Egg Crepes with Caramelized Leeks, Ricotta & Chives

Last weekend, Lucy and David slept out on the deck in the backyard. They didn't have a tent, or a screen porch. Just a blanket. They used the cushions from the outdoor furniture as pillows. They had stars as cover. It was a beautiful night and she fell asleep in his arms, in front of the fire. There were fire flies and the sounds crickets make from unknown, invisible places around the yard.

Edie and I slept indoors, of course. We happily hogged the whole bed, stretching out this way and that way across the bed. David wanted us to join them outside, but I'm not that kind of girl, I'm afraid. The last thing he said before I left them for the night was, "Don't worry, we'll come in if the bears try to eat us".


I realize he was joking, but I couldn't get the thought out of my head the whole night. (Thanks, David) And I also heard strange house sounds in the middle of the night and had to go to bed with my computer, running an old Top Chef episode, to keep from getting freaked out. I checked on them a few times during the night to make sure they were okay. They slept like the dead.

And in the morning, all was well. I found her there, sleeping in the morning sun.


And waking up happy.


And a little in awe of herself for having done such a cool, brave thing. That's when she started calling herself "Nature Girl".

We made egg crepes and ate them outside together, on the steps, with bare feet and plates in our laps, looking out into the woods, talking about all that might have happened around her as she slept. And we told her she was braver than her Mommy, but we all knew that. And then, I checked Nature Girl for ticks. Because that's just who I am.

YM xo
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Egg Crepes with Caramelized Leeks, Ricotta & Chives
Inspired by the "Skinny Omelete" at 101 Cook Books

For this recipe, store-bought ricotta is fine. But home-made ricotta is simple to make (the kids in Lucy's class made it and it was one of their easiest cooking challenges) and even more satisfying. And yes, you'll be able to taste the difference. In this case, the home-made is more delicate, cloud-like and supple. The texture between home-made and store bought, I think, is significant and making it from scratch is what turns this dish from a quick breakfast with the family into a special brunch worthy of a guest or two. The best ricotta recipe on the planet belongs to my friend Jennie Perillo. Don't make anyone else's.

Ingredients

3 Tablespoons of olive oil
1 Knob of butter
2 Leeks, cleaned and diced
Kosher Salt (to taste)
2 Large organic eggs
1 1/2 Tablespoons of cream
3 Tablespoons or so, chopped chives
4-6 Good-sized dollops of ricotta cheese

Preparation

You are going to need a nice big pan for this. I used cast iron, that or non-stick is definitely in order. If you have a crepe or omelet pan, use that. You want the egg to spread out across the pan and be thin, like a crepe.

In a pan, add a few drops of olive oil and a tablespoon or so of butter. Turn the heat to medium and let the butter and oil get warm. Add the leeks. Throw a little salt on them. Let them get soft and caramelized. If they start to fry, turn down the heat. It should take 10 minutes or so to get them soft and glistening.

While the leeks are cooking, crack the eggs into a bowl, add the cream and beat them together with a fork. They should be beaten well and thoroughly mixed together.

Pour a couple drops of olive oil in the pan and spread it over the bottom with a paper towel. Get the pan nice and hot over medium heat. The oil should glisten. Pour in the egg. Pick up the pan and move it around so the egg spreads out covering the entire bottom of the pan.

Wait about 30 seconds for the crepe to firm up a little. Add some of the carmelized onions in a line down the center of the crepe. Add 3/4 of your chives (saving the rest for garnish) and 3/4 of your ricotta (saving some also for garnish). Add a little sprinkle of salt. The egg is going to cook quickly, in a minute or so, so don't step away from the pan for long. Use a spatula to gently peel up the ends of the crepe. if you want to see how it's cooking, you can kind of look underneath.

When it is light brown and ready, turn off the heat (if you are using an electric stove, you might want to take it off the burner). Run the spatula under one side of the crepe, lift it up and fold it over so it's covering the leeks, cheese and chives. Do the same with the other side. Slide the spatula under the crepe, supporting the filling in the middle, and lift onto a plate.

Sprinkle a little salt onto the crepe. Garnish with leftover chives and flecks of ricotta. Serve immediately (although this tastes just fine eating it cold out of the fridge later)

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Wild Alaskan Salmon Grilled on Cedar Planks

I was invited to this food event put on by Stop & Shop and I took Edie with me because Lucy was still in school. The event was at Aqua Grill downtown and the Chef, Jeremy Marshall did a cooking demo for us. I'm going to be making his ricotta sorbet for our Fourth of July party in the country, so I'll post it here when I've made a few batches. It was lovely.

Edie sat on my lap the whole time, eating little toasts out of the basket, drinking cranberry juice out of a wine goblet and watching the demo intently, but by the end of the lunch, she was more than ready to leave. I call Edie "my co-pilot" because she's a mama's girl and she'll sit through anything as long as I'm right there. She liked the event and enjoyed the chef and all the cooking and stuck her nose up at the children's pasta they served and preferred the grown-up shrimp, but it wasn't totally her idea of a dream day.



When we went to pick-up Lucy from school, I over heard Edie telling her she saw "a chef and the chef was cooking and we ate in a fancy restaurant." There was silence. I turned and saw Lucy's whole face drop. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled out down her cheeks. She ran to me. She was sad, angry, trying to figure out exactly what she had missed.

"You went to see a chef cook without me? Why didn't you wait until I got out of school? You know I like to cook and Edie doesn't..."

She cried for a bit into my shoulder as I tried to explain things, fumbling around awkwardly for the words, and told her that when she was on vacation I would take her to see a chef demo. That she was next. That Edie just had her turn first. But still she cried. It didn't stop for a long time. It was pure hurt.


And I realized that Edie cooks with me because it's something we do together, but Lucy doesn't do it to be with me. She genuinely likes cooking. She is really interested in it. She wants to see a chef demo, go to the Fancy Food Show this week. She wants to experience cooking in a grown-up way.

And so, I'll be looking for grown-up cooking things to take her to this summer. Maybe even something at CIA. We'll see. In the meantime, we made one of Lucy's favorite foods, salmon. Or "pink fish" as she's been calling it since she was two. Since we are at the house in the country, we made it on the grill.




This meal couldn't have been more simple. Some fish grilled on cedar, a salad with spinach, tomatoes, avocado, a little salt and Asiago cheese, a lemon and olive oil dressing, and grilled vegetables with olive oil, salt, thyme and chives. And we all drank large glasses of sparkling water, just because we're fancy.


Simple. Simple. But the perfect anecdote to hurt feelings.

xo YM

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I used Wild Alaskan Sockeye Salmon for this dish. It's really all about having fresh, wild salmon because there isn't much adornment here. You really want to taste the fish. It should taste rich and wild. You can get the cedar plants at most big grocery stores, usually in the fish section. Soak the planks overnight or even an hour before you grill. They'll float in the water, so submerge them with a heavier object so they get good and soaked through. They get very burnt-looking when cooking. They'll be fine, and will not explode into flames, but if you are nervous about them catching fire you can keep a spray bottle of water next to the grill for possible dousing. A roughly one pound salmon fillet will serve 2 adults and a couple small kids.

Wild Alaskan Salmon Grilled on Cedar Planks

Ingredients

1 Pound or so, fresh, wild salmon (cut into portion-sized slices)
3/4 Teaspoon Kosher salt
2 Tablespoons Extra Virgin olive Oil
2 Tablespoons fresh thyme, finely chopped
2 Tablespoons chives, finely chopped
Juice from 2 lemons
2 grilling planks

Preparation

Get the grill nice and hot for about 10 minutes. While it's heating up, rinse your fish, pat it dry, cut into slices, and baste each piece with a little olive oil. Season with a little kosher salt. Cut a couple of lemon slices and reserve them for the top of the fish. Squeeze lemon juice right from the remaining lemon onto the fish. Sprinkle the herbs onto fish. Add a lemon slice to each one. Set them on a platter and bring them to the grill.

When the grill is hot, turn it down a bit to a medium-low heat. Put the planks right on the grill, without the fish. Let them get hot on one side, about a minute, flip them for another minute. You might have a little smoke, that is normal. Embrace it. Feel like a cave man. Put the salmon right on the hot planks, close your grill cover, and cook about 10 minutes. Don't overcook them.

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Curried Lamb Meatball Soup

So, David told me I could have a regularly updated blog and conversations with all my pals on Twitter...Or I could write a book. I didn't have time for all of it, he said. He laid down the law.

He also took it upon himself to read, out loud, a passage from Steven Pressfield's wonderful "The War of Art" It was a story about Odysseus, who had sailed the oceans of the world, only to get so close to his home of Ithaca, so close he and his sailors could see the smoke billowing out of the chimneys of their houses, so close he felt compelled to take a rest. A nap, for heaven's sake.

While he slept, a bag of adverse winds in his satchel (it's a bitch carrying around those adverse winds) was released and he was forced to slip back across every league of ocean he had ever traveled, forcing him to endure his long travels and hardships all over again.

The point: The danger is greatest when the finish line is in sight.


And this is, of course, why I was sleeping in, using the kids as an excuse not to write before they got up, over-analyzing my writing, telling myself I am no good and who would want to read a book I wrote anyway, all those evil things and more. I can really do a job on myself. The mind is a funny thing.

But I'm on track again, thanks to David and his guilt-inducing pep talks. I have the concept and body of the proposal done and am nearly finished with sample chapters. Lord have mercy. I am nearly done, but not so nearly done, if you get my drift.

For those of you who have e-mailed me, I will post the whole book proposal, at some point, so you can see what it looks like, in case you might be thinking of your own. And please if you are a writer, read Pressfield's "The War of Art" which is 165 pages of brilliance on how your mind stops you, insidiously and secretively, from creating what you are meant to create.

Until then, have this soup. Soup always makes your brain do the right things. It's been rainy here. Not cold exactly, we are in light jacket weather, but this soup fits the bill on a rainy day, warm or otherwise. Enjoy.

xo YM

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Finish the Damn Book Proposal Already Curried Lamb Meatball Soup

Ingredients

1 1/2 pounds ground lamb
2 handfuls cilantro leaves, minced
2 handfuls basil leaves, minced
Salt
Onion powder
Garlic powder
A palm full of cumin, be generous
A palm full of curry powder
1 egg
1 cup of Italian style bread crumbs
1/4 pound of bacon
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 small onion, minced
1 medium-sized zucchini, sliced into circles
2 15-ounce cans of small white beans or half a package of dry beans, cooked to make about 3 cups
Half a 28 ounce can of crushed tomatoes
1 1/2 cups of good quality chicken broth
A big handful or two of shredded spinach (or other green)
1/2 cup of Greek style plain yogurt (sour cream will work in a pinch)
A grating or two of Parmesan cheese (optional)

Preparation

Make Meatballs

Break up the ground lamb in a bowl and add half the chopped cilantro and half the chopped basil. Salt the meat to taste. Give the meat a few shakes of the onion and garlic powders. Add the cumin, the curry powder. You can also add a little of your favorite grilling seasoning, but this is optional. I happened to have a little Fennel Spice Rub sitting in the cupboard and I added a dash or two of that, but not so much it over-powered the flavors.

Mix all the spices into the meat. Add the egg. Mix in bread crumbs little by little until you have a good consistency to roll a meatball. It shouldn't be eggy, but it also shouldn't be overly dry. Start rolling the meat into tiny bite-sized balls.

While you are making the meatballs, heat your stock pot on the stove over medium heat. Add the bacon and cook until nearly crisp. Remove with a slotted spoon and let drain on a paper towel. Do not remove the bacon fat.

Turn up the heat. Add the meatballs. Let brown on at least two sides. Remove when they are a lovely crusty brown color, about a minute or two on each side, and remove to a separate plate.

Make the Soup

Turn the heat down to medium and add a good sized knob of butter to the pan. Add the garlic and onions. Sauté until translucent about 5 minutes. Add the sliced zucchini, the beans, the crushed tomatoes and the broth. Add the rest of the cilantro and basil.

Keep heat on medium. Let it get nice and hot. Add the meatballs back in, the bacon and the spinach. Let simmer for 5-7 minutes.

Ladle the soup into bowls. Serve with a dollop of yogurt or sour cream, maybe a sprinkle or two of Parmesan, if you have some, and a sprig of cilantro. Lovely.

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Flour. Lots & Lots of Flour.

I know. I know. You must be thinking when will this chick finish her book proposal? Where are the recipes? What is she thinking? Has she forgotten us, in our kitchens, longing for something to make for dinner tonight?

Oh well, I'm sure other people have that covered for you...

But I'm happy to report the proposal is nearly finished. I have a bit more to do on the sample chapters and then, an overall tweaking with David as my editor, but I do see the proverbial light and thank you for hanging in with me.

I have a great recipe for a Thai-inspired seafood curry that I whipped up this weekend, but I won't get it to you for a few days, I'm afraid. Until then, I want you to take a look at these articles, just for something to chaw on.

The first is a New York Times magazine piece by Peggy Orenstein called The Fat Trap, which does a smart job of talking about the importance of moderation in our body mass index-obsessed culture. Moderation, not fanaticism as a food culture and ethic, wow, brilliant.

Then, go here to read Foodie Angst: Are My Children Food neurotics? about foodies making their kids nuts over food. You'll be puzzled and shake your head a lot, I promise. You'll also be quite happy that's not you.

And then, when you are done reading, you can check out the photos of Lucy and Edie playing in flour this weekend. They've been chomping at the bit to get at my flour pot, always sticking their hands in when I'm not looking, and this time, I didn't want to stop them. I just wanted them to have fun, remember that food is fun, real, accessible, tangible, imperfect, messy, simple, that it can be many things to many people, that it can be many things to them.
































xo YM

PS: If you are one of the two people out there who hasn't seen Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution, do it. Then, go to his site and sign the petition to get better food for our kids in schools.

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Vietnamese Baked Banana Cake (Banh Chuoi)

Before I launch into a story, I have to say right away that this is not one of those posts with one of those humdrum, pecan-infested, dry, boring banana cakes that never taste like banana and that your Aunt Bertie makes and sends to your house in a loaf pan and you are pretty sure that its actually a brick hidden in a cake pan.

This is not your mama's banana cake. Unless your mama is Vietnamese, in which case, it might actually be her cake.

I got this recipe from one of my mothers-in-law (I have two of them, both insanely sweet). While we were visiting David's Dad and his wife Trish in Australia a few weeks ago, Trish gave me this folder with pages of Australian and Vietnamese recipes. John and Trish often vacation in Vietnam and they have become students of Vietnamese cooking and food. They are also fond of sharing their food experiences, John often sends me videos of chefs and TV personalities I don't often get to see here, like Hugh Fearnley and Bill Granger. I bring the videos to the country house, wait until the kids are climbing trees or impaling themselves on garden equipment, pour myself a Sauvignon Blanc and watch these videos eagerly.



They have been so lovely about sending me things that inspire me to cook. They, along with David's mum, are special people and a model for how in-laws should be.


Anyway, I loved this folder of recipes because Trish had pasted together a bunch of dishes she thought would interest me and she was right on the money - Passion Fruit Shortcake, Anzac Biscuits, Pavlova, Raspberry Butter Creams, all God bless her, with an emphasis on sweets.

Some were written out in long-hand, others were copied from magazines and recipe cards. It was such a lovely thoughtful present. And at the top of the first page, was a recipe for Banh Chuoi, Baked Banana Cake. I had my eye on it the minute she gave it to me.

This is what it said at the top of the recipe:

I have not yet met a Vietnamese person who has not said that this cake is their favourite or that their mother makes the best version. Be warned, you won't be able to stop at one piece, so I've made this recipe big enough for seconds...and thirds.

Well, all I can say is thank God, because David and I ate this cake out of the refrigerator for two days until we finished the whole thing. A smaller cake just would not do. And this from a guy who thinks cake might be evil. I dare you just to eat one piece. Dare. You. It's impossible.

For one thing, the cake is banana dense. And it's banana dense mostly because the recipe calls for finger bananas, but of course, I missed that and used regular bananas. It felt like too many bananas during prep, so I reduced the number. But the banana intensity was great - when you bite into a piece, any piece, what you taste isn't cake with a hint of banana flavor, it's rich, satiny, baked, melted, sugared banana mini-slices that feel almost like thick pudding in your mouth.

It is surprising at first. You are expecting cake, but what you get is completely different. But then there is the hint of sweet cake there, muted, but there. And that's what I love most about this dessert, that it is a surprise, which I think makes it the perfect cake for a brunch or garden lunch. It is familiar, plain-looking, unadorned, frosting-less, but it is unusual, and surprising and unpredictable. Something to spur a little conversation among guests.

I also think this is a kid pleaser. Any kid who loves bananas will really love this cake because the cake is, quite simply, a vehicle for baked, sugary bananas. It also is a great cake for people who don't like to bake - it doesn't have all that baking soda, baking powder, fussy measuring nonsense and it has a minimal list of easy-to-get ingredients, which is great for folks with a limited pantry.

You will notice this is not a cake for lightweights. The recipe calls for seven eggs and 2 1/4 sticks of butter. Ha! How can this cake be bad?

Try this as your curtain call after the Pork Belly Bahn Mi (from last post).

xo YM
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Vietnamese Baked Banana Cake
(Adapted from a recipe with an unknown source)

Ingredients

12 finger bananas or 8 regular bananas (fairly ripe and pliable, but not brown)
1/4 cup sugar
7 eggs
1 13 1/2 ounce can of sweetened condensed milk
2 1/4 sticks of butter (melted)
1 1/3 cup of flour

Preparation

Slice the bananas on the diagonal. You can have larger chunks if you prefer big melty bites of banana in your cake, but I did mine in thin slices, which worked well. Slice them into a bowl, add the sugar and move the bananas around until they are well-coated. Cover the bowl and set aside for 30 minutes. Don't refrigerate. Room temp is just fine.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Grease a nice big cake pan with butter.

Beat the eggs. Melt the butter. Add condensed milk and melted butter to the beaten eggs. Add the flour to the mixture and stir until thoroughly combined. Then, add the bananas, gently folding them in until they are mixed throughout the batter.

Pour the batter into the greased cake pan and bake for 50 minutes or until the cake is cooked through and turns golden brown.

Take cake out of the oven. Let it cool a bit. Turn it over onto a serving platter and stow it away in the fridge for a bout an hour. Then, it will be ready to serve.

This cake does very well stored in the fridge. We kept it there for its short life and we ate piece after piece of it standing at the fridge door. It was heavenly.

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Vietnamese Pork Belly Banh Mi

I was making dinner one night last week. Lucy kept coming in and out of the kitchen, opening the fridge door, getting stuff, closing the door, going in her bedroom. Very secretive. Then, she asked me for a whisk. Then, a bowl. Then, more rummaging through the fridge and then, a long period of quiet behind closed doors in her room.

At first, it was great because I was trying to get dinner ready and she was engrossed in doing whatever she was doing. But then I got this image in my head that she might be finger painting the walls with egg yolks or taking a bath in tomato sauce, since these are all scenarios that could easily happen (have happened)in my house.

So, I opened her door and found her cross legged on the floor of her room with a bowl, a whisk, a teaspoon, a bag of sugar and a carton of heavy cream. She was making home-made whipped cream. She was whipping it by hand. Jesus.

I was so freaked out that my five year old knew how to make whipped cream by herself - how old was I the first time I did that? - that I hopped on Twitter and started tweeting about it. And for a brief half hour, Lucy was a food star, a prodigy among 900 or so food-obsessed Tweeters. And then, I helped her whip the last of it and we ate whipped cream. On the floor. Before dinner. Rebels, all of us, with our sugary-cream faces.


I think this goes to prove - they are watching us. And where food is concerned, Lucy knows that whipped cream comes from cream and not from a can. This is good. But getting the gumption to do it, to make whipped cream itself, well, that comes from inside her. That is a part of her I love dearly. It is uniquely her. Tenacious to the end.

But this is why I've been cooking things like this Vietnamese Pork Belly Banh Mi, that I'm about to show you...


I didn't have lots of hope that Lucy and Edie would sit down at the table and snarf down this sandwich. They looked at it as if I had served them poop. But they ate noodles with some of the braising liquid poured over it and little, un-obtrusive, nearly invisible flecks of pork belly.

More importantly, they saw me cooking it. They saw the pork belly in its various stages of being. They went to the butcher shop to help me buy it. They were interested in its existence and doing parts of the cooking with me. They know a few of the spices I used to make it, even though eating it wasn't on their agenda. Just by being around different flavors and food, I'm hoping they got the message, subtly without the lecture and all that elitist food pontificating.


That said, I spend my life around people who cook and love food and do it well. It's easy for us to eschew processed food and look down on people who feed their kids at McDonald's four times a week and think that Cheetos are a healthy snack. It's a problem for sure, but the reasons behind these habits are complex, ingrained and difficult to fix. This New York Times article "The Obesity-Hunger Paradox" is a reminder that people who are hungry (food insecure, is the new term) are right down the block from us. And this, if you haven't read it before, is my brush last summer with hungry kids on the playground down the street from our apartment.


It's important that we stretch ourselves and make beautiful, over-flowing Pork Belly Banh Mi sandwiches, and teach our kids how to cook from scratch and ask for sushi over Big Macs. It's also important that we keep showing up at public schools and teaching kids to make bread and pasta and the like. I know it makes a difference, that's why I do it.

But it's also important to remember that there are bigger food issues than building $1.6 million school garden programs and just asking people to "cook real food". There are kids who just don't get enough to eat. Plain and simple. They are hungry, actually hungry. And they live right next door. And down the road. And that's really what needs to change.

xo YM
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How do you like this messy sandwich? I could barely hold it together while shooting it. David said all my sandwiches require forks and knives. I think he might be right.

If I had to do this one again I would try it with little buns. Little bites of pork belly and pickled carrots and daikon, some greens and peppers in a tiny-ish bun. Something that could circulate on a tray at a party or sit on the buffet, something you could stand and eat with a napkin while discussing the latest novel you read. These were sloppy bad boys, made with ciabatta and meant for family and people who won't mind that spicy mayo dribbles down your chin - never mind these for a romantic dinner - but they still were very nice. They were also big enough to satisfy any linebacker on the NFL.

I tried a couple of recipes. I prefer the braise with more spices than the first one I tried, so I improvised on the spot and built this on a couple of people's recipes and what I happened to have on hand at the house in the country.

Banh Mi is a great make-ahead dish. You can do almost everything days in advance and just re-heat and serve it at the last minute. If you make all the components in advance, getting everything out to the table is a 20 minute job.

A couple notes - definitely braise the pork belly a day or two before you need it for the dish. It's one of those dishes that tastes better when it's been hanging around awhile in the fridge. You should also make the pickled carrots and daikon at the same time and store in the fridge until you are ready to serve. If you can't find daikon, just pickle the carrots and call it a day. Oh and when you finish, save the braising liquid. This flavorful, fatty broth adds flavor to soups and stews. I put small quantities in quart-size zip lock bags, so I can use a little at a time with different dishes.

Vietnamese Pork Belly Banh Mi
Feeds about 6 people

Ingredients

Pork Belly
1 large leek
2 tablespoons of olive oil
3 pounds pork belly
4-5 cloves of garlic, peeled and left whole
A good hunk of ginger, peeled and thinly sliced
1 1/2 cups xiao shing wine
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup soy sauce
A pinch of peppercorns, whole
Water or stock, if you need it

Pickled Carrot & Daikon
1 large carrot, peeled and cut into matchsticks
1 pound daikon radishes, peeled and cut into matchsticks
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons plus 1/2 cup sugar
1 1/4 cups distilled white or rice vinegar

Chipotle Aioli (or Spicy Mayo)
1 tablespoon of mashed up chipotle peppers in adobo sauce from a can. (You can also use a half tablespoon of Sambal Olek, if you don't have chipotles)
1 cup mayo
A little minced cilantro
A squeeze or two from a lemon
Salt

Preparing & Making the Banh Mi
Bread (I used ciabatta, but use whatever roll or bread you like.)
Aioli
Pork Belly
Pickled Carrot & Daikon
Greens (your choice here, I used spinach because that's what I had on hand)
Rings of Peppers
Rings of Onions
a round or two of tomatoes
Cilantro, chopped

Preparation

Pork Belly

Slice the leek into rounds and saute over medium heat in a heavy bottom sauce pan until soft, about 5 minutes. When they are clear, remove them from the pan with a slotted spoon and set aside.


Meanwhile, cut the pork belly into lardons (1 inch by 1/2 inch by 1/2 inch). After you've removed the leeks, place the lardons in the pan and cook over high heat, until each side is slightly crisp and golden brown and the fat is mostly rendered, about 10 minutes. Watch that they don't turn black. You want them brown, slightly crunchy and caramelized, but not burnt. You may have to do this in batches, depending on the size of your pan.


When the lardons are done and you have them all back in the pan. Add the leeks back in. Add the garlic, ginger, wine, brown sugar, soy sauce and peppercorns. If that doesn't cover the pork, add a little water or stock. Raise the heat to boil and then turn it down to a low simmer. Cover the pot and simmer for 2 1/2 to 3 hours, until the pork is fork-tender.

Put the pot in the fridge for a day or two. You should also make the pickled carrots and daikon now and have those ready ahead of time.

Pickled Carrots and Daikon
(from the New York Times)

Place carrot and daikon in a bowl and sprinkle with salt and 2 teaspoons sugar. Knead vegetables for about 3 minutes, expelling water from them (this will keep them crisp). Stop kneading when vegetables have lost about 1/4 of their volume. Drain in a colander and rinse under cold running water, then press gently to expel extra water. Return vegetables to bowl, or transfer to a glass container for longer storage.

In a bowl, combine 1/2 cup sugar, the vinegar and 1 cup lukewarm water, and stir to dissolve sugar. Pour over vegetables. Let marinate at least 1 hour before eating, or refrigerate for up to 4 weeks. Remove vegetables from liquid before using in banh mi.

Make your Aioli

Mash up or puree the chipotle either by hand or in a little processor. Combine the chipotle purée and mayonnaise in a small bowl. Add cilantro and lemon and salt to taste. Cover with plastic wrap and store in the fridge until needed. You can make this a day or two ahead.

Preparing & Serving Banh Mi

Right before you are serving, warm up the pork on the stove top. Take out your carrots and daikon and drain the liquid from them. They don't have to be bone dry, but they shouldn't slop up the sandwich.

Spread aioli on the rolls of your choice. Pile on the warm pork belly. Add your pickled carrot & daikon, greens, peppers, onions, tomatoes, chopped cilantro, whatever you like.

You can make these sandwiches for your guests and serve them piled up on a huge tray or put all the ingredients out in small dishes and have folks make their own. Either way, you'll have very little left.

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Skin-On Asian Chicken Thighs & Escarole (Or Spinach)

I want to tell you about a secret club...

I'm not supposed to. I've been sworn to secrecy. But I can tell you. I know you won't say anything. Anyway, I have to tell you about the secret club because I feel that if I don't write it here, I won't remember, years from now. And this is something I don't want to forget.

The club is called "The Sunset Girls". There are only two members, Lucy and I. It is very exclusive. And we discriminate, against anyone who isn't us, apparently.

See, Lucy loves a sunset. In the country, one part of our deck looks out across the Shawangunks Mountains. Every night, the big glorious sun, in winter and summer, good times and bad, loses its heat, its fire, and falls behind those mountains like clockwork and sprays streams of pink, blue and violet light into nearby clouds. The clouds look like cotton candy, the whole sky a fairground, with moving, spinning mauve and purple ferris wheels and rose-colored streamers flapping through the breeze.

So, every late afternoon about the same time when we are in the country, Lucy stops me from whatever I'm doing and makes me stand with her on the deck, with her in my arms, wrapped in a soft blanket, and watch the sun breathe its last few breaths before it slides behind a peak for the next 10 hours.

She stays until the very last minute, until the last ray has crested.

And we talk about the sky and what we see in the clouds and the colors we like best. And how we like being "The Sunset Girls". And last time, as I held her in the chilly almost-night, she told me that it was only for us, that we couldn't share this with anyone else. That only we loved the sunset the most of anyone in the whole world.

And that made me feel good. "The Sunset Girls" is our thing, together.


And then, when we can't take the cold air no longer, when even the big blanket wrapped around us cannot keep us warm, we run inside and paint the sky on paper. And for some reason, whatever she draws is always more beautiful than the sky we have just watched. If that is even possible to imagine. But it is.

And then, we eat. And there is talk of the summer ahead and laying in the grass on blankets and watching the stars, naming the constellations and imagining the bigness of the world. This makes her happy.

Last week our post-sunset meal was a very simple chicken dish, one I can throw together quickly. I'd like to share it with you. It's simple, because I was much too interested in the sky to be focused on a long kitchen marathon.

And both of The Sunset Girls liked it.

xo YM
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I usually do this dish with escarole, a nice weighty leaf, but sunset night I only had spinach and that was also very nice. You can just about sub in any green and make it work. Just try not to over cook the greens. Plop them down right on the simmering chicken at the very last minute and let them get all mixed up in the sauce, but just until they wilt. This should take about 30 seconds or so. Then take them out with a slotted spoon.

The other important note for this dish is that you want to buy skin-on chicken thighs. Chicken thighs are cheap and you can feed a lot of people if you buy a big tray of them at Costco, but sometimes, unfortunately, they are sold skinned. This means that you cannot get a good, crusty sear on the outside and your dish will end up looking kind of brown and unattractive when you serve it. You need the skin to crisp up to really make this dish work.

Skin-On Asian Chicken Thighs with Spinach (Or Escarole)

Ingredients

Chicken thighs (figure two thighs for each adult. I cooked six this time)
Salt and pepper
Fish sauce 2 tablespoons
Light soy sauce 2 tablespoons
Sesame oil 1 tablespoon
1/2 teaspoon of finely chopped ginger
Garlic, 3 cloves, finely chopped
1 Big lemon, cut in halves or quarters, squeezed into marinade and rinds left to sit in marinade (reserve a wedge or two for garnish)
1 good size bunch of cilantro, finely chopped (reserve a bit of it, finely chopped, for garnish)
Wine, a splash or two (oh, make it two)
Butter, a nice big knob
Chicken broth or water, 3/4 - 1 cup as needed, while cooking
Spinach or Escarole or another green you like, a bunch will feed a family of 4 - 6
Jasmine rice (optional)

Preparation

Wash chicken thighs and pat dry with a paper towel. Season with salt and pepper. Put the thighs in a medium-size bowl and add fish sauce, soy sauce, sesame oil, ginger, garlic, lemon and a nice handful of chopped cilantro. Be generous. Cilantro is never a bad thing. I've given you measurements, but feel free to improvise. For instance, I like just a little ginger, but feel free to add more if you want a more dominating flavor.


Get the chicken all soaked up in the marinade and let it sit for 20 minutes or so. If you are going to serve with jasmine rice, you should make that now.

When you are ready to cook, heat a cast iron or regular fry pan on high until it's nice and hot, add olive oil, let that heat up for about a minute. Shake off the extra marinade from the thighs (but save the marinade for later use) and one at a time, put them in the hot pan, skin side down. You are trying to get a nice sear on the skin, so let them just sit there in the oil and fry. Try to resist picking it up to look at it, or flipping it around the pan with your fork.

Once, the skin is golden, flip the thighs over. Turn the heat down a little to a medium-ish flame. Scrape up some of the bits of meat stuck to the pan, they are very flavorful. Add the marinade liquid, wine, a knob of butter, chicken broth (or water). You may need to add more broth/water as the chicken cooks. The broth should come up to the middle of the chicken, without covering the meat. Don't let the bottom of the pan get all dry. Keep a nice steady supply of liquid just under the chicken. Season with a little salt and pepper if needed, but be careful soy sauce is pretty salty and you may not need it. Taste it first.

Cover the chicken. Cook for 10 - 15 minutes, depending on flame.

When the chicken is nearly down, grab a handful of your greens and throw them in the pan. Some will stay on top of the chicken, some will fall into the pan drippings, it's all good. Cover the pan again and let the greens steam for 30 seconds to a minute.

Uncover the pan, remove greens to a separate plate with tongs. Taste everything for seasoning. Then, plate chicken thighs, rice if you serving it. Place greens on top of rice, letting juices seep in. Serve with a drizzle of pan juices over the meat and garnish with lemon wedges and finely chopped Cilantro.

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Chinese New Year: "Sexy" Pork Dumplings

This morning we were getting ready for school and I asked Lucy if she would like to wear her "rainbow shoes" and she looked at them, and as if she was not saying something completely preposterous, said, "Yes, those...They're sexy."

Um, okay...what? Hey, you're not even five years old. You don't even know sexy. Hey, people who are 20 don't know sexy. Sexy is a lifetime, baby. Sexy is really red Victoria Secrets lingerie that makes you look like a really big maraschino cherry, four inch heels that give you corns, bikini waxes that do nothing but make you have scratch yourself at inappropriate times, and thongs that rub the inside of your ass cheeks until a rash forms. Puh-leese. You, my child, do not know sexy.

It seems that Lucy's new BFF in school, a lovely, yet inappropriately sophisticated child, has taught my daughter about "the sexy". Lucy now uses it to describe various clothing items. Those pants are not sexy. I want a sexy shirt. Your hair is sexy, Mama...okay, that one is fine.

Truth is,The BFF and Lucy really love each and call each other sister and hug each other whenever the opportunity allows. When I leave the ice skating rink after watching the kids skate and Lucy is sad, it is the BFF who wraps her arms around Lucy and comforts her as I walk away. That's the lovely side of the friendship. The BFF also likes to kiss the boys and be "sexy". Lord help me.


The BFF has also created opportunities that we have used to help Lucy, like when the girl has on two separate occasions vowed to withhold her friendship if Lucy didn't do what she wanted. The first time, Lucy caved, unhappily. So, we talked her through it. The next time, she held her ground and found out the BFF would still be her friend even if she held her ground. Wow. That was a great lesson for her to have learned in pre-k.

Took me nearly 40 years. That's my girl.


So, we have no desire to do anything but encourage Lucy to decide who she wants to be friends with, who she loves, as long as she looks out for herself. So this is a good friendship. Except for the sexy thing. That needs to end, like yesterday, before Lucy starts asking for crotchless panties and inquiring about bootie calls.

It's all starting. The way she talks to me about her day. How she tells me about the argument she had with this girl and what she did and how she feels. God, how do I have a teenager already? She goes to school and her life is an episode of Days of Our Lives. She is such a big girl.

And friendships are complicated.

xo YM

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But she is not too big for dumplings! Chinese New Year is coming up after all and Lucy and the BFF both love pork dumplings. We made these in Lucy's class with pork, shrimp and tofu fillings and we'll make vegetarian ones in Edie's class this week because her school is very politically correct about their food choices. I hate that, of course, but what are ya gonna do?

I only give you the pork filling here because, well, pork rocks and everything else pales in comparison. Don't buy the dough. It's easy to make and the kids will enjoy making it with you. It is very forgiving, so extra kneading won't bother it a bit.


"Sexy" Pork Dumplings
Adapted from recipes from Epicurious and Use Real Butter

Ingredients

Dough
2 cups all-purpose flour (you'll also need more for dusting your board)
Tap water

Pork Filling
1 (2-inch) piece peeled fresh ginger
1/2 cup light soy sauce
1 bunch scallions, thinly sliced
3/4 lb ground pork (from shoulder; not lean)

Dipping Sauce
2 parts soy sauce
1 part vinegar (red wine or black)
A few drops of sesame oil
Minced ginger (optional)
Minced scallion green (optional)

Preparation

Make the Pork Filling

Halve ginger, then finely chop 1 half and cut remaining half into very thin matchsticks (less than 1/8 inch thick).Combine 5 tablespoons soy sauce with ginger matchsticks in a small bowl.Reserve 2 tablespoons scallions for garnish, then finely chop remainder and put in a bowl along with pork, finely chopped ginger, and remaining 3 tablespoons soy sauce. Gently knead with your hands in bowl until just combined. Chill, covered, 10 minutes.

Make The Dough

The dough is easy. You can make it ahead or after you make the filling. It is two cups of flour to a half cup of water. Put flour in a bowl, add water slowly and mix everything together until it starts to ball together into a sticky clump. (This happens more quickly if you pulse it a few times in a food processor, but I went old school)


Transfer the mound onto a board or counter dusted with flour. Knead the dough, as if you were making pizza dough or bread, until it becomes firm and silky to the touch.

Then, you can set it aside in the refrigerator wrapped in cellophane or freeze the dough. I've done both and the dough is perfect. If you feel the dough is hardening quickly, you can put a damp dishtowel over whatever portions of dough you haven't starting working with yet.


But if you want to fill the dough immediately, slice the dough into four separate pieces and roll each slice into a dough into a cylinder, like a long knock wurst (1 1/4 inches). Then, slice discs off the cylinder.

Each disk will be a dumpling. Press the disk down with the palm of your hand so that it flattens into a fat little circle. This will make it easier to roll out with a rolling pin.

Next, take your rolling pin. Think of the disk as a clock, 12 at the top, 6 at the bottom. Start in the middle of the disk roll out to the edge to 12. Turn your rolling pin. Go back to the middle and roll out to 3. Turn, go back to the middle and roll out to 6, keep going until you have a think circle. The more circular it is, the easier time you'll have filling it.


As you can see, some of ours are perfect circles, others are just mushed together. Once you have the disks you are going to fill them with your pork filling.



Fill & Fold the Dumplings

There are a couple standard ways to fold the dumplings. My favorite way is a little less fussy than the conventional and little hands can do it quite easily. It also looks just like it came out of a Chinese restaurant, which is satisfying for the kids.

I could explain how I do it, but take a look at this YouTube video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6NdskgjZMgM It shows everything you need. You'll notice these people who are having a dumpling-making party (great party concept) really know how to roll out dough and fold dumplings. They are rolling out the dumplings the Chinese way. The clock method I gave you is apparently a French way. I especially like the chillin' music that accompanies. It makes me want to sleep. But in a good way.

Cook the Dumplings

Gently drop all dumplings into a 6- to 8-quart pot of boiling water, stir a little to prevent them sticking to the bottom, and cook 6 minutes. (Dumplings will float to top while cooking.) Transfer dumplings with a slotted spoon to a serving dish and sprinkle with reserved scallions and a little chopped cilantro. Serve with dipping sauce.

Make Ginger Dipping Sauce

Combine all ingredients in a bowl. You can make this ahead or on the fly as your dumplings are cooking. It's all pretty easy.

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Simple Steak. And Food Photography Gone to Hell.

So, the intent was to tell you about this simple steak I do, give you the recipe and shoot a couple pictures, so you know what the hell I'm doing.

Anyone who shoots food knows that this is a tricky affair in the best of circumstances. It is a dance of lighting and equipment and sagging, limp food and soup that looks vibrant and awesome in the pot and like little floating poop turds in the frame.

It is also about having to keep a hungry throng of people away from the food long enough to shoot it. Run out of the room long enough to grab a wide angle lens and the next thing you know, someone is snarfing down the haricots verts you painstakingly placed on a plate just the right way for the last ten minutes. And don't get me started on all the times the family has had to wait for a meal because "the light is good" and "I have to shoot this for tomorrow's post".

Last week, I actually found myself hovering over the dinner table, zooming the lens down on the kids eating and saying things like, "Okay, grab that piece of meat just like that and put it to your lips...nope, don't curl your finger like that...yep, just like that, but try not to wrinkle your nose...your nose, not your lips, no...don't laugh, please just one...oh, okay laugh, that's good, that's good...snap."


And that's when I get pictures of my daughter with food hanging out of her mouth, looking like a ferrel puppy. Sigh.


It's gotten so bad, the kids barely know how to eat without photo direction and a flurry of filler flash. They see a camera and they pose instinctively like little Pavlovian dogs. Which is why they have no problem dismantling any attempts I make at formal food photography. It is their great revenge.


So, this is one of the steak shots I got, and it's nothing special, but it's fine and it's good that it's fine because Lucy and Edie see that I am doing something that is not paying attention to them and they decide they want to be a part.

And within minutes, there are feet and body parts on my cutting board. Appendages and limbs and stinky kid feet in my picture.


And things are being moved around. Man-handled.


Shallots become noses because, well, shallots make good clown noses.


And the wine bottle was the Daddy and the tomatoes were the kids...or some crazy shit like that.


And then, they like forgot I was even in the room or that I was trying to do something IMPORTANT, they launched into an elaborate dialog between vegetable and glass container, er, I mean, "Daddy' and the Tomato "kids" It was riveting.


And then they ate the food I was going to shoot. That's nice. Didn't want to take that picture anyway.


And it's possible they were going to throw these shallots at me.


Are they humongous shallots or really small onions? I can't tell anymore.

Just eat the steak. Imagine it's awesomeness. Please.

xo YM

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Simple Steak

I served this steak with Duck Fat Tarragon Fries, which are simply french fries cooked in duck fat and salted and sprinkled with fresh tarragon after they have drained in a paper towel. Edie is a fan of the fries, so they get made regularly.

I usually use boneless short ribs for this steak recipe, but you can use any cut of good, fatty steak and get nearly the same result. It's all good.

Marinate the short ribs. I won't bother you with exact amounts, just eyeball it. Put them in a bowl, add a little olive oil, salt, pepper, thin slivers of garlic, a hand full of roughly chopped cilantro, a dash of light soy sauce, five or six shakes of fish sauce, a little sesame oil (not too much, it's potent stuff), a little squeeze of lemon and drop any left over lemon right in the bowl after squeezing. Get the ribs covered and soaking in the marinade.

Let the short ribs sit in the marinade for 20-30 minutes.

Heat a cast iron pan on high heat until it is very hot. Pick a steak out of the bowl with a fork, shake off excess marinade and put it right in the pan. It should sizzle. Do the same with the rest. Leave the steak to cook on one side until it has a nice char on it, 5 minutes. Flip the steaks over and char the other side. 5 minutes.

Turn the heat down to medium. Add the left-over marinade to the pan. Cook another 5 minutes (another 5 minutes for well), covered, and remove the steaks and put them on a platter. Let them rest for 10 minutes while you make a little gravy.

Adjust heat a little lower, so juices aren't boiling. Scrape up any little steak bits on in the pan and let them get in there with the marinade. Add a good size lump of butter to the juices, a little wine, maybe a finely chopped shallot, some capers. Taste for salt. Add herbs, if you like. Let sauce simmer a bit until meat is rested.

Serve steaks with fries and spoon gravy over both.

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