5 posts tagged “italian food”
Tonight I really earned my keep around this joint. I decided to make two of Jon's favorite dishes for dinner: Greek salad and eggplant parmigiana. I had never made either before - he always order the Greek salad at diners and the eggplant at Italian restaurants, most often the one we live two doors down from.
It's a casual Italian-American place, the sort with Frank Sinatra albums and signed celebrity photos filling the walls and "That's Amore" tumbling from the stereo. It's very popular with city councilmen and mafioso-types (a fine distinction) as well as cops, couples on dates, and its neighbors two doors to the east, us. We're even friends with the valet! They have the best lasagne there that I've ever had the pleasure of tasting. In fact it's so good that I can rarely resist ordering it. And Jon is devoted to their eggplant parm. Every few weeks we have a takeout night and watch our latest Netflix while munching on a hearty Italian salad, lasagne and eggplant. They always throw in about a loaf of bread too.
But despite my frequent sampling of it, I had never tried to make eggplant parmigiana until tonight. I turned to my trusty America's Test Kitchen cookbook, "The New Best Recipe." The chefs/food scientists at Cook's Illustrated are behind this awesome TV show and reference cookbook. Every recipe is deconstructed and taste-tested in various guises until they finally settle on the perfect recipe that satisfies their high standards of taste, texture, appearance, and ease of preparation. And the recipe for eggplant parmesan is no exception. As in all eggplant parmigiana recipes, it starts with salting the eggplant slices to sweat out excess moisture. Then the slices are dredged in a bound coating - first flour, then beaten egg, and finally a mixture of breadcrumbs and parmesan cheese. The flour gives the egg something to stick to, and the egg helps the breadcrumbs form a browned, crispy coating. You bake the coated slices on a preheated pan in a tiny bit of oil for about half an hour while you make the simple tomato sauce, and then layer the eggplant and sauce with some mozzarella and more parmesan cheese and bake for a mere 15 minutes.
Just as I was finishing the sauce, Jon's phone rang with important news: his brother Ben and his wife Jenn had just had their baby! A beautiful little girl named Julia, who is half Italian by way of her lovely mother, Jenn. When Jon had made sure everyone involved was healthy and happy, we drank a toast to Ben, Jenn and Julia, and dug in to our dinner.
The eggplant turned out rich, hearty, fresh, and very, very Italian tasting; a dish that isn't bogged down with lots of extra grease like some restaurant versions. Totally worth all the effort, despite the abundance of dirty dishes this recipe created. Jon thought so too. He closed his eyes in bliss and said I had spoiled him for our neighborhood restaurant. Maybe one day I'll make this for Julia - just as long as she brings the canolis!
The Best Eggplant Parmesan
from The New Best Recipe
Ingredients:
For the eggplant:
2 pounds globe eggplants (2 medium eggplants), cut crosswise into 1/4 inch-thick rounds
1 Tablespoon kosher salt
8 slices high-quality white sandwich bread (about 8 oz), each slice torn into quarters
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese (about 2 oz)
salt and ground black pepper
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
4 large eggs
6 Tablespoons vegetable oil
For the tomato sauce:
3 (14.5 ouce) cans diced tomatoes
2 Tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
4 medium garlic cloves, minced or pressed through a garlic press
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 cup coarsely chopped basil leaves
salt and ground black pepper
For the baked dish:
2 cups shredded whole milk or part-skim mozzarella cheese (8 oz)
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese (about 1 oz)
10 fresh basil leaves, torn, for garnish
Instructions:
For the eggplant:
Toss half of the eggplant slices and 1 1/2 teaspoons of the kosher salt in a large bowl until combined; transfer the salted eggplant to a large colander set over a bowl. Repeat with the remaining eggplant and remaining 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt, placing the second batch on top of the first. Let stand until the eggplant releases about 2 tablesppoons liquid, 30 to 45 minutes. Spread the eggplant slices on a triple thickness of paper towels; cover with another triple thickness of paper towels. Press firmly on each slice to remove as much liquid as possible, then wipe off the excess salt.
While the eggplant is draining, adjust the oven racks to the upper- and lower-middle positions, place a rimmed baking sheet on each rack, and heat the oven to 425F. Pulse the bread in a food processor to fine, even crumbs, about fifteen 1-second pulses (you should have about 4 cups). Transfer the crumbs to a pie plate and stir in the cheese, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper; set aside. Wipe out the bowl (do not wash) and set aside.
Combine the flour and 1 teaspoon pepper in a large zipper-lock bag; shake to combine. Beat the eggs in a second pie plate. Place 8 to 10 eggplant slices in the bag with the flour; seal the bag and shake to coat the slices. Remove the slices, shaking off the excess flour; dip in the eggs, letting the excess run off; and coat evenly with the bread crumb mixture. Set the breaded slices on a wire rack set over a baking sheet. Repeat with the remaining eggplant.
Remove the preheated baking sheets from the oven; add 3 tablespoons oil to each sheet, tilting to coat evenly with the oil. Place half of the breaded eggplant slices on each sheet in a single layer; bake until the eggplant is well browned and crisp, about 30 minutes, switching and rotating the baking sheets after 10 mintues, and flipping the eggplant slices with a wide spatula after 20 minutes. Do not turn off the oven.
For the sauce:
While the eggpalnt bakes, process 2 cans of the diced tomatoes in a food processor until almost smooth, about 5 seconds. Heat the olive oil, garlic, and red pepper flakes in a large heavy-bottomed saucepan over medim-high heat, stirring occasionally, until fragrant and the garlic is light golden, about 3 minutes; stir in the processed tomatoes and the remaining 1 can diced tomatoes. Bring the sauce to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened and reduced, about 15 minutes (you should have about 4 cups). Stir in the basil and season with salt and pepper to taste.
To assemble:
Spread 1 cup of the tomato sauce in the bottom of a 13 by 9-inch baking dish. Layer in half of the eggplant slices, overlapping the slices to fit; distribute 1 more cup of the sauce over the eggplant; sprinkle with half of the mozzarella. Layer in the remaining epplant and dot with 1 more cup of the sauce, leaving the majority of eggplant exposed so it will remain crisp; sprinkle with the Parmesan cheese and the remaining mozzarella. Bake until bubbling and the cheese is browned, 13 to 15 minutes. Cool 10 minutes, scatter the basil over the top and serve, passing the remainig tomato sauce at the table.
Serves 6
After my arduous (though ultimately rewarding) baking experience last Wednesday, I decided to try a dessert this week that involved stovetop cooking rather than baking.
Not one for doing things the easy way, I chose to try my hand at making a sabayon. Also called zabaglione, this Italian custard sauce was invented about 500 years ago by the Umbrian mercenary captain, Giovani Paolo Baglioni, who was known in local dialect as "Zvan Bajoun." Without going into a whole Italian history digression, I will just say that he was basically the equivalent of today's Iraqi warlords. He organized an army of mercenary soldiers and laid seige to various city-states around the country. One challenge of leading a bunch of guys who have no underlying allegiance to your cause, as they would to a national army, is that they can be easily swayed to switch sides. Zvan Bajoun knew, as Ruth Reichl did, that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. And so on the eve of a major battle, when he felt dissention brewing in the ranks, he knew a first class meal was in order. Unfortunately, his reputation had preceeded him along the route to battle, and the farmers had already fled to the fortress, destroying any food they could not carry with them. All that was left was eggs, honey, wine, and some herbs. Zvan Bajoun, in his infinite wisdom, ordered his cooks to boil it all into a big soup. "Stir it well," he cautioned them. And thus this light frothy custard was born. The soldiers were so invigorated after eating this sweet, creamy meal, that they utterly decimated the town the next day. The villagers, thinking the soldiers would be weak and tired from not having anything to eat, asked in amazement what had given them to strength to fight so hard. The soldiers simply replied, "Zvan Bajoun," and that became the name of the dish. Over the years the name evolved to zambajoun, then to zabaglione, and when it travelled up the Alps, to sabayon.
The ingredients in the dish evolved over the years as well, the eggs being streamlined to just egg yolks, the honey being changed to sugar, and the wine and herbs being replaced by Marsala. The peach sabayon recipe I found on epicurious went back to the roots of the dish a bit by using dry white wine rather than Marsala, but then leapt into the modern age of fusion cuisine by adding peach brandy to the mix. The cooking technique has also been refined from Zvan Bajoun's original recipe - instead of boiling the egg mixture, you cook it in a bain-marie - a metal bowl set over simmering water - and use an electric mixer to beat the eggs rather than just stirring.
The recipe was actually pretty easy, the only hard part was holding my mixer over the stove for 11 minutes. It wasn't hard in terms of difficulty, just in terms of my arm got frickin tired after about five minutes. I tried switching to the left hand but everything just feels wrong on the left side and I couldn't see into the bowl as well. In the end it was worth a little muscle fatigue for this creamy, fluffy dessert sauce. The peaches, macerated in balsamic vinegar and sugar, were delicious as well, though I might wait til summer to make this again and hope for some better quality fruit than what you find in the Jewel in mid-February.
Balsamic Peaches with Peach Sabayon
adapted from Gourmet magazine, via epicurious.com
Ingredients:
3 medium peaches (1 lb total), halved, pitted, and each half cut into 6 wedges
2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup sugar
4 large egg yolks
1/3 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons peach brandy
Instructions:
Gently toss peaches with vinegar and 1 tablespoon sugar, then let macerate 30 minutes.
When peaches have macerated 15 minutes, combine yolks, wine, brandy, and remaining 3 tablespoons sugar in a large metal bowl set over a saucepan of barely simmering water and beat with a handheld electric mixer at medium-high speed for 11-12 minutes, until sabayon has tripled in volume and forms a thick ribbon when beaters are lifted. Remove bowl from saucepan.
Divide peaches among 4 bowls and top with sabayon.
Serves 4
I decided to try another handmade pasta this weekend. Since I don't have a pasta machine or a rolling pin I was pretty limited in what I could make. I settled on cavatelli, a fingertip-sized, hollow pasta shape perfect for holding a meaty sauce, and you only need a bowl and your hands to make it!
The dough was actually fairly easy to make. Mix together some flour, an egg, some ricotta cheese and a little salt and let it rest for half an hour. Then I rolled it into thin ropes and cut the ropes into little beads about 1/4" square. So far so good.
The next part of the recipe was what stymied me. I have discovered that these pasta-shaping techniques are best learned by direct observation, like from your Italian grandmother. If you don't have an Italian grandmother, next best would be watching some friendly chef make them on TV. Trying to figure it out by reading someone's brief, vague and subjective description of the process is hardly even possible. But this time I was determined. Even though it was completely impossible for me to follow the directions in the recipe: "Using the inside of a cheese grater,
roll each pellet against the grater with the tip
of your finger. This creates a macaroni shaped like
a hollow football with a bumpy exterior from the
grater's indentations." Um... not only did this sound unlikely, but I couldn't find my GD small hole cheese grater. All I had was a microplaner (the best! for hard cheese) and a large hole cheddar-style grater. And then to add insult to injury, the recipe went on to say: "It
takes a little practice and a little patience but
my Aunt Mary taught all of us to do this by the
time we were 5 years old. I'm sure you'll get the
hang of it -- or find a five year old!" Yeah, thanks. I decided to try and make a conventional (non-bumpy) cavatelli shape. After much, MUCH trial and error, I devised the process detailed below:
Handmade Cavatelli
Ingredients:
2 cups flour
2 eggs
1 cup ricotta cheese, drained for a couple hours in a fine mesh sieve.
1/2 teaspoon salt
Instructions:
Mix
the flour, egg, ricotta and salt. Gradually add
more flour until you have a fairly stiff dough.
Knead the dough on a floured board until it is smooth and no longer sticky. Let it rest for 30 minutes, covered with a bowl.
Divide
the dough into eight small balls.
Roll the first ball into a thin rope (about 1/4" in diameter).
Cut the rope into 1/4" pellets and dust them lightly
with flour.
Repeat with the next ball of dough. (Do not roll out the next ball of dough until the previous one has been completely formed into cavatelli, otherwise the pellets will get a dry crust and be more difficult to shape smoothly.)
Place the finished cavatelli in a single layer on a lightly floured baking sheet.
Allow the pasta to dry for 2 hours. (While you're waiting for it to dry, you have just the right amount of time to make Mario Batali's Bolognese sauce!) You may also freeze them at this point.
To cook, bring 4 quarts of salted water to boil and drop in the cavatelli
a few at a time. Boil for approximately 6 minutes, drain and serve.
Makes 4 servings of pasta. The Bolognese sauce recipe I linked to above makes about 8 cups so there's lots extra to freeze and use later.
I used this recipe from the Brooklyn restaurant, Al di La. These were way easier to shape than the gnocchi, although at first I thought it was going to be harder.
After I drained the ricotta and squeezed the heck out of the chard until it was as dry as boiled leaves can possibly get, and mixed them together with the eggs, flour and seasonings, it was still a totally sticky mess. The recipe instructed me to "shape into 1 ounce balls, about 1 tablespoon each." I was like "Oh-Kaaaaaayyyyy...." and basically dumped a bunch of tablespoon-size sticky globs onto my floured cutting board. Malfatti indeed, I thought.
Then the next step read, "Put a teaspoon of flour into a narrow wineglass. Drop in a ball and swirl until it forms an oval." I used a tiny cordial glass inherited from my friend Juliet after our brief stint as roommates (until she was whisked off to California suddenly by the love of her life and left me with a bunch of mismatched dishes and stemware). And what do you know, it worked! After 5 seconds of swirling, the sticky globs were transformed into smooth little eggs with a powdery coating of flour. I'm told these are a bit rounder than the malfatti they serve at Al di La, but I thought they were adorable. Before I knew it, I had 42 little chard balls sitting on my baking sheet. I froze half for later and went to work on my sauce while I boiled the rest.
The sauce was just browned butter and sage (couldn't be easier - you just cook some butter until it's brown, throw in some fresh sage and cook for 30 seconds more). I finished them off with a sprinkle of grated parmesan. They tasted terrific - airy and light but still rich and yummy. A scrumptious first course, followed by roasted chicken and salad.
Last Saturday we went to visit Jorie and her husband Mike. Last year we visited them on the first week of NFL playoffs and the boys spent 48 hours in front of the TV. Jon had such a blissful time (in spite of the last 3 hours, where the Bears fell to Carolina in their first post season appearance in four years) that he decreed it was now a family tradition for us to go to Springfield to watch the playoffs.
Our visit happened to coincide with Jorie's parents' (my Aunt Wendy and Uncle Bob) visit to Springfield to celebrate their 33rd wedding anniversary. Since they hadn't made any reservations, Jorie and I decided to treat them to a fancy six-course Italian meal. We came up with this menu:
sparkling cranberry mocktails
dates stuffed with toasted almonds
toasted italian bread with truffled pate de foie gras
salad of beets and baby greens in a white balsamic vinaigrette
sweet potato gnocchi with rosemary gorgonzola cream sauce
stuffed chicken breasts with mixed mushrooms and shallots
espresso
vanilla ice cream with raspberry sauce and fresh blackberries
We started out with the gnocchi. We were inspired by a dish at Phlair, a now-defunct Chicago restaurant that Jorie and I used to frequent back in our Bucktown days - sweet potato gnocchi in a gorgonzola cream sauce with walnuts and raisins. It was divine but there was only one problem: Jorie's husband is a known raisin-hater. So we decided to 86 the raisins and swap out the walnuts for a rosemary infusion suggested by her Williams-Sonoma pasta cookbook.
Recipe looked simple enough. Bake some potatoes (we used half sweet potatoes, half white potatoes). Mash the potatoes - still easy (even though it turned out Jorie of all people did not own a potato masher or ricer - but forks worked fine). Combine with a couple of beaten eggs and some flour. Check. Next step - take a tennis ball-sized piece of dough and roll it into a rope 3/4" in diameter. Cut the rope into 2cm segments. Check, check.
Then we got to the difficult part. The part of the recipe I never can master. "Roll the gnocchi along the tines of a fork to indent." First of all I could not get them to roll. The best I could manage was to slide them along the fork. But that didn't do much in the way of indentation. Then I tried sliding them with a little more pressure. But that just resulted in a smooshed blob with fork prints in it. We finally settled on a technique of smooshing the gnocchi with the fork tines and then pinching it back into shape. You know, the old Smoosh and Pinch method. Two Jewish girls' take on Italian cuisine. (Though Italian grandmas are known for doing their share of smooshing and pinching too, so maybe we weren't that far off!)
And then... THEN... the most brilliant moment of our day: we stacked all our gnocchi in a tupperware container and set it aside until we were ready to cook the pasta.
That's right, we piled a bunch of small, arduously shaped pieces of mooshy dough in a plastic container, snapped a lid on top, and let the whole thing sit out on the warm counter for the next couple of hours.
We went about preparing the chicken, the salad, the hors d'oeuvres. Bob and Wendy arrived and everyone was happily snacking on the starters and drinking their fizzy cranberries. The chicken was baking, the gorgonzola was melting in the cream, the water reached it's boiling peak, and I opened the tupperware to put in the gnocchi to boil... and guess what?
You'll never believe it.
The warm, soft gnocchi, all piled together, had coalesced back into one big ball of dough! GASP!!
Thank goodness we had perfected our smoosh and pinch technique earlier. We rolled out those tennis balls into rope and in ten minutes had another batch of slightly misshapen dumplings ready to go. In the end, covered in creamy rosemary gorgonzola sauce and served on Jorie's fancy place settings, our twice-rolled gnocchi didn't look too bad at all! And they tasted delish - tender and fluffy, and the combination of sweet potato and gorgonzola and rosemary was sublime. A dish that truly had "phlair."
