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Wednesday, November 2, 2005 -- A Gift From Paul

I do enjoy writing these "food-doings"; but I particularly get joy when these writings inspire you folks who read them in whatever way it happens. Along these lines, a recent e-mail from Paul is deserving of its own food-doing entry.

On November 2, 2005, Paul wrote the following:
"I have been enjoying your food doings and believe it may have penetrated my subconscious mind. Here's why.
Late at night while busy sleeping, I found myself at a wonderfully catered function. Lots of food courses and plenty of wine to accompany. Sometime we were at Deb's large mansion and sometimes at Mike's. I would switch back and forth, and, where I was, was not always clear. Large courtyards, fall leaves, big stairs. On one particular course which was definitely at Deb and Steve's, we had a painting activity included. We were given a palate of paint and brushes and were to paint mosaics on the bottoms of the tables.
Thank you for the wonderful evening.
Love, Paul"

Thanks, Paul, for this wonderful gift of a dream!

Wednesday, November 2, 2005 -- Menus

Today, Steve and I went out to lunch at one of our favorite Portland restaurants, clarklewis. (Yes, I did mean to bold-type the “clark” which may add merit to the following discussion.) The food at clarklewis is invariably great and inspiring. We frequently share this restaurant with friends and visiting family members. But, as we admitted today, their menu descriptions can be just a little, shall we say, “too-too.” Yes, it has become the norm among upscale restaurants to include the source of the particular food (e.g. “cypress farm goat cheese”) and to describe the food in a way that is seductive and inviting (e.g. “grilled on pan brie with caramelized onions.) At its best, the description is informative and taste-tempting. At its worst, it just sounds contrived. clarklewis’s menu descriptions, in our opinion, variably accomplish both. But, in any case, there are things to be learned from these menu descriptions. Let’s look at what we had today.

Endives with Viridian Farm apples, gorgonzola dolce latte, walnuts, and balsamic

• Who is Viridian Farms? Well, it turns out it is, not surprisingly, a local farm that sales its produce only at local Farmer’s Markets and to restaurants. Their season is over as of this week as they go on their winter’s break from conveying their produce to these various locales. So, now I will be on the lookout for them next spring at our markets.
• What is Gorgonzola Dolce Latte? Well, everyone knows what gorgonzola is – aka “blue cheese.” Well, the specific Gorgonzola cheese is from Italy and was originally known as “green stracchino.” It was given the name of Gorgonzola in 1955, after the name of a village through which the herds of dairy cows passed on their way down from mountain pastures. “Stracce” means “tired from a journey” and it is thought that this name was given because the milk was “tired” or not at its best quality at that time of the season. This milk is inoculated with a green mold during its processing producing the darker veins that thread through the cheese. But what is “dolce latte?” In Italian, that means “sweet milk.” So you say, well, that’s got to be better than the “sour milk” variety! In fact, there are two types of Gorgonzola: Gorgonzola Dolce Latte – the sweet milk variety most common to us and Gorgonzola Picanto – which is apparently used for cooking due to its strong taste. I’ve never seen the latter here but now I know.
  

Frisee with Fuyu persimmons, Marcona almonds, goat cheese, and aged balsamic

• What are Fuyu persimmons? Well, it turns out there is the “astringent” type of persimmon (including the native American persimmon grown in the south or the more common pointed Hachiya persimmon) and “non-astringent” persimmons including the Fuyu which, in today’s case, likely came from California. Astringent varieties do not lose their astringency until the fruit becomes very soft. If eaten when firm, “they will pucker the mouth and cause a very unfavorable reaction!” The Fuyu is sweet and delicious when it has become orange to orange-red and is still firm. The Fuyu persimmon we had today was thinly sliced and fairly firm adding a sweet contrast to the goat cheese and balsamic.
• What are Marcona almonds? Actually, I did know this one. Marcona almonds come from Spain and only Spain. They have a reportedly higher fat content than regular almonds and are reportedly considered the most desirable among connoisseurs. I do like them. I do think they are better than regular almonds. BUT, I don’t think it is worth the price difference.

Ravioli of “fonduta” black truffled fontina val d’aosta

• Try as I might, I could not find a definition of “fonduta.” And, the fact that this word was apostrophized, unlike any other word in the menu, makes me think they made it up. This dish was a single ravioli, about 4 inches square, in a butter-cream sauce. It was filled with a single circle of cheese about ½ inch in height. When you forked open the ravioli, a pale yellow liquid emerged which, I believe was molten butter. It was lovely. So, I think they took the word “fondue” and made it Italian-like creating the term “fonduta.”
• The cheese, Fontina, I thought I knew but it turned out I learned something about it as well. Fontina cheese originally came from Italy and the Italian Fontina is considered superior to the type made in Denmark and the United States. It is a cow’s milk cheese of about 45% milk fat. The “val d’aosta” variety gets it name from the valley where it is made in the northwest tip of Italy. It is right on the edge of the Alps. Hannibal and his elephants passed through this valley. This valley is also known for having Europe’s largest casino. Isn’t that good to know!
  

Quail stuffed with Speck ham, sage and fontina with crisp fingerling potatoes

• I have had Speck ham before but I was not sure how it differed from other hams. Speck ham differs from Italian prosciutto hams in that it is a smoked raw meat. It’s cut from the hind quarter of a special breed of hog and seasoned for 22 weeks. Supposedly, its intense dry-cured flavor makes it the more distinctive than other Mediterranean hams. It has only more recently become available in the United States due to upgrades in production plants.
  

Well, on to the more contrived menu descriptions. Let me just use one as an example:

Mussels with garlic, wild fennel pollen, chilies in vinegar, and bay laurel

• I think that this "fennel pollen” is just the seeds that come from fennel and I’m not sure why the “wild” variety would be any different than those in my back yard.
• Chilies in vinegar sound a lot like pickled chilies to me.
• If I’m not mistaken, don’t all bay leaves come from the laurel family?
  

I admit I did not do any research about any of these last comments so I could be wrong and love to be proven so. But, there you go, that’s what we had for lunch and what I learned today.

Eat well, enjoy the small things, and learn stuff from your menus!

Friday, November 4, 2005 -- Wild Mushrooms

I love the change of the annual seasons for many reasons. But, food wise, it brings with it the promise of new tastes, new preparations, and new ingredients - plus, the opportunity to stage different kinds of events sharing foods with others. Just when I was getting tired of green beans and tomatoes, here comes the fall along with the Thanksgiving feast to prepare for.

Here, in Portland, we often share Thanksgiving with various members of the Joanne Fuller family and with the Portland contingent of the Young family. But, this year, the Portland contingent of the Young family will be going its separate ways on the Thanksgiving weekend. Steve & I are heading to Sonoma Valley, California, on a road trip, ending up spending Thanksgiving with Joanne’s sister, her husband, and Jo and Paul down there. Pat’s heading to Florida to spend the weekend with the Ft. Pierce contingent. Kellie – I’m not sure – can you weigh in on this, Kellie?

So, we, the Portland contingent, decided to have the Portland Thanksgiving feast a little early – on November 13th. This provided me with the opportunity to start trying things out and researching menus for this upcoming day.

Which brings me to wild mushrooms. Exploring the Farmer’s Market last weekend, the “Mushroom Guy” was flush with shiitakes, chanterelles, and the, not so often available, porcinis from our local forests. We eagerly bought some of everything and brought them home. It was time for mushroom research!

Unlike chanterelles and porcini, which can only be grown in the wild, shiitake mushrooms can be cultivated, imitating the process evolved in nature. Basically, you use felled logs; then drill holes into the logs; inoculate the holes with live fungus; then seal the inoculation sites with hot wax or plastic foam plugs. Shiitake is capable of fruiting only after the fungus has completely colonized the log (6 months to 2 years.) Once mushroom formation has begun, shiitakes often matures in 2 to 7 days. I’m not sure if the shiitakes we purchased were cultivated or found wild – a question to ask the “mushroom guy” next time we see him. (In either case, I expect that we will continue to buy our shiitakes from him rather than cultivating them in our own backyard.)

Also, unlike chanterelles and porcini mushrooms, the stems of shiitakes are cut off before using. I save these stems to be used for making stocks. I keep a container in the freezer and throw these stems, along with leftovers of other potential-stock vegetables such as celery, carrots and onions, into the container for future use.

The type of chanterelle found locally is typically the “golden chanterelle.” They are known to the Italians as Girolle and to the Germans as Pfifferling. Unlike the morel mushroom, which is found only in the spring, chanterelles are found during the summer and fall seasons. They are found growing in soil or leaf litter. There is a “look-alike”, that is found on decaying wood or trees, that can make you sick, although is not fatal.

“Porcini”, in Italian, means “little pigs.” This is a rich meaty mushroom, also known as cepe, and generally grows quite large. The stems are thick, and, like chanterelles, the porcini stem is used as well as the cap. Porcinis are grown on the ground, and can be found throughout Europe, North America, Australia, China, and Mexico. In our farmers markets, I see these only in the fall. In my research, I did find an interesting tidbit about how worms like to reside in these mushrooms as well. The advice…“Don’t panic. Heat the mushrooms in a 250 degree oven for 30 minutes. The worms will crawl out and die (don’t say anything to the guests.)” Just for the record, I did not find any worms in those that we had purchased.

So, a bounty of local mushrooms was available for our use. Here’s what we did. I used the porcini mushrooms in a sautéed salmon with porcini cream sauce – a recipe I adapted from one in Caprial’s Seasonal Kitchen recipe book. I used the shiitakes and chanterelles to make a Wild Mushroom and Chevre Cheese Tart – a recipe I created from combining several others. Both recipes are included below and both were quite good. Cremini mushrooms, more commonly found in grocery stores, can be substituted (just be sure you cook the liquid fully down when using the creminis in the tart as cremini mushrooms typically have more liquid.)

I’m planning on serving a slice of the wild mushroom tart with a green salad for the first course in our Portland Thanksgiving feast and am still exploring options for the remainder of the meal. I’m currently reading about goose, which I believe will be our Thanksgiving bird this year. I’ve never cooked a “non-proverbial” goose before so this will be an adventure for us all.

Eat well, enjoy the small things, and, if you have a fallen log in your back yard, think about…no, never mind.

Sauteed Salmon with Porcini Cream Sauce
Adapted from Caprial Pence’s Caprial’s Seasonal Kitchen
Yield: 6 servings

• 3/4 pound fresh porcini mushrooms, cleaned and chopped
• 1 Tbs butter
• ¾ cup white wine
• ½ cup dry sherry
• 2 shallots, finely chopped
• 2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
• 1 cup chicken or vegetable stock
• ½ pint heavy cream
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 1 ½ lb salmon, cut into six pieces, bones removed
• Olive oil

Sautee mushrooms in butter until done. Set aside.

In a medium sized sauce pan, reduce the wine, sherry, shallots, garlic and stock until about 1/3 cup liquid remains. Add mushrooms and cream and reduce until thick. Season with salt and pepper and reserve, keeping warm.

Sautee salmon in hot oil, turning once, until just done.

Serve with the warm sauce ladled on top.

Wild Mushroom and Chevre Cheese Tart
Yield: 8 servings as a first course

• Tart Crust (use your own recipe; layer into tart pan with removable bottom; line crust with foil; fill with dried beans or pie weights; bake until sides are set, about 20 minutes; remove foil and beans; bake until pale golden, piercing with toothpick if crust bubbles, about 15 minutes; cool.)
• 1 ½ cups whipping cream
• 5 large garlic cloves, peeled and minced very fine
• 1 large egg
• ¼ tsp (generous) salt
• 1 Tbs olive oil
• 1 pound mixed wild mushrooms, sliced or coarsely chopped
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 4-6 ounces chevre goat cheese, room temperature

Prepare tart crust. Keep oven at 375 degrees.

Meanwhile, sauté mushrooms in olive oil with salt and pepper to taste.

Make filling. Bring cream and garlic to boil in heavy medium saucepan. Reduce heat to medium; simmer until mixture is reduce to 1+ cup, whisking occasionally, about 15 minutes. Cool. Blend in egg and salt.

.Spread goat cheese over bottom of crust. Sprinkle mushrooms over. Pour cream mixture over. Bake until filling is set, about 20 minutes. Cool on rack. Remove external ring of tart pan and serve.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005 -- GOOSE

I’m a bit behind in my food-doings updates as we have been in a bit of a flurry this November. I have been trying out different recipes for a dinner party planned in December. We had our early Portland-family Thanksgiving meal here at our house on November 13th. Steve and I headed on a road trip starting November 17th and returning yesterday. There’s lots to be said about that trip but, today, let’s talk GOOSE, which is what we had at our Portland Thanksgiving meal, and, for some reason, when I say the word “goose”, I want to say it in capital letters…”GOOSE.”

I’ve never cooked a goose before, although I did eat some once at a local restaurant for a Christmas dinner. I had a goose leg, as I recall, and liked it quite well. This year, my New Year’s resolution was to cook a goose and a duck – not necessarily at the same time but before the year’s end. So, as Thanksgiving rolled around and I had yet to accomplish either of these resolutions, the idea of GOOSE for Thanksgiving seemed like a good idea.

Some families have a tradition of eating goose over the holidays. Ours has not. And, it seemed appropriate to at least check out the local reaction to this flaunting of tradition before proceeding. Our prospective Thanksgiving dinner guests this year - Pat, Kellie, Ryan, Bill and Jordan - have some fairly disparate tastes in food and could conceivably have a negative reaction to the idea of GOOSE.

So, I called Pat first. I might be wrongly crediting her with this quote (as I have friends who have extreme restrictions in their diets who could have easily and more correctly said this), but I think Pat once told me, “I don’t eat anything that had eyelashes.” Whether it came from Pat or not (and it’s not an accurate portrayal of her today), I’ve always liked this succinct, descriptive, dietary definition. It is just so much more “literary” than saying “vegetarian” or “vegan.” And, when I presented the possibility of GOOSE to Pat, she was quite open to the idea. In passing, she also gave me the complement of, “If I’m going to try something new, I’d rather try it at your house.”

On to Kellie who, as mother of Ryan, is the key person to strategize with as to how some totally new thing might be introduced in a way that could, just might, perhaps, possibly go over. On a previous Thanksgiving (when we could not serve turkey as Jo and Paul were guests and Paul is allergic to poultry), we had used the strategy of calling the main meat course (it might have been lamb) simply “Thanksgiving Meat” as in, “Oh, its just Thanksgiving Meat,” said in a nonchalant, everybody-knows-this kind of way. It worked last time so we endorsed it as our strategy this year as well.

Bill & Jordan were easier. Jordan, I think, eats about anything and Bill has adopted the outward attitude of “I’ll try anything.” (Secretly, though, I happen to know that he has been known to stop for a Whopper on the way to our house for dinners in the past.)

So, with official goose go-ahead, I ordered the GOOSE and start to research how to cook it.

When one reads about goose, one inevitably reads about goose fat – how to deal with it, what to do with it, etc. There’s a good reason for this as I can now tell you, positively, from first-hand experience, that there is a LOT of fat on a goose. I chose to use a Jacques Pepin recipe that adapted a traditional Chinese technique for cooking duck (also, purportedly, abundant in fat) for achieving a crispy skinned goose that had rendered off most of its fat through the cooking process.

First, as most geese bought at stores these days are frozen, you have to thaw your goose for about four days in the refrigerator. At this point, the goose is encased in the traditional white plastic wrapping so it looks a lot like the familiar frozen turkey defrosting in the refrigerator except its more oval.

Then the day before roasting, you steam the goose. This requires, obviously, taking off that plastic wrapping. First thing one notices is how very greasy the inside of that plastic wrapping is as compared to the wrapping one may have taken off a turkey or a chicken. It was significantly greasier. Then it becomes quite clear that a goose looks really quite different than a turkey. It’s got these really long scrawny wings attached to this narrow body and, well, it just looks a lot more like a carcass than other domestic poultry. Plus, the layer of fat attached under the skin can be about 3/8ths inches thick in places. (This is separate from the large hunks of fat that were dangling freely off the carcass.) These weren’t problems, mind you, just observations.

Next, you cut off all of the excess fat, attempting to distinguish what was excess versus non-excess, and work your fingers underneath the goose skin separating it from the body. The resulted in a large pile of solid goose fat along with a carcass still freely endowed with fat.

Then you steam the goose set on a roasting rack and covered with foil with about 4 cups of water for about 45 minutes. This renders some of the fat from the carcass dripping it into the water. At the end of this, you have a whitish-greyish carcass of an animal, now looking more alien than ever, that gets stored in your refrigerator, uncovered, overnight to let the skin dry. This, of course, prompts many intended-to-be humorous exclamations when opening the refrigerator door of, “Oh, my gosh, we have a GOOSE in our refrigerator!”)

The water used to steam the goose, now infused with rendered fat as well, gets stored separately in the refrigerator so that you can collect the congealed fat off the top the next day.

The roasting of GOOSE is, in comparison, anti-climactic. Ours roasted to a lovely mahogany brown color after brushing with honey and Tabasco. Again, you drain off the fat in the pan and then make a pan “jus” using the reserved, now defatted, water scraping up any brown bits off the bottom of the roasting pan. I added a little flour as well.

But, there are more observations to be had, although still not “problems.” Bill, who graciously agreed to do the carving, was quite impressed with the amount of fat still remaining throughout the carcass. It was apparently a foreign experience for him carving that bird up causing such comments as, “Wow! Man, this is really different!” The pan jus turned an impressively rich dark brown. But, when Pat and I tasted it, we agreed that the distinct flavor it had was what others must refer to as “gamey.” The jus never made it to the table. I opted, just because it looked so strange, to try one of the wings to start out with. Well, you know, wings usually have quite a bit of fat on them and, I don’t know if it was due to the quantity of fat or the thickness of the skin, but I couldn’t even bite into that wing. The layer of fat and skin created a springy, bouncy, non-responsive barrier that successfully repelled any incision by, at least, my teeth.

The rest of the goose was fine. The meat was dark and juicy. There were few leftovers of goose meat. Even Ryan had some of the “Thanksgiving Meat” and seemed to enjoy it. What we did have left in abundance was the famed goose fat which, one reads, is a highly desirable commodity. We took all the goose fat from each of the stages of cooking and rendered them down to, after filtering out the solids, about six cups of fat. This we froze to be used in cooking. We also froze the bones from the carcass for future stocks and the “cracklings” from the goose skin leftover from rendering the fat. I have my eye on a warm red cabbage slaw with cracklings to try these out in.

But, will I cook a goose again? It was certainly an adventure and I’m glad I tried it. But, do it again? It just might depend on how good that goose fat is. Tonight, I’m going to try some with some pan roasted potatoes to see.

I’m including a recipe for a Gratin Dauphinois that we also had a variation of with our meal and which does deserve to be tried and re-tried. Dauphine is a region in southeastern France where this style of gratin cooked in milk or cream is common. The technique of starting the potatoes in a saucepan of half-and-half and ending them in a buttered gratin dish is accredited to Jacques Pepin. In our Thanksgiving variation, we increased the size of the dish, added sliced fennel to the potatoes, and increased the proportion of garlic.

Eat well, enjoy the small things, and try new food adventures when given the opportunity!

Gratin Dauphinois
From Ruth Reichl’s The Gourmet Cookbook
Yield: 8 servings

• 2 ½ pounds boiling potatoes, such as Yukon Gold
• 3 ½ cups half-and-half
• 2 large garlic cloves, minced
• 1 tsp salt
• ¼ tsp ground black pepper
• 1/8 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
• ¾ cup coarsely grated Gruyere cheese

Put a rack in middle of oven and preheat oven to 400 degrees. Generously butter a 2 ½ to 3-quart gratin dish or other shallow baking dish.

Peel potatoes. Cut crosswise into 1/16-inch-thick slices with mandoline or other slicer and transfer toa a 4-quart heavy saucepan. Add half-and-half, garlic, salt, and pepper and bring just to a boil over moderate heat.

Pour potato mixture into buttered dish, distributing potatoes evenly. Sprinkle nutmeg and cheese evenly over top. Bake until potatoes are tender and the top is golden brown, 35-45 minutes. Let stand for 15 minutes before serving.

NOTE: the gratin can be made up to 1 day ahead. Cool completely, then refrigerate, covered. Bring to room temperature before reheating, covered, in a 350 degree oven.

Thursday, December 1, 2005 -- Road Trip

During the past several years, we’ve noticed that we have established a bit of a pattern for our “vacations” or “times away from home.” This pattern was established because we genuinely liked doing those things – going to Arizona for spring training; visiting family in Florida; and the family reunion in North Carolina. But, we also noticed we had stopped doing some things that we had enjoyed in the past. One of these past enjoyments included “road trips” – defined as leisurely driving a vehicle through unseen or long-past-explored areas; exploring whatever comes your way or locating new things you have researched and want to explore; and keeping it all flexible, low-key, and fun. So, when the opportunity arose to join Joanne & Paul at her sister Suzanne & husband Rick’s house in Sonoma for Thanksgiving this year, we thought….Road Trip!

When I think about “road trips,” I often think about some of our family’s childhood vacations – to the Keys, New Orleans, Mexico & other places. I think about how, in later years, Mom & Dad would take off for, I don’t know, 4-5 months of the year and travel through the states visiting their now adult children along the way. I think about the earliest version of their travel vehicle – the Volkswagen van with the pullout drawer/table in the back underneath the elevated mattress. I think about the subsequent RVs, laden with rocks that they had gathered along the way.

Successfully traveling in a vehicle for long periods of time requires preplanning, careful selection, and organization. You’ve only got so much space in that vehicle and, you want to be able to quickly access whatever you might need along the way without having to empty out everything in order to, say, have lunch along the way.

Our road trip headed west to the Oregon coast, landing first in Florence for two nights. It included an opportunity for Steve to play golf at Sand Pines with our financial advisor, Larry (who lives there with his wife, Laurie, and two children), as well as enjoying dinner at their house one evening. We then headed south on 101 to Brookings, Oregon, for a night, then down through the Redwood forests of northern California where we spent two nights at the Benbow Inn exploring that area. Then we hit Sonoma for four nights, enjoying the company of our friends while we hung out, cooked together, and explored that area. Leaving there, we headed north to spend one night in Ashland and back home.

We viewed this as a bit of experiment in “continual quality improvement” for road-tripping. What did we learn? Well, I, personally, learned that: 1) Yes, on a road trip, you don’t have to be restricted to the standard two suitcase restrictions that the airlines have, but; 2) you also don’t have to bring every piece of clothing that you own either, because; 3) you’ll never wear all those things anyway, and; 4) there are a lot of hotels/motels out there that do not have elevators. We were on the second floor everywhere we stayed and not one of these places had an elevator! Hence, you end up schlepping all of your stuff up the stairs for your brief stay.

Other than that, we learned that hotel rooms that offer the semblance of separate “rooms” are better – there’s a table that can be the kitchen-office area; there are chairs that can be the reading area; and there’s enough storage space so that you don’t feel like you are living in the garage tripping over things.

And, we learned in a “continual quality improvement” way how to best organize and pack our vehicle for maximum efficiency and enjoyment.

We also rediscovered a previous enjoyment that we had on prior road trips; i.e. select one food item and try it out across different restaurants comparing and contrasting in search of the “best” whatever of the trip. We did this once on a trip to Vancouver B.C. in search of the best Caesar Salad. Our options, this trip, were a bit more limited, so we lit on the search for the best French fry.

We had many fun adventures on our journey but let me mention just a few. The evening we shared in Florence with Larry and Laurie was very fun. Larry, since moving his family to Florence 3-4 years ago, now commutes to Portland frequently to deal with clients in this area and to fly to other areas to see more distant (and far richer) clients. Since that move, he has become an infrequent but regular visitor at our house for his 5 o’clock martini when he is in town and otherwise unscheduled. But, we had never met his family nor visited his home. I knew his wife was into horses – she teaches Dressage (they have their own arena) and they have a big stable where they lodge other people’s horses.

I didn’t have any firm ideas about what to expect in visiting their home, but it turned out to be much more casual, down-home, and funly-chaotic than I expected. After touring their magnificent property and visiting the expansive arena and stables, we adjourned to their more modest home, sitting at the kitchen “bar” throughout the evening, and enjoying a meal of tapas served one course after the other. The talk was lively and the entertainment was further provided by their two birds – one a LARGE colorful parrot (maybe two feet from beak to tail) and a smaller bird that would fly about on its own prompting warnings from Larry or Laurie of “Here comes a drive-by!” This smaller bird took to Steve like water, sitting on his shoulder nudging his cheek for most of the evening. I had the larger bird sitting on my arm for much of the evening trying to overcome my wariness of such animals (since Randy & Joyce’s African Gray parrot took a serious chunk out of my cuticle and nail about two years ago). Larry and Laurie’s bird was much more friendly and Laurie, who is quite experienced with animals, coached me along the way as I overcame some of my fears.

So you get the idea. A lot of bird-created chaos, jumping conversations, laughter, and a series of delightful tapas – the most memorable being the sautéed shrimp with garlic!

Other experiences that stand out food-wise include our (this year’s) second Thanksgiving feast in Sonoma which included a superb beef rib roast as well as a Roquefort and caramelized onion tart. This tart was served as a first course with a green salad dressed with vinaigrette draped over it. Plus, our dinner in Ashland at New Sammy’s Cowboy Bistro is probably deserving of its own food-doing story.

Arriving back in Portland from being on the road, we just wanted a simple dinner, so I used what we had in the house to create a facsimile of the shrimp and garlic tapas we had at Larry & Laurie’s that we had with crusty bread to soak up the sauce and a green salad. I’m including a rough rendition of that recipe below. I’m also including a semblance of a recipe for the tart we had in Sonoma – which was a variation of the Wild Mushroom tart described in earlier food-doing editions. This was a great variation and was raved by all.

Finally, the French Fries. The best ones we had en route were at Bandon Dunes Golf Resort with its three world renowned courses. For lunch, we sat looking out at the first tee watching the succession of golfers teeing off. Some experts say that this is the best public course in America.

But back to French Fries. Now,I love a really good French Fried Potato, but really good French Fries require deep fat frying – usually twice. You want to create the delicate golden crust and creamy insides. Although, I sometimes think about getting a deep-fat fryer, I have not yet been able to deal with the idea of what to do with all that remaining fat. So, when I came across a recipe for Best Oven Fries in the January, 2004, Cooks Illustrated that claimed to meet these goals without the deep fat frying, I jumped on it. Believe me, these are the best oven fries ever! It requires soaking the wedges of potato in water before hand which ends up with a potato that has good surface crunch and a delicate smooth interior.

As an addendum, we did these oven fries again the other evening and, this time, we used that goose fat I talked about previously. Steve and I agreed that they were, indeed, better with goose fat instead of vegetable or peanut oil, but the regular oil rendition is still superb. (We’ve also used olive oil and liked it as well.)

I think we will have more road trips in our future but, in the meantime, eat well, enjoy the small stuff, and consider wandering down the road yourself.

Shrimp with Garlic, Red Pepper, and Olives
Yield: 2 servings

• Enough extra virgin olive oil to cover the bottom of a large skillet to a good ¼ inch depth
• 1 red pepper, cored, sliced and cut into about 1 ½ inch lengths
• A dash of hot red pepper flakes
• ¼ teaspoon Spanish style paprika
• 10 Kalamata olives coarsely chopped
• 4-5 garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced
• 14 shelled shrimp, tails removed
• Salt and pepper to taste

Heat the olive oil over medium hot burner until you see some jiggling on the top but not smoking. Throw in the red pepper, pepper flakes, paprika, and olives and stirfry until red pepper is done but still has a little crunch. Lower the heat to medium and add the garlic, stirring, briefly until you can just smell the garlic. (Don’t overcook.) Throw in the shrimp and cook until shrimp are just done. Serve in a shallow bowl along with crispy bread to soak up the sauce.

Roquefort Cheese and Caramelized Onion Tart
Yield: 6 main dish servings or 8 first course servings

For this tart, follow the directions for the Wild Mushroom tart substituting the caramelized onions for the mushrooms and the Roquefort/cream mixture for the goat cheese.

For the caramelized onions, drizzle some olive oil in a wide sauté pan; fill it to just about the brim with a mixture of sliced yellow onions, red onions, and shallots. Add some salt. Then slowly cooked over low heat stirring as needed for 2-3 hours – until the onions are reduced to a deep golden color and are kind of molten.

For the Roquefort/cream mixture, I took a triangular slab of blue cheese that was about 2 inches wide at the wide end of the triangle. I smooshed it up with a fork then added some cream and kept smooshing and stirring, adding a bit more cream as needed, until it was spreadable with a spatula. This was spread on the bottom of the cooked tart shell.

Best Oven Fries
From January & February, 2004, Cook’s Illustrated
Yield: 3-4 servings

• 3 russet potatoes (about 8 ounces each) peeled, each potato cut lengthwise into 10-12 evenly sized wedges
• 5 Tbs vegetable or peanut oil
• Salt and ground black pepper

Adjust oven rack to lowest position; heat oven to 475 degrees.

Place potatoes in large bowl and cover with hot tap water; soak 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, coat an 18-22 inch heavy duty rimmed baking sheet with 4 Tbs oil and sprinkle evenly with ¾ tsp salt and ¼ tsp pepper. Set aside.

Drain potatoes by spreading out on triple layer of paper towels and thoroughly patting dry with additional towels. Rinse and wipe out now-empty bowl; return potatoes to bowl and toss with remaining 1 Tbs oil.

Arrange potatoes in single layer on prepared baking sheet; cover tightly with foil and bake 5 minutes.

Remove foil and continue to bake until bottoms of potatoes are spotty golden brown, 15-20 minutes, rotating baking sheet after 10 minutes.

Using metal spatula and tongs, scrape to loosen potatoes from pan, then flip each wedge, keeping potatoes in single layer. Continue baking until fries are golden and crisp, 5-15 minutes longer, rotating pan as needed if fries are browning unevenly.

Transfer fries to second baking sheet lined with paper towels to drain. Season with additional salt and pepper to taste and serve.

Wednesday, December 7, 2005 -- Quiche Dolce

All right, you tell me. Suppose you’re reading Thomas Keller’s cookbook, Bouchon, and you get to the chapter (a whole chapter, mind you) on quiche, where it starts with his description of quiche as “It’s almost sexual, a great quiche. It’s ‘the seductive pie.’ …It’s the essence of luxury, a great delicacy.” I mean, don’t you just want to try it?

So you continue reading about how we Americans screwed up the great French quiche (or, in his words, “trashed it”) and all because we did not have the essential right tool back when quiche became popular in the 1970’s – the 2-inch ring mold. Because, with the 2-inch ring mold, you can achieve Keller’s version of a “great quiche” which, again in his words, “has a rich, flaky crust and a custard about two inches deep. When it is sliced, the edges should be clean, and the exposed custard should have a smooth, almost liquid sheen. When it arrives hot, it should tremble as if it were on the verge of collapse. It maintains its form – just – but you can see what’s going to happen when you take a bite. It collapses on the palate, molten, spreading out luxuriously.”

Now is that a great description or not! It hooked me. I had to get the all-important 2-inch ring mold and try this out. I decided to make a Keller-style quiche to take to my bridge group last Saturday night. We, the “bridge girls,” including Joanne, Kim and Shelley, were to play at Joanne’s, and I had offered to bring the food because Jo was otherwise occupied all day. I decided on the Roquefort and Leek Quiche.

You can easily find a 2-inch ring mold these days by purchasing a spring-form pan -- commonly used for making cheesecakes. And, they’re not expensive. So, I bought the pan and studied the chapter on quiche to prepare for this endeavor. The unusual thing to me about this recipe was that you didn’t use the bottom of the spring-form pan. You just used the outside ring. This ring then sat on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper and the crust dough (thicker than for typical pies at 3/16th of an inch thick) was lowered into this ring, now resting on the parchment paper. And, theoretically, after filling, cooking and letting it cool in the refrigerator for a day, you would then un-mold the quiche and it would stand there perfectly as a two-inch tall, crust-contained, custard.

If you’ve ever worked from a Keller recipe, you know that perfection is the only goal and, to reach perfection, you generally have to go through a lot of work. In this case, regular pie crust dough wasn’t good enough. You had to make pate brisee which (again, in his words) “is harder to make because it requires some touch, some finesse.” I’m all for finesse so I tried it his way, by hand, pasta-style. Just as he did, I put flour on a board and formed a well; combined water and butter in the well, squeezing the butter into half-inch chunks in the water so the butter and water became even in temperature; then gradually stirred in the flour as if I were making a pasta dough. In pate brisee dough, the butter must be completely incorporated with no visible specks remaining. Keller explained further that, in regular pie crust dough, pieces of butter remaining in the dough will make the dough flaky, but, in the case of quiche, “they would leave holes in the quiche crust and the batter would leak out.”

So for basically an entire morning I put together this quiche. I made the pate brisee dough, stuck it in the fridge to rest, blanched the leeks, squeezed the moisture out of the leeks, rolled the dough out, carefully lowered it into my ring, repaired the cracks with the reserved dough, stuck it back in the fridge to rest again, blind-baked the crust after lining it with parchment paper and filling the whole thing up with dried beans, scalded the milk and cream and set aside to cool until just warm, removed the crust and again repaired the cracks with reserved dough, scattered the leeks and crumbled Roquefort into the waiting crust, and then finished making the custard using the blender so it would be properly aerated “to help achieve a light finished texture and because the froth helps to suspend the garnish ingredients” (in this case, the leeks and roquefort cheese.)

By early afternoon, I carefully placed the quiche in the oven which was “heated to the right temperature, no higher than three hundred and twenty-five degrees” and planned to cook the quiche to just “the right amount of time, something learned through experience.” I read that, with this achieved experience, I would be able to recognize just the “right jiggle,” that is, a jiggle that is not “quicker in the center than at the edges” but is, rather, “more uniform throughout.” I also read that, “since quiche is something that is good to make regularly, learning doneness by sight shouldn’t take too long.”

After about fifteen minutes, I took a peek into the oven. I’m sure that you can guess by now what I saw. That lovely filled, two-inch high custard pie was still two-inches high- at least in crust. But a good portion of that once two-inch high custard had now filled up my, luckily, jelly roll baking sheet and was happily cooking away now freed from its enclosure.

Forget about perfection. I was now attempting to save something that was at least worth eating. And, forget about looking for the “right jiggle.” It was now about looking for the right doneness when you are basically cooking an approximate one-inch thick “cheese pie” with two inch high pastry sides amidst a pool of custard.

So, I pulled it out at what I thought was the right time and put it back into the refrigerator to set over night. I was thinking at the time that there was no way I could take this obvious failure over to the bridge girls, even though I knew that they would be sympathetic and amused by the whole thing. But over that night, another idea came to me.

The next day, I thinly sliced and cubed the now-set delectable custard that surrounded this crater-like “quiche.” Using a spatula, I surgically extracted the cubes from the jelly roll pan leaving the quiche standing alone. I put the cubes in a separate container and refrigerated them. I sliced the quiche up carefully into triangular portions, the two-inch crust towering over the one-inch dense filling, and set them on a separate baking sheet. The filled baking sheet and container of cubed custard were carted over to Joanne’s that night.

To the bridge girls and Paul (JO’s husband) I announced that we were having “Quiche Dolce” tonight and further explained that it came from the southwest region of France where the influences of Italian cuisine mingled with the traditions of France. I explained that the high crust was a singular characteristic of this particular dish providing structure and contrast. I warmed the triangles of quiche, then spooned cold, creamy cubes of custard on top and announced that “you must eat this right now” in order to appreciate the contrasts of temperature. Everybody immediately responded to this directive and we ate away.

It was great! And, I did eventually fess up to my charade, which resulted in a good chuckle by all. And, I’ll probably try Keller-style quiche again because, after all, I now do own a spring-form pan and I hate to be defeated by this. But, next time, I’m putting the bottom of that spring-form pan in before I fill it up with crust.

Eat well, enjoy the small things, and just make a story up if your dish doesn’t come out right!

P.S. And, on a more bawdy note, Steve wants to add that he, too, had a 2-inch ring mold once, but he went to the doctor and got rid of it.

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© 2005, 2006 Deborah Young