Put chicken and broth in small Dutch oven over medium heat. Cover, bring to simmer; simmer until chicken is just done, 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer meat to large bowl, reserving broth in measuring cup.

2. Cook bacon in now-empty pan, over medium heat, until fat is rendered and bacon is crisp, about 6 minutes. Remove bacon from pan with slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. Increase heat to medium-high. To the bacon fat, add onion, carrots, and celery; sauté until just tender, about 5 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. While vegetables are sautéing, shred meat into bite-sized pieces. Transfer cooked vegetables and drained bacon to bowl with chicken. Set aside.

3. Heat butter over medium heat in again-empty skillet. When foaming subsides, add flour; cook about 1 minute. Whisk in chicken broth, milk, any accumulated chicken juices, and thyme. Bring to simmer, then continue to simmer until sauce fully thickens, about 1 minute. Season to taste with salt and pepper; stir in sherry.*

4. Pour sauce over chicken mixture; stir to combine. Stir in peas and parsley. Adjust seasonings. Pour mixture into 13 x 9-inch pan or shallow baking dish. Top with desired pastry dough; bake until pastry is golden brown and filling is bubbly, 30 minutes for large pies. Serve hot.

Note: *The recipe suggests we might cover the filling and refrigerate it overnight at this point, which we did. We also reheated the filling, as the recipe said to do, before we topped with the pastry and baked. The filling was pretty soupy and I would refrain from heating twice if you go this route. Half an hour in the oven should be plenty long to heat through.

local food round up

Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl visits Big Daddy's BBQ :This story is for people who love cupcakes and ribs so much they won't mind spending their Saturday pursuing the best iterations of the genre currently, or possibly ever, available in this great state.

The Star Tribune welcomes fall with pork roast recipes and salutes Dayton's Macy's (it will always be Dayton's to me) 60-year-old Oak Grille, a Minneapolis institution.

Not local, but relevant. In my next life, I’d like to be the cheese columnist for whichever paper has the best food section. The San Francisco Chronicle is my inspiration. Earlier this week, the food section ran a short article about a tomme made in Thomasville, GA. Tommes are easily my favorite cheese, and I'm happy to see American cheesemakers making them.

Resolution 07: Clancey's Meat and Fish

For a while now, our friend Apur, a dedicated foodie who always prepares a serious haunch of meat when he feeds us, has been urging Hambone and Spice to visit Clancey’s Meats. Apur and his little family are lucky enough to live in the Linden Hills neighborhood where Clancey’s is located, so they can walk over to the shop whenever they want. Hambone and Spice live all the way over in St. Paul. Visiting Linden Hills, tucked into a quiet pocket of Minneapolis, means crossing The River so we don’t make it over to this gem of a neighborhood often enough.

Hambone and Spice (mostly Spice) resolved to remedy the situation by paying a call on the store. So we visited. As with so many things, I’m wondering how we have managed as long as we have without Clancey’s.

The glass-fronted cases are filled with such gems as assorted cuts of crusty dry-aged beef, ropes of fresh sausage in transparent natural casings, creamy duck rillettes, and vacuum-packed legs of duck confit. Behind the counter, you’ll find owner/sausage-maker Greg Westergreen and Kristin Tombers*. I know their names because they introduced themselves when they heard I’d come all the way from St. Paul to buy meat from their shop, but I think they would have introduced themselves no matter where I’d come from.

The worth of your neighborhood should be measured by places like Clancey’s where the proprietors want to know your name. They’re interested in what you’re eating for dinner and how you’re going to prepare their products. The world needs more places like this.

The sausages here are amazing—filled with only the highest quality ingredients, made on the premises. They boast flavor combinations you haven’t seen anywhere else. On our first visit we picked up turkey-apricot, duck five-spice, and lamb-pine nuts-dried blueberries—each of which we roasted in the oven with quartered red potatoes and served with braised red cabbage and a medley of mustards.

Last night we used a package of Clancey’s pork-shallot-garlic sausage to put one of Mark Bittman’s 10-minutes meals to the test. Using the guidelines set forth in the NYT article, I cut five sausages into chunks and then sautéed them in a bit of olive oil. When the sausages were nearly cooked, I added a bunch of red seedless grapes and a few cloves of garlic, thinly sliced. After the grapes were heated through, about 10 minutes, I ladled the mixture onto creamy, soft polenta, enriched with butter and parmesan. What does one drink with porky, garlicky goodness that has mingled with sweet, warm grapes and salty, buttery, comforting polenta? A red fruit-laden, slightly spicy Jaboulet Parallele "45" Cotes du Rhone.



We haven’t yet made a dent in Clancey’s vast meaty offerings so we’ll be returning soon and often. And so should you—it’s my personal mission to send everyone to Clancey’s. Go. Buy sausages and free-range chicken and lamb chops and dry-aged hangar steaks. Introduce yourselves to Greg and Kristin and Erik.

*Partner Erik Sather wasn’t in on my visit.

Happy Autumn!

Even though temperatures in Minnesota have been hovering above 80 degrees, the leaves are changing colors, the squirrels are burying nuts, and the mice are looking for winter homes—all right on schedule. While we could just as easily have grilled, Hambone and Spice got a jump on the new season by fixing a fall dinner last night.

The meal preparation was sort of fussy and protracted by a much-appreciated phone call from a sibling so I set out some nibbles to tide over Hambone and our guest, my brother Nik. We spread a pungent taleggio cheese on Lesley Stowe's dried cranberry and hazelnut-studded Rainforest Crisps and sipped Campari cocktails (equal parts Campari and Punt e Mes vermouth with a splash of soda water).

I pulled together a pear crisp by peeling, coring, and slicing four Comice pears, which went into a 9 x 9-inch baking dish. The pears were tossed with about a quarter cup of crystallized ginger. Fresh ground nutmeg over the pear-ginger mixture. One cup of flour, a half cup of rolled oats, a quarter cup brown sugar, and six tablespoons melted butter were mixed by hand to form a crumbly dough, which blanketed the pears. The crisp baked in 350 degree oven for an hour.

Red romaine leaves and Mark Bittmans' classic vinaigrette recipe with balsamic vinegar constituted the base of a tossed green salad with toasted pine nuts and orange segments. I love sweet, salty, and nutty in my tossed greens.

Our main course was a rich, satisfying wild-mushroom risotto. The weekend prior, Hambone and I had picked up some fresh, vibrant golden chanterelles and a package of mixed, dried woodland mushrooms (from which I mostly used the morels). Martha Stewart has a recipe that calls for both fresh and dried mushrooms, and uses a pretty classic prep with shallots, Arborio rice, dry white wine, and chicken stock and butter and Parmesan cheese to finish.

Hambone and Spice were reminded of how much they each love risotto and vowed that this would be the first of many risottos in the coming months.

A Domaine Lafond cotes du rhone accompanied our meal, which was, by all rights, a fine how-do-you-do to fall.

Local food writing round-up

Invented by the rice reapers in the Albufera region near Valencia, traditional paella basically consisted of rabbit, snails, duck and beans. In a special article for the Star Tribune, Donna Tabbert Long writes about paella and offers an easy recipe for home cooks. Paella is one of the one-dish meals I'm looking forward to making as the coming colder weather suggests warming, comforting food.

Three words: Lamb. Curry. Meatballs. Dara Moskowitz reviews Blackbird Cafe in south Minneapolis, which is run by Table of Contents alum: if you love people, and restaurants, and enthusiasm, and not spending too much on a good dinner, you are going to just love it.

what's not to like about bacon

The geniuses at Vosges Haut-Chocolat, my favorite chocolatiers, have possibly one-upped the nearly perfect savory-sweet combination of their Barcelona bar by adding bacon to chocolate. The new Mo's Bacon Bar features applewood-smoked bacon and alderwood-smoked salt in deep milk chocolate. I can't wait to track a bar down...

Recent meals

1. Chicken breasts marinated in lemon juice, olive oil, oregano, and garlic, then grilled; grilled zucchini; chimichurri, which is, hands down, the best chimichurri recipe. It comes from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, and it's very flexible. You can use parsley or cilantro, or a combination of both. For the acidic note, you can use lemon juice or vinegar. No matter which green leafy thing we have on hand to use, we always use sherry vinegar, as well as red pepper flakes, good-quality olive oil, garlic, and plenty of kosher salt. Even though we're fans of rustic chopped herb sauces, chimichurri has so many strong components and a fair amount of oil to bind them that the way it works best is to emulsify in a food processor or blender.

2. That pasta I only ever make in the summer when I can get garden-fresh ingredients. I've never written down the recipe, and occasionally have very mixed results, such as when the tomatoes aren't very juicy and I've thrown out all the pasta water so the vegetables aren't very saucy. Last week I made a note to pay attention to the process so I could at least get that down here. Quantities, of course, could vary according to taste, but here's the basic method: saute minced shallots in equal parts olive oil and butter until soft. Add fresh corn kernels from a few ears; incorporate corn with shallot mixture and saute for a few minutes. Add a centimeter of white wine and cover pan to allow corn to steam for a few minutes (Hambone prefers his corn less al dente). Remove cover and add diced zucchini. Season with salt, pepper, fresh thyme, and red pepper flakes. Allow zucchini to brown a bit before adding diced tomatoes. Cook for about five more minutes. Toss sauce with pasta (I used farfalle here, but I prefer orecchiette or conchiglie—something with a cup to hold the goods). This time I added a barely discernible splash of cream to the vegetables before tossing with the pasta, which, beyond a little gussied-up richness, gave the dish a depth of character I hadn't noticed was lacking.

3. Steamed clams, another quick and dirty dish lacking a recipe: I sauteed a quarter cup diced chorizo in a dot of olive oil (just to get it started), then added minced shallots, which I gave a quick swirl in the smoky, densely red oil. Roughly two minutes later I poured a quarter cup white wine (Salvenal Albarino 2004), then added 3 pounds clams (manilas and another larger variety purchased from Coastal Seafoods); covered and steamed for ten minutes. We devoured the sweet, minerally clams, swiping crusty baguette hunks through the rich (slightly briny) juice, all accompanied by the remaining Albarino.

4. Evidence of another sausage fest with the Harrisons, in which we grill a variety of sausages and try a range of mustards. This really deserves a fuller post—especially for the hospitality of our friends not to mention the places where we each sourced our meat—so more sausage news to come. Here, from left to right: asiago-wild rice bratwurt from Kowalski's; lamb-dried blueberry-pine nut sausage from Clancey's Meats and Fish; chicken sausage with spinach and feta (source unknown); and Summit Maibock bratwurt from Kowalski's.

pheasant fajitas

Growing up in the midwest with a Father Who Hunts meant that we had a deep freeze full of wild game not unlike other homes where the deep freeze contains whole chickens or sides of beef or convenience food from Schwan's. More often than not our grilled burgers were made from ground elk rather than ground beef. Pheasant became a substitute for chicken in dishes ranging from stir-fries to soups. It's not such an exotic or even special thing to eat game where game is plentiful.

As an adult who does her own grocery shopping, I've priced farm-raised pheasant. Suffice it to say, I'm hard pressed to pay over $20 for a three-pound bird. Every bird my father sends my way is a gift. That said, the birds tend to languish in the freezer. For a while in the early-nineties we made the pheasant-lentil soup from the Silver Palate Cookbook, but I've never really found a pheasant recipe I'd like to eat on a regular basis. Come to think of it, I don't really notice many to clip from the culinary magazines I read, nor do I see many recipes in the cookbooks I buy.

I'm not a fan of using pheasant as a substitute for chicken as it often becomes dry and tough quickly. Searches for pheasant recipes online tend to involve unhealthy amounts of bacon or (gasp) cream of mushroom soup, both treatments meant to give the meat fat where it has none. I'm also not crazy about roasting pheasant with fruit.

Recently, it was my pleasure to reconsider the pheasant in place of chicken or another red meat. My youngest brother made dinner for Hambone and Spice and knocked our socks off with pheasant fajitas. Because pheasant is so naturally lean, I didn't have much hope for the dish being anything other than a disaster (sorry Nik). But, we were pleasantly surprised that the pheasant yielded a somewhat rich and complex fajita.

Here is Nik's basic method:

After deftly boning two 3-pound pheasants (Nik labels his packages so he knows where he shot the birds; these came from Winner, SD) and cutting the meat into strips, Nik heated a glug or two of olive oil over medium heat. He sauted the meat very carefully, watching the heat so as not to cook to fast.


Surprisingly, the pheasant gave up quite a bit of liquid, which Nik retained. He seasoned the meat with cayenne, salt, and some green herbs (these are not your traditional fajitas). When the meat was just shy of cooked through, he turned off the heat and put a lid on the pan.

Because he had a large quantity of meat for a medium pan, he opted to fry the vegetables (assorted bell peppers and red onion from the St. Paul Farmers Market) in a separate pan, again in olive oil. When the vegetables were bright and glistening—not even five minutes—he threw them into the pan with the meat and added a little canned green chile for kick and sauce. We ate Nik's concoction with a sprinkle of Mexican "quesadilla" cheese, wrapped in flour tortillas (my preference over corn tortillas).

Local food writing round-up

Bored with going to the same old restaurants? From Formica to four-star, here's a foodie checklist. Book now. Many of the items on this list are already Hambone and Spice's "same old restaurants," but we've never been to the Tea House, Krua Thai or Pho Quan, and I'm pleased to add them to my personal list.

In the "who knew" category: When she's not running the 22-year-old Uptown Minneapolis restaurant that bears her name, Lucia Watson is, among other things, the "Taste Tempters" columnist for Brainerd-based In-Fisherman magazine, where her recipes have been a reader favorite for 17 years.

Dara Moskowitz visits Surly Brewing Company, the Brooklyn Center-based craft beer brewery. Hambone and I bought a four-pack of Furious and thought it was awful to drink, but made an incredible marinade for chicken (Steve Raichlen's Brazilian Beer Marinated Chicken).

We're off to Princeton, NJ, for a family visit. Back on Monday.

Spicy Cauliflower Pasta—minus the cauliflower

Last night I had planned to make the spicy cauliflower-broccoli pasta from Judy Rodgers' Zuni Cafe Cookbook, which I prefer without broccoli. We had a nice head of cauliflower from the St. Paul Farmers Market that I planned to use.

After I minced six cloves of garlic and six anchovy fillets, pitted and chopped one-third cup tiny nicoise olives, chopped a half-cup parsley leaves (also from the farmers market), and rinsed the last tablespoon of organic capers, I started to prep the cauliflower head. I was just getting into a groove cutting cauli cross-sections into 1/8-inch slices when I noticed the cauliflower was moldy throughout.

I tried to hide my disappointment, because this is one of my favorite ways to prepare cauliflower and because I hate throwing out food.

Hambone suggested a hot oil and garlic sauce for the penne, but as we stood staring at the mise en place*, it occured to us that we could use most of the ingredients for the pasta sauce. Who needs cauliflower?

I heated a couple tablespoons oil and added the minced garlic, anchovies, and a few (too many) generous pinches of red pepper flakes. As soon as the anchovies had dissolved, I added some pasta cooking water (about one-quarter cup) and one-half pound cooked penne, tossing to coat. We finished the pasta with a handful of parsley and a handful of homemade bread crumbs I keep in the freezer, though I think toasted chopped almonds would have been really nice.

(I nixed the olives and capers because I didn't want a briny sauce, but they'll make a great excuse for tapenade later this week.)

Accompanied by a buttery, chilled chardonnay, our pasta was fantastic—especially as we'd just had an hour bike ride with the boys, each of us pulling 45-50 pounds on a Burley Piccolo. We were ravenous. I can always count on Hambone to save the day with his quick thinking. Though he was never a Boy Scout, he has a certain Scouts in Action drive.

*Pardon the pretention, but I really was unusually organized with all the ingredients lined up near the stove in ramekins.

Menu for week of August 13

Monday: Judy Rodger's spicy cauliflower-broccoli pasta from the Zuni Cafe Cookbook, green salad

Tuesday: grilled chicken breasts, chimichurri, locally grown green beans

Wednesday: grilled hamburgers (Buescher brothers' ground beef), basil pesto, zucchini (my mother's garden)

Thursday: Hambone, Alpha, and Beta fend for themselves while Spice noshes at book group

Friday—Sunday: Hambone, Spice, and boys enjoy NJ's bounty in Princeton

With thanks to my mother: late summer gratin

I had the extreme privilege of growing up in a household with a mother who not only put nutritious, delicious home-cooked meals on the table seven days a week, but who also planted and maintained a very large vegetable garden. The lettuce, green beans, zucchini, carrots, beets, tomatoes, corn, ground cherries, herbs that Hambone and Spice seek out at the farmers market each summer weekend were but a stone’s throw from my childhood kitchen. My mother would have me—or one of my three siblings—dash out and pick vegetables as she was fixing dinner. She still keeps a garden, planting heirloom varieties of her favorite vegetables. Although we live 200 miles apart, she kindly shares her harvest with me when she can.

As the recent recipient of one of her many zucchini bumper crops, I’ve been working my way through easy preparations that mostly include zucchini in every one-dish meal (stir-fry, risotto, pasta sauce) that we make. Or we slice zucchini lengthwise or in quarter-inch-thick medallions, brush with olive oil, and sprinkle with s-and-p and dried green herbs before tossing on the grill, where the zucchini is allowed to reach a sultry caramelized finish.

Now that I’ve pulled most of my trump cards and still have plenty of zucchini to eat, I’m working my way through favorite preparations from my childhood, including a certain late summer gratin.

Even though our home is air-conditioned, I’m reluctant to turn on the oven during the heat wave we’re experiencing, but it’s worth it for this dish. My mother likely never made it the same way twice and certainly wasn’t operating from a recipe, but it’s a simple dish to prepare.

For this late summer gratin, I line a baking dish with alternating layers of thinly sliced vegetables, starting with tomatoes, then red onions, and zucchini until the dish is full. Occasionally a layer will receive a sprinkle of kosher salt, freshly ground black pepper and herbes de Provence; then I’ll dose another layer with a bit of olive oil. The top is sprinkled liberally with grated cheese (gruyere is my favorite), then with bread crumbs, and it’s baked at 375 degrees F. for 30 to 40 minutes.

Many may recognize this dish as the tian Provencal, which has as many variations as any French regional food item, but typically consists of tomatoes, zucchini, onions, olive oil, salt, pepper, and herbs. I've seen many recipes that also include eggplant and anchovies.

I love the way the vegetables still hold their form when cooked and how they take on the fruity flavor of olive oil and the savory taste of cheese. I also appreciate the flexibility of the dish—you can use any dried or fresh green herb, as well as any cheese that melts well. When Hambone was riding RAGBRAI, I made this gratin with the intention of taking the leftovers to lunch, but I ate the whole thing, remorselessly, in one sitting.

Mission accomplished

After a day and a half of simultaneously speed-dialing on a cell phone and on my work land line, I finally got through the endless string of busy signals to reach a live body at The French Laundry. Getting that far is just the half of it. Then, you have to be willing to face outright rejection because all the tables are booked for the evening(s) on which you'd like to have dinner, oh, two months from now. Or, you'll be offered a table at lunch: "We have a table at eleven and at eleven-thirty." As if you'd settle for lunch to celebrate your milestone birthday.

Persistance with the humorless reservationist—Iris—yielded at 5:30 p.m. reservation on October 5, 2007.

A debt of gratitude to you Iris!

Reservation update, continued

I'm heading into the fourth hour of speed-dialing The French Laundry for a reservation, using land line and cell phone simultaneously.

Stop laughing at me—Megnut claims it worked for her.

Reservation update

I have been speed-dialing for a half-hour, and the line has been busy the entire time. In between dials, I have attempted making a reservation online for each of the nights we'll be in Northern California—and for any hour, as early at 5:30 p.m.

Can you sense my anxiousness?

T minus seven minutes—and counting

Today is the day on which I am allowed to make a reservation for my October birthday meal at the French Laundry. According to the restaurant's website, you can make a reservation no earlier than two months to the date you wish to dine, which in my case was August 6. When I phoned on August 6, a message informed me that the French Laundry was observing their annual summer vacation, which is very civilized and I applaud them for being so French.

Wish me luck, I'm calling now...

Lucky 13

Over the weekend, Hambone and Spice celebrated their 13th wedding anniversary—that would be the lace wedding anniversary if you follow the traditional gift table, or leather or fur if you’re on the modern track. Long ago Hambone and I decided to relieve the pressure of another gift-giving occasion by opting not to buy each other presents for our anniversary. Instead, we treat ourselves to a lovely meal in a restaurant, where we gaze into each others’ eyes. Just as we did in 1994 while on our honeymoon in Bariloche, Argentina.

While we love to do a little reminiscing, we’re also very cognizant of enjoying the moment, which found us celebrating at a two-top in the midst of a bustling, cozy restaurant—Muffuletta’s in the Park.

Hambone and I had eaten at Muffuletta’s over ten years ago. I’m remembering that we had an okay meal, but nothing about it made us want to return. In fact, until I received some reports from friends who’d eaten there within the past year, I hadn’t realized Muffuletta’s was still in business. It’s amazing how a new chef can inject just the right energy to transform a place. In addition to the word of mouth, a little research turned up solid accolades for chef J.D. Fratzke’s local- and seasonal-driven menu.

I always enjoy an opportunity to visit St. Anthony Park, the wooded St. Paul neighborhood where Muffuletta’s is located. The little shopping area has an upscale clothing store, a Carnegie library in a spectacular brick building, a hardware store, a Post Office branch, a wine shop, a Finnish bakery, and an independent bookstore. So, when my mother and sister were visiting in June, we headed over (actually due north of my St. Paul neighborhood) for lunch. My meal was fantastic, and I couldn’t wait to return with Hambone.

After Hambone and I were seated, we were treated to a basket of house-made flatbreads accompanied by a garlic puree. We also were given an amuse-bouche of basmati rice on flatbread—a little odd, basically a pile of rice on a cracker, but tasty.

The menu is written with great care, describing not just the food preparation, but sources for raw ingredients—farms and fields and streams. An obvious dedication to local and seasonal foods goes beyond what I’m accustomed to seeing on menus around town, and it made me very happy.

Here is a sample from the August menu:

Farmer’s Markets, Ballparks and Beer—Though July and August in Minnesota tend to take us on a roller coaster ride of wet blanket heat and humidity, sudden severe downpours and everything in between, Muffuletta’s crew rejoices as the season kicks in to high gear and spills a cornucopia of ingredients grown by our friends in the sustainable agriculture community.

Vendors like Hidden Streams Farms, the Southeast Minnesota Food Network, Tim Fischer and Thousand Hills Cattle Company supply us with the best fresh and locally produced ingredients that will help us sing the praises of our great state’s outdoor culture. Influenced by our love for everything from Boundary Waters canoe fishing and Metro Area Farmer’s Markets to softball tournament tailgating outside of Pipestone, the fruits, vegetables and proteins supplied us by the aforementioned producers will take top billing and help us celebrate the good life we lead in L’Etoile du Nord.

Our dinner was superb. We shared a caprese salad (thick slice of a Minnesota-grown tomato topped by a thick slice of fresh mozzerella and adorned with a sprinkle of rose salt and a swipe of a balsamic reduction) while we read the menu.

Here's what we ate:




Spice started with salmon rillettes (wine-poached Scottish salmon and Nova Scotia smoked salmon folded into creme fraiche and aioli, served with toasted crostade and tossed greens)


Hambone started with cornmeal-crusted calamari with preserved-lemon aioli



Spice's main: gnocchi with roasted tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and a pistachio-almond pesto



Hambone's main: fresh tagliatelle with preserved lemons, green olives, and seared ahi tuna.

Wine: Croix du Verre, Crozes Hermitage, 2001 (redolent of black currant, dark berries, and a bit of spice)

I have two tiny quibbles. First, portions are too big. Neither of us was able to finish our main course, and we had to pass on dessert. Which is just wrong. Last, the wine list had far too many familiar bottles, which made the mark-up hard to take. That valpolicella on the wine menu for $36 costs $11 at my local wine shop. It’s a good wine, but we also drink it regularly when we grill burgers. When I’m at a restaurant, I want to stretch my palate, trying new wines or drinking something special that I can’t get at my wine shop.

Items on the menu remain—a German-style sausage platter and beer cheese soup caught our attention, so we’ll be back. I look forward to seeing the kitchen’s fall offerings!

Easy Friday Nights

For the past few months, Hambone and I have chosen to inaugurate the weekend with Friday night cocktails, which has become a very civilized way to wind up the work week. Beyond the beverage at hand, we try to pull together a substantial nibble that we inevitably call supper. Once we start to sink into the cushions of our porch furniture, drink in hand, it's a very slippery slope to complete relaxation. And after that, who needs a proper meal?

Tonight we celebrated the beginning of tomato season by chopping up our farmers market haul, which we then drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with kosher salt, and mixed with minced garlic and basil chiffonade. While this mixture came together at room temperature for a bit, Hambone whipped up some Beefeater gin and tonics. We cranked up the Budos Band; took our bruschetta topping, a goat cheese crottin, and our cocktails out to our patio; and offered up a toast to many more gorgeous August evenings.

Thursday Local Round-up

Dara Moskowitz reports in the City Pages that Steve Brown has a new kitchen. She hasn't even eaten at Harry's, Minneapolis' newest gastropub, but feels pretty confident that it can be nothing short of outstanding. Quite frankly, I'll eat at Harry's knowing only that Steve Brown, former chef at now-defunct Levain, is at the stove.

Both of the local newspapers highlight single ingredients from Minnesota's summer bounty. The Star Tribune offers green bean recipes and the Pioneer Press showcases melons.

Also, this Strib article about noteworthy restaurants in small southeastern Minnesota towns is worth filing in your travel folder. I see some road trips in my near future.

Welcome Home Pizza

Last night Hambone and Spice celebrated Alpha's homecoming after spending twelve days with his grandparents, part of which included driving to Montana from South Dakota. During his three days at 7,000 feet in Big Sky, Alpha tried his hand at fly fishing, did some hiking, and took a daytrip to Yellowstone—lucky, lucky boy.

Astonishingly, he didn't eat any pizza while on his trip. So upon his return, and at his request, we made homemade pizza together—homemade in so far as it was assembled and baked at home. I am not at all ashamed to say that I purchased our raw ingredients from Cossetta's, our favorite Italian deli—all authentic and high quality and utterly delicious. I picked up disks of dough, tubs of rich red sauce, creamy balls of fresh mozzarella, a hank of bulk Italian sausage, and countless other goodies that went directly into my handbag's zippered compartment.

Now, Hambone and Spice have tried our collective hand at pizza from scratch many times, and we have yet to hit upon a dough recipe we like well enough to use regularly. I thought we'd found a serviceable tomato sauce in Lidia's Italian American Kitchen—basically blitzing a can of San Marzanos in a food processor with garlic, olive oil, and salt. But, too often the sauce turns out thin and salty, almost to the point of being briny.

Recalling that Cossetta's had ready-made pizza dough (which, by the way, comes in a plastic bag with enough flour to toss down on your counter), I decided to test it out. The result: two of the best pizzas we've eaten in a very long time.

The boys' pizza was a traditional cheese number, while Hambone and I doctored our crust (pictured above) with Italian sausage, red onion from the farmers market, roasted red peppers, and fresh mozz. Cooked on a pizza stone at 475 degrees for 15 minutes, the crust was crispy outside and tender with air pockets inside, which is an affect we strive for but have never been able to achieve. The sauce was tomatoey and perfectly seasoned.

Swinging by the shop on my way home from work was easy and the results were very satisfying and the price so right—each disk of dough, for example, was $1.59—that I may never again bother making my own dough.

Why I Like Wednesdays

Wednesday is a great day to be a foodie. It's the day that the New York Times publishes a food section, Dining Out. And it's the day that Dara Moskowitz's food column appears in the City Pages, the Twin Cities' alternative weekly paper.

Dara, quite simply, rocks. She is a passionate, creative writer, as well as a keen observer, which certainly brings restaurant reviewing to a whole new level.

(Aside: For the record, in these parts, she only has one name. Foodies and fans ask each other, "Have you read Dara yet this week?" Or say things such as, "I wasn't a huge fan of that restaurant, but Dara loved it." However, if you look at her byline, you'll notice she's recently added a name, Grumdahl. So, mazel tov! Dara.)

I haven't always love Dara. At times, I have felt that her cleverness dominates her writing to the extent where the column becomes all about Dara and hardly about the restaurant—or even about food. Also, she can occasionally slather excessive praise on restaurants that neither need it or deserve it, but I've learned to take that with a grain of salt. A few years ago, however, I read a piece that was without pretention, converting me from an occasional read to one who can't go a week without.

My friend Tracy and I always compare restaurant notes, inevitably bringing Dara's opinions into our conversation. Often it serves us well, such as the time we ate at Azia and Dara advocated sticking to the appetizers and innovative cocktails. After eating a misguided fusion curry among other items ordered widely from the menu, we can both attest that we should have heeded her advice.

Clearly, her style has evolved and matured in the 10 years she has been the City Pages' food critic. And, I'm not alone in the Dara love. The James Beard Foundation has nominated her for awards in two separate categories this year.

Courtesy of the internets, even if you don't live in Minneapolis or St. Paul, you can still read Dara's column weekly. Best, if you find yourself hooked, most of her articles since 1997 have been archived.

City Pages Best of the Twin Cities 07

City Pages, our weekly free newspaper, published their annual best of the Twin Cities list today. Always debatable, always funs. Here is a link to the restaurant list, compiled by Dara Moskowitz. I'd like to comment more when I return from NOLA. Until then, have fun reading. I'd love to know your opinion—feel free to leave comments here.

Resolutions 07: Eat Out

La Belle Vie

Generally considered to be the best restaurant between San Francisco and Chicago, La Belle Vie is pretty high on my to-do list. People used to drive from Minneapolis/St. Paul to Stillwater, about 30 miles away, to eat from this French-inspired menu. About a year and a half ago, La Belle Vie moved to Minneapolis and now occupies the grand 510 Groveland, site of the former 510 Restaurant.

Hambone and Spice have been waiting for the right moment to cross the river for our inaugural La Belle Vie meal—even the name of the restaurant sings (especially true if you call to make a reservation and hear the particular lilt with which the voice mail lady says "la belle vie"). And, we seized the moment when Alpha and Beta were on yet another of their whirlwind vacations with Spice's parents.

Good timing, too, as executive chef Tim McKee is a James Beard Award nominee in the category Best Chef Midwest (winner to be announced May 7). So, this was a highly anticipated meal.

We ate in an undeniably gorgeous dining room with high ceilings, ornate crown molding, and the requisite room-enlarging mirrors. Fashionable art punctuates the space between tall windows and French doors. The space was made for prom dates, wedding proposals, and business dinners, but was absolutely hushed on a Sunday night. Naturally, we would be seated next to a loud and obnoxious party of eight. While we've become fans of dining at popular restaurants on off-nights (i.e., not Friday or Saturday), it does come with a price in the midwest—you really miss the ambience that comes from a packed, lively dining room.

You can take a tasting menu with optional wine pairings, which is something we like to do, but nothing on this evening's menu intrigued us, so we went a la carte (not really a hardship).

Here's my meal in pictures:


To Start: chilled yellowtail jack with roasted beets, horseradish and flying fish roe
(The beets and horseradish were great together, but really obscured the vibrancy of the yellowtail jack. My biggest complaint was the temperature, which was beyond just chilled, not quite to frozen.)


Salad: mache and arugula with baccala, soft-poached egg, and salsa verde
(a traditional French bistro salad deconstructed—and with a twist, the salt cod replacing lardons)


Main: pan-roasted moulard duck with foie gras, red cabbage, and Alsatian spices
(I'm not sure what Alsatian spices are, but if I had to guess I'd say caraway. The duck was as tender and juicy as any I've eaten. The foie gras was divine if a little meager, though at it's best when it melted in the duck juices to enrich the sauce. The duck breast and the foie were grown in Minnesota. And, I loved the red cabbage, which was tender with a little crunch so you know the cabbage was transformed from a raw vegetable, and just ever the perfect amount of vinegar.)


Dessert: rice pudding tart, dried pineapple, pineapple sorbet
(For the most part, the tart shell served as a dish for the fine rice pudding. The dried pineapple was the real start, with very concentrated fruit flavors—I could find myself pining [pardon the pun] for it in days to come.)

Wine
Andrew Rich sauvignon blanc, which was selected from an extensive, but severely price marked-up wine list. This white had aromas of grapefruit and strawberry, and was pleasantly honeyed on the palate. We managed to stretch out one bottle over the course of the meal; skipping cocktails helped as did the wine/bourbon/scotch hangover.

Hambone had caramelized foie gras with porcini, sweet potato-chestnut gnocchi and marsala to start (the foie gras was shamefully veiny); warm goat cheese tart with tomato confit and tapenade vinaigrette for his salad course; sautéed arctic char with razor clams, squid ink ravioli, and bibb lettuce as a main.

Petit fours were a wonderful parting gift: coconut curry truffle, homemade marshmallow, frangipane, and pistachio biscotti. I wish I had a photograph of the petit fours plate because they looked like gems.

In all, I think the food was very good, the service was impeccible, and the dining room was gorgeous (if not a little overwrought), making it a complete package for fine dining. Does La Belle Vie deserve the hype? Absolutely not. Is it worth the extravagant price? No way. While I wouldn't hesitate to place it in my top five local restaurants, Hambone and Spice both found it a little pretentious. Would we return? Of course, especially to see the seasonal-food card played.

Resolutions '07: Shop

Yes, let's get this establishing fact out of the way—I'm the last American with a pulse to visit Trader Joe's.

Both Hambone and Spice knew of the store by reputation as being a great grocery store where food items prepared with a twist, often healthy and organic, and with low prices. We’d heard it described variously as fun, hip, cool, cheap. We know West Coasters who do all their grocery shopping at Trader Joe’s and rave about items, such as the pre-cooked, frozen rice, that makes dinner preparation so much easier. Of course, there’s the Two-Buck Chuck, but we don’t go in for swill. And, we’ve had intentions to visit this emporium of unique foodstuffs since the Twin Cities’ first location opened last year (shortly after New York City received their first Trader Joe’s outpost).

Finally in January, when Spice’s parents were visiting, her father expressed a desire to visit Trader Joe’s. Seizing an opportunity to cross something off her food resolution list, H & S piled the little boys into the car on the coldest day of the year and convoyed with Gpa Ron and Gma Margaret from St. Paul to St. Louis Park, by way of Lakeville (the scenic route).

Located in a chaotic, suburban condo complex, the tiny store was packed on a Saturday with yuppies and grups, almost every one of whom was cranky, owing to the unbearable cold weather or, possibly, the inability to find a parking spot. This location has, seemingly, fewer than 50 spots, which, I’ve read somewhere, is part of the Trader Joe’s experience.

When we finally got our bearings, I realized that we were in snack and prepared food heaven. You can get any manner of wonderful cereals and granola bars, seasoned nuts and chocolate-dipped items, including but not limited to sunflower seeds. You can also find frozen meals in bulk—lobster ravioli and other exotic pastas to name a few. But where is the life-sustaining, rejuvenating real food? The stuff that has naturally occuring fiber and built-in vitamins and protein? Nowhere to be seen.

The produce section was shameful. The meager selection of fruits and vegetables looked pathetic or were suffocating in plastic bags. No meat, fish, or deli counters exist. How do people do all their grocery shopping here? More to the point—who are the people who have the time or energy to do two-stop shopping?

I get the fuss about Trader Joe’s, especially if one’s diet is restricted to prepared foods or snacks. And, how can you deny the pick-up-able nature of Joe’s packaging and their zesty marketing. Hambone made me promise that I wouldn’t insist we trek across the city to visit the store again. He might change his mind, though, after he tries the milk chocolate-dipped banana chips. The chocolate-covered pretzels were tasty enough (though not as good as Nestle’s), but I can’t stop eating the banana chips and I normally loathe banana chips, picking them out of granola and trail mixes when they deign to appear.

We also purchased chili-lemon pistachios (slightly reminiscent of those we picked up at the Berkeley Farmers Market, but Trader Joe’s version was neither as redolent of chili or lemon nor as fresh), Trader Joe’s signature Thai lime-chili cashews (again, the nuts tasted a little stale under their powder coat), frozen chocolate-dipped bananas, some organic free-trade whole coffee beans (only superficially roasted, yielded a less than full-bodied coffee), and honey-sesame cashews.

While we had fun with our purchases, at the end of the day—because, honestly, who doesn't like high-quality snack food?— I wouldn’t drive twenty-five miles for any of this stuff. For years, we’ve buying authentic Asian snack foods at United Noodles, and nothing Trader Joe’s offers holds a candle to the chaat or the shrimp chips or the frozen potstickers and shumai, to name a few diverse and delicious snacks.

Doug Flicker gets a new kitchen

As reported in this morning's Star Tribune, Doug Flicker will be the new head chef at Mission American Kitchen, the posh restaurant that took over the Aquavit space in the IDS Center.

Hambone and Spice are huge FOFs—fans of Flicker. Earlier this year, Flicker announced that he would, after almost 10 years in business, close his restaurant Auriga, which I found devastating. H&S were a little late to the Auriga dance, but when we arrived, we couldn't get enough. Some of my recent favorite meals were eaten here, and we looked forward to more of Flicker's innovative cooking featuring high-quality ingredients. I ate my first Kumamoto oysters here, which were a revelation, and had an outstanding pear dessert that serves as a standard-bearer of what a good dessert should be.

krispy kreme introduces whole wheat donut

Riddle me this—what is the point of a glazed whole wheat donut? Is it to assuage the guilt of eating ungodly amounts of trans fats in each morsel?

Chicago issues first foie citation

And the unlucky recipient is Hot Doug’s, the edgy “encased-meat emporium” in Chicago. Certainly Doug Sohn’s reputation precedes him, but he was recently featured in a tantalizing piece on Gourmet’s Diary of a Foodie. In addition to the Foie Gras and Sauternes Duck Sausage with Truffle Sauce Moutarde and Armagnac-Truffle Chicken Mousse— the culprit of the $250 fine—Sohn also serves a three-chili wild boar sausage with chipotle dijonnaise and emmental cheese, a corned beef sausage with a reuben treatment, gyros sausage with creme fraiche tzatziki, and a Catalonian pork sausage with saffron rouille and manchego cheese, to name just a few mouth-watering selections.

For the record, I’m against the foie gras ban for so many reasons, chief among them: we have bigger issues to solve as a society—poverty and child mortality rates and education funding cuts and the war in Iraq to name but a powerful few. Legislators and city councils are wasting energy on the foie gras issue.

I’d like to pay Doug’s fine in exchange for foie gras sausages for all my friends.

old standby: easy risotto

At the end of the day, I want to put a hearty, warm meal on the table for my little family. And some times that simple goal is easier said than done.

Our day starts early and runs long. Neither Hambone nor I are home before 6 p.m., at which time, Alpha and Beta only want to reconnect by giving us lots of physical attention. So, Monday through Thursday, we’re rarely very ambitious about trying new or involved recipes, which allows us to spend more time with our little darlings.

Over the years, we’ve honed a few meals that we can whip up without referring to recipes. These are nourishing and hearty, usually one-dish, meals that can be put on the table in relatively little time. This past week we made our cheater risotto, which we adapted from a recipe in Bon Appetit over ten years ago. I say “cheater” because, although this dish absolutely looks and tastes like risotto, the method lacks the hot stock and Arborio rice, as well as the constant stirring required by authentic versions.

I do love to tinker over a risotto, and I know that they’re really not that time consuming, so when I want to perch on a stool by the stove with a good book and stir for the better part of an hour, I turn to more time-honored practices. But on weeknights, after working a full day at the office and sitting in rush-hour traffic, I turn to this equally creamy but quicker form—and savor it all the same.

Easy “Risotto”
1 T. butter
1 shallot, minced
1 c. long-grain white rice
1/2 c. dry white wine 1 (14.5 oz.) can broth (I use chicken, but vegetable is good too)
1 T. olive oil
3 links Italian sausage, casings removed
1/2 cup sliced mushrooms
1 tsp fresh thyme leaves
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 cup feta cheese
Salt and pepper

Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a heavy medium saucepan over medium heat. Add minced shallot and sauté until soft, about 1 minute. Add rice and stir until coated, about 1 minute. Add wine and boil until liquid is almost absorbed, a few minutes. Then, add broth and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer with lid on for 12 minutes. Rice should almost be tender; a little liquid should remain.

While the rice is cooking, prepare the sausage mixture. Heat oil in sauté pan until hot. Add sausage to pan and cook until browned, breaking up pieces as it cooks, about 10 minutes. Add garlic, mushrooms, and thyme. Season with salt and pepper. Cook until mushrooms are soft and browned. Add the sausage mixture and feta cheese to rice. Stir to incorporate and serve.

Note: This recipe is very versatile. The rice part is the basic technique. Shrimp, corn, and tomatoes is an awesome combination. And of course, you can always stir in parmesan cheese and butter to finish. Pictured above is a sausage-corn-zucchini-tomato version.

Kids in the Kitchen: Flourless Chocolate Cake

Simply put, Alpha and Beta love to hang out in the kitchen.

Our galley kitchen is separated from the dining room by a peninsula with a granite countertop. The kids love to pull up to the eating counter and hang out while we cook dinner. But, when I am baking, they grab their aprons, pull up stools, and roll up their sleeves. They are both well versed in the rhythms of turning dry ingredients into wet ingredients, mixing them gingerly until a batter emerges. Pancakes, cookies, and muffins are well within their abilities.

So recently, when I decided to make a birthday cake for their Uncle Nik, I should have known the boys would want to help. Alpha and I had looked over the cakes at the grocery store earlier in the day and agreed that we could do better at home. We decided to make a recipe from Everyday Food that I’ve done a number of times. It’s a quick, easy flourless cake.

While I melted semisweet chocolate chips and butter in a double boiler on the stove, Alpha studiously separated eggs. I demonstrated how to transfer the yolk between shell halves, allowing the white to fall to the bowl below. Alpha is a quick study and insisted on trying it right away. He declared, “Wow, that’s so cool.” He proceeded to carefully separate four more eggs, beating them with a whisk before adding the cooled chocolate/butter mixture.

Meanwhile, Beta held the hand mixer and beat the egg whites to soft peak. Then he dumped in the sugar, and we continued beating until the egg whites were glossy. Alpha, who assured me he had folded ingredients before, set about incorporating the whole mess. While his folding technique desires refinement, he did manage to thoroughly blend the whites and chocolate.

Then, because their collective attention span is as big as a gnat, I poured the batter into a springboard pan and tended the oven, checking for doneness every five minutes after the allotted baking time. Needless to say, the boys enjoyed eating their cake as much as they enjoyed making it.

Flourless Chocolate Cake
Everyday Food (January/February 2004)

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for pan
1-1/2 cups semisweet chocolate chips (or 8 ounces chopped bittersweet chocolate)
6 large egg yolks
6 large egg whites
1/2 cup granulated sugar
confectioners' sugar, for dusting

1. Preheat oven to 275 degrees F, with rack in center. Butter a 9-inch springform pan. Place butter and chocolate in a large bowl. Microwave in 30-second increments, stirring each time, until melted; cool slightly. Whisk in yolks.

2. In another bowl, beat egg whites to soft peaks. Gradually add sugar; beat until stiff and glossy. Whisk 1/4 whites into chocolate mixture; gently fold mixture into remaining whites.

3. Pour into prepared pan; smooth top. Bake until cake pulls away from sides of pan and is just set in center, 45 to 50 minutes. Cool completely on a wire rack. Serve dusted with confectioners' sugar.