Spaghettini with nduja

I had never heard of nduja until I read this article in the New York Times. It's a soft, spreadable, spicy salami from Calabria, Italy. I'll be damned if there's a cured and/or smoked pork product that I haven't tried. So, I went to the Ferry building and bought some from Boccalone, Chris Cosentino's saulmeria that specializes in "tasty salted pig parts." It's pretty much where I belong. They had some samples of nduja on toast that were magical. This dish almost never happened because my roommate saw my nduja in the fridge and almost stole it for himself. That's how good this sh*t is.


Ingredients (serves 4)
1 lb broccoli rabe, trimmed
1 lb. dried spahettini (or sphaghetti)
1 medium onion, minced
6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
4 oz. nduja
zest of 1 lemon
juice of 1 lemon
extra virgin olive oil
toasted bread crumbs (~1/4 cup)
salt + pepper

• Bring a large pot of water to boil and salt generously. Add broccoli rabe and cook until tender, about 3 min. Transfer to ice water bath. Cut into 1/2 in pieces once cool (smaller than what I did).
  
• In a large skillet, heat 2 tbsp. olive oil over medium-high heat. Add garlic and onion, season with salt, and cook until soft, 8-10 min.
• Add nduja and stir, breaking up meat with a wooden spoon until meat falls apart.
• Add broccoli rabe, lemon zest, and stir to combine.
  
• Meanwhile, using the same boiling water used to cook the broccoli rabe, cook spaghettini until al dente, about nine minutes. Add a bit more water and/or salt if necessary.
• Mix spaghettini into the sauce. Taste and adjust seasonings with salt, pepper, olive oil, and lemon juice. Top with bread crumbs.

Recipe courtesy of Chris Cosentino, article in NYTimes

Cornetti (Italian croissant)

I am not a baker. I'm never going to bake a pie because I'm craving something sweet. I enjoy cooking much more: the sizzle of meat in a pan, honing my chef's knife and chopping vegetables, and adjusting seasoning as I go. You know, savory sh*t. When I do bake, it's really only for people's birthdays. Mostly straightforward, hard to f#*k up things like brownies, cupcakes, and pots de crème. Who doesn't like baked goods for their birthday? Somehow a roasted pork shoulder or duck confit just isn't quite as celebratory.

When Cindy Chang's birthday approached, I thought of making cornetti since she once mentioned how much she liked them. Cornetti are the Italian version of croissant and a common Italian breakfast item. They're a bit denser and sweeter than French croissant. For more reading on this, go here. It was pretty hard to find a recipe online or in any of my cookbooks. I thought I would have to beg the pastry chef at Oliveto for one. Luckily, I eventually found this site that has recipes for many Italian breads. I also found this hilarious video of a guy named JR making cornetti. JR looks more like an expert on NASCAR than Italian baking but apparently has mad cornetti-making skills.

Ingredients (makes 10 cornetti)
2 and 1/4 cups unbleached all purpose flour, plus extra for the counter
1 tsp. fine sea salt
2 tbsp. sugar
3/4 cup warm water, plus extra as needed
1 and 1/4 tsp. dry active yeast
12 tbsp (1.5 sticks) unsalted butter, chilled
2 large eggs, beaten to blend
nutella (optional)

Day 1
Cut the chilled butter into small pieces, ~2 cm cubes, and place back in the fridge. Heat some water until 100-110°F. Combine 3/4 cup of the warm water with the yeast in a bowl. Set aside for a few minutes, or until yeast is dissolved. Mix 2 cups of the flour, salt and sugar in a large bowl. Pour the yeast slurry into the dry ingredients and mix quickly until you have a scraggly looking dough. Add a bit more water if necessary to incorporate all the flour. Be careful not to overmix. Place the dough in a buttered bowl, turn to coat lightly with the bowl, and cover with plastic wrap. Refrigerate overnight.

Pour 1/4 cup flour into a bowl. Take out your chilled butter pieces and incorporate into the flour using a pastry cutter, a couple pieces at a time. Use a butter knife to help scrape pieces off the pastry cutter as you're going along. When the butter is soft but not melted, shape it into a rectangular prism, about 3" x 4", 1.5" high. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

Day 2 (the big one)
Remove the risen dough from the fridge and place it on a lightly floured counter. Use your hands to gently shape it into a cylinder, about 2 in. diameter. Cut this cylinder in half with a pizza cutter. Lightly dust a rolling pin and roll out each of the dough pieces, flattening to about 1/4 in. thick (see JR's video). Place the two pieces on top of each other to form a cross. Take the butter out of the fridge and place in the center of the cross and wrap the two flaps over. Then, flip the other two flaps over to make a square package encasing the butter. Using a rolling pin, roll out the dough into a 1/8 in.-thick rectangle. Work quickly so the butter doesn't melt. Fold in thirds, and then in half across the other direction (again, see video). Roll the dough out again. Fold the dough in the same way and then wrap the rectangle in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hr. Take the dough out of the fridge, roll out, and fold up in the same way, then refrigerate for another hour. Repeat the rolling out, folding, and refrigerating process two more times.

Remove the dough from the fridge and roll out on a lightly floured counter into a rectangle that is ~ 21 in x 7 in, and ~ 1/8 in thick. Using a pizza cutter, trim any uneven edges, bisect the dough lengthwise, and then cut Xs up and down in the dough to form 10 triangles (JR has mad technique). Roll each triangle, starting from the wide end and working towards the point. Optionally, you can place a little dab of nutella in the middle of the wide end before folding. If the point isn't staying put, brush a bit of egg wash on the shorter half of the triangle and then roll. Place the cornetti on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet, leaving a few inches in between each one. Brush with beaten egg. Place plastic wrap on top of the baking sheet and refrigerate overnight.

Day 3
Preheat oven to 350°F. Remove the cornetti from the fridge and brush with more beaten egg. Bake in the oven for 30-35 minutes, or until golden all over and crisp. Look for the point of the cornetti to just start to brown. Remove and place on a cooling rack to cool to room temperature, about 30 min - 1 hr.

Recipe from: Rustico Cooking, JR

Vichyssoise (chilled potato and leek soup)

This is not a French soup. At least, probably not. It does, however, have a fancy French name and can be found in French cookbooks. The cookbook I found it in was the Les Halles Cookbook by Anthony Bourdain. Like many fans other of food, I worship Anthony Bourdain. A few years back, I ate at Les Halles in New York, where Bourdain used to be executive chef. Soon afterward, I saw the Les Halles Cookbook at the bookstore. Having read his Kitchen Confidential, I was rightfully excited about this book. Unfortunately, it's not a great cookbook. It's a fun read but terrible to cook from, as are most cookbooks featuring scaled down restaurant recipes. There are, however, a few gems that aren't a pain in the ass to prepare at home. This is one of them.

One note about leeks. They're dirty when you buy them, even if they don't look it from the outside. After cutting off the dark green leaves, leaving just the white (and any light green) part, slice in half lengthwise, then into thin slices. Give these thin slices a good washing to remove any dirt hidden in all those layers. You don't want to serve creamy potato leek soup with dirt garnish to your guests. Use chives for garnish instead.

Be sure to go easy on the nutmeg. Its flavor intensifies after the soup chills overnight. So, add less than you think at first and adjust if necessary the next day.

Ingredients (serves 6)
4 tbsp. butter
8 leeks, white part only, cleaned and thinly sliced
2 medium Russet potatoes, peeled and cut into small cubes
4 cups light chicken stock, broth, or water (Julia Child's recommendation)
2 cups heavy cream
pinch of nutmeg
salt + pepper
handful chives, finely chopped

• In dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot, melt the butter over medium-low heat.
• Once the butter is melted, add the leeks and sweat for 5 min. This means stirring often such that they don't take on any color.
• Add the potatoes and cook for a min or two, stirring a few times. Stir in the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Add a bit more stock if necessary such that the vegetables are almost covered.
  
• Reduce to a simmer. Cook on low heat, gently simmering, for 35 min or until the leeks and potatoes are very soft.
• Allow to cool for a few minutes. Then, blend using an immersion blender or in small batches using a regular blender.
• When everything is blended, whisk in the cream and nutmeg. Season with salt and pepper.
• Return to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and continue cooking for 5 min. Thin soup out with a little additional stock or water at this point, if desired.
• Transfer the soup to a medium sized mixing bowl placed in a larger bowl filled with ice and water. Allow the soup to cool to room temp, ~30 min.
• When the soup is at room temp, cover in plastic wrap and put it in the refrigerator overnight, or until cool.
• When ready to serve, check the seasoning again and sprinkle with chives.

Recipe from: Anthony Bourdain's Les Halles Cookbook

Chicken breast with crisy prosciutto, parmesan, thyme

This post continues my long-standing man crush on Jamie Oliver. I can't help it. He's irresistible. On Jamie's Ministry of Food, he attempts to spread his gospel of cooking fresh food to the town of Rotherham, England. In the second episode, he demonstrates this dish to a group of men. One guy is an older miner who surprises himself with how much he enjoys making this dish despite having never cooked in his life. Watch the video and tell me he's not f$#king adorable, looking like a puppy who just discovered he's allowed to run around outside.

One minor problem: I rarely cook chicken breast. It's relatively pricey, easy to dry out, and often flavorless. Regardless, people love it because it's familiar, easy to cook, and unintimidating. This recipe adds "tasty" and "interesting" to that list of descriptors. The crispy prosciutto provides nice texture contrast with the tender chicken. It also helps season the chicken and keep it moist. Parmesan, thyme, and lemon zest ensure that this dish is tasty enough to avoid the ridicule of your foodie friends who turn their noses at chicken breast. Plus, if it's good enough to inspire a miner who's "built like a brick s%#t house" to cook, it's damned well good enough for me and you to try.

Ingredients (serves 2)
2 boneless skinless chicken breasts
1 lemon
6 slices prosciutto
~1 tbs. grated Parmesan
6 sprigs fresh thyme
extra virgin olive oil
salt + pepper

• Grate Parmesan. Pick thyme leaves off the stalks.
• Score the chicken breast in a diamond pattern, with cuts ~1 cm apart, 1/2 cm deep.
• Season chicken lightly with salt (the prosciutto will add plenty of saltiness) and liberally with black pepper.
• Sprinkle chicken with most of the thyme leaves, Parmesan, and grate some lemon zest.
• Lay 3 prosciutto slices on each chicken breast, overlapping them slightly.
• Drizzle a bit of olive oil and sprinkle the remaining thyme leaves.
• Put a layer of plastic wrap over each breast and pound them with a heavy pan until they are ~1/2 in thick. This will help the chicken cook more quickly and marry the flavors.
• Add olive oil to a frying pan and heat over medium high. Remove the plastic wrap and add chicken breast, prosciutto side down, to the pan. Cook for 3 min.
  
• Turn heat down to medium, flip chicken over, and cook on second side for 3 min.
• Drizzle with some olive oil and serve with lemon wedges.

I served the chicken with sauteed kale and smashed red potatoes. A simple salad or asparagus (as in the video clip) would be nice as well.

From: Jamie Oliver, Jamie's Food Revolution

Salmon tartare

Every month or so, I ravenously crave raw fish. Gotta have it. Can't live without it. At night, dream about it. I usually satisfy this hankering with sushi because it's easy to find. However, I also love the less ubiquitous crudo, ceviche, carpaccio, and tartare. If you're one of those people who dislikes fish, all seafood, only shellfish, whatever, I can't even take you seriously. I won't go on a diatribe but will just say that you're missing out.

This recipe is simple, with nothing extra to f#%k up the flavor of the fish. Try to find the best salmon possible. You could substitute dill (go easy though, tiger) or green onion (very thinly sliced) for the chives and perhaps add some finely minced jalapeño and avocado. I wouldn't add much more than that, however. This should be all about the fish rather than adding a ton of sh*t that obfuscates its flavor. Don't be an obfuscator.


Ingredients (serves 4)
8 oz. salmon fillet (skin off, pin bones removed)
~1.5 tbs. shallot, finely minced
1 lemon
chive for garnish, thinly sliced
extra virgin olive oil
baguette
kosher salt + freshly ground black pepper

• To prepare the salmon, first cut thin slices. Turn these slices on their side and cut into thin matchsticks (julienne). Then turn the julienned pieces 90 degrees and cut into small cubes (brunoise). The knife work doesn't have to be as good as your local sushi master but should be clean and neat. The better you cut the salmon the better the final texture of the tartare.
  
• Drizzle fish with olive oil, about 2 tbs. and gently mix.
  
• Add the shallot, zest of a lemon, and salt and pepper to taste. Mix some more.
  
• Cut 10 slices of baguette, ~1/2 in thick and toast in the oven at 350.
• Top each piece of bread with some of the salmon mix.
  
• Sprinkle some chives on top and squeeze a bit of lemon juice right before eating.

Inspired by Nicole Stich, delicious:days website

Black eyed peas with andouille sausage

Out of the dishes from the last two posts, the pinto beans definitely turned out the best. So, I decided to make some more beans, this time black eyed peas because a friend mentioned that his mom makes them much the same way I made the pinto beans. To make them a bit more interesting, I added ham hock, which not only provides some meat but also smokey, gelatinous goodness to flavor the broth, and andouille sausage - smoked, spicy, and delicious despite its association with Emeril. Lastly, some bay leaf and serrano for aroma and heat, respectively.

See what I did there? I took a cookbook recipe and used it as inspiration for something (slightly) different. Do I get a gold star? Once you have enough recipes under your belt, it becomes easier to think of new ideas using those familiar flavors and ingredients. Recipes should guide rather than constrain what you make. One last note. This is probably a poor weekday dinner choice unless you have enough time to eat 2-3 hours after you start cooking. If that's the case, what a life of luxury you live. Or as my mom would say, "Wow, it must nice being a prince."

Ingredients (serves 6-8)
1 smoked ham hock
1 lb. andouille sausage, cut into ~1/2 in. slices
1 medium piece fatback, ~3 oz. (optional, delectable overkill)
1 lb. black eyed peas
1 onion, diced
2 serrano chiles, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, finely diced
3 bay leaves
vegetable or canola oil
salt + pepper

• Cover beans with plenty of water and soak overnight. Drain the next day. If you forget to do this, don't fret. Just cover beans by 1 in. with water, bring to a boil, and cook for 2 min. Then, take beans off the heat, cover, and let sit for 1 hr. Drain.
  
• Add 2 tbs. oil to dutch oven and heat over medium high high until just smoking. Brown sausage on both sides, ~2-3 min per side, in batches so the pan isn't too crowded. Remove and set aside.
  
• Lower heat to medium and cook onion, garlic, and chiles for a few minutes. Stir vigorously to help pick browned bits off the bottom of the pan. Add some water to help deglaze the pan.
  
• Add sausage, ham hock, fatback, bay leaves, and beans. Cover with water. Once beans reach a boil, reduce to a simmer and cook over low heat, covered, ~1.5-2 hrs or until beans are tender. You can also cook the beans uncovered for the final hr to thicken the broth.
  
• Gently stir beans every 20-30 min.
  
• Remove ham hock, take meat off the bone and return to the pan. Remove fatback and bay leaves. Season liberally with salt with pepper.
  

Venison sliders: take me home, country roads pt. 2

Hunting deer is very popular in West Virginia. Yes, venison is the culinary name for deer meat. The name comes from the Latin venor, which means to hunt (thanks, Wikipedia!). If you like beef, you'll love venison. It's lean and almost never gamey contrary to popular belief. If you're one of those people who only eats lean beef and white chicken meat, try something f#@king new. Because venison is lean and prone to drying out, these sliders include ground pork and bacon for added fat. This isn't a strictly traditional WV recipe, but rather a pastiche of recipes I found.

Venison Sliders (serves 8)
1 lb. ground venison
1 lb. ground pork
2 slices bacon, cut in half lengthwise and then finely diced
~1 tbs. Worcestershire (~5 splashes worth)
Swiss cheese, sliced thin and cut into small 2" x 2" squares
16 dinner rolls, or small brioche buns if you're feeling bourgeois
canola oil
salt and pepper

• Add enough oil to coat a thick bottomed pan or cast iron skillet and heat over medium.
• When oil is hot but not smoking, season about 4 patties with s+p and add to pan, leaving plenty of space between each patty.
  
• Cook for ~3 min on first side. While they cook, toast your buns if you'd like.
  
• When sliders have developed a nice crust, flip over and cook for another min. Then, add a bit more s+p and cheese slices. Cover pan to melt for another 1-2 min.
  
• Once cheese has melted and the sliders are about medium, take them off the heat.
• Cook the next batch of sliders.

These didn't turn out as planned and weren't amazing. That's okay, though. You learn a lot from your mistakes in the kitchen. Also, cooking is one of my hobbies rather than a necessity for feeding my family or my day job. So, romantic notions of constantly striving for better somehow aren't flippant. You want to try new recipes, experiment with new ingredients, and step outside your comfort zone. Otherwise, you'll be making baked chicken breasts with canned cream of mushroom sauce for the rest of your life.

I would change a lot of things if I were to make this again. Because I'm not Cook's Illustrated, I won't actually try five more iterations and present the best one. What I will do is discuss what I might do differently if I give this another try. First, I would use a ratio of 3:1 or 2:1 for the amount of ground venison to ground pork. The 1:1 ratio tasted way too much like pork rather than venison. This isn't a pork burger recipe, after all; it's for motherf#%king deer burgers! I would also cut the amount of bacon down to 1 piece, and cut it into even smaller pieces using either a food processor or by finely mincing even after doing a dice. I might also skip the bacon altogether because its smokiness can overpower the venison flavor.

I also made the sliders a little too thick and forgot a cardinal rule of burger making, that (homemade) burgers will shrink towards the middle when cooking and be thicker cooked than raw. No one wants a baseball-shaped burger. So, try making them 1/2 in-3/4 in thick rather than drifting towards 1 in as I did. The picture of the raw patties were from the second batch and a better thickness than the thick slider in the finished picture. As for choice of cheese, choose a mild Swiss or Cheddar rather than an aggressive cheese more suitable for a beef hamburger. Don't try to get fancy and buy Emmental, which I did in a classic case of "when getting fancy goes wrong," or Gruyere, which was recommended to me at the Pasta Shop and an equally overpowering, poor choice.

Lastly, don't be a jackass like me and eschew humble dinner rolls for small French rolls. The correct ratio of meat to each bun should be ~1:1, for a total meat to bread ratio of 1:2. With these rolls, the ratio was more like 1:4. The bread overwhelmed the meat. Small brioche buns that aren't too thick would a good choice if you have to get bourgeois.