a quick pasta for a Monday

I don't thrive on throwing myself back into the fray of a work/school week. In no time at all, the effects of a relaxing weekend completely fade. The last thing I want to face after a long day at the office is a hot stove and an ambitious recipe. Mondays call for easy, tasty meals.

As a mother of school-age kids who have weeknight homework, not only does meal preparation need to be unfussy but it also needs to generate the fewest dirty dishes possible. This simple shrimp-tomato-feta pasta fits the bill—clean, bold Mediterranean flavors combined with ease and a modicum of speed.

It's also a flexible dish. You could substitute salmon for the shrimp. Any fresh herb—basil, thyme, oregano, dill—could easily take the place of dried herbs. As I was cutting the serviceable grape tomatoes that are available year round, I couldn't fight the memory of the brilliant, sweet yellow pear tomatoes that we buy at the Farmer's Market in July and the thought of how awesome they would be in this pasta.

You can even get your kids involved and chat about their day. Beta helped by measuring the olive oil, pouring it on the tomatoes, and seasoning with salt, pepper, and dried herbs.

Orzo with Shrimp, Tomatoes, and Feta
serves 4

1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined
4 T. olive oil, divided
3 garlic cloves, minced
pinch red pepper flakes
1 pint cherry tomatoes
1 T. dried green herbs, your choice (up to 1/4 cup if using fresh green herbs)
salt and pepper, to taste
1 cup orzo
4 oz. feta
1 T. fresh lemon juice

Bring a pot of water to boil. Meanwhile, cut cherry tomatoes in half and place in a large serving bowl. Toss with 3 T. olive oil, salt and pepper to taste, and herbs.

Once water reaches a boil, add salt (about a tablespoon) and orzo. Cook for 8-10 minutes.

While pasta is cooking, prepare shrimp. Heat 1 T. olive oil in saute pan on medium-high. Add shrimp. Season with a healthy pinch of salt, red pepper flakes, and minced garlic. Turn shrimp after 1-2 minutes. Cook another minute or two, until pink. Stir and turn off heat.

When pasta is done, reserve 1/2 cup liquid, then drain. Add pasta, along with cooked shrimp, lemon juice, and feta, to tomatoes. Toss to coat, adding pasta cooking water if pasta seems dry. Adjust seasoning and serve.

Best of 2008

Happy New Year! Hambone and Spice continued to eat well in 2008. We enjoyed many fantastic and memorable meals in restaurants, in our friends’ homes, and in our own home. Food was an important balm during a difficult year, but also helped to cement friendships and fueled many delicious conversations. We had a blast cooking with our kids—each took bold steps to become the very best sous chefs they could be.

We had no particular theme this year, though, during grilling season, we skewered just about every protein and vegetable imaginable to feature a kebab of the week. Many of our favorite items featured citrus, either as an assertive, bright flavor or as a subtle element that pulled a dish together.

Here are some highlights from our year in food and drink:

drink
Cocktails continue to quench our thirst. Gin and tonics, scotch and sodas, and vodka gimlets will always have a place at the table, but in 2008, these classic cocktails were joined by the sazerac (rye, Peychaud’s bitters, Pernod), the Americano (Campari, sweet vermouth, club soda), and the side car (brandy, lemon juice, Grand Marnier) at home, as well as Porter and Frye’s refreshing Siciliano (Campari and blood orange juice laced with gin). We were also introduced to Flat Earth Brewing, a local microbrew that makes a few crisp beers. Flat Earth beers went missing for much of the year, however, as the brewery pulled their beers off the market due to a problem with a second fermentation in the bottle. As a reliable source told me, bottles were exploding on liquor store shelves. By Thanksgiving, Flat Earth was back—and we’re certainly glad to see them and their Belgian-style pale ale, though my absolute favorite is the Element 115 lager.

favorite cooking techniques: grilling and broiling
In 2008 we grilled apace. Hambone even tackled fish on the grill—salmon, arctic char, walleye, and halibut. When grilling season ended, we pulled the broiler pan and cooked meat—flank steak, fish, pork tenderloin, and shrimp—under high heat in our oven. A glass jar of a very versatile, homemade spice rub (paprika, dry green herbs, cumin, coriander, salt, pepper, and brown sugar) stood by the grill and the stove and was replenished when emptied.

cooking highlight: making soup with Caryl
Handsome husband aside, I have only ever cooked with one other friend, but it’s something I’ve long wanted to do. I’m so glad that my friend Caryl suggested it. We had a wonderful time chatting as we sliced and diced our ingredients, comparing notes as we tended to the soup, and documenting the process. I anticipate future kitchen sessions and hope that one of these will culminate with a meal we can share with our families.

Caryl and I made caldo verde, a Portuguese kale and sausage soup, from The Soup Peddler's Slow and Difficult Soups. David Ansel is the Soup Peddler and he delivers soup—on his bike—to the eclectic folk who populate Bouldin Creek in Austin, Texas. Caryl sourced the sausage—linguiça—from Kramarczuk’s, the Nordeast Minneapolis restaurant that specializes in sausage. And, she brought lacinato kale, which, as opposed to the extremely curly kale, is like a thick spinach leaf. Basically, we browned the sausage links, in their casings, in olive oil, and removed them when they were cooked (about 10 minutes). Then we sweated onion (1) slices and sliced garlic (6 cloves) in the remaining olive oil, densely permeated with the linguiça’s salty, smoky juices. After 5 minutes we added the chicken stock I made that morning, as well as diced potatoes (enough small red potatoes to equal four normal-sized potatoes) and simmered for 20 minutes. The sausages, which had since been cut into coins, were returned to the soup with a bunch of finely chopped kale and simmered for another 5 minutes. That’s it. Easy, hearty, nourishing. I’m looking forward to our next soup session!

favorite food stores
France 44’s cheese counter (passionate cheesemonger Benjamin is blogging here), Golden Fig for local speciality items (Talmadge Farm’s horseradish jelly, B.T. McElrath’s unique chocolate truffles), Izzy’s for the very best ice cream (the nut versions—praline pecan, butter pecan, black walnut, hot brown sugar—are my favorites)

best things eaten this year, restaurant category
hazelnut torte at Meritage, sort of a grown-up Kit-Kat bar
sausage plate with roasted grapes at Porter and Frye
Sebastian Joe's spumoni, with honey, almonds, candied orange peel
pho and the pork loin sandwich at Ngon (and sweet potato fries with sriracha aioli)
Khyber Pass’ lunch buffet, especially the hummus and korma e murgh
smelt fries and elk stroganoff at Red Stag
fresh lobsters in Maine
house-made lamb sausage at the Harborview Café
lamb burger topped by hummus and feta at Shish
soft and crispy confit duck leg with sweet and juicy roasted grapes at Strip Club

(photo credit: Tracy Adams)

favorite things eaten at home/friends’ homes
John’s softshell crab sandwich
red beans and rice with pickled pork
lobster risotto with homemade lobster stock
Alice Waters’ Moroccan carrot salad with lemon, ginger, and cumin
bison meatballs with cilantro-yogurt sauce
smoked trout spread with apples and celery
pumpkin spice layer cake
Will and Helena’s house-cured salmon
Tracy’s shrimp stew on black rice

worst things I ate this year
~smoked chocolate ice-cream at Porter and Frye, which was just plain weird
~bone marrow at Red Stag—for those of you who compared bone marrow to eating foie gras, I beg to disagree. Not remotely similar. I really wanted to like bone marrow. I really did. But it was about the nastiest thing I’ve ever eaten (and I’ve eaten lamb brains and sweetbreads and tripe and oysters and shrimp heads). Too salty, too fatty, too not at all what I dreamed it would be.

favorite restaurants
Though we enjoyed many meals in local restaurants in 2008, only one meal stood out—Alma’s tasting menu, for four people, which allowed us to tell the server to “Bring us one of everything” on the menu. In addition to Alma, chef Alex Roberts has Brasa, a Southern-style barbecue joint in NE Minneapolis. I love all of the pulled meat (beef and heritage Berkshire pork), as well as his rotisserie chicken. We look forward to a St. Paul location later this year.

favorite new restaurants
~Porter and Frye, Steve Brown’s eagerly anticipated kitchen delighted us on a few occasions
~Meritage, Russell Klein put his own stamp on the brasserie, filling the former Au Rebours space in downtown St. Paul
~Heidi’s, Stewart Woodman’s jewel-box restaurant in south Minneapolis, highly innovative food
~Strip Club, the Town Talk Diner folks and J.D. Fratzke’s gastrotavern overlooking downtown St. Paul
~Red Stag, one of the first LEED-certified restaurant in the U.S., eclectic menu

happy merry to all!

It’s Merry Chaos here in Princeton. Has a year gone by already? The weather is gorgeously warm, which is such a treat after the brutal winter storms and their aftermath that we've encountered at home and here on the East Coast. The sky is a beautiful blue color. The turkey is in the oven. The dough for the potato rolls is rising. We're about to break out the champagne. And, my kids have each declared this to be the Best. Christmas. Ever! Surrounded by family, I couldn't agree more.

No matter where you are and what you believe, I hope that your day is filled with peace and glad tidings!

holiday cookies

My mother, a fantastic baker, always had a pan of bars or plate of cookies stashed in a special hiding spot—plain sight. But, during the run up to Christmas, she’d nestle her baked goods—cookies, candies, pastries—in deep, parchment paper-lined tins that, a decade earlier, had hosted fruitcakes. She would put the tins into cold storage—the deep freezer in our garage—until such time as when she went “visiting,” dropping in on friends and neighbors to deliver her holiday cheer.

Such is my mother’s generosity. And such was the small community and the civility in which I was raised. Friends would stop by our house, unannounced, to say “hello.” Perhaps this practice is alive and well somewhere, but it’s certainly not done where I live.

Maybe the holiday cookies—the frilly, the fussy, the fancy, the not-for-everyday numbers—were the draw. I loved my mother’s boozy bourbon balls, the date-walnut balls enlivened by rice krispies, spicy gingerbread cutouts, rich chocolate crinkles, chocolate-dipped overtly sweet coconut bonbons, iced sugar cutouts, the powder sugar explosion of Russian tea cakes, brownies with a mint-ganache layer.

My mother was also a cookie-exchange maven, so some of the treats were made by others, such as spritz cookies—extruded neon food-dyed dough, sprinkled with complementary-colored sugar. Or peanut butter blossoms, crusted with sugar and crowned by a fat Hershey’s Kiss. Or wreath cookies—cornflakes bound by a mixture of melted marshmallows, butter, and a bottle of green food coloring, shaped into a ring, and adorned with a cluster of red hots “berries”.

But my absolute favorite cookie is her whirlagig—a peanut-butter cookie base rolled, pinwheel-style, around a thin ribbon of chocolate filling. I don't know the recipe's origin and hadn't thought to ask until now—they’ve been my mother’s since the beginning of my time. I did an online search and saw nothing that approaches this particular recipe. The recipe could have come from any of the places where my mother finds baking gems—church cookbooks, special interest publications, the butter carton, the newspaper. Unfortunately, she was unavailable for comment when I began this post.

Alhough I’d eat them any day of the week, these cookies were only made for Christmas. By appearance, they lack all the impressiveness of jewel-toned jam thumbprints or the seasonality of springerle. Whirlagigs are almost ordinary, like chocolate chip or peanut butter cookies. They’re rugged—brown dough, darker brown filling. They’re not pretty—very few of mine show their potential pinwheel spiral. But, they do look interesting, and they taste amazing. Not too sweet, which I think is the biggest fault of most holiday cookies. I am a firm believer that if one is staring at a platter of assorted cookies, one should be able to try as many as appeal.

Years ago, when Hambone and I started baking Christmas cookies, I asked my mother for the recipe, which she gladly shared with us. I’d never read it before so I was somewhat surprised to learn that the chocolate filling was made a little more-ish with a secret ingredient. No, it’s not booze, though I’m sure the addition of a complementary liquor wouldn’t be bad. Rather, chocolate chips are melted with an equal amount of butterscotch chips.


I also learned that whirligigs are a little fussy to make, which catapults them into the realm of for-special-times-only. As I made this year’s batch, I struggled here and there—but don’t let that stop you. I’ll provide tips in the recipe. Eventually, I realized the logs didn’t have to be sliced perfectly. If you mash the dough together in the approximation of a cookie, it will do what it’s supposed to in the oven. In every bite, the baked whirlagig offers a golden mean of cookie to chocolate filling.

Since whirligigs are too good to make just once a year, I resolve to bake them more often in 2009. Afterall, I have a technique to perfect—and these cookies are beyond worth it.

Whirligig Cookies

1 cup butter
1 cup peanut butter (I like chunky)
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs, unbeaten
2 tsp. vanilla
2-1/2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1-11 oz. pkg chocolate chips
1-11 oz. pkg butterscotch pieces

In the bowl of a stand mixer, fitted with the paddle attachment, cream together first four ingredients. Mix in eggs and vanilla, until well incorporated. In a medium bowl, sift flour, baking soda, and salt. Add dry ingredients to butter-sugar-egg mixture, and mix well.

Melt the chocolate and butterscotch pieces in a double boiler or in a small bowl over a pan of gently simmering water. Cool slightly.

Divide dough into four pieces, for manageability. Dough will be very soft and a bit sticky. Lightly flour a length of parchment paper and roll dough into an oblong, approximately 1/4-inch thick, though thicker works too. Spread melted chocolate/butterscotch on dough and roll as jelly roll, using parchment to form log. Wrap log in plastic and carefully (dough is still soft and now rather floppy) place in refrigerator to chill for at least 2 hours, though dough can be chilled overnight.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Slice cookie logs 1/4-inch thick and place on ungreased cookie sheet. You will need to use a light pressure to work knife through the solidified chocolate. Don't fret if the slice crumbles—you can reconstitute on cookie sheet. Bake 9-12 minutes.

best remedy for midweek crisis

Recently, while suffering from a midweek cooking crisis, we fell back on an old reliable—simmer sauce. You know, ye olde vegetables and meat cooked in a jarred sauce. Trader Joe’s makes a decent Indian-style korma sauce that, I realize, would be a total heresy to anyone who reveres Indian food. What can I say? We were tired and uninspired, so I cubed some chicken, mandolined a fat carrot that I had been hording from my last farmers market haul, and threw in some tender tiny peas, then napped it with a jar of sauce. In the time it took to steam some basmati rice, dinner slowly bubbled to completion, practically cooking itself. I could only have been happier if I'd had some kheer.

But an overwhelming guilt cloud hung over the stove when I realized what a cheat I’d been. The only way to remedy the situation was to complicate the meal and cook a vegetable side. Completely from scratch. Enter Madhur Jaffrey's quick and easy recipes and a head of cabbage. In only fifteen or twenty minutes, I had a meltingly soulful, slightly more authentic, and utterly satisfying cabbage dish.

I love this preparation and ate nearly the entire bowl by myself. It’s soft and savory and tangy, reminding me of a beloved German staple, rot kohl. The following recipe is pretty flexible. Don’t sweat it if you don’t have all the seeds. You could certainly use a half teaspoon or so ground cumin. You could even skip the onion. But absolutely do not omit the lemon juice or the garam masala*, the Indian spice mixture that varies in composition from kitchen to kitchen. Both are crucial in making this a transcendent cabbage.

Also, as the next set of holidays approach, I think this Indian-spiced cabbage would wonderfully complement traditional roasted meats, such as beef or pork, as well as all manner of roasted bird—turkey, goose, game hens, duck.


Stir-Fried Green Cabbage (Bhuni bandh gobi)
inspired by Madhur Jaffrey’s Quick and Easy Indian Cooking

1-1/2 pounds green cabbage (half a large head)
1/4 cup grapeseed oil
3/4 tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp fennel seeds
1 medium red onion, cut lengthwise in thin slices
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
2 T fresh lemon juice
heaping 1/2 teaspoon garam masala*

Remove the cabbage's tough outer leaves. Cut head in half, then cut in half again. Remove core. Put the oil in a large saute pan and set over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, put in the seeds and heat for a few minutes. Add onion. Stir fry for 3 to 4 minutes or until the onion has browned a bit. Put in the cabbage. Stir until the cabbage too has softened and browned a bit, about 6 minutes. Add the salt and cayenne. Turn down the heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, for another 7 to 8 minutes or until the onions appear caramelized and soft. Mix in the lemon juice and garam masala, and serve.

*I use Penzey's garam masala, which is a blend of coriander, black peppercorns, cardamom, cinnamon, caraway, cloves, ginger, nutmeg, and kalonji (nigella).

odds and ends

As is becoming the habit, rather than the exception, I have some photos that capture a few of the many wonderful meals eaten chez H&S. Wonderful meals that somehow went undocumented blogside. Above, a bright-eyed Beta realizes a dream come true: watching Saji-Ya's sushi chef make a plate of sushi (tekka maki, tobiko, ikura—no kidding, this kid is crazy about fish eggs) that he didn't have to share with anyone.


This was one of the moistest chickens I have ever roasted. I stuffed the free range, organic beast's cavity with lemon, a head of garlic, and whatever thyme, rosemary, and oregano could be salvaged from my garden pots (they'd survived a freeze, which I took as a sign). Next, the entire bird was given a thin veneer of melted butter, liberally salted and peppered, and roasted for an hour at 400 degrees, while surrounded by olive oil-slathered onions, fingerling potatoes, carrots, and turnips (my veggie discovery of the fall, btw). The sweet caramelized onions were my favorite.


Beef shanks, a fraction of veal shanks' price—and, with a big, beefy taste. These were browned in olive oil and removed from the Dutch oven. Veggies (carrots, onions, celery) were sauteed and browned bits were scraped up before the shanks were reintroduced. A combination of port, hearty red wine (a cab), and beef stock covered the meat and vegetables. Lid on pot, the whole thing braised in a low oven for three hours. We topped the shredded meat with a horseradish-spiked creme fraiche and served in a mashed potato nest.


Here is the best souvenir of a braised beef and mashed potatoes dinner—Shepherd's Pie, which we've led our boys to believe is our Official Family Dish. And, as Shepherd's Pie is notoriously difficult to photograph while plated—too many browns and whites, not enough oranges and greens—I thought I'd offer a cross-section. This Pyrex 9x13 baker is one of the most-used items in our kitchen.


Ending on a sweet note. On the right is a perfect pumpkin muffin specimen. It comes from Bread and Chocolate, a local St. Paul bakery, and is only available for a limited run in the fall. If memory serves correct, B&C stops offering them after Thanksgiving, which would be a shame as I have yet to reproduce a pumpkin muffin that even comes close. The anemic-colored muffin on the left was baked from the recipe on the Whole Food's 365 pumpkin puree can. Yes, I know. You get what you pay for, or something like that. I will refrain from describing how it tasted. It did not taste rich and pumpkiny and spicy. It did not taste like fall. Fortunately I never tire of B&C's pumpkin muffins. In fact, I'm planning to petition the bakery to offer them year round. Until such time, I have a recipe to perfect!

weekend update

Friday dinner—olive-oil broiled Atlantic salmon on a bed of French lentils with Elliot's Northwoods bacon, carrots, fennel, celery, and a splash of red-wine vinegar. The salmon was perfectly cooked, flaky and moist. But the lentils were my favorite part of the meal. Thankfully I have leftovers that will be adorned with a runny-yolk fried egg.


Saturday dinner—Finally, an opportunity to satisfy a hankering for serious roasted pork. We entertained on Saturday night and, in a highly unusual move, ordered food in. Well, we ordered in part of our food—specifically, 12-hour roasted local heritage Berkshire pork from Brasa. I'm sure I have failed to sufficiently rave about Brasa, Alex Roberts' casual rotisserie, but the food—tender fall-apart pork, spicy tender fall-apart beef, or rotisserie chicken—is beyond superlatives. It's all local. Organic, when possible. If you go to Brasa, as you should, you'll be presented with a list of Southern-style sides that include fried yucca, garnet yams with andouille sausage, baking powder biscuits, a fancy coleslaw, and collard greens. We made our own sides: braised greens (enormous Swiss chard leaves) and my mother-in-law's grits souffle. Best part—we have extra pork for sandwiches. I'm thinking chipotle aioli and pickled red onions will go nicely with the salty, smoky meat, piled high on a sweet, soft bun.

Reason to live #111: Roberts is in far-from-final negotiations over a St. Paul, Grand Avenue location. If it happens, I may never eat anything else again.


Sunday breakfast—While I fried up the remaining Elliot's thick-cut bacon, Beta made the scrambled eggs. With only a little guidance, he cracked the eggs, beat them with a whisk, seasoned with salt and pepper, and added grated cheese. I turned on the burner for Beta, and he did the rest, slowly cooking the eggs over low heat. I am soooo lucky that my boys like to cook. They're good cooks, too. These eggs are creamier than I can manage. I put Salsa Lisa mild on mine. We also ate the banana bread that Beta and I baked yesterday. The recipe is a highly modified version of Mark Bittman's from How to Cook Everything. It's a super-moist loaf with nuts (we used walnuts) and coconut. Though they are completely unnecessary, we embellished with mini Tollhouse morsels.

Sunday dinner—Tomatoes, fennel, lemon slices, garlic, white wine, a healthy amount of olive oil, and a little water comprised a braising liquid for halibut. I'm fixating on how red the tomato skin appears in this photo, and what a contrast it provides to the crispy white flesh. I know this isn't what tomatoes are supposed to look like, and it's not surprising that they didn't contribute much. Note to self: as we wait for July to roll round again, use canned tomatoes or skip. The best part of the braising liquid was the olive oil, white wine, and lemon. Green olives would have made a nice addition.

Countdown to Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a week away, and I have no idea what I’m making. It's okay—this isn't a panic since we’re having dinner with friends Steve and Lisa, at their house. No need to worry over brining, salting, smoking, deep-frying, or stuffing the turkey. Even though I'd like to, I don’t have to plan an entire meal this year. Even so, I'm fully armed with the current issues of Bon Appetit, Gourmet, Martha Stewart Living, Saveur, and Food and Wine, as well as an inch-thick folder, filled with clippings from previous years' issues of same.

I have too many choices, and it's a bit overwhelming. I don't know where to start. Fortunately, I only need to pick one side to pass and one dessert.

If you're eight days out and still need to formulate a menu, go straight to one of the online Thanksgiving meal guides:
epicurious
Star Tribune
Food and Wine
New York Times, especially Bittman's take on sweet potatoes and Melissa Clark's leftover ideas.

If you live in the vicinity of St. Paul and Minneapolis, hie thee to uber-butcher, Clancey’s for foodstuffs to make your menu special:

confit of duck hearts & gizzards, ginger spiced duck jerky, cherry wood smoked duck breasts.

silky squash soup, squid & shellfish soup, winter veal stew.

goat cheese truffles, poached gulf shrimp, rabbit liver pate.

alder smoked trout, apple wood smoked scallops, hickory smoked whole herring.

fresh turkeys, turkey gravy, turkey stock.

cranberry relish & sauce, potato gratin, traditional stuffing.

it's all roasting and rolling now...

and always good at clancey's.

Or, let my friends Amy and Heidi—the sass-tastic Chowgirls—make some or all of your meal. Their Brussels Sprouts Gratin ("smothered in melty blue cheese"), Sweet Potato Souffle, and 18-pound, maple syrup brined turkey, among others, will make a worthy addition to your feast.

Now back to planning that side dish and dessert...

(photo credit: Lisa Peardon/Getty Images)

Bet you can't eat just one

Beta and I had a few hours to ourselves this afternoon. Hambone is in Houston visiting his father. Alpha was off meeting the Beastie Boys at an Obama rally (the video evidence is stunning!). Casting about for things to do that would keep us from lounging in front of the telly, gorging on Halloween candy, I walked into the den and tripped on two pumpkins that we'd purchased days ago but hadn't yet carved.


True confession: I've never carved a pumpkin. We're not going to go into the whys and wherefores of that travesty. And, by the looks of the finished products, I've got a lot to learn about finessing a knife through a thick-skinned pumpkin. But, we mostly bought the pumpkins because Beta requested roasted seeds. Carving faces just helped us kill time while the seeds were doing in the oven. Mind you, I've never roasted seeds either. Let's just say it was my genius move of the day.

I'm sure you could find countless techniques and recipes by doing an online search, but this is the method we employed. In a colander, rinse guts from seeds. Line a baking sheet (or as many as are necessary) with a double thickness of paper towels, then pour out the seeds, arranging them in a single layer. Blot as much moisture from the seeds as possible. Pour olive oil into a medium-size bowl (about 1 T. per cup of seeds). Add seeds and toss, sprinkling with salt. This is a good time to season with herbs or spices. Many combinations would be stunning: prepared or home-concocted curry or garam masala, za'atar, sumac berries, cayenne, cayenne and scant brown sugar, fresh-chopped thyme or rosemary. The possibilities really are endless. (N.B.: Roast in 350 degree F oven for 20-30 minutes.)


Beta and I made three batches of seeds. I found it easiest to toss seeds, oil, and seasonings in cake pans, and then do the roasting in them. This method proved to be a space saver in the oven, as well. We did plain kosher salt, curry and cayenne, and maple pepper from Golden Fig, a local fancy-food purveyor.

Quite frankly, I can't stop eating the maple-pepper version, which instantly achieved the status Ultimate Nibble up to This Point in 2008. It's salty and has a peppery sting, tempered by sweetness from the maple sugar. Stunning.

And as for Beta. He agreed the maple-pepper seeds were good. Then he singlehandedly inhaled the simply salted morsels.

October highlights

My most significant food-related highlight of October has to be gorging on fun-size Midnight Milky Ways. Okay, I’m joking. I do adore the dark chocolate and the stiffer, less caramel-tasting fondant of this Milky Way version, but I only ate one, which absolutely does not count as gorging. Unless you’re on the Sonoma Diet.

Hambone and Spice, each feeling a little tubby of late, decided to stop casting fate to the wind and follow an eating plan with the goal of losing weight. A few years ago I bought the book, The Sonoma Diet (SD), a low-carb, high-protein diet. It was appealing to me on a few levels. One, it's not as austere as the South Beach Diet (though I get a kick out of SD’s precisely calculated snacks, e.g., 11 almonds). Two, I thought it had decent-looking recipes, with ingredients and preparations that seemed familiar and accessible that could easily find a way into our repertoire.

For a few weeks of October, we were sort of on the Sonoma Diet. I tried really hard to follow the plan, but it didn’t take long to realize the absurdity of dieting. Besides, we were eating so many eggs and the cuts of meat were expensive and I could go on (and on) about how despicable I find prescribed diets. But dear Hambone has better results following a diet and thought SD would be a good way to establish portion control and to focus on healthy, limited snacking. He wasn't wrong. I’m pleased to report that, chez H&S, we each shed a few much-needed pounds.

Consequently, though, blogging suffered. Not that we’re about decadence or restaurant-quality-only food for every meal, but I struggled a lot with how we were eating and didn’t feel like airing my frustrations here. I just don't find them that interesting. In retrospect, our meals were less interesting. We cut way back on the amount of wine we were drinking, and many bottles went to waste as we’re not accustomed to deoxygenating them for longer life. And, I didn’t take any photos of our meals—just didn’t feel like it.

Suffice it to say, we’ve put the diet into perspective, focusing on grains, tons of vegetables, and lean protein for our meals. Isn’t this the way we’re supposed to be eating anyhow? We certainly feel better for it. Maybe you’ll hear about some of the repeat-worthy recipes in future blog posts.

Nonetheless, I made two discoveries this month about which I’m pretty excited. The first discovery bears mentioning in this post: broiling. Many living situations ago (1891 Grand and 2010 Marshall, respectively), we had old gas ovens with broiler drawers. The broiling element was under the main cooking chamber, in the spot where many ovens have kickplates. And, instead of a heated coil, the broiler utilized a flame for cooking at high temperature. We broiled steaks a fair amount when we had ovens with broilers on the bottom. Our current oven has a broiler, comprised of heated coils, at the top of the oven, and I have never seen fit to figure out how best to use it. Just this year, I learned how to comfortably broil fish without setting it on fire.

When the SD asked us to grill various dinner entrees, I decided, since we’ve already stored the grill for the winter, that I would, once and for all, master the broiler. We made a fantastic spice-rubbed flank steak this way, as well as sirloin-cherry tomato-mushroom kebabs, and maple-soy–glazed salmon fillets. The key is to turn on the oven's light and watch. If the food starts smoking and has nice browning, move the rack down a notch and finish cooking there for a few more minutes. Your broilables will still get the full advantage of high heat without being so close to the heating element as to ignite. I think I’m about ready to tackle butterflied pork tenderloin, as well as other fish varieties.

The month wasn’t a total wash, after all.

and why not?

For my birthday this year, I baked myself a cake. It just seemed the right thing to do since I have a little extra time on my hands. I also have a big, fat file folder of desserts, many of which are tempting layer cakes, but I’ve needed a good opportunity of bake one. And, what better opportunity than one’s birthday?

When faced with such an opportunity, how to begin narrowing down the choices? A few days before my birthday, I pulled out the dessert folder and looked at every single clipping, selecting those that most piqued my interest. Cheesecake-Marbled Brownies. Pumpkin-Spice Bundt Cake with Buttermilk Icing. Flourless Chocolate-Hazelnut Cake. Chocolate-Ginger Cake with Bourbon Sauce. Double Chocolate Layer Cake. Spiced-Pumpkin Cake. To name a few candidates.

Then I conducted an informal survey on my Facebook page, asking friends to cast a vote for chocolate, pumpkin spice, or red velvet. Many weighed in for red velvet; one friend suggested I make all three, which I would if I had the time or could afford the calories. In the end, the season dictated baking Spiced-Pumpkin Cake, promising warming flavors and a sweet cream-cheese frosting.

I found the recipe a year ago, in Bon Appetit, and it has waited patiently in a burgeoning file folder. Cake batters are easy to whip up, and this one was no exception. In addition to the typical cake ingredients—flour, sugar, eggs—this recipe has abundant spices, including ground ginger, allspice, nutmeg, and a full tablespoon of cinnamon. In addition to pumpkin puree, the cake gets a flavor boost from raisins and coconut. I’m sure they contributed additional moistness and a little toothsomeness, but I omitted the raisins—too sweet.

Learning: I used two cake pans, as the recipe suggested. However, there was enough batter for three pans, and I would do that next time to avoid the fat layers I had with two. Also, three layers would help to use every last bit of the delectable, bourbon-laced frosting.

It should go without saying that the house smelled amazing as the cake baked. And, I think the next time the house is feeling stuffy and smelling a little musty, I’m going to bake a cake for instant air freshening.

Happy birthday to me, indeed.

September Highlights

A few Hambone and Spice good eats from the month that straddles grill season and braising season:

lunch at Jay's Cafe: beef-carrot-potato-parsnip pasty; butter-braised cabbage; house greens


Dinner with Tracy and the Jills at 112 Eatery: My iPhone, sans flash, didn't quite capture the beauty of this grilled salmon fillet, served on Isaac Becker's pillow-soft pan-fried gnocchi, which had been tossed in an almond pesto. Stunning dish. My friends and I shared (not pictured) more pan-fried gnocchi, prawns with rooster mayo, Chinese-fried eggs, and tres leche cake, all of which are house specialties.

My first stab at a rustic tart. The sweet dough recipe I used was quite forgiving. The nectarines and Michigan blueberries were at their peak sweetness so I used very little sugar (there's a dusting of sugar/nutmeg/pulverized pecans under the fruit). Easy and fun. I look forward to making more tarts—plums beckon, as do apples and pears.

Hambone and Spice reprised all the delectable lobster feasts we savored midsummer in Maine. We invited friends Colin and Helena, and Dave and Sarah, to BYOL(obster), which we had been talking about doing for ages. In addition to fine company and delicious side dishes (coleslaw, an Alice Waters' tomato-green bean salad, corn on the cob), steaming lobsters gave me an opportunity to use Hambone's Christmas gift—a gleaming and h-u-g-e AllClad stockpot.


After company left our BYOL party, I scavenged the shells for meat, while Hambone kindly dismantled the extra lobster we had purchased. Around midnight, I heated olive oil in a stockpot, then sweated onions in the oil until translucent. Bay leaves, peppercorns, and fresh thyme sprigs went into the pot, followed by the shells from four or five lobsters. I added water to cover and brought to a boil, then placed lid on the pot, lowered the heat, and simmered for two hours. I hesistate to suggest that the movie we watched (Sunshine, with original script by Alex Garland) was part of the formula, but it did take our minds off the wait. The next night, lobster stock formed the base of a stellar lobster risotto. Would that I always had an extra lobster lying about...


I have had intentions to eat at the Harbor View Cafe, in Pepin, Wisconsin, since hearing friends and strangers, alike, rave about this restaurant. Pepin is only 90 minutes from the Twin Cities, yet, because it's achingly scenic and blissfully quiet, it seems a world away. Opportunity knocks: My mother and sister visited me last weekend and requested a day trip. We spent the better part of Sunday driving down the Mississippi on Route 35, then had a memorable dinner at the Harbor View. Pictured above is the summer cassoulet. Even though this version had no duck confit. Sacrebleu, I know! How can you have cassoulet without duck confit? Also, the cassoulet was deconstructed and looked messy. My best memories of cassoulet pivot on the way the ingredients—the beans, the garlic sausage, the duck—melt together. This is the definition of unctuous. Really! I looked the word up at m-w.com. All was forgiven the minute I ate a chunk of that lamb sausage, stuffed right in the Harbor View's kitchen by Adam. Seriously, this sausage, a near embodiment of perfection, was juicy and steamy and adroitly seasoned. New standards have been set for cassoulets consumed outside of only the most French restaurants—a bed of beans, napped in their liquor and topped by the best sausage and slow-cooked vegetables (tomatoes, onions, bell peppers). Sublime.

menu planning

I am a consummate list-maker, so it should come as no surprise that the ultimate list for me is the weekly menu. For years, I have plotted our meals in a notebook, which allows me to stay organized and ensure that groceries are completely consumed. My notebook of choice is a standard 8-1/2x11, narrow rule (I’m a Rhodia junkie). The full-size pages are ideal for a month of menus, which are entered on the right-hand side. On the left, I can make a reference list of recipes from magazines and cookbooks, as well as a record of the raw materials (farmers market haul, grains taking up space in the pantry, and so on) at my disposal.


Going through old notebooks has given me a great glimpse into our eating trends and favorite foods.

Recently, we painted a column in our kitchen with blackboard paint. I thought this would be a good place for the family to leave messages and reminders, but, as you can see, we posted lists. Comically, Hambone's last item on the "Weekend To Do" is "develop [cycling] training diet," which abuts the first item on Spice's dinner menu.


The list below the dinner menu is Alpha and Beta's "LEGO wish list." Sigh.

weekend review, september 13-14

Hambone and Spice had a spectacularly foodie weekend.

Saturday, 9/13
One of the ultimate gestures of friendship is when someone cooks a meal for you. Having your belly filled with food that was prepared with care and love is so satisfying. And, being presented with a meal allows you to see a more personal side to your friend than what you might witness if you were eating together in a restaurant.



So, on Saturday night, it was with pleasure that we let our friends Tracy and Bill cook for us. Tracy, who has a knack for assembling a great cheese plate, kicked off the pre-dinner nibbles with a few cow’s milk cheeses from Iowa (one alpine style, one cheddar), as well as a pungent blue cheese (origins unknown). Bill had recently embarked upon a canning bender, putting by the beautiful fruits from his yard and vegetables from his garden, and we enjoyed his pickled wax beans. Bill also fired up one of his many grills, a put on some olive oil, garlic, and red pepper flake–marinated shrimp on skewers. Dinner was a seemingly simple “stew” of shrimp and mussels that was powerfully delicious. The seafood and a flavorful tomato-based broth were ladled over nutty Indonesian black rice. Tracy also makes a mean vinaigrette, which dressed an elegant mixed-greens. Port and more blue cheese followed as a meal-ender.

Sunday, 9/14
On our way to Alpha’s soccer match in Woodbury, we stopped at the St. Paul Farmers Market, where, well into September, the produce continues to dazzle. Tomatoes, potatoes, zucchini, corn, melons, and greens are still around, but cauliflower, broccoli, winter squashes, and apples are making an appearance, as well. Peppers have never been a great love of mine, but the market’s green bell peppers on this morning were so vibrant, plump, and unblemished that I couldn’t refuse them.


Almost every ingredient in our evening meal—except the rice and the cheese (and the ketchup)—was local. The ground bison came from Big Woods Bison; the tomatoes, garlic, onion, green peppers, and the herbs from my patio garden—all came from the farmers market. Also, in a bit of handy kitchen recycling, I was able to use rice that was leftover from a meal earlier in the week.

Bison-Stuffed Peppers
serves four

4 medium bell peppers, top, seeds, and ribs removed
1 T. olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
1 pound ground bison
1 tsp. fresh thyme, minced
1 tsp. fresh sage, minced
1 tsp. fresh oregano, minced
2 garlic cloves, minced
salt and pepper
3 medium tomatoes, chopped and drained (reserve liquid)
1 cup rice, cooked
1/2 cup manchego cheese, grated, plus extra for tops
1/4 cup ketchup (or tomato paste)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Bring large pot of salted water to a boil.

In a large skillet, gently heat olive oil. Over medium-high heat, sauté onion until transparent, five to eight minutes. Crumble ground bison into onion, and season with thyme, sage, oregano, garlic, a tsp. salt, and 1/2 tsp. pepper. When no pink remains in the meat, approximately eight to ten minutes, add tomatoes and cook another few minutes.

Meanwhile, carefully place bell peppers in boiling salted water and submerge. Parboil peppers for three to four minutes, then remove. Drain, cut-side down, on a paper towel–lined baking sheet. When cool enough to handle, arrange peppers in a baking dish. They should fit snuggly so as not to tip and spill during baking.

Add rice to bison-onion-tomato mixture and heat through, about five minutes. Stir in cheese. Taste and adjust seasoning. Take pan off heat. Gently spoon filling into peppers. Stir ketchup into reserved tomato juice; ladle this sauce over peppers. Top with shredded cheese. Bake in oven for 30 minutes.

favorite late-summer pasta

One of my favorite ways to celebrate summer’s bounty is with this pasta. It’s about the only one-dish meal we make in the summer, opting to do most of our cooking on the grill. But now that the weather is starting to take a turn for the cooler, damper days of fall, I’m trying to eke out the best summer ingredients, especially those that we’re still able to find at the weekend farmers' market.

I first made this pasta a few years ago. My in-laws were visiting, and, much to my chagrin, I hadn’t planned our meals before their arrival. It’s not often that I am able to whip up a meal based on ingredients that are kicking around the fridge. Heck, I’m not even ashamed to admit to the foodies that I seek almost all my inspiration from the recipes I find in magazines, cookbooks, and the blogsphere. But, in this instant I didn’t have time to plug “tomatoes” and “corn” into my favorite recipe search engine to see what it would reveal.

We had been to the farmers' market earlier in the day so I had at hand fresh-picked corn on the cob, vibrantly green zucchini, and plump-ripe tomatoes. I made quick work of dicing a few of each with the intention of sautéing in olive oil and butter. As I trimmed the vegetables, I mulled how best to feature my "ragout." As a bed for quick oven-roasted fish? As a topping for slabs of grilled bread? Gently stirred into risotto? Each had so much potential, but were a bit labor-intensive for the moment. And then it came to me like so many brilliant discoveries (wink!): pasta. Fortunately I had orecchiette—a cupped shape up to the task of cradling this chunky sauce—in the pasta cabinet.

It’s a simple recipe with room for a lot of flexibility. For example, you could add or replace vegetables with comparable cooking times, such as eggplant. Bacon fat lends a rich, complexity to this pasta. Cut thick-cut smoked bacon or pancetta into lardons. After slow cooking, reserve a tablespoon or so of fat for cooking vegetables, but save the meat for finishing the pasta. Any fresh herb brightens this dish nicely.

Favorite Late-Summer Pasta
serves 4

1 lb orecchiette (or similar shape, such as conchiglie)
1 T olive oil
1 T butter
1 shallot, minced
3 ears corn on the cob, kernels removed
3 sprigs fresh thyme,
1/4 cup white wine or stock
2 medium zucchini, diced
2 large ripe tomatoes, diced
generous pinch red pepper flakes
salt and pepper
parmesan cheese

Bring a large pot of well-salted water to boil while cutting and dicing vegetables.

In a large skillet over medium-high heat, warm olive oil and butter until incorporated. Sauté shallots until translucent, about 8 minutes. Stir in corn, and season with thyme, salt, and pepper. Cook for a few minutes. Add wine or stock and cover, reducing heat, for 5 minutes. Uncover and add zucchini and a generous pinch of red pepper flakes, stirring to combine. Cook another 5 minutes. Add diced tomato and cook until they start to release their juices and break down, approximately 5 minutes.

In the meantime, pour pasta into the boiling water and cook per package directions, about 10 minutes. Reserve 1/2 cup cooking liquid. Drain.

Combine pasta and sauce, tossing to coat and thinning with pasta cooking liquid, if necessary. Serve in shallow bowls with a healthy dose of grated parmesan.

menu: august 17-23

sunday: restaurant (Spice to Grand Cafe, Hambone and boys to Sea Salt)
monday: mystic-thunder burgers, corn on the cob, green beans w/shallot-hazelnut vinaigrette
tuesday: favorite summer pasta w/bacon, corn, tomatoes, zucchini
wednesday: beer can chicken, roasted pebble-size red potatoes, tossed green salad
thursday: chicken-stuffed chili peppers (Rick Bayless, Mexico: One Plate at a Time)
friday: Sharon Jones at the Great Minnesota Get-together (possibly fair food)
saturday: camping (tbd)

Omnivore's Hundred

I found this fun diversion at Last Night's Dinner, and I couldn't resist participating. You can play, too:

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results.

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison (growing up, my parents had a freezer full)
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses (at the source, Burgundy)
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper (no gall bladder, no dice)
27. Dulce de leche (at the source, Argentina)
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar (no cigar)
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

July eats

Hambone and Spice are back from an incredible, restful, and fun vacation in Maine. On either side of that trip, we've grilled a ridiculous amount of delicious food—so much so that I haven't been able to keep up on the blog front. Better luck next month, heh? Here are some of the highlights from a fruitful July, including treats eaten on our trip.

Fusilli with Alaskan salmon, peas, and pesto cream (made from the basil growing in pots on our terrace).


House-cured gravlax that Will (brother-in-law visiting from Stockholm) and Helena (his wife) whipped up while in Maine. The leftover smoked salmon was tranformed stunningly into a pasta with peas and a cilantro-lime cream sauce.


Lobster roll with the perfect ratio of sweet meat to mayonnaise and a clam roll, at Lunts. Yes, that's a bottle of blueberry ale. When in Maine...


Four squares (clockwise from top left): roasted pebble-sized potatoes*; grilled lamb rib chops rubbed with cumin, coriander, cinnamon, allspice, s & p; Moroccan carrot salad with lemon, ginger, and spices (from Alice Waters' Art of Simple Food, which has been a staple chez H&S since it was published); grilled zucchini.

*all vegetables, courtesy of the St. Paul Farmers Market


And for dessert, cherry sorbet (from David Lebovitz's Perfect Scoop, another staple). True confession: a pit found its way, accidentally, sadly, into this batch of sorbet. My super-duper Waring blender made quick work of the stone, resulting in a minefield of a dessert. I highly recommend making a batch of this exquisite sorbet, and taking great care when the cherries are processed.

on vacation

Tomorrow morning, Hambone and Spice—and their brood—are flying to Maine for a week. We hope to have quality family time that includes seeing siblings/in-laws and cousins, as well as eating our fair share of lobsters and blueberries. As I will be without a computer while away—horrors, I know—details about my trip will have to wait until my return.

Ciao!

puttanesca penne with salmon

I’m terrible with leftovers. Generally speaking, I don’t like reheating food in a microwave. I find it always takes longer than I plan to warm food in the oven or on the stovetop so what comes to table is often cold in the middle. Granted, there are more than a few hearty one-pot wonders that make a nice lunch days after you’ve had the initial meal. Soups, stews, and thick-sauced pastas come to mind. I would never reject leftover Indian curries or Chinese take-out. These are the easy leftovers.

I hate wasting food and am loathe to throw out any that remains from a meal, which begs the questions: what, besides sandwiches, do you do with extra meat?

As I was planning the menu for the week, I took a peek into the fridge to see what raw materials I might have at my disposal. We entertained quite a bit over the previous weekend and had to creatively reorganize the fridge to accommodate extra groceries so I felt like I might have a lot of options.

The vegetable crisper was playing host to a zippered plastic bag with roughly half a pound of cooked penne. My first thought was to recreate the Bolognese sauce Anne Burrell made on her pilot Food Network show, but I haven’t actually watched the episode. Besides, when the temperature is hovering above 80 degrees, a heavy meaty pasta sauce is not what I want to eat. Grilled vegetables and pesto were briefly considered, then rejected because I couldn’t find a way to make them appealing to the junior set.

Then, I stumbled upon the container boasting nearly half a pound of grilled spice-rubbed Copper River salmon, leftover from earlier in the week. A quick internet search gave me the inspiration I needed to transform the penne and salmon leftovers into a wholly new—and delicious—dish. Inspired by a puttanesca sauce, I substituted salmon for anchovies, allowing the salmon to be warmed gently in a simmering olive-caper-garlic-laden tomato sauce.

I look forward to the occasion on which I am, again, blessed with extra salmon.

puttanesca penne with salmon
2 T. olive oil, plus a measure for finishing
3 cloves garlic, sliced
1 (15 oz.) can whole tomatoes, chopped, liquid reserved
1/3 cup kalamata olives, chopped
3 T. capers
a generous pinch of red pepper flakes
1 T. tomato paste
salt and pepper
1/2 pound cooked pasta, room temperature
1/2 pound cooked salmon, crumbled
a few fresh basil leaves, chiffonade

Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Sauté sliced garlic in the olive oil briefly, until just turning golden. Add tomatoes, olives, capers, and red pepper flakes. Turn heat down to medium and allow to simmer for five minutes, occasionally breaking up tomato pieces. Stir in the reserved tomato juice and tomato paste. Taste sauce and season with salt, if necessary. Incorporate cooked salmon into sauce, then add cooked pasta and toss to coat. Heat gently until salmon is warmed through. Plate and drizzle with good-quality olive oil. Garnish with basil ribbons.