My Cheating Heart - Easy Cassoulet

All right, I haven't always told the truth when it comes to affairs of the heart. I am a liar. And a no good cheatin' two timer. It all started with an innocent run around in Paris. Undeniably the world's most romantic city. I wandered the streets looking for love. A fashionably svelte interlude at the Hotel Crillon? Too expensive. Perhaps something more natural and affordable in the Latin Quarter - non, non...I wanted to savor this indiscretion. I was seeking the best cassoulet I could find in this overwhelmingly gorgeous city.

I walked discreetly through the 6th arrondisement avoiding Jacques Cagna's expensive flagship namesake. I craved something tawdry and cheap. Peasant food. But there she was - the bistro La Rotisserie d'en Face. Understated and elegant. I sat down shamelessly calling out my desire. The two of us. Alone. Me, with my fork, playfully amused at the bubbling earthenware dish. And every bite of that cassoulet made me want more. Rich. Warm. Smooth. Soulful. When I was done there was only one word to describe this sensational entanglement. Afterglow.

I haven't been totally honest with you. I know I have written in the past that I favor cooking techniques more than specific types of foods or cuisines as I have written about here. OK. I'll admit it. I have straight out lied to you about this and I am sorry. I actually have a favorite food. And it is cassoulet. A love affair really.

You know how in some Eastern religions, such as Hinduism, where you are reincarnated and come back in the next life as a higher form than your previous existence? I want to come back as cassoulet. But there is one little problem. And since I am coming clean about my past I'll admit I am not just a liar. I am bearing my soul right now. I'm a cheater too.

I cannot stand the process of making a traditional cassoulet. Anything that takes three days to prepare and countless hours to come out of the oven - well let's just say I'll pay someone else for that guilty pleasure. Soaking beans overnight. Breaking and re-doing the crust of the baked stew as it soaks up cooking liquid in a hot oven. It's really too much for any one person to undertake. However, I can't begin to describe the delight of a perfectly executed French cassoulet. A rich and thick garlicky base. Beans that are creamy yet firm. A touch of thyme, my all "time" favorite herb. And then there are those meats. Duck confit. Sausages. Bacon or lardon. Nestled warmly in an earthenware dish under a duvet of golden crisp breadcrumbs. Excuse me, I need a moment to myself.

All that said, I like to make "cheaters" cassoulet if I am not ordering off a menu. Not as good as the original mind you. But in a pinch it's hard to beat. Cassoulet typically uses a white bean, such as a cannellini, although I also have had excellent versions with lentils. And the meats can be whatever you enjoy. Lamb, duck breast, pancetta, or cubes of pork. I am a sucker for duck and fortunately you can find reasonably priced duck confit nowadays at gourmet supermarkets like Whole Foods. I almost always buy a duck confit and crisp it in the oven for cheaters cassoulet. It gets you close to the original with virtually no work.

And the beans. I used pre-cooked and canned cannellinis. Sure you can buy dried ones, pick them over for rocks, and soak them overnight for the traditional experience. But why do all that when the final product of this method is only marginally better? I'm just saying...

A cold evening. A warm dish of cassoulet with a glass of Cote du Rhone. Thoughts of Paris running through my mind...I'll two-time any day for a little of that action.

Recipe for Easy "Cheaters" Cassoulet

Serves 2

Ingredients

2 duck confit legs

2 sausages (Italian, Garlic, whatever you like), cut into 1/2 inch rounds

4 oz applewood smoked bacon, chopped into 1/2 inch pieces

1/2 yellow onion cut in 1/2 inch dice

2 carrots cut into 1/4 inch dice

6 garlic gloves, peeled and thinly sliced

5 sprigs of fresh thyme

5 sprigs of fresh Italian parsley

1 bay leaf

1 Tbsp tomato paste

1/2 C chopped peeled Italian tomatoes

2 14 oz cans of cooked cannellini (white kidney) beans

Dash of cayenne pepper

salt

pepper

1 1/2 C fresh bread crumbs

3 cloves garlic, minced

3 Tbsp Italian parsley, chopped

3 Tbsp butter

Method

Heat an oven to 400 degrees or 375 if using a convection oven. Butter a 13 inch earthenware dish.

In a large oven proof skillet (14 inch diameter) place duck confit legs and roast in the oven for 15 minutes until crisp. In a bowl combine chopped onion, carrot, thyme, parsley, bay leaf, and sliced garlic.

Remove skillet from oven and set duck confit legs aside. Heat skillet over medium heat. Add chopped bacon and cook until crisp, about 3 minutes. Move bacon to the side of the skillet and brown sausage on both sides about 3 to 4 minutes. Add duck confit legs back into the skillet. Add vegetables and cook until nicely carmelized and soft, about 10 minutes. Add tomato paste, chopped tomatoes and beans. Cook for 2-3 minutes over medium high heat until are ingredients are blended. Add enough water to just cover the beans and bring to a boil. Carefully remove the duck confit with tongs into the earthenware baking dish and then cover with the beans mixture. Cover with aluminum foil and place in the oven for 35 minutes.

Combine bread crumbs, minced garlic and chopped parsley in a bowl. Melt butter. Remove foil from baking dish. Season cassoulet with a dash or two of cayenne pepper, salt and ground black pepper. Cover cassoulet with breadcrumb mixture and drizzle melted butter over the top. Cook uncovered for 10 more minutes. Remove from oven and let the dish rest 2-3 minutes while your dining partners ogle over how beautiful your hot little dish is. Serve.

Recession Gourmet - Scallops with Escarole, White Beans and New Olive Oil

I am not one to make New Year's resolutions, but I am going to break that rule for 2009. The politics of change have pushed me to this. I want to challenge the general eating public to resolve to eat well this year. This country has been through a lot over the last eight years. Republicans. Democrats. Independents. No agreement on how to move forward, with one exception. It's time to eat well.

Now that we are done with all the politics of division, its time we had an honest conversation ourselves. Shouldn't we resolve to luxuriate in good meals? A lot of problems can be solved by good eating. And with a new administration arriving in Washington DC, let's all pledge to spend money on things that are important. Not roads. Or bridges. I am talking about quality ingredients.

It's time for investment we can understand. I don't mean $350 billion TARP program congress just passed because Wall Street failed us. Or the $800 billion economic stimulus plan President elect Obama wants. We are in the worst depression in a century. But that is no excuse to have poor food pass our lips. Quite frankly I don't see how we can afford not to eat well.

So here is an economic plan for you that will help you save money this year and might just save the economy. I am calling this attitude (or resolution) "Recession Gourmet". Dine out less this year and invest in some good ingredients that you can prepare yourself. Elevate good dishes into great ones through their intelligent and judicious application. Think of this as your personal culinary stimulus.

The new year also means there is new oil. And what Nuevo Olio should we invest in? Tuscany, where olive oil is as cherished as Catholicism? Perhaps. Andalucia, which anchors Spain's position as the largest producer of quality oil in the world. Maybe. The olive orchards at Les Baux en Provence. Shocking that we could actually consider something from France from just a few short years ago. But nevertheless, tempting.

All that said, I'd rather you stay closer to home. Local. I did just that over the holidays buying some beautifully fruity extra virgin olive oil from McEvoy Ranch grown in Petaluma, CA. Bold. Herbacious. Silken. Spicy. The United States now produces some of the best olive oil in the world. At $30 a bottle, it wasn't cheap. But the way it elevates a good, simple dish into something extraordinary. Well, let's just say that's good for Main Street.

For New Year's Eve, we discussed a sinful menu. Over the top really. Caviar. A Filet Mignon Roast. Lobster Ravioli. Champagne. Yet none of that seemed right in these uncertain and more frugal times (except the champagne which is a judicious expenditure to celebrate - not done as an everyday occurence).

We settled on a few fresh scallops, seasoned well and seared perfectly. And they rested upon a bed of humbly braised escarole, salty prosciutto, and meltingly comfortable, yet modest white beans. Not our typical New Year's Eve fare. Finished with some meyer lemon zest and a drizzle of high quality extra virgin olive oil turned this dish into something worthy of an inaugural dinner on the cheap. As this was the beginning of a new chapter (annually, politically and culinarily) we couldn't bring ourselves to scrimp on the champagne, so we paired the scallops with Veuve Clicquot.

A few high quality ingredients. Simply prepared. I pledge to live as a Recession Gourmet. Now that's a resolution I will take an oath to preserve and protect...

Recipe for Scallops with Escarole,
White Beans & New Olive Oil
Serves 2

Ingredients
1 head of escarole, quartered with core
15 oz can of white (cannellini) beans, rinsed
2 oz of prosciutto or applewood bacon
1 bay leaf
1/2 onion, peeled and halved
2 garlic cloves, peeled
2 cups chicken stock
4 fresh divers scallops
Salt
Pepper
4 TBSP olive oil, plus more for drizzling
1 meyer lemon

Method
Bring a pot of saled water to a boil. Fill a large bowl halfway with ice water.

Cook the escarole in the boiling wat for 3 minutes. Remove with tongs and then submerge in the in the ice water. This will stop the cooking and preserve the color. Squeeze out the excess liquid and remove the core. Cut the escarole into 2-3 inch strips and set aside.

Put the beans, prosciutto, bay leaf, onion, garlic and stock in a pot. Bring to a boil over high heat. Lower to a simmer and let cook for 20 minutes. Remove the bay leaf and onion and discard. Strain the beans, reserving about 1/2 cup if the cooking liquid. Using tongs remove the garlic and prosciutto. When cool enough to handle cut the prosciutto into 1/2 inch strips. Mash the garlic into a paste and stir into the reserved stock.

Heat the oil in a large saute pan over medium high heat. Add the escarole, season with salt and pepper, and saute for 3 minutes. Add the beans and the prosciutto and cook for one minute. Stir in the cooking liquid and cook for one more minute. Taste and add salt or pepper, if needed. Keep warm.

In a medium saute pan add 2 TBSP olive oil over medium high heat. Dry the scallops and then salt and pepper them on both sides. Cook for 2 minutes on the first side. Flip them using a spatula and cook an additional 90 seconds.

Divide the escarole and bean mixture between two plates. Place two scallops on top of each plate. Using a micro plane, zest some of the meyer lemon over the scallops. Drizzle with excellent extra virgin olive oil and serve.

The recipe was modifed from Alfred Portale's Simple Pleasures. Of all the cookbooks I have (and I have a lot) this is one of the best ever.

Hot Legged Braisin' Hussy - Osso Buco Milanese

The warm sun drenched coast along the Adriatic sea. Opting for discretion out of the spotlight of the movie star laden Italian Riviera. Lying in the sand by the Po river delta I purposefully only see between the knees and ankles. Bronzed and smooth. I'll admit it. I'm a leg man.

Marisa Miller. Eva Longoria. Sophia Loren. Long legged sensuality. Or perhaps you are thinking of something more hussy like - a woman considered brazen and immoral in her day. Someone that once defined being saucy and impudent simply by fashioning her long legs in lingerie and stillettos like the scandalous Bettie Page?

And ladies, lest we forget you. Lago di Como playboys like DiCaprio and Clooney...or perhaps a more tasteful local representation like Massimo Troisi of Il Postino fame?

I am sorry to say that none of these silverscreen players interest me. You see the weather has finally turned cold and I am now in my element. No sun, nor sand, nor beautiful people. My thoughts are consumed with my favorite cooking technique of braising.

Often I am asked by friends and anyone that can withstand the torture of my talking about my passion for cooking "What do you like to cook?" A simple question I suppose. However, as I have developed my cooking ability over time I am drawn more towards specific cooking techniques and less towards a specific food I like, because, well, I enjoy so many kinds of food. I really don't have a favorite dish. Italian. French. Indian. Latin. All of that is meaningless to me. But I love applying different cooking techniques. And to braise, well it just doesn't get any better in terms of simplicity or outcome.

Long. Slow. Hearty. A well executed braise allows tougher cuts of meat to stand out and shine like a movie star. The technique of low and slow braising excels any time you can take advantage of a cut that includes the bone. Short Ribs. Lamb Shanks. Even Coq au Vin. The flavor dimensions become so pronounced when cooking this way. Shanks of any kind are excellent for braising. The area between the knee and the ankle is full of meat that can be made moist and succulent as the animal's collagen breaks down. There is no need for stillettos to have this kind of fantasy.

The real key in any braise is to thoroughly brown the meat at a high heat in the pot which you will be completing the cooking. Two key elements are accomplished. First, the meat develops a textured crust that will hold up to the long, slow and wet process of a slow stovetop or oven braise. Second, the pot captures an overtly deep layer of flavor that will become the star player to the ultimate dish. Braised dishes usually develop a rich liquid that is served with the meat as part of its final production. A key element readers of my blog know given my very personal thoughts on being saucy.

I re-created this classic Milan style preparation, borrowing shamelessly from Mario Batali's version developed at Po, the restaurant that launched his career. In my version, I add San Marzano tomatoes to his basic tomato sauce recipe and the positively dramatic effect on the outcome of this dish cannot be overstated (or so my agent tells me)...

Also, while I can be a fan of the use of the Italian finishing garnish of gremolata (chopped raw garlic, lemon zest and parsley), I declined to use that here. I feel that the intense flavor of raw garlic is too overpowering. I simply finish with some chopped Italian parsley which provides a clean flavor against the richness of this succulent dish. Scandalous to not stay true to the classic, I know. And I am not referring to being a brazen hussy either.

Recipe for Osso Buco with Risotto Milanese

Serves 4

Ingredients

For the Tomato Sauce

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 white onion, chooped into 1/4 dice

4 garlic cloves thinly sliced

3 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme

1/2 medium carrot, finely shredded

2 28oz cans whole tomatoes crushed by hand, with juices

salt to taste

For the Osso Buco

4 veal shanks (about 1 lb each)

salt and pepper

6 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 medium carrot, chopped into 1/4 inch coins

1 small white onion, chopped into 1/2 inch dice

2 Tbsp chopped fresh thyme leaves

2 cups basic tomato sauce (see below)

2 cups chicken stock

2 cups dry white wine

1/4 cup chopped Italian Parsley

For the Risotto Milanese

3 1/2 cups chicken stock, heated in a 2 quart saucepan

1/2 cup white onion chopped into 1/4 inch dice

5 Tbsp olive oil

1 cup arborio rice

1/2 cup dry white wine

1 tsp saffron threads

salt to taste

1/2 cup grated parmasean cheese

Method

Make the Tomato Sauce

In a 3 quart sauce pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook until soft and light golden brown, about 8 minutes. Add the thyme and the carrot and cook 5 minutes more until the carrot is soft. Add the tomatoes and juice and bring to a boil, stirring often. Lower the heat and simmer for 30 minutes. Season with salt.

Make the Osso Buco*

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Season the shanks with salt and pepper. In a heavy bottom 6-8 quart casserole, heat the olive oil until just smoking. Place the shanks in the pan and brown all over. turning to get every surface browned about 12-15 minutes. Remove the shanks and set aside. Reduce the head to medium, add the carrot, onion, and thyme leaves and cook, stirring regularly, until golden brown and slightly softened, 8-10 minutes. Add the tomato sauce, chicken stock, and wine and bring to a boil. Place shanks back into the pan, making sure they are submerged at least halfway. If shanks are not covered at least halfway, add more stock. Cover the pan. Place in oven for 2 to 2 1/2 hours until meat is tender and falling off the bone. Remove the casserole from the oven and let stand 10 minutes before serving.

Make the Risotto Milanese

Heat the olive oil in a 4 quart saucepan over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and saute until soft but not brown, about 4-5 minutes. Add the arborio rice and toast for about 3-4 minutes making sure all the grains are covered with oil. Add the white wine and cook until almost dry. Ladle 1 cup of chicken stock over the rice so it is slightly covered. Cook, stirring occassionally, ensure the grains are not sticking to the bottom of the pan. It is not necessary to constantly stir risotto. Add more stock as the liquid cooks off and stir. After 10 minutes of cooking add 1 cup stock to a cup or glass with the saffron threads and then add to the risotto. Continue cooking until the rice is plump but firm about 18-20 minutes total. When done the rice should be slightly wet. Add Parmasean cheese and mix. Add salt, if needed to taste.

To Serve

Place 1 cup of cooked rice onto the center of a warmed plate or bowl and flatten it out. Place a cooked veal shank over the rice. Ladle some of the sauce over and around the shank and top with the chopped parsley. Serve.

*Adopted from Mario Batali's Simple Italian Cooking.

Meeting Thy Money’s Maker - Shepherd's Pie

In the rapid thaw of the global financial meltdown I peeked tentatively at the current state of my 401K the other day. Like virtually everyone else I know seeing one’s net worth shrink dramatically more than justifies a stiff drink. The whipsawing of the Dow on a daily basis is enough to make one’s head not just spin but fall right off. The world’s nerves are on the edge and stomachs are churning. My jaw dropped as I watched my wealth fall to the floor. All of this is so uncomfortable – it’s unsavory, isn’t it?

Normally I am a single malt scotch drinker with a penchant for expensive but worthwhile tastes of fine, hand crafted whisky. I was just out of college when my dad had taken my family on our first overseas trip to the UK. An eye opening moment in the bar of London hotel in 1991 transformed my then 23 year old view of fine sipping spirits. My father, a successful businessman, took me down to the hotel bar to have a little chat. Amidst oak walls and leather club chairs a hundred single malt scotches ranging from smoky to peaty, and salty to mineraled sea air stared at me. Laphroig. Balvenie. Balblair. Caol Ila. Oban. There was (and is) a lot of wisdom sitting in those bottles.

I was just starting my business career and I was excited by all the possibility. “The world is your oyster” he told me in that way that only a father can give prudent advice to a son. I was admiring the amber hue of one of the original small batch creations. Liquid poetry given to the world by Robert Burns' forefathers. “Just don’t forget that nothing comes easy in life and there is no such thing as easy money. You have to work hard if you want to get ahead”. And so we drank. I felt like such an adult that night.

Like a lot of people, I have worked hard but somehow it doesn’t seem right in today’s environment to sip beyond one’s means. As with so many things nowadays, we are all learning to compromise and reflect on what’s important and what’s not.

To help myself through this difficult time I recently turned to a glass of Maker’s Mark, a well made American bourbon that is less expensive (but no less impressive) than its Scottish ancestors. I took a drink to ponder all of this chaos and get a little perspective. It was easy to curse all of these arcane securities Wall Street sold us over the last 10 years that all seemed so exotic and upper crust. Credit default swaps. Common debt obligations. Hedge funds. Complicated. Wealth creating. Was this really adult? Could we really have it all? Or did we just misunderstand?

Reflecting back I think most people agree this societal movement of thinking we can have easy money has been a recipe for disaster. Just like the “millionaires” sushi roll covered in 24 karat gold leaf available in Las Vegas, or a $12,000 omelette laden with truffles, caviar and diamonds in Manhattan. Complicated and pretentious. When food becomes a statement about wealth rather than thougthful and delicious eating that is a clear sign the economy is precariously at risk of disintegrating rapidly. If you are spending money eating gold someone needs to slap you.

A taste of the bourbon reminded me that right now we are all heading for simpler times. Conversation that is meaningful with friends. Perhaps a little less focus on getting ahead and more of a concentration on helping each other get through this difficult period is in order.

Last year we had the good fortune of visiting close friends that moved back to Scotland. Residing in the truly glorious city of Edinburgh the attitude of the Scots is straightforward. A clever honesty towards others and purity of intent to live within one’s means. Their manner is a telling hallmark of a people that have survived and flourished for thousands of years. It would be an understatement to say that the Scots know how to roll with the historical punches (not to mention real ones).

My good friend Jimmy was born and raised in this amazing city and glad to be back among his family and friends he had known since childhood. An excellent cook, he makes some of the most amazing British soul food I have ever tasted.

Jimmy surprised us with a classic Shepherd’s pie for dinner on a cold Edinburgh evening. It was warm and comforting. Uncomplicated and straightforward. Simple and savory.

We sipped single malt Scotch whisky after dinner relaxing in their magical 1880’s Georgian flat - a stones throw from J.K. Rowlings house (of Harry Potter fame) and sitting at the edge of the University of Edinburgh.

Given all the financial chaos brought about by a misguided notion of success and the realities of societal fairness, I longed for that evening recently. I cooked a version of Jimmy’s Shepherd’s pie that stays true to its soul but is updated with the addition of a few tablespoons of single malt scotch to deglaze the ground lamb. I also made a parsnip potato crust that adds a sweet perspective to the classic mash topping. Parsnips are one of those unsung heroes of the vegetable world that never seem to get a fair shake. Should you like to make the classic, just leave out these additions. I used a Doublewood aged single malt from Balvenie, enjoying a glass with the pie. It is pretty unusual to drink single malt scotch with food, however I must say this pairing was fantastic and truly met the mark.

Recipe for Shepherd's Pie with Single Malt
Scotch & Parsnip Potato Crust
Serves 4

Ingredients
3/4 lb russett potatoes peeled, cut into 3" chunks

2 parsnips, peeled and cut in thirds

1 stick unsalted butter

1/2 C milk

2 T olive oil

1 T garlic minced

1 lb ground lamb

1 1/2 t worcestershire sauce

1/2 t rosemary, chopped

1/2 t thyme, chopped

4 T flour

1 carrot, finely chopped

1/2 onion, chopped

3/4 C beef stock

2 T single malt scotch or American bourbon

salt

cracked black pepper

1/4 t white pepper, ground

Method

Bring potatoes to boil in 2 quarts of water and boil for 20 minutes. Add parsnips and cook an additional 20 minutes. Drain and mash or put through a ricer. Combine with milk and 2 T of butter. Add 1 T of olive oil and season 1 t salt, 1 t white pepper. Mix well and set aside.

In a large skillet over a medium flame heat remaining 2 T butter. Add garlic and saute for 1 minute. Add ground lamb and brown for 5 minutes. Season lightly with salt and cracked black pepper. Add the worcestershire sauce, thyme and rosemary. Cook for an additional 2-3 minutes. Cover meat mixture with 2 T of flour and stir well. Cook an additional 2-3 minutes. Drain lamb on paper towels and remove any remaining fat from the skillet.

Heat an oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9 x 12 baking dish.

Return skillet to medium flame and add chopped carrots and onions. Brown for 5 minutes until soft. Cover with remaining 2 T of flour, cooking for an additional 2 minutes. Turn heat to medium high and add beef stock and single malt scotch to deglaze. Cook for 2-4 minutes until the liquid is reduced by half. Add back in lamb mixture and combine. Taste and season with additional salt and pepper if needed.

Pour lamb mixture into the buttered baking dish. Cover with the mashed potato mixture and smooth out the top. Drizzle 1 T olive oil over potato mixture and sprinkle lightly with 1/2 kosher salt.

Bake for 40 minutes and serve.

Notes

For an absolutely traditional version of this recipe you can substitute 1/4 cup white wine for the single malt scotch and you can substitute an additional 1/4 lb of potatoes for the parsnips. The recipe was adapted from the Dean and DeLuca cookbook.

French Dip - Mussels "Provencale" Style

My entire food life revolves around sauce. Dry rubs - forget it. A simple grilled piece of fish or steak? Not interested. That rich chocolate torte you made and are putting in front of me...It better have some raspberry coulis next to it or I may just get nasty.

I'm saucy and not afraid to say it.

I am not sure how this evolved. My dad and I virtually come to blows when we discuss barbeque sauce and its place on the table so it's clearly not genetic (as you can probably tell, I think it belongs, he thinks it should be banished).

On my last night in San Diego before moving up to the Bay Area, we walked over to a wonderfully casual French bistro called Bleu Boheme in Kensington. Earlier that day I had crashed the U-haul moving truck into a neighbor's car which ended up costing $2400. A few really nice dinners in Aix-en-Provence. Add to that a dead battery and an hour on the phone with a less than helpful customer service rep hadn't helped my mood. I was miffed. OK, pissed off actually (excuse my French). Working all day, my muscles were tired from lugging boxes and lifting furniture. I was exhausted mentally, physically, and economically.

Entering the restaurant brought me right back to a trip in the south of France to Provence. Warm mineral walls and light blue banquettes. The smell of lavender herbs you find in the country outside Arles. A whiff of herbal anise scented Pernod from a pastis in Nice. The troubled and lovely Edith Piaf crooning "La vie en rose" in the background. I needed liquid therapy.

I dove headfirst into a whirlpool bath glass of champagne to get my bearings. Sipping measuredly, I started to calm down a bit. Just enough to open the menu and look at the 6 choices of mussels they were serving that night. Because all of that flavor isn't in the gentle tasting bi-valve molluscs of the Mediterranean.

It was time for something with real dipping potential to satisfy my hunger and saucy worldview.

Herbs. Pernod. White Wine. Mussels steamed to perfection in this Provencale goodness. And a basket of warm, crusty French bread to soak it all up.

I made my own version of the Blue Boheme dish from that evening and took some inspiration from the fabulously talented Maria Helm Sinskey's "The Vineyard Kitchen" to come up with this version adding a generous amount of herbs, some Pernod, and my secret weapon for adding flavor to sauces - anchovies.

This came out very well and is fairly easy to make. With all that delectable sauce I could eat a truckload of these...Damned U-Haul.

Recipe for Mussels Provencale
Serves 2

1 lb black mussels (12-15 per person)
3 T olive oil
1 small shallot, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 anchovy, minced
2 tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped
4 sprigs fresh thyme
6 large basil leaves, julienned
1 pinch salt
1 C white wine
1 t Pernod liqueur*
1 T fresh Italian parsley, chopped

Scrub the mussels and debeard them. Keep them cool or refrigerated until ready to cook. In a large saucepan or Dutch oven, head the olive oil over a medium high flame. Add the shallots and cook for 3 to 4 minutes until soft. Add the garlic and cook for one more minute. Add the anchovy and cook for 1 minute. Add the tomatoes and cook for about 2 minutes until they begin to break down. Add the thyme sprigs, half of the basil, salt and wine. Bring to a boil. Add the pernod and place the mussels in the pan. Cover and cook over medium high heat for 6-7 minutes, shaking the pan 2-3 times. Take off the lid and discard any unopened mussels. Using a sloted spoon place the mussels into ceramic bowls. Remove the thyme sprigs and ladle the sauce over the mussels. Garnish with remaining fresh basil and parsley. Serve with french bread toast and white wine.

*Pernod is French made liquor that has a black licorice taste. You can substitute 3 T of chopped fennel and saute with the shallots for a similar and very tasty effect.

Recipe for Garlic & Herb French Toast
1 artisan baguette, sliced lengthwise in half
1/2 stick butter, melted
2 cloves garlic, minced
4 T fresh Italian parsley, chopped
salt
cracked black pepper

Pre-heat an oven to 325 degrees. Brush each side of the sliced bread with melted butter. Spread minced garlic and parsley over bread and season lightly with salt and pepper. Place the bread halves back together and wrap tightly in aluminum foil. Bake for 15 minutes. Slice into 2 or 3 inch portions and serve.

Sweetly Savoring Brussels

I truly adore chocolate. And every time I taste it I am brought right back to one of the best places I have indulged myself. Enveloped in the old world Belgian capital of Brussels. A city of contrast and history that diplomatically negotiates with itself over competing Dutch and French roots. Some say Brussels is the smaller cousin to Paris. Sort of its “mini-me” to the French.

Brussels (Bruxelles in French) is home to the European Union, the remarkable La Grande-Place (a UNESCO World Heritage site), and the no less intriguing and very amusing Manneken Pis...one of the world's earliest well known "small men". He pre-dated another famous smaller French gentleman by about 600 years (Napoleon). Small, but aggressive, Napoleon was a bold contender in a small package. He was permantently exiled after his loss at the Battle of Waterloo in Belgium.

Brussels is an elegant, reserved and understated younger sister to Paris. No less welcoming than the Gaulic capital, she is coy about her petite figure, regardless of her oversized affect on the world.

Belgium is known, and has been over centuries, for chocolate. While major strides have been made in the United States to better appreciate and understand this gourmet extragavance, it is the adherence of old world manufacturing techniques, made in small batches, that delivers such gastronomic delight.

Delicate. Complex. Warm. And very lively. Truly an adult taste. I might be describing a confection from Leonidas. Or a singularly monumental taste of Neuhaus. Or perhaps the quirky Belgian love of french fries and mayonaisse.

But I am not. I am describing Brussels Sprouts.

Cultivated in what is now Belgium since the 13th century, this vegetable is grown in cooler climates from autumn to spring. If you can buy them on the stock they will stay fresh for several days. Cooking the sprouts too long brings upon a bitter taste. A bit like the "Napoleon of Cabbage" (they hail from the same family roots), brussels sprouts are loaded with excellent sources of vitamin A, C and dietary fiber. An alter ego that is laughably small, yet a culinary force that must be paid attention to. Cooked correctly they are delicious and there is no need to exile them from your kitchen.

The word "vegetable" comes from the old French root “vegetābilis” and latin stem “vegetare” which means “to enliven”. A previous trip to Belgium gave us the opportunity to stay at the boutique Brussels Welcome Hotel. Upon entry of the modest exterior the place immediately transformed us from old to new, and back, with a lively display of rooms set in exotic themes from around the world. Strolling through the ancient and reserved capital, a player by design or circumstance in many of the empires over the last 10 centuries, I thought of the the clever English poet Andrew Marvel who authored “To his Coy Mistress” and wrote:

“Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide…
…My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.”

My vegetative soul has shown me that brussels sprouts, unlike gourmet chocolate, do not take themselves seriously. They’ve been around much too long to worry about their place in the world. Reserved and understated. Yet bold and enlivening when they need to be. A pleasantly coy alternative with a deceptively delicious story to tell.

Recipe for Brussels Sprouts
with Dijon Mustard Thyme Butter

Serves 4

Ingredients

1 lb brussels sprouts, halved with outer leaves removed

1/4 lb (one stick) unsalted butter, room temperature

1 T Dijon mustard

1 shallot finely chopped

1 clove garlic, minced

1 T fresh thyme leaves, chopped

salt and pepper

Method

Bring a 3 quart sauce pan of water to a boil. When boiling, add salt and then brussels sprouts. Cook for 7 to 8 minutes at a low boil.

While the brussels sprouts are cooking, make the butter by combining all the ingredients in a small bowl.

Drain the brussels sprouts and then add back into the warm saucepan. Add the mustard thyme butter, coating the sprouts well. Season with salt and cracked black pepper and serve.

This recipe was adopted from Deborah Madison's "Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone".

A Southern Renaissance – Shrimp & Grits “da Vinci” Style

Sweet and crimson. Gently curved. Such smoothness against my lips. My chin was wet as I took a taste. Being my first time this was simply too good. I felt excited and guilty all at once. An exploration of pleasure, I savored every moment. But considering where I was this really should have been forbidden. I never had tasted shrimp like this before.

Sitting along the silken white beach of Gulf Shores, Alabama in the Deep South it was hot outside as I overlooked the white capped Gulf of Mexico. I took another bite. A mouthful of red and white ecstasy. Believe me when I say that everyone was doing it and no one was talking. I was in the heart of Dixie eating one of the locals best kept secrets. Royal Reds. Deepwater shrimp caught about 40 miles offshore at a depth of 2500 feet. To catch these amazing creatures is as much an art as it is a science. Harvesting them is much more dangerous and difficult than other species and contributes to the occasional limited availability of these stunningly delicious crustaceans.

Although satiated, I couldn’t stop thinking about this indulgence. I sought out and found one of my favorite southern dishes when I got back to Montgomery, Alabama while on business in the state capital. Montgomery has a genteel, sometimes tortured and certainly evolutionary history regarding civil rights in this country. But it has moved beyond that chapter and stands proudly as a quaint and quiet state capitol wrapped around southern hospitality that is welcoming and friendly. At the Renaissance Hotel, a representation of big hotel attitude with a decidedly southern twist, I ordered shrimp and cheese grits in the main dining room. True “Low Country” food that was gussied up. And it didn’t disappoint me. Sautéed Royal Reds. A little crispy bacon. A touch of cream. A discreet hint of unadulterated spice served up right in the Bible belt. This wasn’t a light dish, but I must say I was pleasantly enlightened by it.

Centuries before the civil rights movement Leonardo da Vinci had painted the Mona Lisa for Tuscan royalty. He is now considered to be a leading figure of the Italian Renaissance. A truly gifted and evolved being, the term “genius” only partially represents his profound influence on Western culture in art, science and thinking. Although best known for his paintings, he was much more than an artist. He was also a scientist and an inventor. His risk taking for trying new things was well known and appreciated by the Italian aristocracy. I got to see some of Leonardo’s work in action at a worldwide traveling exhibition hosted by the Metreon in San Francisco last year. The exhibit showed working replicas of not only some of Leonardo’s revolutionary inventions such as suspension bridges that could be built without cables, but also the first submarine and the concept of a helicopter. Leonardo had a keen sense for looking at a problem and not allowing current methods and ways of doing things from stopping innovation. He wasn’t just an inventor, a scientist or an artist…In a matter of speaking he was a chef.

I really enjoy Southern cooking but I am always looking at new ways of innovating old favorites. I wanted to update my very personal experience with shrimp and grits into something with Southern and Italian Renaissance appeal. And Leonardo’s Italian roots provided me exactly what I needed.

I used a good quality Hawaiian Pink Shrimp for this recipe. Although I didn’t use Royal Reds here they are worth trying in this recipe, or just by themselves. You can buy them mail order from several gulf based purveyors including http://www.joepattis.com/. Not well known outside of Alabama and Florida, if you are in this part of the country they are absolutely worth trying.

Rather than using bacon I substituted pancetta for this dish and it definitely makes this an Italian invention. I also created a light sauce cooking down some garden grown Italian Roma tomatoes and adding flour to make a roux base, complemented with shrimp stock I made from the shells. It’s very easy to make a simple and subtle stock of water and shrimp shells and let that cook down for 40 minutes while you prepare everything else.

I don’t really believe in all the hysteria of not allowing the use of cheese with seafood. While I understand and appreciate the competing flavor profile against more delicate seafood I used sweeter and milder cheese elements including creamy mascarpone and a touch of fontina. I think I win the argument for this specific preparation.

And finally, while I laugh at and love the South’s aversion to vegetables unless they are fried I feel that the inclusion of cremini mushrooms, which are simply small portobellos, add a fun earthiness and texture that complement the overall dish.

I was stuck writing this post, as I have wanted to do this one for a while now. Fortunately my lovely and insightful wife Jennifer provided me some needed momentum to make the Italian connection. And one of my absolute favorite food bloggers, Claudia over at Cook eat FRET, shared some "twisted" southern inspiration from her adopted hometown of Nashville, TN to help me along as well.

Although Leonardo would probably not actually have eaten this dish, he was a noted vegetarian after all, I would gladly have this dish as my Last Supper…



Recipe for Shrimp & Grits “da Vinci” Style
Serves 2

12 good quality shrimp (with shells if you are making stock)
2 oz pancetta, chopped into ½” pieces
10 cremini mushrooms, cleaned and quartered
2 T olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
salt and pepper

For the Polenta
1 cup polenta
1 cup milk
2 cups water
Salt
4 oz Mascarpone
1 oz Fontina
4 T Parmesan
¼ cup cream

For the Shrimp and Gravy
2 T olive oil
2 garlic cloves
2 Italian Roma Tomatoes, chopped
1 TBSP flour
1 TBSP Worcestershire sauce
¼ to ½ cup shrimp stock (recipe below, or use fish stock from your grocer)
Pinch of red chile pepper
Salt and pepper to taste
Italian Parsley, chopped for garnish
Lemon Zest for garnish

Method
Turn the oven on to 250 degrees. Wash the shrimp and shell them. Dry the shrimp and refrigerate. In a saucepan add one cup of water and bring to a low boil. Add the shrimp shells and let cook down for 30 to 40 minutes. Strain the stock and set aside. You should have about ½ cup of stock.

While the stock is cooking heat a sauté pan over medium heat and add the pancetta. Cook until crispy, stirring occasionally, about 5-6 minutes. Drain pancetta on a paper towel and reserve the pan and drippings.

Using a 3 quart saucepan, place on a medium high flame and add 2 cups of water and 1 cup of milk. When the liquid boils turn the heat down to medium and slowly whisk in the polenta in a thin stream. Stir constantly. This should take about 1-2 minutes but it is worth it. Do not add the polenta all it once or it will become lumpy and the end product will not have a smooth and delicious texture Leonardo would approve of. Lower the flame to low-medium. You want a slight bubbling of the polenta mixture, more than a simmer, less than a boil. Stir every so often (but not constantly) so that the mixture does not stick to the bottom of the pan. If the mixture starts to get too thick, turn the heat down and add some milk. Cook and stir for 25 minutes.

While the polenta is cooking prepare the mushrooms. In another sauté pan over medium high heat add 2 T olive oil. When hot add the mushrooms and cook for 2-3 minutes, stirring to make sure all sides get cooked and slightly caramelized. Add salt and pepper to taste. Take off the heat and place in a warm oven along with two plates you will use for serving.

Re-heat the saucepan with pancetta drippings over a medium high flame. Salt and pepper the shrimp lightly and add to the pan. Cook for 90 seconds on each side so it is slightly caramelized. Remove shrimp from the pan and place on a plate. Add the minced garlic and cook for 30 seconds to one minute until softened. Add the chopped tomatoes to the pan and cook over high heat for 2 minutes until they begin to break down. Lower the heat and add the flour. Cook for about 1 minute. This will create a reddish blond roux (that’s a sauce base, not the name of a New Orleans hair dresser). Add the Worcestershire sauce and 1/4 cup of shrimp stock. Cook gently for about 1-2 minutes until combined and slightly thickened. If too thick, add more stock. Strain the sauce and add back into the saucepan. Add a pinch of the chile flakes to the sauce and then add the shrimp back into the pan. Turn off the heat.

Add the cheese and cream to the polenta and mix well. Taste and add more salt if needed.

Mound one cup of cooked polenta on a warm plate and spread it out slightly. Place 6 shrimp and half of the mushrooms over the polenta. Spoon the sauce on top and around the plate. Garnish with chopped parsley and grated lemon zest. Pour a glass of Pinot Grigio with this and I’ll tell you how stunning and smart you look against the backdrop of a Southern Italian sunset...