Poaching a whole chicken is a simple process, and the outcome is, even if one is a novice cook, always satisfying. Water, some herbs and vegetables and spices, and a bird, plus a little time, and you’re set.
I prepare a chicken in this manner perhaps once or twice a month, on average, and a week or so ago decided to add some dumplings to the mix. My grandmother, and her mother and mother-in-law, made this dish, and those meals were magical for the younger version of me, whether the kitchen and dining table were in Savannah or in the country in Collins, Georgia.
The other inspiration for the dumplings last week was Edna Lewis, a woman I wish I had known. A cake she made is one of my favorites, and her pastry-like dumplings were just as delicious.
A simple dough.
Don’t stress over the design, but if you wish, diamond shapes are a nice touch.
Hard-boiled eggs are a nice touch, and are in Lewis’ recipe, and I added spinach to the broth at the end. Kale would work, too.
Spinach and eggs, and a broth from poached chicken.
My grandmothers would have been proud.
I poached the chicken on a Wednesday, and we made tacos that night. I reduced the stock for five or six hours, and Thursday night we had chicken and dumplings.
Meatballs are among my favorite foods … to make and to eat. I often use a recipe based on one I found years ago, from Michael White. He uses lamb, and I do, too, at times. I also use pork and beef, and I’ve used veal, as well. I’ve ground my own beef and lamb, and added bacon when I want something smokier.
Last night I made meatballs with a mixture of 80 percent ground pork and 20 percent beef. And this time I used something new to me: a meatball mix, called Melly’s Homemade Meatball Mix. It was sent to me by a PR agency, and though I don’t normally cook with mixes, I gave it a go.
A meatball mix from Basking Ridge, New Jersey
I added chopped onion and some oregano to the powder — ingredients include Pecorino Romano, flour, salt, sugar, and a long list of other things, such as guar gum and oat fiber. I also had some panko bread crumbs I had toasted with olive oil a few nights before, so put those in the bowl with the meats and the rest of the ingredients: 1/4 cup chicken broth, 3 large eggs, about 1.75 pounds of meat, and the onions and oregano. I also microplaned some Parmigiano-Reggiano into the meat.
The mixture as a whole seemed a bit dry, drier than my usual method of making meatballs, so I added a touch of water, perhaps 1/4 cup. It looked and felt better, so I rolled the meat into balls and let them sit in the refrigerator for 30 minutes or so.
The meatballs are ready for the olive oil in which they would be fried.
When I was ready to cook the meatballs I poured about 1/2 a cup of olive oil in a skillet — you can use a nonstick pan if you prefer; I used a Belgique skillet I’ve had since 1994, likely the pan I’ve used most often over the years.
The Melly’s Homemade people advise one to cook the meatballs on medium heat, until they reach an internal temperature of 160F. That’s fine — you can also bake them. I, however, was making a tomato sauce, so merely browned the meatballs; they would fully cook in the sauce.
Sardinian tomatoes
For the sauce, I used a can of Posardi peeled tomatoes, grown on the island of Sardinia. They were slightly sweet, and wonderfully acidic. I chopped a small white onion, cut three garlic cloves into slivers, and heated 1/4 cup or so of olive oil in a small pan. Sauté for five minutes, until the vegetable soften, then add 1/4 cup of red wine and let cook for 5 minutes more. Next, salt and dried oregano (to taste).
Onions and sliced garlic
It’s time to add the tomatoes to the sauce; the ones I used were whole, so I gently mashed them with a wooden spoon, stirred, and let the mixture simmer for 10 minutes. I then added eight meatballs — the remainder I put into the refrigerator for another meal— covered the pan, and let them simmer for 40 minutes or so.
The tomatoes and wine joined the mix.
The meatballs bathed in the sauce for 40 minutes.
I like adding some color (other than red) to my meatball dishes, and the addition of fresh spinach is a great way to go. A few minutes before you are ready to serve, toss a handful of spinach into the pan and cover again. The heat and moisture wilt the greens, and you’re done.
Add some spinach if you wish.
How you plate the meatballs is up to you. I ate mine over farfalle, Angela enjoyed hers without the pasta. Both ways are good.
I added toasted walnuts …
I paired the meal with a 2018 red blend from Aperture Cellars (39 percent Cabernet Sauvignon, 33 percent Merlot, 22 percent Malbec, 3 percent Cabernet Franc, and 3 percent Petit Verdot).
A Sonoma red blend for the meatballs
Verdict on the Melly’s Homemade mix? I would use it again if severely pressed for time. It is in no way bad, though I found the seasoning a bit bland. It’s convenient, however, and if that appeals to you, give the product a try.
Today is National Meatball Day, a feast day of which I was ignorant until this morning, when a friend posted a photo of meatballs and spaghetti on her Facebook page and mentioned D’Amico’s Italian Market Café, a restaurant in Houston that has served more than its share of polpette over the years.
I love to eat meatballs, and I like to make them, and have done so many times, using everything from veal to pork to shrimp to beef to ground bacon (and myriad combinations thereof). They are (most of the time) easy to prepare, and they are comforting, and they make one feel good.
My usual go-to method is one I based on Michael White‘s recipe, for Sicilian lamb meatballs. It includes pine nuts and raisins and eggs, and it is delicious. I’ve made it many times, and I’ll continue to serve this meatball dish.
Meatballs in olive oil
Last night, however, the meatballs I made — was I perhaps subconsciously aware of the impending holiday?— were composed mainly of vegetable protein from Impossible Foods, to which I added some salami and, because they were an impulse purchase, something I spied near the grocer checkout, Takis Rolled Tortilla Chips (the chili pepper and lime version). I bought a small bag, ate some — most of them — and added the rest, which I crushed coarsely — to the meatball mixture, which also included Panko, an egg, some dried herbs, salt and black pepper, and a chopped onion.
The Takis did not add anything to the meatballs, and the amount of them I used was basically minuscule. However, the rest of the ingredients combined to create a great dish.
I browned the meatballs in some olive oil, then finished them in a tomato sauce I cooked up. We served them over sautéed spinach, and they were good.
A simple meal, but one that provides profound pleasure.
There are times when nothing will do but a comforting dish from the past, from one’s childhood perhaps. Sausage, cheese, eggs, and bread might be in the mix.
This morning was one of those times. A Valentine’s Day-Presidents Day weekend brunch of a rustic casserole the cool weather brought to my memory.
And the smoked paprika covered it all …
It’s what I made.
The sausage slid from its casing in a sensual manner, and it sizzled in the pan, sizzled. Dry mustard, brioche buns, smoked paprika.
At the table, it sat on a wooden trivet.
The past was complete, at least of portion of the past. It was good.
I often share images of dishes that I make, and since early March of this year, I have been posting them on Facebook under the title Lockdown Kitchen at The Brockhaus.
Almost as often, I am asked to share recipes of the dishes, something I don’t do as often as I’d like to. Well, I am going to rectify that, beginning with this piece.
For a week or so, I have been meaning to use a cauliflower I bought about 10 days ago. I like to roast the cruciferous vegetable, and I recently sautéed some florets and served them in a pasta dish. This time, however, I did something different.
With this head of cauliflower, I made a casserole, adapted from a recipe I found in the Los Angeles Times (link here). Ben Mims wrote it, and here’s how I made the dish (feel free to use separate baking gratins if you wish):
Ingredients
1 head cauliflower salt, fresh black pepper 1 pound ground beef (or lamb, pork, or a mixture of the three) 1 medium white onion, chopped 4 tablespoons Dijon mustard 2 tablespoons EVOO 1.5 cups whole milk (or preferably, 2 cups heavy cream) 3 cups cheese red chili flakes to taste (optional)
Heat oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit. Trim the head of cauliflower and separate it into bite-size florets (wash them before cooking, of course). Put one cup of water in a large skillet over medium heat, season with salt and pepper, and add florets. Cover and bring to a boil for 2-3 minutes, uncover and stir. Cook for 4 minutes more.
Place florets in large baking dish. In same skillet, sautée onion in olive oil until soft. Add onions to cauliflower in baking dish.
Using your fingers, separate beef — 80 lean/20 fat — (I’m going to use lamb next time, and pork would work as well) into small pieces — think the size of a dime — and then spread Dijon mustard over the beef. Add some some salt and pepper, and if you want to replicate my recipe, squirt a tablespoon or two of Sriracha over the mixture. You might also throw in some diced peppers (Serrano, jalapeño … or). Mix well, but do not overheat your meat. (Here is where I added the chili flakes.)
Beef, Dijon mustard, Sriracha sauce, and salt and pepper
Make meatballs. I followed Mims’ recipe and rolled walnut-size meatballs. Arrange them on top of the cauliflower florets.
I was out of cream, so I used whole milk in this step. Poured about 1.5 cups over the meatballs and cauliflower. I would have preferred cream, or at least half-and-half. However, the results were more than satisfactory using milk.
Comfort food
I had Cheddar and mozzarella on hand, so that’s what I used. Mims calls for 3 cups, and I concur. But you can add more if you wish. Never less. I grated the Cheddar over the top of the mixture, and tore the mozzarella into small pieces and distributed them evenly in the baking dish.
Put dish into the 450F oven, and bake for 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add about 2 .5 cups of Panko breadcrumbs to the oil, and stir well. Cook until toasted. Season with salt and pepper.
Remove dish from oven, spread Panko over the top of the cauliflower and meatballs in an even layer, and cook for another 10 minutes or so, until the top is browned and crisp.
Remove your dinner from the oven and allow it to sit for 5 minutes.
It is done …A Pinot Noir from the Sta. Rita Hills AVA was a great pairing.
I served this in bowls with a handful of baby arugula nestled on top. We drank a Pinot Noir (a 2017 from Alma Rosa) with it. The evening was a good one.
Wine is without question the best liquid to drink while dining. Water comes in second in this equation, of course. But wine always. Hamburgers or pizza? Try a Chianti. Rouget or scallops? Open a white Rhône blend. Or if your palate calls for something entirely different, indulge it. Drink what you like, drink what pleases you and yours, by all means.
I recently received a few bottles from Joel Gott Wines, and two of them stood out to my palate. The 2017 815 Cabernet Sauvignon and the 2017 California Chardonnay. You can find the former for around $17, and the latter for $13 or so.
The (100 percent) Cabernet Sauvignon is immediately approachable, and it’s a fruit-forward pour, full of black cherry and raspberry. Eighteen months in oak produce a wine with pronounced, defined tannins and decent acidity. I paired it with a New York Strip, and was pleased.
The Chardonnay is made with grapes from Monterey, Santa Barbara, and San Luis Obispo vineyards, and you can taste Napa and Sonoma fruit in the glass. Jasmine, citrus, and a touch of peach greet you in this easy-to-drink wine.
Both of the Gott selections are ideal for by-the-case stocking, and you can find them at a wide variety of merchants. (I’m going to sample Gott’s California Pinot Noir and Sauvignon Blanc soon.)
I have been cooking a lot lately. I mean, I cook all the time, but since the evening of March 12, I have not dined in a restaurant, so I’m in our home kitchen even more now, for reasons of which you are aware. I have not yet given this much thought, other than being reminded that our public dining spaces, be they taco stands, food halls, or Spago or Le Bernardin, are a vital part of our existence. I hope you feel the same.
Orrechiette with green peas, zucchini, and feta
In our home kitchen, I’ve stocked up on beans and pasta, firm tofu (for saag paneer and other dishes), canned tomatoes, a lot more garlic than I usually have on hand, plus cold cuts, mushrooms, tuna, and … you get the picture, and I imagine you have done similar. My attempts at procuring yeast locally failed, but a few fine people have offered to send some, and my sourdough starter is under way (thanks for the reminder, Evan Kleiman!) We are ordering from Whole Foods and Ralph’s, and tipping the delivery workers well.
I have purposefully refrained from mentioning COVID-19 here, while I work out my myriad thoughts about what the world is going through. I am glad John Prine’s condition has stabilized, but grieving for Wallace Roney and Ellis Marsalis. I will say that I am touched by the selflessness being shown by so many medical professionals and caregivers, and disgusted by the examples of idiocy demonstrated by leaders of some states — I will single out the governors of Texas, Tennessee, Florida, Georgia, and Alabama.
I am not one to visit a restaurant before it has had time to iron out the details, before back of the house and front of the house teams have gone through a good number of services.
I made an exception last week in Houston. Rosie Cannonball is the name, and I trust the executive chef there. His name is Felipe Riccio, and his approach to cooking appeals to me. (The other principals at the restaurant — David Keck, Ryan Cooper, June Rodil, and Adam Garcia — also made it easy for me to join the early-days crowd.)
Angela and I arrived for our 9 p.m. reservation, and the next two hours passed in a wonderful and delicious way. We began with burrata and charred tomatoes, which, we eventually decided, was the best dish of the evening. The tomatoes were juicy and rich, the burrata — partly melted, partly solid — was substantial and authentic, and the bread accompanying it was among the best I’ve had in Houston, the crust crisp and charred, the interior moist, hot, and almost chewy.
Charred leeks were next, and though not as satisfying as the first course — my palate was a bit confused by the flavors here, as a lemony/citrus note seemed to battle back and forth with an anchovy/briny undertone, never achieving unity, and the thickest parts of the leeks were a bit too mushy — the crisper and charred portions of the vegetable were memorable. I like the application of flame to vegetables, and this dish is something I want to try one more time.
Charred leeks, salsa verde, toasted bread crumbs, and leek powder, at Rosie Cannonball
Pizza was next; we went for simple cheese pie, because I love the source of the cheeses used here. Lira Rossa is a creamery based in Texas, run by an Italian, and everything I’ve tried from the place has been authentic and good.
As with the burrata, the dough part of this pie was superb, as was the tomato sauce, but … we needed more cheese. Simply put, the amounts of mozzarella, latteria, and caciotta were deficient (in our opinions). We did not mention this to Maggie, the woman who was taking our orders and delivering our food and wine (as I told you, Rosie Cannonball is a new restaurant, and we did not expect perfection), but when the check arrived, we were told the chef had been unhappy with the pie so was not going to charge us.
This is not your everyday mint chocolate chip ice cream, and that’s a good thing. Rosie Cannonball’s version should be on your agenda.
Desserts? We debated this decision for a few minutes, then decided on the Good Thyme Farm Mint Gelato and the Torrijas. Angela has had a long and satisfying relationship with mint chocolate chip ice cream, and she gave this version of the flavor a hearty “yes” … it was creamy and rich and made with care.
My brioche was over the top, in the best way. I have been scaling back my consumption of desserts, but was glad I made an exception here. I was served a brioche that was dense and crisp, roasted in the embers of Rosie Cannonball’s wood-burning oven, accompanied by a fine ice cream swirled with dulce de leche. It was all a success, a dish whose individual components sang together with grace
Seriously decadent: This brioche French toast with dulce de leche and milk ice cream will make you very happy.
I am in the process of dining at my favorite restaurants in Houston, an exercise designed to “bid farewell for now” to some people and places I’ll miss when Angela and I move to Los Angeles (in November), and I have saved an evening for one more visit to Rosie Cannonball. Focaccia di Recco, you will be mine.
When I lived in Paris for the second time, in 2012, I had a small apartment on rue de la Montagne-Sainte-Geneviève, on the fourth floor of a magnificent building whose main entrance was at the far end of a beautiful courtyard. My windows afforded a view of the Pantheon’s dome, the Seine was a brief stroll away, and fruits, vegetables, seafood, meats, cheese, escargots, oysters, rabbit, fowl and poultry, and so much more, were right outside, waiting for me.
My courtyard in Paris.
The courtyard cat greeted me in the morning and at night, and the young woman who lived in one of the ground-floor apartments played her cello often. I’d wave at her as I walked by her windows, strains of Elgar and Bach filling the cobblestoned space. A push of the heavy wooden courtyard door gave me entrée to the narrow sidewalk of rue de la Montagne-Sainte-Geneviève, and the wonder that is Paris.
I would often shop at the small grocery market on the ground floor of the building next door, for coffee and milk and juice and wine … and confit de canard.
Yes, four duck legs, in a cardboard box, in the grocer’s refrigerated section. Once a week or so, I made duck the main course of a meal, serving them with salad or lentils or pasta. They were not expensive, and my guests loved them.
The kitchen of my apartment was small — two electric burners and a tiny sink, plus a minuscule countertop — but in it I cooked well. I poached chicken and made gnocchi and pasta and soup and bread … and prepared the duck confit I bought in the Monoprix. It was a fine and warm kitchen.
A week or so ago, I came across some duck legs in Houston. They were from Grimaud Farms, and they looked excellent, so I knew what I would do. I would confit them.
It’s not a difficult process, and the results are — as anyone who has ever tasted confit de canard knows — more than delectable. Rich, tender, decadent, comforting, the base for any number of dishes. Give yourself 45 minutes or so to carry out the first step (I let my duck legs “cure” in the refrigerator for two days), and then 3 hours or so for the second part of the confit-ing.
The method I use is based on a recipe in The River Cottage Meat Book, by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall — if you don’t have this magnificent book, buy it today — and involves garlic, salt, shallots, thyme, bay leaves and black pepper … and duck fat.
Duck legs belong here.The duck legs are ready for the refrigerator.
Gather four large duck legs (I did eight legs on my last outing, so adjusted the amount of ingredients accordingly), 4 tablespoons kosher salt, 2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper, 4 sprigs of fresh thyme, 4 bay leaves (broken), 8 garlic cloves (crushed), 2 shallots (sliced thinly), and 3.5 pounds of duck fat.
Strew 1.5 tablespoons of the salt in the bottom of a deep Dutch oven or casserole, then scatter half of the shallots, garlic, bay leaves, and thyme over the salt. Pat dry the duck legs with a paper towel, then place them, skin-side up, in the casserole. Scatter remaining ingredients on top of the legs, then give them an ample twist of black pepper. Massage the mixture into the legs. Cover and refrigerate for 2 days.
On the second day, we confit. Heat your oven to 225F, and slowly melt the duck fat in a pan. Brush off the duck legs, making sure to remove all of the salt and other ingredients. Arrange the legs snugly in a baking dish — choose one whose sides are high enough to allow ample fat to be poured into it — and pour the melted fat over the whole (make sure that the liquid completely covers the duck). Put in the oven for 2-3 hours, or until the meat is near to falling off of the bone. Remove the dish from the oven and let it cool.
This fat is a treasure.Duck legs submerged in fat.The duck is cooked.
Once the legs have cooled, use tongs to remove them from the fat and place them in a large Mason jar (I use the locking type). Pour enough of the fat over them to cover. Seal the jar, and into the refrigerator it goes. You now have legs that will satisfy, and they will keep for months thusly preserved.
To serve, remove a leg (or two) from their container and scrape from them most of the fat. Place the legs skin-side down on a baking sheet and cook at 450F for 5 minutes. Drain off the melted fat, then return the pan to the oven with the legs, skin-side up, for 5 to 10 minutes, until they are hot and crisp. Serve any way you desire … whole legs with potatoes and a salad, legs with lentils, or remove the meat and pair with pasta, olive oil, and cheese. Or, create something that moves you.
And all that fat? Render it, filter it, and store it in your refrigerator in an airtight container. Fry potatoes in it, or use it when you next confit.
Here’s a look at some images in and around that kitchen in Paris:
A sight that makes me smile. (Photo by The Brockhaus)
I came across this box of chanterelles last week while picking up some collard greens, and could not envision doing anything other than buying the mushrooms and sautéing them that evening. They were plump and fresh and beautiful.
I like simplicity when it comes to chanterelles, and these I gently rubbed clean with a paper towel and set on the counter for an hour or two, so they would dry as much as possible. I cut the larger ones into smaller pieces, and then put a bit of butter and olive oil in a pan and turned the heat on medium-high. Into the pan (once the butter was melted) went two cloves of diced garlic, and, a few minutes later, the chanterelles.
Cleaned and sorted with care. (Photo by The Brockhaus)
The aroma was stunning, and I swirled the mushrooms around the pan, making sure to coat them with the oil and butter. They absorbed all of the liquid after 5 minutes or so, a process that I love, and then, as if by magic, gradually, the oil and butter — along with the mushrooms’ own juices — began to emerge. It is a moving sight.
I seasoned the chanterelles with salt and pepper, garnished with some parsley, and relished a dish of perfection.
Chanterelles: A bowl of one of my favorite foods. (Photo by The Brockhaus)
Angela and I began the evening in the late afternoon with cocktails outdoors. We sat overlooking the 18th hole of a golf course, enjoying our drinks — she a gin and tonic, an Old Fashioned for me — and contemplating the menu at Robard’s Steakhouse, where our table awaited us. It was Happy Hour, so a few canines lounged around us, brought to the restaurant to enjoy the doggie menu (treats made specifically for four-legged creatures) while their owners drank and dined on happy hour specials. The sun began to set, and our reservation time neared.
We began with some wine, and David Morris, the restaurant’s executive chef, greeted us. It was all pleasure from there, because one can find something for most palates on the menu here. The wine list is populated with a lot of the usual suspects, and that could be improved, but the quibbles here are minor.
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