Contrary to conventional wisdom, at this time of year when the garden is in a headlong rush to produce fruits, and you can almost watch the plants as they extend their sinewy tendrils into the air like a group of octopi doing the wave, it’s sometimes hard to know what to do with it all. This is a peculiar problem for us since hitherto we’ve been limited to the cultivation of one basil plant, one of chives, a miserable-looking tarragon, and a solitary pepper plant in pots on our fire escape, so were limited to harvesting only as much as wouldn’t kill the plant at any one time. In this context, the occasion of the annual pepper (singular) ripening was celebrated with champagne and confetti.

This year, while hardly drowning in produce, we’re finding that the gathering of some 20 or more cherry tomatoes several times a week, a glut of dark green basil and some of the most profoundly-flavored parsley we’ve ever tasted is presenting us with a conundrum: do we actually want to eat tomato and basil salad three or four times a week? Sure, we could be more imaginative, and if they were reading these lines, there would likely be a host of city-based food bloggers gnashing their teeth at our stupidity, but I am reminded of summers as a child when my grandfather’s garden would yield about nine tons of green beans during July and we’d be eating the damn things, steamed or blanched, morning, noon and night for a six weeks.

I almost feel like being deliberately controversial here and suggesting that this frustration with having to eat seasonally since the dawn of time is why we shouldn’t be so damning of the range of options offered to year-round us by the modern agro-food system. However, knowing full-well that would generate negativity among readers, as well as being more or less against our own ethos of attempting to tread lightly carbon-wise, not to mention foolishly contradicting the implicit healthiness of this practice that kept my granddad enjoying one-too many lunchtime sherries well into his nineties, I’ll keep it to myself.

Ever up for a challenge though, and, frankly, feeling rather bloody-minded, I tackled the issue of why eating seasonally can be boring head-on this weekend, and, making use of a particularly ripe pound of tomatoes, I made a kind of summery puttanesca, constituting a refreshing change from the raw fruit, but instead of stopping there and letting the seasonal flavors speak for themselves as we have been taught to do, I decided to pair the whole thing with some lascivious pork belly. I say lascivious because, even considering puttanesca’s origins among the evening workers of Naples, there’s something that makes you feel inherently guilty about pairing a fresh, organic sauce with about the richest most unctuous part of the pig.

Pan frying the slices of pork belly in its own fat, before using that fat as the base for my sauce, and deep frying the cracklins just for kicks, this was a dish to break any kind of kitchen monotony you’re experiencing, at virtually any time of year. We don’t eat a lot of pork belly and its measured use is kind of the key to remaining alive and vertical, but it does add a certain something that is literally unavailable from anything else, with the possible exception of guanciale. Indeed, had I not been frazzled by the heat and had pounds of fresh tomatoes weighing down on my brain, I would have used guanciale and turned this whole thing somewhere between puttanesca and al’amatriciana . However, I’m pretty happy that I didn’t, the briny, assertive character of the capers kept the belly’s richness somehow balanced, as did the acidity of the fresh tomatoes that might not have been present out of a can. In fact, I might consider eating seasonally more often if it meant I could dine in this kind of style.

With the summer over (sad face) but the warm days of Indian Summer lingering on (happy face), this dish will be relavant for a few more weeks (for those who are super traditional about eating warm weather dishes only in warm weather). For me, this will be an excellent dish to eat after months of freezing winter weather and extra fat stored from weeks of heavy stews. It’s a mix of light and heavy, but, for some reason, it feels lighter than heavier. Maybe that’s just what I’m telling myself?

Roughly translating to tuna’d tuna, tonno tonnato is grilled tuna with a cold tuna sauce, and probably doesn’t sound all that appealing. Even the photographs can not capture how delicious this dish really is (beige on beige – gorgeous!). That could be because it’s fish, but, if you think about the concept behind it, i.e. making a sauce out of the same thing as the principal element of the dish, you are reminded just how many times you’ve had a meat sauce. Taking it to it’s logical conclusion, how many times have you had leftover bolognese sauce cold the day after? It’s pretty good, right? In fact, most long-cooked sauces taste even better the day after.

Tonno Tonnato is take on the traditional Piedmontese dish, Vitello Tonnato, a cold, sliced veal dish topped with the cold tuna sauce (one we will make someday for this here blog). Vitello Tonnato is sure to make many American’s scratch their head in wonderment (or maybe even make their stomach churn at the mere idea of the dish). We are one food culture that doesn’t often mix fish with meat like many other countries do (with the exception of some Creole/Cajun and Lowcountry dishes). But, if you’ve ever given it a try, you’d realize just how well they can go together.

I think the tonnato sauce alone could be used in a variety of ways if you don’t feel like topping some tuna with it. It would make a great spread on some grilled bread with a bit of white beans and herbs mixed together as a bruchetta topping. Throw it in a bowl with some veggies as a dip? Toss it with some cold macaroni for a twist on tuna pasta salad? How about as a nice little condiment for your pannini (depending on the stuffing, of course) or maybe as a dipping sauce for some crispy fried shrimp, fried zucchini or fried oysters (or anything fried for that matter)?

It is important you try to have an open mind about tonnato. So, if you think of the tonnato (the sauce portion of the dish) as a fish version of a cold meat sauce, it might sound more appetizing. On the other hand, it might not. So feel free to skip this one if it grosses you out, but do us a favor and first ask yourself if you would turn your nose up at a nice medium-rare steak topped with bolognese sauce.

**A little on a personal note:  You may notice we’ve been kind of MIA for the past 4 or 5 months – we really haven’t been posting as much. Well, we have a little bambino coming our way within the month and, although we love this blog, we also love life and, as you know, sometimes blogging can feel like it’s getting in the way of living life.  Although we have still been cooking, we’ve also been trying to prepare for the kid, moved, Jonny started a new, more stressful job, we set up a nursery, learned about breast pumps, binky’s, boppy’s, barfy’s and any other stupid thing babies r us tries to make you think you need (I swear all I had growing up was a cardboard box for a toy and an umbrella stroller!).  Jonny and I have also been enjoying our time together before this child arrives and turns our relaxing twosome into, well, who knows, probably a crazy, loud, but fun 3-some (ok that sounds weird).  So you can see why blogging took a back seat to more important things.  We are excited but, naturally, nervous.  We swear we will still be cooking up a storm as soon as we learn how to parent a newborn so, please stick with us. We may be silent for a few months, but we won’t be gone.  And I promise I will not turn this blog into a way to showcase my kid and his latest round of “perfect poos or perfect coos” and I promise we will not feature recipes for homemade baby food!  This blog will remain Jonny and my baby – our thing.  We’ve still gotta have our little things that are just for us, right? That’s not being too selfish? So, again, we don’t often get too personal around We Are Never Full, but we felt like all 4 of you who actually read our blog deserved to know why we haven’t really been keeping up the way we used to recently.  Hopefully this new little life will inspire amazing dishes in the near future!  Stay tuned!

When our readers actually read our posts, it feels really good. Because we often write a lot in our post, it is understandable why some may choose not to actually read our words. We understand how many blogs exist, and many only have time to do the “blog drive-by” (you know what I’m talking about – the “I’m going to just look at the pictures quickly then comment something like damn! that-looks-deeelissssh!” drive by? We’ve all done it). But the thing we love the most about writing a blog about food from all over the world, trying to infuse history, cultural anecdotes and as much authenticity as possible, is when we get schooled. It’s almost like a sick, food-centered type of masochism. It’s almost as if we are bent over some Argentinian, Spanish, French or Italians knee as they spank us very hard telling us how wrong we were about _______________ (insert ethnic dish of choice here). Knowing we have people actually reading what we write (and telling us how we can do things better) makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It shows us that people are actually reading our words and are interested in enlightening people about their culture. When we get something wrong on the blog, getting schooled helps us learn and grow and we love it.

One may think that one of the best perks of having a food blog is getting free truffle products (ok, that friggin rocked), free yogurt (didn’t rock as much as the truffle) or free seasoning packets (that basically sucked) but my favorite “freebie” actually came in the form of a scanned in family recipe. A bit ago, we received an email from a reader that asked us when we were going to take a stab at featuring “Arroz con Gandules” on the blog. He read the blog and understood the research we do in regards to authenticity and asked us to please try his “Puerto Rican Lady Friend’s” recipe. It happened to be a dish we had on that lovely “list of things to make for the blog” so, once we received this, we figured to look no further. We tried the recipe (even having to email the reader back to make sure I could understand his handwriting correctly) and didn’t even bother with any more research. It was that good and that easy to make and a perfect weeknight meal. If you want to mix it up a bit, do as our reader Christine does and serve it along with Puerto Rican slow roasted pork shoulder, Pernil, instead of the bits of pork.

Arroz con Gandules is often thought of as Puerto Rico’s national dish. It is the dish that will most often be made for the Christmas dinner table and after one taste, you will see why. What could be better than a one-pot meal with layers and layers of flavor?  What could be better than looking around at your kitchen thinking you have opened up a Goya shop (that is if you don’t make your own sofrito, sazon or use canned peas)  What could be better than being able to create a delicious crust of crunchy rice and spices goodness that can form at the bottom of the rice called “pegao“?(**We aren’t talented enough yet to get the pegao right, but I’ll be working on it as soon as we pony up and buy a real caldero). So, here’s to Robert – the reader who so graciously supplied this recipe. We may never have met you, but we think of you every month we make Arroz con Gandules!

But, reminiscing about skinnier times, I must say that Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were very delicious.  And, as Heather says, “Catholic much?”.  Yes, we try to incorporate as much fish into our Christmas meal as possible and one starter we had on Christmas Day was this fabulously easy and mildly decadent Salmon Rillettes.  Many know this traditional French “spread” to be made primarily with pork but also with duck, rabbit, chicken or other types of meat, and is often made with tuna or salmon.  Meat rillettes are made by cooking the meat slowly in fat so that it is so tender it almost melts or shreds and is then blended with the cooking fat so that is is able to be spread, once cooled, on pieces of bread.  One day we’ll do a meat rillette for the blog but, until then, give this tasty (and easier to make) salmon version a whirl.  Don’t be afraid of the butter content and ease your worries about eating raw egg by buying cage free and organic.  It needs fat and is supposed to be eaten in small quantities, so enjoy it – but maybe you should wait until after your post-holiday purge?

SALMON RILLETTES (adapted from Bistro by G. Hiriqoyen) - serves six to eight

Ingredients

• 1 3/4 pound (or 12 oz.) piece of salmon, skin removed
• 7 oz. of smoked salmon
• 1/2 cup (4 oz.) of unsalted butter at room temperature
• 2 eggs (the freshest possible), beaten
• 1/2 fennel bulb, chopped very fine using a blender or food processor
• juice of 1 lemon
• 2 tablespoons fresh chives
• optional: 2 tablespoons chopped fennel fronds
• 1 tablespoon chopped capers
• salt and pepper

What to do:

1. Season your salmon filet with salt and pepper, place in a steaming basket, cover and steam over gently boiling water. You could also poach the salmon in  a few inches of water, covering the salmon.  Cook salmon until it is firm to the touch, about 9 minutes.
2. Remove salmon and put in a bowl and shred the salmon with a fork.  It may be easier to just use your fingers, but shred so that pieces are not shredded finely but will give the rillette some texture.  Cover and refridgerate to cool.
3. Place the room temperature butter in a bowl and, using a rubber spatula, “work” it till it’s smooth and creamy. Add the lemon juice, chives, capers, fennel and fennel fronds and mix together well.  Now add the beaten egg, only adding half at first, then mixing.  If you feel it’s still kind of “dry”, add 1/4 more of it.  Personally, I thought it was too wet with 2 whole beaten eggs, so see what works best for you.
4. Cut the smoked salmon into small pieces, about 1 inch “strips” so that they are similar in size to the shredded pieces.  Add the cooled fresh salmon and the smoked salmon pieces to the butter mixture and mix together thoroughly until it is completely incorporated together.  Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper and more lemon juice if necessary.
5. Put in one big ramekin or individual ramekins (about 2 tablespoons per ramekin) and allow to chill in the fridge for at least 3 hours.  Bring to room temperature before serving and serve with toasted slices of baguette.

Note: prepare for a very long read or click here to skip forward to the recipe.

In the same way that there is probably some truth in the Chinese claim to have invented the noodle that became the ubiquitous Italian pasta, the origins of the archetypical British dish of fish n’chips seems to stem from Sephardic Jewish and French Protestant immigrants to the UK. In the mid-18th century, fishing trawlers became large enough to catch significant numbers of North Sea bottom-feeding white fish and domestic railroads expanded so that much of the UK began to have cheap and regular access to this fresh bounty. Also at this time, the potato-cooking skills of French Hugenot immigrants and the fish-frying traditions of Southern European Jews came together in what was to be a lasting and wildly popular marriage.

The French fry had been invented years earlier when the poor had first ventured to cook this new world tuber - originally only thought good enough for animal feed – and these techniques have continued to be refined to this day. Jews immigrating to the UK and other areas of Northern Europe having been expelled from Portugal and Spain brought matza (matzo, matzoh, matsah,) with them, which they knew to be an excellent coating for fish when ground or crumbed. Combining these two techniques with the endemic British passion for beer and deep-frying, resulted in one of the most famous exports from the British Isles since limey sailors began spreading a horrifying variety of VDs in port cities the world over. 

Today’s fish n’chips (depending on where you go) still closely resemble the original ideas found in Portuguese fried fish dishes pescado frito, in which strips of fish are dunked in a light batter of water, matzo flour and salt, then rolled in crumbed matzo before deep-frying in a cauldron of hot oil. In fact, the Portuguese are sometimes credited with having introduced this technique to Japan where it developed into the extremely delicious tempura style. In the UK, beer was often added in place of water to the flour (typically plain flour nowadays, rather than matzo) and salt, with the resulting batter being richer, but somehow lighter, frothier and more golden colored.

The British habit of “chipping” potatoes into larger batons than the continental Europeans, and now the Americans, and only frying them once, appears to just be a local habit. Some have suggested that the UK picked up on an early potato-cooking technique and kept it while the more culinarily-advanced French and Belgians continued to experiment with thinner-cut potatoes and double-frying, so that they perfected the golden and crunchy frites of today. I prefer to think of the British technique to be based not on ignorance, but on textural appreciation. For why have a crispy deep-fried fish and pair it with something else crispy? Why not pair it with something softer and more unctious?

My Life with Fish n’Chips

Anyway, fish n’chips became incredibly popular in the UK and its colonies around the world, with the chip shop still a fixture on virtually every town’s high street in the UK, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa. For much of my youth, growing up in provincial England, it was one of only two choices for cheap, take-away/out food – the other being the uniformly foul and greasy hole that was the Golden Lantern Chinese take-out, so fish n’chips played an important role in our Friday night social traditions. After choir practice at our local church, we’d often hit the chip shop for a “slap-up” dinner of cod & chips with mushy peas, and bread & scrape (sliced white bread with lard), all washed down with our weekly soda allowance – a can of Lilt (a pineapple and grapefruit flavored soda).

Mr. Chips, the snappily-titled chip shop in my Cheshire town was universally known as just “the chippy” and, correspondingly - demonstrating some terribly enlightened feelings towards the town’s tiny, but most obvious, ethnic population - the Golden Lantern, was referred to as “the Chinky”. Subsequently, this ordinary little town has gentrified virtually beyond recognition, with all manner of ethnic restaurants elbowing aside these two bastions of atherosclerosis. However, echoes of these former times can still be heard in local parlance. Sadly, the Golden Lantern is gone, replaced by Slow Boat and Treasure Village, which now, demonstrating how times have changed for the better, are referred to as “the Chinese”; Mughli, an Indian restaurant, is either ”the curry house” or “the Indian”, and Est! Est! Est! is “the Italian”.

Fish n’chip restaurants still play a significant role in British gastronomic and cultural life. As with many countries, the UK has recently undergone a revolution in its food traditions, returning to basics and local ingredients and striving for sustainability. This has led to a re-evaluation and revival of many traditional dishes, including the hugely devalued fish n’chips. With North Sea cod stocks (like cod almost everywhere) having crashed due to overfishing, some traditions have had to change, and now other white fish are used including hake, halibut and haddock in its place, but the typical methods of beer and matzo batter, quality malt vinegar, fine sea salt and first-class British potatoes cooked in beef tallow (beef lard) are emerging again, much to my delight.

We’re heading to London to visit my new nephew in a couple of weeks, and will be hitting up arguably the finest chip shop in the capital, Fryer’s Delight in Holborn, which you will be the first to hear about right here in these pages. To date though, the best fish n’chips I ever had was at a very dodgy-looking chippy in Fleetwood, Lancashire (NW England, about 1.5hrs north of Manchester). Overlooking the grey and miserable-looking Irish Sea, I ate perfectly fried, golden cod, soft and salty chips and deliciously thick marrowfat mushy peas. It was a glorious, all-English experience.

But don’t think that fish n’chips only comes with mushies – oh no, variations abound in dressings. While the traditional is the simple sea salt and malt vinegar with a side of tartar sauce and M.P’s, others include, parsley sauce, brown gravy, curry sauce, garlic sauce, piccalilli, mayonnaise, Henderson’s relish, Worcestershire sauce, pea wet or pea’s water (liquid strained from peas during the creation of mushy peas) which is often free, baked beans, cheese or cheese curds, coleslaw, ketchup, chilli sauce, thousand island dressing, salad cream, chip spice, brown sauce, and summer savory (turkey stuffing & gravy), to name but a few.

Ever striving for the traditional in our take on the dish, we went with a pale ale batter, beautiful Atlantic cod (yes, i know it’s unsustainable, but our fishmonger doesn’t sell haddock or hake) thick cut chips, homemade mushy peas, homemade tartar sauce and, perhaps excessively, homemade curry sauce – my wife being a huge fan of dipping sauces. In fact, all of them are fiendishly easy to make, but as with most simple dishes, the key is high quality ingredients. Old potatoes and a shitty piece of fish even when perfectly fried will still taste like a turd. Similarly, beautifully fresh potatoes and cod fried in rancid old oil will be a disaster. Make sure you buy everything as fresh as possible. Fresh potatoes have very few “eyes” and yield a nice sheen of liquid when peeled, and fresh cod or haddock (hake is fine also) will have wonderfully shiny skin and nice firm flesh. If it’s already flaky and soft do not buy it, instead sharply reprimand your fishmonger for having the temerity to sell such tat.

Fish n’Chips with Mushy Peas, + Tartar and Curry Sauces (serves 2-3)

This meal took about 15 minutes, but that’s only because we had about 15 peppers which had been grilled the weekend before for a bachelorette party (aka “hen do” in other parts) my sister threw for a friend of hers down at the shore. We tried to stay out of their way, but with no male stripper for me to corrupt, I felt no need to be in the ‘thick of things’. What I did love was the variety of penis paraphernalia. Nothing screams “bachelorette party” like penis-shaped straws, penis whistles, a penis-shaped chip tray, penis-shaped pez-on-a-necklace (ohhh the fun… and the taste!) and phallic-shaped skewers of grilled chicken and peppers for the girl’s to dine on before their boozy night out. Fortunately for us, the friend who brought the ingredients for the skewers must’ve thought the party was bigger, because she brought about 4 huge ziplock bags filled with marinating red, green, yellow and orange peppers. They barely used any, so we skewered the rest of them, grilled them up and took them back to Brooklyn with us. So, there we sit a day later with a few leftover garlic-butter soft-shells, a few bags of grilled peppers (thanks, Jackie!) and a bunch of penis-straws. What to do? First, taunt husband with penis straw. Check. Next, put penis straw under husband’s pillow. Check. Finally, get rid of all those pounds of grilled peppers by making some pepper aioli, reheat those crabs and grill some delicious fresh rolls. Check!

***Thanks to bachelorette.com for the use of these friggin awesome pictures of their “Pecker Party Plates” and “Pecker Party Straws”. Perhaps you’d like to visit them to order a “Mid-sized Penis Cake Pan” for your next Daring Bakers competition? ***

If you don’t have the soft-shells, you can so get creative with this meal. Grill some salmon, fry some white fish dipped in batter or herbed flour, grill chicken or pork, maybe even throw some ground lamb burgers on the bun instead. This pepper aioli was so unbelievably delicious and versatile, we found ways to use it the rest of the week. So bring out your inner bachelorette (even you guys….work it), blow on your penis-shaped whistles and chomp into a penis-shaped soft-shell sandwich (or your topping of choice) with pepper aioli.

SOFT-SHELL CRAB SANDWICHES ON BUTTERED GRILLED ROLL WITH PEPPER AIOLI AND CAPERS

Ingredients:

• 2 large soft-shell crabs (or other topping of your choice – battered and fried white fish, grilled or sauteed salmon, lamb burger, fried calamari, etc… use your imagination!)
• some shredded savoy or napa cabbage
• 2 tablespoons of capers
• For the aioli (feel free to use our roasted garlic aioli instead):
  • blender or food processor

  

  • 1 cup of either roasted or grilled red, orange and/or yellow peppers (make sure they have been cooled and try to remove some of the skin if possible if it’s been charred)
  • 1 egg yolk (fresh eggs and organic, if possible, are best here)
  • 1 clove garlic (for a less strong flavor, roast the garlic first)
  • 1 teaspoon (or a few shakes) of hot sauce
  • 1 tablespoon paprika
  • Optional: 1 tablespoon of curry powder
  • Optional: 1 tablespoon of chipotle powder
  • extra virgin olive oil (have at least one cup handy)
  • juice of 1/2 a lemon (or more to taste)
  • salt to taste

What to do:

1. Place all of your ingredients except the olive oil, lemon and salt into your blender or food processor and blitz or pulse till smooth. You may have to scrape the sides a few times in order to get everything pureed.
2. With the lid on, slowly stream in your olive oil as you keep the blender/food processor on constant puree and allow the aioli to emulsify (meaning mix together to form a thicker puree). You may not need to use the whole cup of olive oil. When you notice it getting emulsified, stop and taste for consistency and flavor. Keep adding more oil if you like it very thick.
3. Squeeze in some lemon and a pinch of salt, whizz it up again and taste to make sure seasoning is to your liking.
4. Meanwhile, heat up your frying pan with a bit of olive oil and a tablespoon of butter and allow to melt. Cut your rolls in half and place both halves face down and allow to crisp up a bit. After they have toasted a bit, remove from pan and place on the side.
5. With the remaining oil and butter in your pan, reheat your soft-shells by sauteing them again. After 2 or 3 minutes, flip them to cook on the other side.
6. Assemble your sandwiches by placing the softshell on the bottom of the bun followed by the cabbage and a drizzle of olive oil, a pinch of salt and pepper and a squeeze of lemon. Top with the aioli and capers and enjoy!

Check out some other posts you may enjoy:

• AUTHENTIC CARNE ASADA TACOS
• FUSILLI WITH SALSA DI NOCI AND MUSHROOMS (WALNUT PESTO)
• PERFECT BROCCOLI DI RAPE/RAPINI
• Knowing Your Tagliatelle from Your Tagliolini
• Does Hollywood HATE Food?

In celebration of the start of Euro 2008 – the European soccer/football championships – yesterday, and in light of the fact that England failed to qualify because they were awful, I am in need of a team to follow, so have decided to become an honorary Spanish soccer fan for the next month, or however long it takes for them to get knocked out.

The reason for this, you see (and yes, I’ll get to something actually food-related soon, so please be patient), is not just because I love Spain and am fascinated by nearly all things Spanish, it is also because historically, the Spanish team has always been long on potential but very short on delivery. And as an English football fan, I can appreciate this complex psychology of pitting hope against realistic expectations, and the likelihood of some great moments followed by the depths of despair.

So, to get into the spirit, I decided to watch the opening games of the tournament (neither of which actually featured Spain – they don’t play until Tuesday against Russia, but I’ll be at work then) with a couple of cold beers and, fittingly, a “seleccion de pintxos/pinchos” (small tapas on rounds of bread and often eaten off a toothpick) – the Spanish national team are known as “La Seleccion.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I found that this is the perfect kind of sports-watching food. It’s easy and cheap to make, with four or five ingredients plus a couple of staples from your fridge, you can make a variety of pinchos to suit the tastes of any friends you’re watching it with, and best of all, they are much, much healthier than the conventional bags of chips and salsa, cheetos, or miscellaneous frozen things with dip. This last one is important, because should your team lose, disappointment and self-loathing will be all because of the game, not the snacks!

These pinchos were made from, variously: manchego cheese, piquillo peppers stuffed with meat and cheese, cured anchovies, lettuce, lemon peel, leftover morcilla stuffed-squid, grilled Spanish mackerel, capers, olives, and the very wonderful thing that is leftover Rioja-style chorizo and potatoes (a dish Paul Bocuse declared to be one of the greatest dishes created by man).

You should give sports and pinchos a try, they really are a “match” made in heaven.

Check out these other posts you may enjoy:

With over 61,000 pizzerias in America, how many do you think have really got it right? My guess is about 100. I’ve had some really, really, really shitty pizza in this country (Colorado!? San Francisco!!?) I’ve had some really, really shitty in my own neighborhood of New York City! I still have yet to find a place that really rivals the pizza I’ve eaten in Italy, until now when I realized I can make it myself in the comforts of my own home.

There’s place called Franny’s here in Brooklyn that is one of those annoying, overpriced and over-trendy but packed every night. When we finally decided it was time to see if it lived up to the hype, we were totally disappointed. When I eat something as simple as pizza, I don’t feel like dealing with a pretentious, trendy, annoying hipster attitude or staff. I don’t feel like being charged $16 for a pizza the size of a medium-sized plate and leave hungry. We ate reasonably-priced pizza at Isabella’s Oven, but the crust just didn’t quite do it for us. So, we decided to take matters into our own hands. We will never eat thin-crust pizza around New York City again. There’s no reason. For $20 worth of ingredients, a $15 pizza stone (genius, will never live without it – GO BUY ONE NOW), a $9 bottle of Chianti and my ipod, I can have a better, less expenisive, tastier and more relaxing culinary experience in my small Brooklyn kitchen then going to any of those shit-house, wannabe, up-their-own-asses Italian-style pizza places up the street (sorry, I think you’re finding out my true feelings on Frannys). Remember folks, there’s a difference between the type of pizza we’re going to show you how to make here and the many delicious New York City Pizzeria’s I love and adore (Lombardi’s, Arturos, John’s, Pino La Forcetta, Grimaldi’s, Di Fara, Totonnos, etc. etc.).

In fact, if you don’t feel like making pizza dough from scratch, go ask your local pizzeria for some fresh dough. More than likely, they’ll sell it to you. Just make sure it’s simple – nothing more than flour, yeast and water. No crazy bits of roasted garlic, no honey, no nothin’. The other thing that you must, must have, as I mentioned earlier is a pizza stone. This is KEY to making the best pizza at home. Third thing you must have is a really, really simple sauce recipe. Naturally, I recommend using my sauce recipe - it’s simple and delicious – just make sure you simmer it much longer than what is called for. The sauce should not be very wet, but more concentrated. Fourth is space to roll your dough out and a bit of muscle. I can’t toss friggin’ pizza dough in the air for the life of me so I spend my time rolling and rolling and rolling this pizza dough till it FINALLY does what I need it to do – roll out thin. Finally, you need a hot oven. If your oven has a hard time making it past 425 degrees, this may not work as well for you. You need to whack it up as high as it goes (550F+) and allow the pizza stone 20 minutes to heat up before you heat up the dough. Follow these simple instructions and you’ll have perfect pizza every time.

Here’s pictorial of all the pizza’s we’ve made recently to give you some ideas of toppings, most recreated from ones we ate while in Italy. Immediately following the picture you will find a really great recipe for pizza dough from Jeffrey Steingarten’s book It Must’ve Been Something I Ate. Buon Appetito!

Pizza with Cipollini Onions and Tonno

Pizza Romana (Pizza w/ Capers and Anchovies)

White Pizza with Mushrooms, Leeks and White Truffle Oil

Pizza with Anchovies and Cabrales (or Gorgonzola)

Bresaola, Arugula and Parmigiano Pizza

Pizza Romana (Capers and Anchovy) with Cracked Egg on Top

So, hope your mouth is watering and now YOU will think about a new pizza with toppings you love! Check out how to make pizza dough below.

PIZZA DOUGH ALA JEFFREY STEINGARTEN (an adaptation)

Ingredients:

• 6 to 6 1/2 cups of flour

• 1 1/2 tsp instant or active dry yeast

• 1 tbsp. plus 1 teaspoon salt

• 3 1/4 cups cold water

• 1/2 cup cornmeal or semolina flour

What to do:

1. In the mixer bowl of your food processor, stir the flours, yeast and salt together. Pour in the water and stir vigourously with a wooden spoon until everything comes together into a “shaggy dough”.

2. Put the bowl on the mixer and attach the beater – not the dough hook. This dough is too wet for regular kneading. Mix on low speed for a minute then beat on high speed for 3 1/2 minutes, scraping down the beater and bowl halfway through.

3. ***Steingarten explains the way to knw when your dough is perfect: With well-floured fingers, pull off a piece of dough about the size of a walnut and roll it in flour. You should be able to stretch it with the fingers of both hands without breaking for at least 3 inches across.

4. Scrape the dough out onto a heavily floured work surface. Fold one side over the other and allow to rest for 10 mintues. After 10 minutes, cut dough into 4 equal pieces and shape each piece into a ball and place each in a well-oiled bowl to rise until double in size – about 3 hours. ***NOTE: Steingarten likes to then put his dough balls in the fridge for an hour… if you have the time, do so, otherwise, I don’t think it’s absolutely necessary.

   

5. Preheat your oven to as high as it can go (at least 500 degrees!) and allow the pizza stone to heat up for a half hour to one hour.

6. On a well-floured surface, pat each dough ball into as flat of a circle as possible. Stretch it by draping the dough over your fists, knuckels up, passing it from hand to hand until it reaches about 12 inches. ***NOTE: This is the thing, do not despair at this point if it’s not going as perfectly as you want. This is not as easy as Steingarten says. With practice, it’ll be easier. But, we give the fist to fist way a try for a bit, then bust out a well-floured rolling pin and litterally attack the dough with our pin until it gets as thin as we need it to be. We like it to be about 1/2 a centimeter thick when we first cook it on the pizza stone.

   

7. ***This is where I do things a bit differently than Steingarten. Using oven mits, take your pizza stone out of the hot, HOT oven. Scrape your pizza dough off your floured surface and place on the hot stone (it will begin to cook immediately) and place back in the oven for two minutes or until there is a tiny bit of color on the surface and edges of the dough. Remove from oven and place back on your work surface. It will be ‘stiff’ but not fully cooked.

8. Depending on what type of pie you are making (red pie, white pie, olive oil and herbs-brushed pie), put down your ‘wet’ ingredients first (ie: tomato sauce). Don’t put too much on, just a thin layer for taste.

   

   

9. Add your toppings (go light like the italians! you don’t need to have 2 inches-worth of toppings to make this pizza taste good) and then your cheese (get low-moisture mozzerella and fresh buffala mozzerella that’s as low-moisture as possible – the moisture in the cheese could moisten your crust and cause it to be too wet and heavy).

10. Add the topped pizza back to your pizza stone and put back in the hot oven for 4 to 7 minutes, making sure all the cheese is melted and bubbley and the crust has some color to it. Remove from oven and allow to rest for a moment before biting in.

    

***If you’re interested in learning how we made any of the pizzas you see pictured above, let us know. We don’t mind posting the recipes. For the most part, you can kind of get a feel for the recipe by looking at the picture and the title of the pizza. But, we’re here to help. You’ve gotta give these thin-crust pizza’s a try!

It’s the Thursday after Easter and most people out there are still picking the candy and chocolate out of their teeth having just gorged themselves on all manner of Easter Bunny-shaped confectionery. Ever the destroyers of convention, we have been doing something altogether more real and, some may say, sinister. Yes, friends, cover your children’s ears, for over the weekend, we — like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction — put the Easter Bunny in the pot.

Easter traditions have a lot to answer for in the removal of rabbit from the American table. It is no coincidence that around the turn of the 19th century, fifty years or so after German immigrants had brought the habit of fashioning rabbits out of chocolate and sugar to the New World at Easter-tide, the amount of rabbit being eaten in the US fell into an almost terminal decline. It is only really in the last fifteen years that it has returned, and even now is commonly regarded with suspicion and, in many cases, horror. For what could be crueler than eating a lovely, cute and furry bunny?

Now, lest you think us heartless carnivores, I should point out that I am a big fan of rabbits – and I mean live ones. Not only did I have rabbits as pets for many years as a child and have very fond memories of how much fun they were, but I also believe that contrary to public perception, rabbits are in fact quite intelligent creatures with individual personalities and do make excellent pets.

So, you ask, how could I possibly, as my vegetarian sister puts it, “eat my friends”? Well, readers, first of all, sadly, my rabbits both died nearly twenty years ago, so I am not (and would not) eat the rabbits that were my friends, and secondly, we did not put a pet rabbit in the pot as Ms. Close did, but rather we bought two skinned, headless and footless rabbits (at quite a hefty price) from a local butcher, rather like you would a couple of chickens. And, few, save perhaps fellow poultry, mourn the passing of a couple of chickens.

Then, to immortalize this fortunate (it was making an important contribution to our dinner – what an honor!) and extravagantly-priced creature, we prepared a delicious Provencal-style stew with olives, capers and tomatoes, the making of which we recorded to fashion our first We Are Never Full podcast! What better way to give thanks for the life of a noble beast than to prepare it for the hereafter with a savory, herby sauce and record this event for posterity in mp3?

But, regardless of your feelings about eating rabbits, it really was a truly memorable meal and an excellent recipe (see below). We hope you’ll listen to the podcast and let us know what you think about our first, amateurish foray into the world of multimedia production. We’re planning more podcasts for the future and expect to get much better at it with every attempt.

Provencal Rabbit Stew with Olives and Capers (serves 4)

Rabbit can dry out quickly when cooked because it lacks fat, so this stew works perfectly to keep the meat moist and to tenderize it through long, slow cooking. We ate it with some boiled potatoes for the first meal, then over some tagliatelle as a ragu the second time. Either way it’s delicious and would also work well over rice or just served with some crusty country bread.

Ingredients

1 large rabbit (2-3 lbs)
2-3 tbsp olive oil
½ cup plain flour
½ cup smooth Dijon mustard + 2 tablespoons extra
2 cups coarsely chopped onion
½ cup coarsely chopped carrot
1 cup white wine (whatever you plan to drink with the meal)
1 large sprig thyme
1 medium sprig rosemary
1 bay leaf
1½ tsp tomato paste
5 finely chopped garlic cloves
3-4 cups chicken stock
1 16-0z can of whole, peeled tomatoes (tomatoes only, no juice)
¾lb brine-cured green olives (without pimentos)
1 can black olives, drained
¾ cup capers (large, not nonpareils)
¼ cup finely chopped/chiffonaded parsley

Recipe
1. Preheat oven to 375F
2. Cut rabbits into 6 pieces: hind legs (2), forelegs (2) and center-loin/spine (cut in half) or have your butcher do this for you.
3. Brush the rabbit pieces with mustard and then dredge them lightly in flour, shaking off excess.
4. Put a large, high-sided ovenproof pot (we used our big enameled cast-iron Le Creuset) over medium heat and add olive oil.
5. Add rabbit and brown on both sides – 2-3 mins per side or until golden brown. Remove and set aside
6. Add the onions and carrots to the pot and cook over a slightly higher heat until onions have some color. Sprinkle in the leftover flour, if any remains, and stir well into onion. (Additional oil may be necessary here if pan is dry.)
7. Deglaze pot with white wine over high heat and mix well to get all the crusty bits off.
8. Add the thyme, rosemary and bay, extra two tablespoons of mustard and tomato paste and garlic. Mix well.
9. Return rabbit to pot. Add plum tomatoes, olives and capers and add enough chicken stock to cover meat and vegetables by about an inch. Bring to a boil. Cover and braise in oven for 1½ hours or until meat has begun to pull away from bones.
10. Return pan to stove top and reduce sauce by about half. You may also thicken sauce with flour, if desired.
11. Check seasoning and sprinkle with the parsley.
12. Serve. Bowls are best, we found. Enjoy!

Thanks to Dean & DeLuca for the base of this recipe.

Please note that we are FINALLY up on iTunes. Check out all our podcasts

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• Spanish Easter Bread – Hornazo
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• Jamon, Jamon
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The recipe is actually one of my originals, although I’m sure there are others out there with similar ingredients. I was probably influenced in my choice of ingredients by Daisy Martinez who uses alcaparrado with virtually everything, and by my version of Lidia Bastianich’s method for braised lamb chops, but I am proud to say that this recipe and its accompaniments are mine, all mine (evil laugh).

So here’s the deal:

Braised Pork-Chops with Lime and Olives

Ingredients:

• 2-4 large pork shoulder chops
• 2oz plain flour
• 1/2 large onion, thinly sliced
• 3 large cloves garlic, thinly sliced
• 1/2 hot jamaican pepper/habanero, finely chopped
• 4tbsp alcaparrado (pickled capers, olives and pimentos) chopped roughly
• 1 cup of no salt added chicken stock
• 2tbsp olive oil
• juice of 1/2 lime + 2tbsp sour orange (naranja agria) juice
• 1tbsp cilantro (leaves and stalks), finely chopped
• salt and black pepper to taste
• sliced avocado (garnish)

Mashed Yuca with Sour Orange and Allspice

• 1 large yuca or cassava, peeled and chopped into 1 inch chunks
• 4 pints boiling, salted water
• 3tbsp olive oil
• juice of 1 large lime
• 3-4 large allspice berries, finely ground or 3 tsp allspice
• 6 tbsp sour orange (naranja agria) juice
• black pepper to taste

Recipe:

Add the yuca to the boiling water, bring it back to a boil, cover with a lid and lower heat to medium.

Heat skillet to medium high and flour pork chops. Shake off excess, add half oil to pan and then add chops to pan. Brown on both sides – 4-5 mins/side. Remove chops to a plate, add rest of oil and put start sauteeing onions.

As onions start to brown, add garlic, chilli and alcaparrado. Cook for no more than two minutes before re-adding the chops. Turn up the heat to high and add enough stock to almost cover, but not quite, your chops. Stir and cover. When liquid boils, reduce heat and simmer for twenty minutes.

After the yucca has been boiling for thirty minutes, test it for softness with a knife. Just like potatoes, if yucca slips off knife, it’s done. If not, keep cooking until it does. Drain done yucca and put back in pan with olive oil. Mash like crazy until yucca is smooth and difficult to mash more. Add allspice, lime juice and sour orange and stir in. Correct seasoning and add chopped cilantro just before serving.

After twenty minutes, remove the lid from the chop pan and add lime and sour orange juice. Reduce liquid to about half of original and add cilantro. Correct seasoning and serve on a bed of the mashed yucca.

CHECK OUT SOME OF THESE OTHER POSTS YOU MAY ENJOY: 

• KOREAN-STYLE PORK RIBS IN PRESSURE COOKER
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