Kitchen Monkey

French Laundry-Inspired Huevos Rancheros with Poached Egg and Pureed Roasted Poblano

2011-10-16T21:57:00.011-04:00

Clearly the picture you see above is not huevos rancheros. It is, rather, pan-roasted scallops with morel mushrooms and aspargus puree, which is what the Missus and I had for dinner Friday night. The recipe came from Thomas Keller's "The French Laundry Cookbook," which I recently purchased. Keller is a bona fide culinary genius according to everyone. Some day I will eat at the French Laundry, or Per Se. Until then I'll have to content myself with whatever humble approximations I can eke out from his book, our tiny kitchen, and a relatively limited selection of sources. Could I make every recipe in this book? Depends. Want to sell me an entire pig's head?

I'll not be posting Keller's recipe, in keeping with my loosely-kept policy of not posting others' recipes without direct permission. So you'll settle for a consolation prize, perhaps?

You see, browsing through the book's large and elegantly-designed pages I was inspired to try something new with an old favorite. My obsession with huevos rancheros goes back to my youth in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and is known to anyone who has either read this blog regularly, or known me since 1990. Even after three years of cohabitation and 1 1/2 years of marriage, the Missus still largely feigns support of this obsession, but I suppose I shouldn't blame her for the occasional "can we just have pancakes for breakfast today?" I'm also sure that at least two of my readers (which I believe constitutes 1/3 of my readership) are thinking to themselves "is he seriously writing about huevos rancheros again? Yes! But I must say, the Missus gave this iteration her full support.

A number of Keller's recipes contain purees, and I wanted to see what I could do along those lines. The only thing this recipe shares with traditional huevos is some basic ingredients, but the preparation is unique. The measurements below are only approximate, but this is the sort of thing you can and should experiment with.

(1) The green stuff you see above consists of roasted and peeled poblano peppers pureed with salt and olive oil (delicious by itself).

(2) The brown stuff is my traditional beans, but pureed. It consists of sauteed onions and garlic mixed with spices (cumin, coriander, oregano, smoked paprika, and mace or allspice), san marzano tomatoes, and a bit of chicken stock. Stew all of that for about 20 minutes, then puree.

(3) The potatoes I sliced on a mandoline for uniformity, then cut into the wedges you see below. I boiled them for a few minutes to soften them up, then put them in a bath of ice water to stop the cooking. I then drained them, and coated them in a mixture of 3 parts flour to 1 part ground cumin and 1 part ground coriander. I then fried them in about 2/3 inch of vegetable oil and put them on a paper towel to absorb the oil.

(4) The egg was poached, then garnished with fresh chives and diced shallots that had been sauteed in olive oil in which I soaked annatto seeds (the seeds impart a wonderful orange color and rich flavor to the olive oil).

Serve with really good coffee! And for a more decadent experience, a dollop of sour cream or creme fraiche.

Gazpacho

2011-09-11T10:27:00.004-04:00

Now that summer is over and good tomatoes are getting harder to find, I'm finally getting around to posting my gazpacho recipe. It holds no claim to being particularly original or different, but several people who say they don't normally like gazpacho have praised it, and I certainly like it.

Like any gazpacho, this one wins or loses entirely on the quality of the tomatoes you use. In other words, don't skimp. You want big fat heirloom tomatoes. When possible, I use at least three different kinds, which gives the soup a nice complexity.

The other thing to know about this recipe is that it's an approximation. Gazpacho is one of those things I tend to wing. But I've also written it so that you can add the base a little at a time to taste.

Serves 6

1 medium shallot

1 garlic clove

6-8 fresh chives

1/4 bunch of fresh parsley

1 red bell pepper

1 cubanelle pepper

3 Large Heirloom tomatoes (cut into large pieces)

salt

(1) Roast the peppers over an open flame until the skin is completely black. If you don't have a grill going or a gas stove, you can cut the peppers in half, remove the stems and seeds, and lay them flat on tinfoil beneath a toaster oven broiler or your oven's broiler until the skin is black. Run the peppers under cold water, removing the seeds and stems if you haven't already, and peel the skin off. Set the peppers aside.

(2) Peel the shallot and garlic, then place the first four ingredients in a food processor. Process until finely minced. Spatula the mixture out of the food processor and set aside in a bowl.

(3) Add the roasted peppers to the food processor and puree.

(4) With the peppers still in the processor, add the tomatoes and process to the consistency you like. Add salt to taste.

(5) Add the shallot/garlic/herbs mixture to the tomatoes a little at a time--in the food processor if you're going for a smooth gazpacho, or in a bowl if you're going for a chunkier texture. Add the mixture to the tomatoes until you have the balance you want.

Note: For a truly smooth gazpacho, use a blender. I start off with the food processor, and after the five steps above I put it in a bowl and use a hand blender.

Note: Most cubanelle peppers are not particularly spicy, but if you're a wilting violet, you may want to test it out before adding it. It can always be replaced with an even more benign pepper.

Grappa Italian Cafe - Park City Utah

2011-07-10T21:30:00.006-04:00

The Missus and I spent the past week in Park City, Utah, at a vacation rental home on a hillside overlooking Main Street. As many of you know, Park City is a beautiful town nestled in the Wasatch Mountain Range. It is a ski mecca, home of the Sundance Film Festival, and all-around fantastic place to be at any time of the year. And it has some great restaurants. We mostly cooked, but on the last night of our vacation, the Missus and I splurged at Grappa, the Italian restaurant you see above. The best thing by far was the location. The staircase you see to the right side of the photo goes up the hillside about 100 yards, and our vacation home was at the top--so it was a short and convenient walk. They sat us on the white-canopied balcony, seen in the above photo on the third floor. Here is the view from the balcony:

This photo shows that we were right at the tree line, and the wind blowing through the leaves of the aspens made for a wonderful soundtrack to our meal. The photo also shows you the excellent osso bucco I ordered. I love a good osso bucco, and it's one of the few dishes I set aside my ethical qualms for (it being veal and all). It was served with a creamy polenta, brussels sprouts, and crispy pancetta. It was wonderful. I enjoyed it with a glass of full-bodied '05 Avignonesi Vino Nobile di Montepulciano.

While in Park City we also enjoyed time spent with family, viewed a Main Street 4th of July parade, made a side trip to Lagoon (the amusement park I grew up going to) and had a good old fashioned water fight.

Back to the real world. Sigh. Maybe I'll make some osso bucco this weekend. Keep the memories alive.

First Anniversary Trip - the Shenandoahs and the Joshua Wilton House

2011-06-06T21:01:00.011-04:00

The Joshua Wilton House - Fantastic Restaurant in Harrisonburg, VA

That's right . . . Kitchen Monkey and the Missus have been married a year now, and I'm happy to say it has been a wonderful year, and I look forward to many more. I've been wanting to let her do a guest post or two for a while now, and this seems as good an occasion as any, so without further ado . . . to tell you about the amazing food ate this past weekend, I now present Ms. Monkey. . .

I've officially been "The Missus" for a year. To celebrate our wedding anniversary, KM and I spent a weekend at a B&B in Harrisonburg, Virginia, nestled in the Shenandoahs. The B&B was fine, but as KM and I have come to say of pretty much any place we've stayed since our wedding night - this was no Hay Adams.

It was a beautiful weekend, with a hike in the Shenandoah Mountains past several waterfalls, and a morning stroll through the local farmer's market (complete with Civil War reenactors and old fashioned blacksmiths). There was morning coffee on the porch swing and - of course - there was food. So I'll spare you the mushy stuff that no one cares about but me and KM and skip straight to the cuisine.

You might not think there'd be much to hope for in the way of a memorable meal in a town of 45,000, where 40% of the population is comprised of university students. But Harrisonburg's restaurants get it right by sourcing their meats and produce locally, emphasizing freshness and simplicity. The first dinner of the weekend took place at the Local Chop House & Grille. One thing to know about me is that I was a vegetarian for 8 years - until I met KM. I'm still picky about my meat - I do my best to eat only local and organic and the appeal of cutting into a big juicy steak is still lost on me. When I ordered the chicken though I knew this was going to be a very special chicken. My dinner was raised at Polyface Farms - made famous by Michael Pollan in his renowned Omnivore's Dilemma and hailed as a model of agricultural sustainability. A happy chicken it was, lightly salted with crispy skin and a creamy tomato dipping sauce. A small pool of cheesy grits complimented the tang of local mushrooms in a thick balsamic.

The Chop House was overshadowed by Saturday night's dinner at The Joshua Wilton House which was built not long after the Civil War. We were surprised when we arrived to be shown to a table set in a gazebo on a charming patio behind the house - special treatment for our anniversary. We began with the appetizer special - calamari stuffed with risotto and Spanish chorizo and topped with a squid ink sauce. The owners recently took a trip to Spain where they were inspired to create this dish - and inspired it was. After we had finished cleaning the plate with a half dozen freshly baked rolls, there was a salad of delicate watercress with fresh, crispy asparagus and buttermilk dressing. KM says that the Polyface Farm hard boiled egg on this salad was the best egg he's ever eaten.* For the main course, KM had the grilled duck with sweet potato puree, sweet chili glazed beans and finished with a maple balsamic sauce. I had plump scallops nestled in a buttery cream sauce, risotto and maple glazed carrots. Both dishes paired well with a light Pinot Noir from Oregon's Willamette Valley, from a winery called "Alphabets." And because we can't help ourselves, we finished it off with an apple gallette complimented by a piece of salty peanut brittle.

It was a weekend filled with the flavors of delicious food, adventure and warmth - all things I talked about in my wedding vows as things that KM brings to our partnership and which I appreciate very deeply. So here's to the next year and many more as The Missus!

*KM's note: I say this about a lot of foods while I'm eating them, but this really was the best egg I've ever eaten. And thanks to the Missus for the post. A very memorable weekend.

The Amazing Chesapeake Bay Oyster (it's hopeful comeback and it's deliciousness in risotto)

2011-04-24T18:42:00.014-04:00

While D.C. itself is short on notable regional cuisine, we are lucky to live not too far from the Chesapeake Bay, which has given us crab cakes and the like, and a particular favorite of mine--oysters. This past weekend we indulged in a rich and creamy risotto made with local bluepoint oysters. I'm a bit of a risotto fanatic, and if I could eat oysters every day I would, so this recipe is basically (to paraphrase Ron Swanson) my fifth favorite food cooked inside my second favorite food.

The recipe came from For Cod and Country, Barton Seaver's new seafood cookbook. Since meeting Seaver and acquiring his book a month or so ago, the missus and I have eaten a good deal of seafood, all of it sustainable, and much of it local. The Monterey Bay Aquarium has a free Seafood Watch smartphone app that has made shopping for sustainable seafood far easier.

The oysters you see above were local bluepoints, from the Maryland based Choptank Oyster Company. The vast majority of oysters you can buy have been farmed, and Choptank has a focus on sustainable farming practice. Oysters such as these get a "Best Choice" rating from Seafood Watch, while their wild-caught cousins in the Gulf rank not quite as high. The farming methods are fairly low-impact, and because they filter the water as they feed, they play a crucial role in their ecosystem, particularly in the now-blighted Chesapeake Bay.

Until fairly recently, the Chesapeake Bay oyster population was at the bottom of a severe population decline. Efforts by Maryland and Virginia officials and the Army Corps of Engineers have seen the beginnings of a comeback, though their numbers are still a fraction of the billions of oysters that filled the bay in the 1800s. Apart from the efforts to establish wild oyster preserves, oyster aquaculture companies such as Choptank are aiding in that effort. Although these oysters will be harvested and sold, during their lifespan they are filtering the water. Increased demand for oysters would lead these companies to expand their efforts and convince new companies to get in the game. In other words, start eating more oysters. Right now! Do it!

Anyhow . . . Seaver's recipe is great. My shucking skills have gotten rusty, but were soon up to snuff. I've made many risottos, but never with creme fraiche. It was decadently rich, and I really enjoyed the blend of flavors that included the oysters, their liquor, orange juice and zest, butternut squash, onion, fresh parsley and fresh tarragon. I've given you most of the ingredients, but not the recipe, as I'm feeling a bit lazy. In any case, buy the book, download the app, think about the fish you eat, so we can all keep eating fish.

The Huevos Rancheros Post to Rule Them All

2011-04-23T13:40:00.008-04:00

(click to see larger pic)

Some people have a lifelong obsession with one particular food or dish. A favorite example of mine is Allen Ginsberg's passion for making soup, at which he excelled. I feel similarly passionate about huevos rancheros, and have spent years improving my recipe and trying endless variations. In it's truest and original form huevos rancheros is extremely simple and plain, having the same basics: eggs, tortilla and beans.

Within those three ingredients there are many options. Another usual ingredient is a tomato/chili sauce. I tend to combine those elements with the beans (see below). You'll sometimes see the addition of rice (but never on my huevos rancheros plate) and more frequently, potatoes (which I always use). There are countless other possible additions to those basics. Rather than post one recipe, here is a rundown of how I vary the basics to create dozens of versions of my favorite breakfast/brunch (and sometimes dinner). If anyone out there has a favorite version or addition, I would definitely like to know about it.

One more thing: I've had some comments on KM in the recent past about how some of my dishes aren't "authentic" (I'm looking at you anonymous Spanish hater of my paella). I am definitely not striving for authentic here, or really ever. Going for tasty and interesting. It doesn't mean I don't have respect for the original. If you don't feel I should be calling this "huevos rancheros," you're welcome to let me know. But I aint gonna stop.

The Tortilla

It is more traditional in Mexico to use corn tortillas, which I typically pan-fry, briefly, in a very small amount of vegetable oil. I occasionally use flour tortillas, but the corn tortillas are healthier. I suppose you could use low-fat wheat tortillas, but why ruin such a great dish?

The Eggs

The traditional way is simply to fry them. You really should cook them sunny-side up, so the yolk can run and mix with the beans. Mmmmmm. Sometimes, if I'm feeling fancy or have company, I'll poach the eggs in stock. I have also done scrambled eggs, or hardboiled eggs chopped small, but fried or poached are best. Regardless of how you cook them, be sure to sprinkle with salt and fresh pepper when done.

The Beans

For me, the beans are the most important part. Traditional huevos are often served with refried beans, or sometimes black beans cooked with a few spices. I don't care for refried beans, and mine are always made with black beans. The traditional dish is also usually served with a kind of tomato-chili sauce. I prefer to combine the chilies and tomatoes with the beans to give it all more substance and flavor. This is how I usually do it:

I start by sauteeing a medium sized chopped onion in olive oil (this is for a 32 oz. can of beans, if you're using more or less, adjust your onion size accordingly). After a few minutes, I add at least a tablespoon each of freshly ground cumin seeds, coriander seeds, and a tablespoon of smoked paprika. Those are the basic spices, but I will often add a 1/4 tsp. of mace and/or a teaspoon of dried mexican oregano. Once the spices have released their aroma through the simmering olive oil, I add three cloves of chopped garlic and sautee for a few more minutes.

I then add about a cup of stock (right now we have a freezer filled with ice cubes of home made beef/chicken stock, which provides me with a mild but frequent feeling of joy), along with two fresh chopped tomatoes. If all I have is canned plum tomatoes, I'll add several of those, chopped, along with about 1/4 cup of the tomato juice.

I drain and rinse the canned beans and add them, then let everything simmer for at least a half hour, until the liquid is reduced. If it reduces too much, just add a bit more stock or water. Sometimes I'll use dry beans slow-cooked overnight in our crockpot, but I too rarely think that far ahead.

Adjust the spices however you like. And of course, add salt and pepper. I will occasionally add peppers (poblano, jalapeno, or simply red or green pepper) to the beans. If fresh, I chop them and add them at the same time as the onions. Occasionally I'll buy the small cans of Hatch green chiles, which are from New Mexico and tend to fill me with fond memories of the years I lived in Albuquerque and ate Hatch green chiles all the time.

The Potatoes / Home Fries

I almost always use red potatoes, which I chop so that they're a bit bigger than dice. I boil them with a generous amount of salt in the water, and drain them just before they're fully cooked. I reserve some of the coriander and cumin I ground for the beans (again, about a tablespoon of each). In a large non-stick sautee pan, I heat some vegetable oil and let the spices cook for 1 minute before tossing the potatoes to coat them. Add salt and pepper and continue cooking until the potatoes get a bit crispy on the outside.

Once everything is cooked, simply lay the tortilla flat on the plate and arrange everything else on top however you wish. Feel free to add whatever you want. Here are some ideas I often turn to:

Bacon: I've eased up on the bacon in recent years, but I love the black forest strips you can buy at Whole Foods, and will sometimes buy just enough for one strip per plate. Delicious.

Dairy: I used to cover my huevos rancheros with cheese, but I'm trying to get in shape and have cut back on this a bit. Still, a small amount of really good sharp cheddar can be a beautiful thing on top of the beans. I also used to add a dab of sour cream, but lately have used the somewhat more healthy Greek yogurt, or sometimes labneh, which has a really pleasant tangy flavor that goes against the beans nicely. That said, this morning I used creme fraiche. Not healthy, not traditional, but very good.

Sauce or salsa: A dab of Joe Baker's Damn Good Salsa goes really well with all these ingredients, but if I don't have a batch, we'll often use a bit of hot sauce on the potatoes. Our fellow SASOU chefs Scott and Amy recently went to Belize and brought us back a bottle of Marie Sharp's Grapefruit Pulp Habanero Pepper Sauce. Really great stuff. Apart from that, our go-to sauce is Tapatio. Tabasco has it's place, but not on huevos rancheros.

Other additions:

Fresh chopped cilantro and/or parsley

Avacado slices or guacamole

Flame-roasted poblano peppers, with the charred skin peeled off and the peppers sliced into strips.

This morning I also simmered 1/4 cup of annato seeds in 1/2 cup of olive oil and 1/2 cup vegetable oil, for about 20 minutes. I then strained the seeds out and discarded them, reserving the oil. I used the oil to fry the eggs, and drizzled a small amount on top of the potatoes. The aroma and flavor are great.

"For Cod and Country" and the National Geographic Sustainable Sushi Dinner

2011-03-31T13:19:00.008-04:00

The missus and I truly lucked out yesterday. Our friend Jackie e-mailed us yesterday morning to say that she had extra tickets to the National Geographic Sustainable Sushi Event. We had no idea what to expect, but "sustainable," "sushi," and "free" are three of my favorite words, so how could it not be fantastic? What we didn't realize is that, by dint of Jackie's position at Whole Foods, we were seated at the Genji Table. Genji, based in Philly, is the company that provides sushi to Whole Foods, and they were responsible for providing the seven seafood courses for last night's event. By happenstance, I sat right next to Barton Seaver--chef, author of the book you see above, and introductory speaker at last night's event.

Barton Seaver has had a compelling and varied career. Up until about two years ago he helmed D.C.'s best seafood restaurant, Hook, and served on the D.C. Mayor's Council on Nutrition. He now focuses his efforts on promoting awareness of the dire (far more dire than I realized) situation of the earth's fish stocks, but more importantly, what we can do about it. To that end, he currently has a fellowship with National Geographic, and has published the book you see above, which is well-written and designed, and filled with information and great-looking recipes. His knowledge of seafood and the surrounding sustainability issues is encyclopedic, and he is an engaging and enthusiastic speaker on the subject. It turns out he also lives in our neighborhood, in Mt. Pleasant, D.C. Naturally I purchased his book, which he signed "best fishes." You can pre-order it here or on Amazon, or if you live in D.C., purchase it at Politics & Prose. I urge you to do so. I plan on making a dish from it tonight, and perhaps will post about it.

Now, the dinner. It was held in a hall in the National Geographic building, set up with dining tables and Japanese decorations, with koto and shamisen music playing softly in the background. The main speaker, Casson Trenor, has also authored a book, Sustainable Sushi. He gave a brief speech about the state of the Earth's fishstocks, and throughout the evening's seven courses he would go back to the stage to explain what we were eating, why it was sustainable, and what we could be doing to help promote sustainable seafood. The highlight courses for me were the skipjack tuna minced with a delicious sauce, a Maryland blue crab soup, and especially a kale salad (sauteed or steamed, I'm not sure) with scallops and a dressing that I believe had miso in it. They also offered a delicious sake, and two varieties of delicious Argentine wine.

I've lamented before on Kitchen Monkey about the state of the world's tuna. But there is no question that I take the issue of seafood sustainability far more seriously than before. It means I will be giving up on a number of fishes that I love, but it will also drive me to be more adventurous with "greener" fishes that I have overlooked or not fully explored.

In any event, it was a fantastic night. Times like these I feel really lucky to live in D.C.

Thanks again Jackie!

Sea Scallops with Bean Fricassee (inspired by Daniel Boulud)

2011-03-06T20:05:00.004-05:00

It has been a little over a year since the historic dinner at Daniel, the day that Kitchen Monkey proposed to the missus. Reminiscing about that phenomenal meal got me wondering what Daniel Boulud Recipes might be floating around on the web. I found this one, though it is heavily adapted to what I could find at Whole Foods (seriously, who in the hell carries rice paper flakes?) This was fairly easy, very tasty, and I will definitely make it again.

serves 4

The Pesto
1 cup packed basil leaves
1/2 cup pine nuts
2 cloves garlic
2/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

The Bean Fricassee
3 TB extra virgin olive oil
1 large shallot, chopped
2 cloves garlic
2 1/2 cups haricots verts, chopped into 1-inch pieces
1 can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup good fresh tomato, chopped
2/3 cup white wine
1 cup chicken stock
salt and pepper

The Scallops
1 lb. sea scallops
1 1/2 cups slivered & blanched almonds, chopped
1 egg, beaten
extra virgin olive oil

Instructions
Pesto:
(1) Make the pesto by placing garlic and pine nuts in a food processor. Puree, then add basil and puree. Add olive oil slowly. Salt to taste. Set pesto aside (but not in fridge).
Fricassee and Scallops
(2) Heat olive oil on medium high in a large saucepan, then add shallot and sautee until carmelized, add garlic and sautee for a few minutes more.
(3) Add both types of beans to the pot and stir well to coat with oil. Cook over medium high heat for 5 minutes.
(4) Add tomatoes, stir, cook for 3 more minutes.
(5) Add white wine and chicken stock, bring to simmer.
(6) Continue simmering until the harictos verts are still slightly firm but nearly cooked.
(7) Pour in strainer, reserving juice. Set beans aside and place juice back in saucepan, reduce over high heat, to about 2/3 volume.
(8) As sauce is reducing, coat each scallop lightly in the beaten egg, then roll in the chopped and slivered almonds to coat.
(9) Once all scallops are coated, heat olive oil in a large sautee pan over medium high heat. Add scallops and sautee for about 3-4 minutes on one side, until almonds brown. Turn over with a pair of tongs, and sautee on the other side for another few minutes.
(10) As scallops are cooking, return beans to the reduced stock/wine sauce until beans are heated through. Salt and Pepper to taste.
(11) To plate, spoon the fricassee in the center, and top with 3 or 4 scallops. Drizzle pesto around the edges.

Lamb Ravioli with Roasted Yellow Pepper Sauce

2011-01-30T09:48:00.003-05:00

Kitchen Monkey had his wisdom teeth out this past Friday, so it's all about soft foods for the next few days. No one likes getting a bit of tortilla chip stuck in their socket.

I recently came by some Virginia-raised halal ground lamb, and figured it was time to make ravioli again. The filling can be changed up if you like, with different herbs, or different cheese. The sauce matches really well with the lamb though. Neither are too overbearing. There are plenty of places online to find homemade pasta recipes and ravioli instructions, and as usual, I'm feeling lazy, so here's the basics:

Lamb Ravioli with Roasted Yellow Pepper Sauce

Ravioli Filling

2 lbs. of ground lamb
4 sprigs fresh rosemary, chopped (get rid of the stems, of course)
6 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 egg
1/2 lb. finely grated parmesan
Salt and pepper

Sautee the garlic at low heat in the olive oil, remove from heat after five minutes or so, before the garlic begins to brown. Strain the olive oil into a separate container, set the olive oil aside, and combine the garlic with the remaining ingredients and mix well. This is your filling. Make your ravioli, then set aside in the fridge. We usually like to make too many and freeze half for another day. The above amount will make approximately 40 to 50 ravioli, depending on the size you make.

Roasted Yellow Pepper Sauce

3 yellow peppers
3 large or 6 medium shallots, peeled and sliced
2 Tbsp. olive oil
6 medium fresh tomatoes, halved
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
olive oil reserved from the garlic for the ravioli
salt and pepper

(1) Cut the yellow peppers into quarters from top to bottom, removing the seeds and stems. Lay flat on a cookie sheet and put on the top rack of the oven, and set on broil. Watch after about 5 minutes, and remove when the skins are completely black. Allow them to cool or run under cold water, and the skins will peel off easily. Discard.
(2) place the halved tomatoes in a casserole, skin side up, and set in a 450 degree oven, for about 15 to 20 minutes. Remove from the heat, and once cool remove the skins, which should come right off. Discard the liquid in the casserole.
(3) Sautee the shallots in olive oil until translucent, do not allow to brown.
(4) Place the shallots in a food processor and puree. Place all the remaining ingredients, including the olive oil reserved from the garlic above, in a food processor and puree.
(5) Once smooth, pour the sauce in a saucepan over medium-low heat for 15 - 20 minutes.

Boil the ravioli in generously salted water, for about 7 minutes. Cut one in half to make sure the lamb is cooked. Serve with the sauce and a generous sprinkling of grated parmesan.

An Ode to Uni

2011-01-27T16:57:00.006-05:00

Oh uni, divider of papillae, personification of the phrase "de gustibus non disputandum," how I adore thee. To this humble epicurean and others like me, thou art a transcendent experience. A mysterious ochre orb of delight, imparting notes of hazelnut, the sea, and the tears cried by unicorns when they are filled with joy.

To the unfortunate souls who do not understand thee, thou art an irksome sight, a noxious-tasting and mucus-textured thing. It is good that many do not understand thee, for thou art at risk of being over-fished by the Japanese.

To the biologist, thou art merely the roe of the sea urchin. To me, that spiny globular echinoidea has given thou to us as a gift beyond comparison, though admittedly against its will. Thou art expensive, often $4 to $7 a piece at sushi restaurants, but thou art worth it. How delighted was I to find an entire tray of you at the local Asian market, for a paucity--only $14! For sixteen pieces! Oh frabjous day! How quickly I raced home, not even bothering to form nigiri, but merely scooping you up with a bit of sushi rice and savoring your briny alchemy. How secretly pleased I was that the missus felt ambivalence toward thou, for this meant more for me.

So are you to my thoughts a food of life,
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;
And for a piece of you I hold such strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.

(apologies for Shakespeare for modifying his 75th sonnet).

New Years Eve in the Emergency Room

2011-01-04T19:55:00.006-05:00

This New Years Eve was the second time I've spent a major holiday in an emergency room. The first time was nine or ten years ago, when I split my head open playing ping pong (yes, ping pong) on Christmas Day and spent four hours in the ER getting ten stitches above my right eyebrow. This time? We were up in Pennsylvania visiting my sister, and I was cooking a nice big meal for family and friends. I had at least four different pots going, including a large saute pan with pommes savonettes (carefully peeled and bevelled potatoes cooked in water and butter) that had spent a good twenty minutes in a 400 degree oven before being placed on the stove top.

In the rush of preparing the coq au vin, I reached for the wrong pot, and put my hand firmly on the metal handle of the still piping hot saute pan. Sweet baby Moses did it hurt but good. I immediately applied ice and with the help of family and friends was still able to finish dinner. And it was very delicious, even though I had to eat left-handed while the right hand clutched firmly a dishtowel filled with constantly replenished ice. Every so often I would remove the towel, and it would feel like somebody was holding my hand inside a fire. I felt like Paul Atreides being tested by the freaky bald woman in Dune (that's for all the dorks out there).

Anyway, deciding it better to be safe than sorry, I had the missus drive me to the nearest hospital. I rang in the new year on a gurney, waiting for the percocet to kick in, talking to a ten year old girl who had split her chin open. The diagnosis: second degree burns. But they've been healing quickly, thanks for asking. Not nearly as bad as I expected. Wasn't it just last post that I mentioned my nascent food show, "Cooking While Stupid"? And already I have another episode in the can.

Anyhow, I'm too lazy to post the coq au vin recipe right now, and anyway, although it was quite good, it wasn't the best I've made. And Kitchen Monkey only posts the best. I'll make it again sometime this year, and if I get it right I'll take the trouble to post the recipe then.

I will, however, post this picture of swans I carved out of apples. I saw this in a Jacques Pepin cookbook, and yes, I'm aware that it's ridiculous.

Finally, the missus made an extremely delicious Baci Tart, seen below. Those are hazelnuts, in case you're wondering. Perhaps she'd care to post the recipe in the comment section?

Paella (Kitchen Monkey Style)

2010-12-19T15:06:00.007-05:00

The other day I was reading the most recent issue of National Geographic. Four of the articles featured animals (bats, salmon, lions, swans) and each focused on how these animals are up sh*t creek (in the case of the salmon, pretty much literally) because of human behavior.

In other words, an excellent, thought-provoking, and phenomenally depressing issue. One article, however, is about Gaudi's Sagrada Familia. The article itself is short, but the graphics that accompany it are beautiful and fascinating. Thinking about Spain always gets me thinking about food. In that sense, Spain has a lot in common with many, many other things.

In particular, my mind turned once again to paella. The missus and I received a paella pan for our wedding, but until last week I hadn't used it. That explains why there was still a label on the bottom of the pan. A label I didn't know about or see until the pan had been sitting on a medium high burner for a couple minutes. It took a few seconds to figure out why the entire house suddenly smelled like burning chemicals. The label was charred, but the pan was OK. I wish we had been filming. It would have made an excellent contribution to my show, which I plan on pitching to the Food Network. It's called Cooking While Stupid. It has been running in my kitchen for years now and includes such famous episodes as "Entire Bowl of Gazpacho All Over Floor!" and "Eccchh, That's Not Sugar!"

In any event, this paella turned out real nice, with local Chincoteague clams and all. Hearty and delicious. The spanish chorizo is really one of the best parts. Not only because the grease from frying it is great for sauteeing and flavoring the rice, but because any extra chorizo pieces you fry make for addictive appetizers while you wait. Enjoy.

Paella a la Cucina Mono

Feeds 4 to 6

3 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil

1 large (or 2 small) carrots, peeled and diced

1 medium onion, diced

1/2 bunch of fresh parsley, washed and chopped small

1/2 large (or 1 small) red bell pepper, diced

32 oz. chicken stock

12 strands saffron

1/4 cup olive oil

1 can of whole San Marzano (or regular old plum) tomatoes, chopped into large pieces

2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

1/2 lb. spanish chorizo, sliced into 1/2 inch slices

1/2 cup of frozen green peas

2 cups arborio rice (traditionally use bombo rice. I have no idea where to get bombo rice).

1 cup dry white wine

6 jumbo shrimp or 12 large shrimp, peeled

12 large hard shell clams, scrubbed well

Note: add any kind of seafood you want, and omit the chorizo if you want, using olive oil in its place for the rice. That would leave you with a paella de marisco. Adding the chorizo and any other meat leaves you with a paella mixta. The allegedly original version is paella valenciana, which often has beans and snails. Mmmmmm, beans and snails.

Directions:

(1) in a medium saute pan, heat olive oil. Add carrots, onion, and parsley and sautee, stirring, for about 4 minutes (this makes the soffrito). Add the red pepper, stir for a few more minutes. Remove from pan and set aside.

(2) in a medium sauce pan, warm up the chicken stock (don't boil) and add the saffron, stir. Keep warm but out of the way.

(3) In same pan in which you sauteed the vegetables, place 1/4 cup of olive oil and bring to medium high heat.

(4) Add tomatoes (but only about 1/4 cup of their juice) to the olive oil, along with chopped garlic. Keep over medium heat for about 15 minutes or more, until the flavors and juices are condensed.

(5) In the meantime, in a large sautee pan (without oil) over medium high heat. Spanish chorizo is already cured and doesn't need to be cooked, but frying up the pieces will release their beautiful and delicious orange fat.

(6) After the chorizo has fried for a few minutes, remove the pieces with a strainer and set aside. Place the rice in the sautee pan and stir to coat with the chorizo fat, for about four or five minutes, stirring frequently.

(7) Add white wine to rice, and stir until wine has cooked off. Turn off heat.

Now, to assemble.

In your paella pan (or other large, shallow, oven safe pan), spread the rice in an even layer on the bottom. Then spread the tomato/oil mixture in an even layer on top of that, and the soffrito mixture on top of that. Then do the same with the peas and the chorizo. Once that's done, pour the chicken stock in slowly. If your pan isn't big enough, I can't help you.

Put in the oven at about 350 degrees, for 15 minutes. Remove and test the rice. It should still be somewhat firm--not ready to eat yet. Arrange the seafood how you like. Place back in oven, and turn heat up to 400 degrees. It should be read after 10 minutes or so (or when the clams and/or mussels have all opened). As always, avoid the shellfish that don't open.

Good with crusty bread and Spanish red wine.

Bouillabaisse - Perfect Seafood Stew for a Chilly Night (Recipe)

2010-12-07T18:54:00.004-05:00

D.C. has been cold lately. Yes, yes, it's all relative. We haven't the thick blood of you Minnesotans, Canadians, and the like (and a shout out to Akron, which I hear just got a bunch of snow). But even after five years in D.C., Florida hasn't completely left my blood. In any event, it's the kind of wind-whipping cold that keeps sensible people indoors to nestle on the couch on a Friday night with a movie and a bowl of something hot and delicious. Recently we did just that, with an incredible bouillabaisse. I urge you to make this.

Bouillabaisse is a traditional seafood stew that originated in Marseille, and I had a great bowl of it during my summer in France (but no picture of it, so no post). But until last week I had never made it. Now you can add to my growing list of food obsessions. The flavors are complex and aromatic. The rouille is a garlicky mayonnaise that is spread on toasted baguette rounds and served as described further down.

The recipe below is primarily taken from one of my favorite cookbooks. It's called "The Secrets of Success Cookbook." Nearly everything I've tried from it has been flat-out great. Published in 2000, it gathered favorite recipes from all types of restaurants in San Francisco. All that said, I have tweaked the recipe below a bit (particularly the rouille, which I found way too garlicky, and I really like garlic). I also used a different variety of seafood and made the fishstock from scratch. This recipe is for six people, but you can easily halve it and have very hearty portions for two people.

The Fish Stock

2 quart stock pot
1 lb. of fish bones or heads (make sure it's white fish. I used two pollack heads)
2 garlic cloves, smashed with the edge a knife and peeled
1/4 of a medium size onion
5 cups of water

(1) Place all the ingredients in a pot and bring to a boil
(2) reduce to a simmer and continue simmering for about 20 minutes
(3) strain ingredients and reserve stock after it has reduced down to about 4 cups

The Rouille

1/4 red bell pepper
3-5 cloves garlic
1 egg yolk
juice of 1/2 lemon
10 threads of saffron
salt and pepper
1 cup extra virgin olive oil

(1) In a food processor combine all ingredients except the olive oil and process
(2) while processor is on, add olive oil in a slow drip, until done. The rouille should be emulsified. If you didn't do it right and it's watery, well, I'm just not in the mood to help you right now. Google "homemade mayonnaise" or something and try again.

The Bouillabaisse

Large saute pan
1 1/2 cups extra virgin olive oil
1/4 garlic head, peeled and crushed with edge of knife
10 saffron threads
1/2 cup diced carrot
1/2 cup diced leek
1/2 cup diced fennel bulb
1/2 cup peeled and diced red potatoes
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 cups of good diced tomato
zest from 1/4 of an orange
1/2 teaspoon of fennel seeds
6 fresh basil leaves
1 fresh rosemary sprig
2 cups dry white wine
3 Tablespoons Sambuca (original called for Pernod, Pernod being French, but Sambuca is what I had and it worked just fine)
the 4 cups of fish stock from above
12 clams
18 mussels
6 large or 12 medium shrimp
1 lb. red snapper, cut into large chunks

(1) Heat the olive oil over medium-high heat, add garlic, onion, and saffron, and stir for 2-3 minutes
(2) Add carrot, leek, fennel, and potato, saute for 5 minutes, season with salt and pepper
(3) Add the tomatoes, zest, fennel seeds, basil, and rosemary. Stir for 3-4 more minutes
(4) Stir in wine and Sambuca (or Pernod). Simmer for 5 minutes. Add the fish stock, cover pan, and simmer for 20 minutes.
(5) Add the clams and cook for about 10 minutes.
(6) Add the mussels and cook for 1 minute. Remember that if the clams or mussels don't open, they were dead before they made it in the pot. They need to go!
(7) Add the red snapper and shrimp and cook for about 3-4 minutes until snapper is firm and the shrimp are pink. Remove from the heat.

If you want to serve it traditionally, take out the seafood and place it on a platter. Then pour the remaining broth and vegetables into individual bowls. Slice a baguette into thin slices, toast, then spread the rouille on each one. Place the toast rounds floating in the broth and serve. People can select what seafood they want.

We just spooned the seafood into our bowls along with the stock, and had the toasts on the side (dipping them into the stock, of course).

Labor intensive? Yes, a bit. But trust me, this one is worth the effort. Especially on a cold night.

Panko Jumbo Shrimp Salad & Ginger Avocado Dressing

2010-11-30T18:49:00.008-05:00

Oh the gluttony. The blissful, blissful gluttony. I ask you, verily, why content yourself with one Thanksgiving Dinner? You may have already read of our first in D.C. (see previous post). The next morning, the Missus and I drove up to Akron, Ohio for a nice long weekend with her family. Her parents were gracious enough to delay their Thanksgiving dinner by a day, which meant that we had two full turkey dinners in a row, each of them amazing.

But did we stop there? Oh no, dear readers. The following night we were generously treated by her grandparents to yet another amazing meal at an old school Akron steak house called the Diamond Grille. I'd link you to the restaurant's website, but apparently they're old school enough that they don't have a website. It has been open and in the same family for decades and decades. The steaks were large, and delicious. The martinis were perfect. The home fries were disturbingly good.

The night after that, Kitchen Monkey got to cook for the Missus' whole family (by request, I am very, very honored to say). The main course was a ragu Napoletano. You can see the bubbling goodness in the photo below. The Missus made some home made linguini to go with it. Ragu Napoletano is the southern cousin of Ragu Bolognese, and while I've perfected my Bolognese, I'm still not completely happy with my Napoletano. Ergo, no recipe here. I'll post one once I get it up to snuff.

The salad, on the other hand, was up to snuff. The shrimp were enormous. These were beyond jumbo. They were behemothic shrimp. We're talking maybe a 1/3 pound each. I deep fried them with the usual breading (flour --> egg --> panko crumb) and then arranged them on a salad comprising mixed greens, red peppers, hearts of palm, and cherry tomatoes. Yes, behemothic is a word.

The salad dressing was rather stand-out, if I may say. Sadly I didn't keep track of the proportions, so the below recipe is (I feel like I've been saying this a lot lately) only my best guess. The important thing is the ingredients though. You can play around with the proportions to your own taste.

Ginger Garlic Avocado Dressing

2 cloves garlic

1 piece of peeled ginger about the size of an average male thumb

1 ripe avocado

Juice of 1/2 lemon

3 to 4 Tbsp. seasoned rice wine vinegar

2 to 3 Tbps. soy sauce

1/4 cup mayonnaise

1/2 to 2/3 cup of vegetable oil (or peanut oil)

(1) mince garlic and ginger in food processor, then add the avocado and process that

(2) add the lemon juice, vinegar, soy sauce and mayonnaise, process that

(3) while food processor is still going, slowly drizzle the oil in so that it all emulsifies.

This dressing was good enough that I will definitely make it again. When I do, I'll keep track of the measurements and update this post. Until then, try it! Obviously the ginger and soy give it an Asian bent, but it would work just fine on about any salad.

And now, here is the ragu, in its third hour of simmering.

Deviled Eggs - Kitchen Monkey Style

2010-11-27T08:39:00.007-05:00

Deviled eggy-weggs: I love deviled eggy weggs. This year my sister hosted Thanksgiving dinner. Her and her husband are about to leave to work in Nigeria for two years, so we were happy to joined them and a group of good friends for a true Thanksgiving Miracle. The missus and I brought a delicious stuffing and I made the deviled eggs.

Apparently, the term "deviled" in reference to food dates back at least 1786, and was often used to refer to stuffed and/or spicy food.¹ Also, apparently many church functions in the South and Midwest refer to them as "salad eggs," obviously to avoid honoring Satan through the power of mayonnaise.

Now I like the standard deviled egg just fine, but Kitchen Monkey is no Bittmanesque minimalist, not around the holidays anyway. So, looking around the kitchen and coming with up with various odds and ends, I came up with a pretty interesting sauce to match with some delicious toppings for a unique and addictive deviled egg.

Main ingredients:
12 eggs
2 heaping spoonfuls quality mayonnaise
2 ripe avocados
3 scallions
1/4 cup chopped black olives

Ingredients for the Chili-Cherry Sauce:

2 Tbsp. olive oil (for sauteeing)
1/4 of a habanero pepper (chopped)
1 serrano pepper (chopped)
1 cherry pepper (chopped)
2 cloves garlic (chopped)
1/2 cup dried cherries
2 Tbsp. water
1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves
2 Tbsp. sweet vermouth (I imagine port wine could also be good here)
1/2 cup good extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

Directions:
(1) the quantities above were estimated from memory, and may not be accurate. Deal with it. Adjust however you like.
(2) sautee the peppers in 2 Tbsp olive oil for a couple minutes, then add the garlic and sautee for a couple minutes more, then add the dried cherries and the water. Once the water has cooked off and the cherries are hydrated, remove from heat and add to your food processor.
(3) add the thyme leaves and the vermouth and puree.
(4) once fairly smooth, begin to add the olive oil slowly until it reaches the consistency you like, add salt and pepper to taste.

(5) Boil a dozen eggs, peel them, split them in half, spoon out the yolk, and mix the mayonnaise into the yolk. Go as easy as possible with the mayo, while getting a consistency you can spoon. Spoon the yolk mixture back into the eggs, but only enough to come up to top of the yolk hole, not heaping as one normally would.
(6) Cut the avocado into chunks and mash with a fork--mix with a bit of salt and pepper--until you get a chunky, not-quite-quacamole mix. Spoon a small spoonful of the avocado on top of each egg.
(7) Chop the ol and scallions and sprinkle some of each on top of the eggs.
(8) Spoon a small amount of the chili-cherry sauce on top of each egg.
(9) Eat.

[1] - Wikipedia: "Deviled Eggs"

Tuna Tataki - 2010 Update (Endangered Food!)

2010-08-04T18:22:00.003-04:00

Hello readers! Just a short post today. It turns out that one of my most continuingly popular posts is one I did years ago about tuna tataki, which you'll find here. It still gets about 30 to 50 hits a day. So, I thought it time for a very quick update. First, now that I live in D.C., the prices I mentioned in the old post are sadly inaccurate--at least, for D.C., where sushi-grade tuna can easily run $22 per pound.

Second, and more importantly, some species of tuna (in particular the mighty bluefin and yellowfin tunas) are tragically endangered. You can see this site for a bit more information. As much as it pains me, I have stopped eating tuna unless I can find one of the non-endangered and eco-friendly varieties, and they aren't always readily available. Sigh. Sadly, it's the Japanese (who invented many of my favorite foods, including tuna tataki) who are largely responsible for the state of the bluefin tuna. They eat the vast majority of the bluefin tuna consumed in the world. And if you're Japanese, don't get all defensive on me. I aint preachin'. We Americans specialize in making species endangered or threatened. Anyway. Do your part. Enjoy tuna (and every other species) responsibly.

Yeah, OK, I am preaching. Big deal.

A Mad Men Cocktail Party - Fondue, Gimlets, & Gourmet Hot Dogs of Yore

2010-07-26T12:38:00.009-04:00

Last night was the season premiere of Mad Men, and to commemorate the occasion we--along with some fellow SASOU'ers--joined for a circa-1964 cocktail party. Apart from the new episode itself, the evening was made by two things: a vintage Betty Crocker Cookbook, and some serious fondue. We'll address the fondue later, but first get a load of this:

And you thought hot dogs were low-brow American cuisine! Learn the techniques above and you'll wow everybody at your next backyard BBQ! Impress the hell out of the boss and his wife, and maybe even land a date with Darlene, that hot little number from accounts receivable.

So the very tattered Cookbook, from whence the above photo was taken, was an heirloom handed down from our host's mother to him. The book is full of seriously dated recipes that slant heavily toward jello salads and casseroles. You'll find a couple more excellent photos from the cookbook at the bottom of this post.

The gathering was also a perfect excuse to break in the new Cuisinart fondue set (one of many gadgets from the registry).

Ours is a metal, non-stick, electric fondue pot, which provides for very nice control, but ... non-stick interior, sharp metal fondue forks? How is that a good idea? In any event, the cheese fondue was good. Our host's fondue set was made of cast iron, and instead of electricity is heated by the flame from an alcohol burner.

The heat control seemed a bit trickier than on the electric set, but I like the cast-ironness of it. We used his set for the chocolate, coating both strawberries as well as mint-flavored marshmallows that the missus made from scratch (perhaps we can get her to post the recipe in the comments? Hint hint!) (Also, for this blog, we're still waiting on a better name than "the missus.").

The vodka martinis and the gimlets flowed, and the first episode of season four left us grateful that Mad Men is back, disappointed that Salvatore seems to be off the show, but relieved that Thally finally lotht her lithp.

Dora, the Hindu goddess of 1950s suburbian domestic entertainment

This is a recipe for a pineapple cake which our host actually made. And it was good! I'm not so sure I would say the same if he had made the casserole with enormous chunks of (pork?) loin resting in the midst of what seemed to be macaroni mixed with cream of mushroom soup.

Southern Utah and Vegas (Octopus, Slots, Polygamists, and Ponyo Pancakes)

2010-07-16T12:38:00.014-04:00

Ahhhh how I miss the desert lands of southern Utah. The sweeping vistas, the towering red rocks, the sunsets, the dry heat, the fundamentalist Mormons. KM grew up in various western states, and spent wonderful days, decades distant, in the canyons near St. George, UT. How great it was to return! Riding through the desert, the top of Pa's convertible Mustang down, I heard Calexico music playing in my head as I watched hawks circle in the sky above and imagined that every RV we passed was a meth lab (the missus and I are big fans of Breaking Bad).

With family in St. George, Utah, a little over 2 hours from Las Vegas, we took a week's vacation that included hiking the slot canyons, a trip through Zion Nat'l Park, a very brief night in Las Vegas, and of course, a lot of excellent food. Let's recap, shall we?

The photo you see here was from the last night of the trip, when we stayed for a night at the Palazzo Hotel in Vegas. The photo just below was taken from our room on the 44th floor, looking down on the hotel pools far below.

We spent most of the day inhaling rum drinks while sitting in those pools. At night, we had a costly but delicious dinner at B & B Ristorante, located inside the long hall between the Palazzo and the Venetian. This is one of Mario Batali's places. I've never been a huge fan of the red-headed, girthful, TV chef, and I'm always very skeptical about restaurants owned by celebrity chefs (particularly ones who wear crocs--I don't give a fig if they're popular in the industry, they're damned ugly), but I have to say the grilled octopus appetizer and the short ribs were pretty good. The place does have possibly the worst view of any higher-priced restaurant anywhere.

Prior to Vegas, we spent a few days in St. George, including time by the pool, and a birthday dinner I cooked for my brother, consisting of fish tacos and (for me and the missus) some delicious Polygamy Porter. The slogan for the brew is "why have just one?" Ahhhh, those cheeky non-Mormon Utahns (yes, "Utahns" is the proper designation).

Prior to that was a trip to the breathtaking Zion National Park. After a day spent hiking, we refreshed ourselves with beer and excellent food at the Spotted Dog. The menu, like many in high-tourist zones, is fairly standard fare, but the food was excellent, and unlike B & B the Spotted Dog has one of the better views of any restaurant:

Incidentally, the photo you see at the very top of this post was from a hike we did in Kannaraville Canyon, one of the many "slot" canyons in southern Utah.

And I almost forgot! My adorable niece, who was also visiting St. George with my brother and his family, is a huge fan of Ponyo, the latest creation of the completely brilliant and unsurpassable Hayao Miyazaki (if you have not seen Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away, or Nausicaa, I feel genuinely envious of you. Go rent or buy them NOW!) Anyway, since she was obviously enraptured with the movie and its title character, a young goldfish/mermaid, I ran to the store for a bit of food coloring and made this "Ponyo Pancake," which she devoured immediately, getting syrup in her hair in the process.

Sad Monkey - A brief lesson in trademarking

2010-07-14T13:15:00.007-04:00

Yes, I know, I promised a post about the recent food adventures in Utah and Las Vegas, and you'll get that tomorrow, but first I would like to address a little beef (and I'm not talking about veal).

I began looking into registering a trademark for the name "Kitchen Monkey" to protect it from fiendish interlopers, when I discovered that a year and a half ago some internet startup bloke regsitered the name "Kitchen Monki" for a recipe site. Now, I've looked at the site, and frankly, I like it just fine. But WHY....WHY....WHY did he have to use the name "Kitchen Monki"?????? Granted, he altered the spelling. Who knows, perhaps because he saw that this blog has been in operation since 2004 and he might have some trademarking problems of his own.

Yes yes, it's my damn fault for not registering sooner. Trademark law rewards the attentive (or may I say, opportunistic). And yes, I could still fill out a registration application and hope that my spelling will make it past some attorney at the trademark office. But if it doesn't--if that attorney thinks it's too similar to "Kitchen Monki"-- I have to eat the $350 non-refundable application fee! Sheesh. I don't have that kind of extra cash laying around right now, so let's take a vote:

(1) continue on as "Kitchen Monkey," hope the person behind "Kitchen Monki" is content to leave this blog alone, hope that no future person trademarks "Kitchen Monkey," and give up any notions of a book deal under that name (ha ha ha).

(2) change the name of this blog and register it with the trademark office so this doesn't happen again. I am loathe to change the name, since I've been Kitchen Monkey for six years now. And I like the banner graphic too. Hmmmmm . . . "Kitchen Velociraptor"? "Kitchen Black-Spined Atlantic Tree Rat"?

On the off chance that I have any readers who are intellectual property attorneys, your opinions are most welcome.

HEAT WAVE - Summer Grilling and Beach Adventures

2010-07-06T21:45:00.007-04:00

Kitchen Monkey just returned home from a week-long adventure in southern Utah and Las Vegas, NV (more on that trip next post) to find Washington, D.C. sagging in the haze of record temperatures. Firing up the iMac and longing already for the dry desert heat, I've decided this is as good a time as any to post on some recent summer adventures in and around D.C.

A couple weeks ago KM and the Missus (who will be doing some guest posting and has yet to choose her blogname--suggestions welcome!!) followed some friends to Ocean City, Maryland. I typically go more for the quaint beach villages such as Chincoteague, Virginia over the giant boardwalk, Jersey-Shore, kitsch-fests such as Virginia Beach and Ocean City, but there's no denying this was a great trip.

Our small group split a fifth-floor room overlooking the ocean. Our day was divided roughly into four acts. Act One: scarily gigantic cocktails while watching the ill-fated U.S.-Ghana World Cup Match (a moment of silence please). Act Two: wave-jumping in the Atlantic. Someone swears they saw a shark, and at least three of us were pinched (surprisingly hard) by crabs while swimming. As you can see in the above pic, we had our revenge. Act Three: lunch (on both Saturday and Sunday) at "On the Bay" - a great little seafood shack about a block from the beach. Ignore the fact that it is not actually "on the bay," and ignore the fact (if you can) that they appear to have the same Jimmy Buffet CD playing on constant rotation. They have high quality and reasonably large oysters, which are getting more expensive (just another reason to hate BP). They also have excellent king crabs and shrimp, but the specialty would be the local blue crabs, of which I ate far too many.

Act Four: as night fell, we retired to the hotel and grilled some delicious marinated vegetables and lamb cubes and watched as a red moon rose above the water, which you can see here.

Going further back in time, I wanted to post some pics of a recent grilling. The burger you see here was produced solely with locally grown or raised ingredients purchased at the Mt. Pleasant farmer's market just down the street from us. It includes ground beef and greens from Truck Patch Farms, and my favorite, Monocacy Ash goat cheese from Cherry Glen Goat Cheese Company, which recently won a bronze medal at the 2009 U.S. Championship Cheese Contest.

This burger was really truly delicious. The Missus also made her trademark ice cream sandwiches (which she says New Englanders call a Chipwich), with chocolate chip cookies sandwiching home made vanilla ice cream, with the edges rolled in chocolate chips. Perhaps she'll post the recipe here soon.

Hope you're all having a great summer, and feel free to send links to or comment on your own favorite grilling ideas for this summer.

Next up, Vegas, baby.

Kitchen Monkey Done Got Hitched!

2010-06-13T07:45:00.008-04:00

That's right folks: June 5, 2010. Any attempt in this blog to describe how meaningful and wonderful it all was would come up short. That said, allow me to set the scene.

It was an intensely classy affair, with the ceremony and cocktail hour held on the rooftop of the Hay Adams Hotel, which is across the street from the White House, with only a brief strip of Lafayette Park in between. The photo you see above was taken from said roof top. If you're going to wed in D.C., I can't imagine a better backdrop than this. Sadly, Mr. and Mrs. Obama did not accept our invitation, despite being just across the street, but they did send us a card wishing us a happy future together. I'm not even kidding. OK, granted, it was no doubt an intern with pre-singed stationery whose sole job is to answer wedding and birthday party invitations from the lowly masses, but I still think it's pretty cool.

After the ceremony, the Hay Adams served hors d'oeuvres, which I'm told were delicious, but which I did not get to eat, sadly, as I was down in Lafayette Park being photographed with family and the bridal party. This is a good time to mention our photographer, Thomas Graves. We couldn't have been happier with him--he was great to work with. The photos you see below are his. You'll not see better pics than this on Kitchen Monkey, ever.

The reception was held in the Lafayette Room, which is normally a restaurant. The guests were served a lobster bisque appetizer, a caprese-like salad, and for the entree, fillet mignon, sea bass, and a gratin. It was all delicious, though honestly, with all the well-wishing and guest-greeting, I didn't get to eat everything that was served (including all the beautiful desserts seen below, which I missed entirely). In any event, it was an amazing fantastic day that I will remember forever. I'm a very lucky monkey.

Paella (and Boiling Springs, PA)

2010-04-10T07:36:00.006-04:00

It's a good feeling to have somebody specially request that you cook a favorite dish. It means that you did it right the last time. It also means you have a chance to outdo the last time.

A few weeks ago my sister requested that I make a paella for her 29th birthday. So the weekend of April 3, I and the soon-to-be "Mrs. Kitchen Monkey" piled into the car with my other sister, her husband, and my year-old nephew (whose name--Jacques-César--practically mandates a future as an internationally renowned Casanova). We zipped up from Washington, D.C. to Boiling Springs, Pennsylvania for a proper hootenanny and feast.

Joe Baker, who I mentioned in my last post, brought an excellently cooked salmon, and I slapped together the paella you see above. An indecent amount of wine was tipped back and much food was eaten. We pushed ourselves away from the table, and got out the instruments. My sister's friend (and co-worker at the Appalachian Trail Conservancy) brought his accordion. My sister played mandolin, I had my guitar, Joe had his harmonicas, and Laura (another friend of lil' sis) had her bodhran (a circular celtic drum, for those not in the know). We played well into the night, and everyone left full and happy.

My paella never turns out the same way twice, since I tend to make it on the fly with a rotating variety of ingredients. But here's the closest approximation. Keep in mind, the following points:

I offer no pretenses that this is "authentic" paella. I think it probably started from a recipe in a Spanish cookbook years ago, but over time I've either consciously altered or just forgotten parts of the original.
quantities of nearly everything here are very negotiable and should be toyed with according to your personal preferences.
I did not have a true paella pan with me, but instead used various pans. If you don't have a paella pan, the important thing is that it go on the range and in the oven.
Though I was cooking for 12, I've cut the recipe in half here, so it should make paella for about 5 or 6.

A generous amount of extra virgin olive oil

2/3 cup onion chopped

1 red bell pepper (or 1/2 red and 1/2 orange), chopped

1/3 bunch fresh parsley, chopped
1 medium carrot, chopped
5 cloves of garlic, minced

1 link of Spanish Chorizo, sliced into rounds about 1/2 inch thick

1 lb. chicken thigh or breast meat, cut into chunks

1 1/2 cups arborio rice

1 Tablespoon smoked paprika
1 tablespoon sweet paprika (if you only have one kind of paprika, just use 2 Tbsp of that)
Salt & pepper
1 1/2 cups crushed tomatoes (san marzano if you're serious)
32 oz. chicken stock (I used a veal/chicken stock I made earlier this year and froze--delicious!)
16 oz. fish stock (you could instead make a stock by boiling the shells of your shrimp)

15 to 18 clams
1/3 to 1/2 lb. of squid, cleaned and sliced (use tubes and tentacles)
1/3 lb. shrimp, peeled
15 to 18 mussels

Instructions:
Combine the first 5 ingredients in a large saute pan over medium high heat to make a nice soffrito. After about 7 to 10 minutes, add the garlic and cook for a few minutes more. Pull off the heat and set aside for the moment.

In your paella pan (it must be range and oven safe, remember) or cast iron, or whatever you're using, add the chorizo over medium high heat. Cook a few minutes. Spanish chorizo is already cooked, so you don't want to cook them too long, just enough to release some of that delicious grease. Once there is a nice bit of grease, remove the chorizo with a slotted spoon. Add the chicken to the chorizo grease and cook over high heat until the chicken is browned on both sides. Then remove the chicken.

Add a little olive oil to the remaining grease, and then add the rice. Cook for about five minutes over high heat, stirring here and there, until the rice begins to brown.

Add the vegetable mix to the rice, then the chorizo and the chicken. Then add salt and pepper and the paprika. Stir for a couple minutes over medium high heat. Then add the crushed tomatoes and both types of stock. Stir everything well. Place in the oven at 350 degrees for about 30 to 40 minutes.

Check to see if there is still a bit of liquid left in the pan. You don't want too much left, but you don't want your rice burning either.

Once the rice is about 15 minutes from being done (test it!), add the clams and the shrimp and return to the oven for another 10 minutes. Check it. If the clams are just starting to open, that's the time to add the squid and the mussels, both of which will take less cooking time than the clams.

Season with salt and pepper if necessary, and serve with a delicious crusty bread and plenty of good Spanish wine.

Joe Baker's Damn Good Salsa (and Huevos Rancheros Redux)

2010-04-04T20:04:00.005-04:00

Finding this salsa recipe was a bit like finding religion, but better! I got both the euphoria and the feeling that I'd been wandering aimlessly for too many years before the discovery--but without feeling judged or having to listen to hymns that sound, perhaps unintentionally, like plodding, joyless dirges.

Now that I've trivialized something that billions hold dear and invited angry comments (there I go again, assuming actual readership exceeding five persons), allow me to apologize and talk about the salsa.

I have made my own salsa since I was a wastrel of a teenager in Albuquerque, New Mexico who couldn't cook a lick. Even as my kitchen skills have improved over the years, my salsas have only occasionally risen above shrug-producing.

A few weeks ago, however, while visiting one of my sisters in the tiny town of Boiling Springs, Pennsylvania, I was introduced to a real true connoisseure of good food, a scholar of history, and a mean blues harp player: Joe Baker. (You can check out his entertaining blog here, where he posits on a wide variety of subjects).

Joe treated us to some seriously good venison quesadillas. The salsa was addictive, and lucky for me (and now you), he relayed the recipe. I print it below in full in its original form. I've made it three times since, each time with different tomatoes and different combinations of peppers, and all of them have been great, if not as great as the original.

A couple weeks ago, a Sunday brunch gave me the chance to share the salsa with friends, topping as it did a near-perfect batch of heuvos rancheros. I'll freely admit I'm getting further and further away from the old-school standby of simply beans, eggs, and a tortilla. These days I'm crock-potting the beans overnight in a combination of san marzano crushed tomatoes, beer, ancho pepper, cumin, garlic, and parsley. The potatoes are half-boiled, then fried in a bit of olive oil and a good dose of cumin and smoked paprika. Then I serve it all with poached eggs, slab bacon, fresh cilantro, guacamole, flour tortillas, chopped jalapeno, and a good sharp cheddar. I was already entering the upper reaches of Paradiso with my huevos rancheros. Now that I've added this salsa, I can hear Beatrice singing and the Holy Ghost settin' the breakfast table.

Try it yourself, and see the light. And five million thanks to Joe Baker. I'll be making this salsa for years and years to come.

Joe’s Salsa

Ingredients:

· 1 whole chipotle or about a tablespoon of chipotle powder (KM's note: I used chipotle in adobo sauce, since it was all I had, but you're better off with a straight chipotle or the powder)

· 1 whole ancho or about two tablespoons of ancho chili powder

· ½ teaspoon ground cumin or cumin seed

· About a cup of fresh or frozen fresh cilantro

· 1 whole fresh jalapeno (or whatever number you like to make the salsa spicy, cayenne’s work OK too) (KM's note: I'm a sucker for habanero, and it tastes good with this too, if you don't overdo it).

· A teaspoon of sea salt

· A heaping tablespoon (more or less) of brown sugar or honey

· 2 cloves of garlic

· ½ medium onion, diced

· 3 or 4 medium sized fresh, ripe home grown tomatoes or a large can of crushed tomatoes

Add everything but the tomatoes to a food processor and blend them thoroughly, then add the tomatoes and blend again. You can also make this by hand. Soak the dried chilies in warm water, then chop them and everything else together in a large bowl. Store in the fridge. Makes about a quart. This salsa has no oil and is not cooked. The garlic will go rancid in about a week. If you freeze it, it will get watery (although it’s still good). I guess that means you should enjoy it within a week! JB

SASOU Chef Competition - 2008/2009

2010-02-15T22:07:00.012-05:00

(apologies to Max Von Sydow)

This was no ordinary cooking competition. Iron chef? Mere celebrity twaddle. Top chef? Sniveling amateurs.

This, my friends, was S.A.S.O.U -- "Super Awesome Supreme Overlord of the Universe" Chef.

The idea of having a cooking competition started with my friend Amy some time ago. Organizing eight busy schedules dragged the competition over a period of a year, and we haven't SASOU'ed recently, but it was great fun and there are some good pictures, so I thought it worthy of a post.

A quick overview, then some photos: 8 friends, divided into four teams of two people each. Four separate episodes/meals. Each episode featured a different key ingredient. Each team was responsible for a different course - salad, appetizer, entree, dessert - and each course had the same common ingredient for that episode. The first dinner was based on the pear. The second, sweet potato. Third, ginger. Fourth, hazelnut. Dishes were judged and scored in various categories, including creative use of ingredient, presentation, and taste.

A delicious appetizer based on sweet potatoes, with beets and pistachios

The Prize: the winning team received a dinner at Nage, a great restaurant in D.C. (where our friend Glen Babcock happens to be the head chef), paid for by the other three teams.

It was awful close (and of course, pretty subjective), but in the end, Kitchen Monkey and his fiancee pulled slightly ahead for the victory. I was endlessly impressed with what the other teams came up with. My team's best dish (I think) was our dessert: Triple-ginger Snap Cookies with Fresh Berries, Ginger Zabaglione, and Raspberry Sauce. Check it out. Thanks to Scott for the photos.

Team Kitchen Monkey's Ginger Zabaglione dessert

A delectable hazelnut cake

A pear and goat cheese salad

Sweet Potato Bisque and Scorecard

Team Kitchen Monkey's salad entry, with hazelnut-encrusted tuna tataki and

goat-cheese-stuffed tortelloni made from hazelnut flour

A hazelnut-based mezze selection, including

excellent home-made pickles

Snowmageddon (and Creamed Eggs on Toast, a comfort breakfast))

2010-02-11T13:25:00.004-05:00

After almost a week of being snowed in, Kitchen Monkey's D.C. row-house is starting to feel more and more like the Overlook Hotel. We have had some great fun in this surreal, once-in-a-lifetime storm, including homemade pizza and game night with various neighbors, and an epic game of snowball fight/capture the flag (documented by yours truly, here).

Before moving on to the breakfast and the recipe, check out this time delay slideshow taken from the front window of our house, starting before the big storm and lasting until the next day. Pay particular attention to the tree (or bush?) across the street toward the left side as it sags with snow and then springs back up after the snow either fell off (or, more likely, was shaken off by the owner). You can also see berried branches in our yard begin to sag with snow in the frosty foreground.

You can also check out a brief video here of the same scene during the subsequent February 10 blizzard (dubbed "Snoverkill"). Now, onto the grub.

Creamed eggs on toast has always been a comfort food for me, and was one of my favorite breakfasts when I was a kid. It's great for a wintry stay-in and takes only minutes to make. Most recipes I have seen call for hard-boiled and chopped eggs, but my mother always scrambled them, so that's how I do it. Sorry, no picture. In any event, it's nothing to write home about, aesthetically speaking.

Creamed Eggs on Toast

Serves two or three, depending on how hungry you are.

4 eggs, scrambled in a bit of butter (make the curds not too large, but not too small either)
1 1/2 cup milk
3 Tbsp. butter
3 Tbsp. AP flour
1 tsp. salt
4 to 6 pieces of toast

Scramble the eggs as mentioned above. Make toast.

Melt the butter in a saucepan, then stir in the flour and salt, to make a roux. Slowly add the milk while stirring, until all milk is added and the sauce thickens. Add the scrambled eggs, a bit of pepper, some sweet paprika, and serve over toast. That's it.

Kitchen Monkey Getting Married! (and Restaurant Daniel, and Other Matters)

2010-02-09T17:06:00.008-05:00

Yes, it's true! I'm tying the knot, and there's much to tell about that, along with an amazing engagement dinner at Daniel in Manhattan, but first a bit about the long absence.

Shamefully, it has been around a year and a half since my last post. I've been busy with work, recording music, and yes, cooking. Somehow the blog fell by the wayside, but I'm hoping to change that. Yes, I know I've said that before. No, I'm not assuming that you care.

I want to note one other sad aspect of my long absence. Until the later years of this blog, I was linking all the photos from Photobucket. Well...my Photobucket account went dormant, I didn't do anything about it, and now ALL of those photos are gone. In their place you will see an image saying that my account no longer exists. Bastards. Over time I will replace many of them, but many others are on a long-gone computer, and are therefore forever gone. But enough about the past! Onward to the future!

There have been numerous interesting food adventures in the past year or so--sojourns to out-of-the-way butcher shops and farms; fantastic farmers markets; excellent D.C. area restaurants--but two adventures easily stand out. The first is the SASOU Chef cooking competition/supper club that Kitchen Monkey and seven friends formed over a year ago. SASOU deserves its own post, however, and will have to wait. The second was a truly phenomenal dinner at a truly phenomenal restaurant: Daniel.

That dinner was part of what I would say was a perfect day, the day I proposed to my soon-to-be-wife. Without going into too much detail, I proposed in a secluded part of Central Park in Manhattan, she was surprised, and she said yes. She knew we had reservations at Daniel. She didn't know it was going to be an engagement dinner.

This is the lovely dining room at Daniel. Executive chef and owner, Daniel Boulud, opened this restaurant in 1993 and in 1998 it moved to its current location at Park Avenue and 65th Street in Manhattan. In 2008 renovations were completed to its interior, the one you see above. It has been called one of the ten best restaurants in the world. The President of France has made Boulud a Chevalier de la Légion d'honneur. The restaurant has three Michelin stars in the 2010 Michelin, the book's highest rating. It is elegant, grand, and any other hyperbolic synonym you can find for those words.

It is also out-of-this world expensive. Kitchen Monkey is not a wealthy man. He has a mountain of law school debt. But obviously this was an extremely special occasion. Was it worth it? YES. Will I be able to go again any time in the next five to ten years? Probably not.

First, I should describe the service, and if in doing so I sound like a hick who just saw his first skyscraper, so be it. First we were seated in the cocktail lounge to await our table and sip perfect (and we're talking 'Platonic Form' here) martinis. Not too much later, we were shown to our table in the dining room pictured above.

Over the course of the evening we were assisted by at least seven different people, each one with a different role, and each one of them like ninjas: their movements smooth and effortless, sometimes too quick to be noticed. Not long after we sat down, my fiancee asked me if I had seen what had just happened. I had not. She explained how she had sat down, placing her pocketbook (a $12 Filene's Basement affair) on the table. Almost before she had even noticed, a waiter/ninja had silently slipped her pocketbook off the table and placed it on a small plush pedestal next to the table. I had not noticed any of this.

Moments later, we looked up to see another man folding my fiancee's scarf (also from Filene's Basement--$20) in crisp, perfect folds, and setting it across the back of her chair, to keep it from touching the floor. In a French accent he said "this is my job...this is all I do...I fold scarves." It turned out later he was the sommelier.

But the food! How was it? I'm not Shakespeare, but allow me to wax poetic: GOD DAMN IT WAS AMAZING.

I started with sauteed foie gras (feel free to hate, all you haters, I understand why it's wrong and actually agree. I am not always a rational being and am aware that I may spend the afterlife being pecked for eternity by angry geese).

My main course was a stunningly tender venison loin that made me want to weep with joy. My fiancee's main course was a fillet of turbot, which was baked on a block of salt from Spain, I think. It was wheeled out to the table still on said block of salt. Another french-accented waiter effortlessly filleted the fish at our table. It was served with pureed parsnips which I have to assume had as much butter as parsnip and were remarkable.

For dessert I had a ganache, and it was decadent and delicious. During the entire meal we were treated wonderfully. I don't know how much that had to do with the fact that the staff knew ahead of time that this was an engagement dinner. Would we get the same treatment on an average visit? Don't know. Don't much care. They also brought us an additional dessert, with the word "congratulations" written in chocolate in fine cursive on the plate. Nice touch.

After dinner, the assistant manager came over and asked us how everything was. He was very helpful when I asked where we might find a cigar bar. There happened to be one the next block down, called Macanudo. It is one of maybe four or five places left in Manhattan that allow indoor smoking. We finished the night there with a cigar and cognac, and happened to sit next to a woman who had just gotten engaged that day. Even the initially-frosty bartender warmed up to us once she overheard that we had just gotten engaged.

In short, it was a wonderful day. One I will never forget.

Canoe make crepes?

2008-05-31T12:55:00.008-04:00

Yes, I went for the cheap pun. Deal with it.

This past weekend several friends and I spent three days canoeing down the Potomac River, and it was perfect. I'm not talking about the part of the Potomac near D.C., which is only slightly less disgusting than the Hudson. Instead, we drove hours northward and launched in Green Ridge State Park in the Maryland panhandle, floating lazily, occasionally rowing, consistently drinking, and tracing the boundary between Maryland and West Virginia.

Our flotilla was ten canoes strong, with twenty people and a dog. Frequently we stopped rowing, and linked two to eight canoes, drifting slowly, sharing Trader Joe's cheetoes, Heineken, Schlitz, summer sausage, and fresh fruit, while relishing the amazing weather and beautiful landscape rising up on either side of the river. Occasionally we joined in song, butchering and belting as we pleased. At one point as we glided along, one of our trusty companions read to us from Moby Dick.

The first night we docked at a campground shared with Adventure Scouts. I had not heard of these, but an inquiry revealed that they are like scouts, but more adventurous. Less rigid. A little less like Mussolini's brownshirts, maybe. (Yes, I hated scouts). Some of us camped down by the river, some of us up on the hillside above. The hillside had a wonderful vantage point over the river, but was very close to the port-a-john. We made ourselves feel better by referring to our exclusive little neighborhood as The Heights (of Port-de-Jean). The rest of our group slept down the hill in The Devil's Crappy Camping Spot, as I liked to call it.

Food duties were split among the various posses, and the first night produced excellent burritos. This was followed by a long campfire parley, wherein much bourbon and tequila was drunk, and wherein jokes were exchanged, many of which cannot be repeated in so wholesome a blog as this. We learned much about some of our travelers that evening.

The next morning there was a beautiful fog on the river. It was very peaceful.

Day two held more beautiful weather, frequent sips of Knob Creek bourbon, a tipped canoe (which, I promise, was unrelated to the Knob Creek), and another excellent campsite. Frisbee was thrown, someone broke out a box of wine (scoff not, ye pretentious quaffers), and while some gathered firewood, others sat around a picnic table playing Rummy or Egyptian Rat-Screw. Brad & posse prepared an excellent vegetarian curry, quickly devoured.

Many conversations were had around the fire. We learned about who of us had been arrested and what for. We learned about who of us hated Bruce Springsteen (not me, that's pretty much like hating freedom as far as I can tell. If you hate The Boss, you have basically let the terrorists win) (I'm half-kidding). We learned about who of us had been on secret missions in Afghanistan (not me) and who had somehow accidentally filled the trunk of a friend's car with gasoline (also not me). Good times!

Kitchen Monkey, not being 100% the party monkey he used to be, turned in around midnight, but there must have been some late goings-on, since this was the scene around the campfire the next morning:

Finally, we get around to talking about the crepes. This is, after all, supposed to be a food blog. KM has made crepes numerous times, but this was the first time while camping. KM's posse was essential to the cause, cutting fruits and mushrooms. The first batch didn't have enough flour in it, but the later ones turned out quite good. All the lads and lasses were appeased. May I just say that crepes, nutella, and fresh strawberries go together like Johnny Cash and June Carter. All in all, a phenomenal trip, with new friends made and much good food eaten.
Kitchen Monkey will try to post more often in the near future, but, sadly, it won't be a regular thing until after the bar exam on July 29-30. Then it's done. Finit.

Until soon . . .

Jamaica - Runaway Bay

2008-03-16T23:03:00.005-04:00

Sunset over Runaway Bay, Jamaica

Kitchen Monkey just got back from a week-long trip to Jamaica, and no synonym for "amazing" could do justice to it.

Runaway Bay

We stayed at an expansive villa--owned by the parents of a law school friend--in Runaway Bay, which is an hour East of Montego Bay. The villa has a breathtaking view over the town, the beach, and the bay itself. It also has a staff of Jamaican women who have worked there for decades, make the most delicious meals, and have the loveliest singing voices. Yeah, I felt uncomfortable with the idea of having anything resembling "servants." Definitely not how I grew up. We did our best to help out, taking in our own dirty dishes. Much of my discomfort was overidden by how wonderful the cooking was. Fresh-squeezed (or, if you're from Utah, fresh-squoze) orange juice every morning with French toast, bacon, or pancakes, and always ripe melons of all varieties. The coffee was perfect. Dinner was different and fantastic every night, the most memorable being a giant platter of Jamaican lobsters with butter sauce. Here is breakfast:

A large part of the vacation was spent simply relaxing by the pool or playing guitar on the veranda. I was at least half-way inebriated from noon to bedtime every day. Here are some trip highlights worth going into detail about.

1. The River and the Waterfall
On day 2 we shelled out for innertubes and a couple of guides, who led us down to the banks of a lazy river that traced its way through a jungle that looked almost like a perfect Hollywood version of what a Jamaican river through a jungle would look like. Our guides sang Bob Marley songs along the way, which I imagine is geared to their most frequent tourist demographic (American college students there on spring break), but I swallowed my cynicism in the face of how beautiful it all was. Half way down the river we stopped at a bank where we bought trinkets from locals and jumped off a cliff into the cool river below. I came up out of the water to hear people screaming and to see a ziploc bag with my credit card and $2,000 Jamaican floating down the river. Fortunately I am a fast swimmer.

We hopped back on the tubes and floated down to the ocean, where our ride picked us up to take us to lunch at a restaurant next to a large waterfall. My friend Naila and I wandered above the waterfall where a local was showing a group of tourists around the beautiful garden above the falls. He presented them, and then us, with the leaves of a plant which he claimed was a mild narcotic. Curious, we munched on the leaves. They tasted like ass and provided no mental or physical stimulation at all. Perhaps he and his friends would laugh about it later. I know I would have.

On our way back we passed one of those mountain-size cruise ships near St. Ann's Bay. We wondered aloud why in god's name anyone would want to be trapped on one of those things, since as Naila put it, they're "filled with the kinds of people we go on vacation to get away from."

Later in the day, after more Red Stripe, we paid $15 to hike up through a waterfall. We started at the ocean and hiked up several levels. At first I thought, "this is too perfect." Then I realized that some of the conveniently located "rocks" were actually made of concrete. Still, it looked realistic enough, and there was at least some sense of danger. One person almost took a nasty spill, another lost her glasses (a Jamaican with a snorkel mask found them and earned himself $20 for the deed), and I was bitten by fire ants, which could have been disastrous on account of a nasty allergy. Fortunately, there were only three bites. A dozen or so more and I could have spent a couple hours vomiting and semi-paralyzed.

Amnesia and the Best Jerk Ever
Speaking of vomit and semi-paralyisis (OK, not really) the following night we found ourselves in Ocho Rios at a club called Amnesia where I drank vodka tonics like a fish with malaria. Fortunately, this was not some crap-tastic tourist club, but rather a hangout for the locals. With the exception of random expats and a couple ditzy Canadian girls (who were happy to announce that they worked as Princesses at Disney World), the entire club was filled with Jamaicans dancing their asses off. So we danced OUR asses off, and drank, and danced, and drank.

At about 2 in the morning we stumbled out into the street, looking for Junior, a kindly and elderly Jamaican man who was our driver for the entire trip. While waiting for him to show up, I felt a powerful hunger come on. Fortunately, there were men lined along the street with grills selling jerk, waiting for the clubbers to spill out into the streets. I bought a leg and a thigh of jerk chicken, which the man speared, set on a cutting board, and hacked into four pieces with a large and crusty-looking meat cleaver before sliding it onto some aluminum foil and placing the steaming bird in my hands. Yes, I know, I was at least three sheets to the wind at that point, but I can still objectively say this was one of my top 20 favorite eating experiences ever. The seasoning was rich and spicy, and the bird was moist and tore apart easily. I gnawed greedily and happily licked the sauce from my fingers before piling into the van for a sleepy ride back to the villa.

Equestrian and Roadside Bar Adventures
On Friday my friend Julie and I woke up, had breakfast with the others, and met Robert, a local Jamaican guide who keeps horses. He had brought three horses up to the villa, one each for himself, myself, and Julie. My horse was named Winston, and he is a damn good horse. Robert led us up the hillside to the top, where we could look out across the entire valley and Runaway Bay. Runaway Bay was the first part of Jamaica that Columbus saw upon his arrival. Its name seems to have come from the nearby caves, which served as a hideout for pirates, runaway slaves, and even a Spanish nobleman on the lam. It is far less touristy than Montego Bay or Ocho Rios, and the only nearby resort is Hedonism III, which I'm told is a nudist resort.

After gazing out across the countryside, we took the horses down the hill to the beach, where we rode straight into the bay and traced the shoreline 100 feet out or so. A group of Jamaican children, ages 6 to 8 were splashing in the tide, and when they saw us they waved, screamed and shouted, wanting a ride. It was blissful, and I will never forget it. In fact, Kitchen Monkey is going to break his longstanding policy of not posting any pictures of himself, just so you can see how cool it all was. Behold:

After the horsey ride I was starving, but out of cash. A Jamaican man named Tika, in his late 40s or early 50s, offered to take us to a money machine. As he led us far down the beach, through some woods, across a canal, and under some barbed wire, I began to wonder if this was going to turn into one of those stories about stupid gullible tourists who meet a nasty end, but to tell the truth, I trusted him. I never felt like we were in the slightest amount of danger from this friendly chap. After we reached the money machine, he offered to take us to the highway where we could find food. At a roadside bar called "Bar," which was little more than a tiny shack and an adjacent open air hut with a full bar, I feasted hungrily on aki and snapper, served with black beans & rice and breadfruit. Washing it down with the ubiquitous red stripe, I was in heaven. Check it out:

A Strong Shirk Ethic

And now I'm back in D.C. What did I bring back with me (besides a Jamaican soccer jersey and a bottle of Appleton's Rum)? I would say a determination to take life easier. It just so happens that this determination coincides and conflicts with a mountain of homework for my last semester of law school, not to mention bar applications, and blah blah blah blah blah.

I'm ready to go back. Now. Please.

Les Bistros & les Brasseries of D.C. & Pasta a la Jesse

2008-03-13T15:09:00.005-04:00

The Dining Room at Central Michel Richard

First, Kitchen Monkey is posting this from a villa overlooking the ocean in Runaway Bay, Jamaica. I kid you not. But that will wait for a future post. Right now it's time to play catch-up.

Sushi Party
Last month I hosted a sushi party, putting the guests to work making makimono while I churned pork tonkatsu and gyoza out of the kitchen in batches that disappeared almost as soon as they were out the door. I love the frenetic pace of balancing the timing of various menu items and making sure everybody is well fed, but I'm glad I don't have to do it everyday. I finally read Kitchen Confidential, and as exciting as Bourdain makes it sound, the life of a chef would not be for me. In any event, the sake was flowing, and merriment was had. I also managed to find a Japanese market that sells quail eggs! So the hard core foodies in the kitchen were treated to quail eggs atop nigiri with ikura (salmon roe). Little salty bombs of goodness incarnate my friend. Credit is especially due to Tim, who brought miso soup and helped serve the appetizers. Credit also to Jesse who assisted greatly in the kitchen.

Jesse of Key West: a genuine foodie who cooks a mean pasta (more on that later) and has recently joined KM on food escapades to some of D.C.'s french restaurants, each of which deserve various amounts of praise.

Difference between a bistro and a brasserie? If you don't know, but really care, you can probably look it up on wikipedia. It seems like brasseries are more formal. During my few months in France I never really paid attention to the difference. Feel free to fill me in.

Bistro Du Coin
Frequently hectic and always noisy, Bistro Du Coin is the most authentically French in atmosphere and menu. They are located close to Dupont Circle, and are known for their mussels and fries. In fact, I've never had any desire to order anything there besides moules frites. Bistro du Coin packs you in tight, so its very easy to hear the conversation at the next table, which will probably be about public policy or in French.

Montmartre
This brasserie is near Eastern Market, and has a very cozy atmosphere. The menu is fairly affordable and the food portions are plentiful. Nearly everything is appropriately rich and heavy. For an appetizer we had a very good charcuterie plate with some tasty paté.
Honestly, I don't remember exactly what I had for an entrée, though it was delicious. Rabbit? Duck? Whatever it was, it sat in a box in the back of a rented PT Cruiser over night and was tragically never finished. The rental car people I'm sure appreciated the smell.

Belga Cafe
Also near Eastern Market. Not French, but Belgian. Atmosphere is interesting, a bit trendy-looking. I had steak and frites, and though it was good, I thought it overpriced. Also, it was a weekend, and they were cranking people in and out. It seemed our meals were already prepared when we ordered them, they came so quickly. I don't know that I'd go back to eat, but they do have one of my favorite Belgian ales--Lucifer--which brings back pleasant memories of the gallons I drank at La Gueze in Paris a few summers ago.

Central Michel Richard
The best by far of my recent dining experiences. One of the top restaurants in DC is Citronelle, by the world famous chef Michel Richard. To this point Citronelle is beyond my budget, but Jesse and I recently tried his more affordable place, Central, a mere lamb shank's throw from the Capitol Building. About $140 got us two appetizers, two entrées, dessert, and a bottle of wine plus tip. We started off with the "faux gras" board, which you can see in this NY Times review. The paté is made primarily of butter. Delicious, delicious butter. There also seemed to be some rabbit meat in it.

The "faux gras" terrine is chicken liver, and, again, butter. I can't recall the bottle of wine, which was less than impressive. We had a cold ratatouille which came with a mix of greens on the side. It was fantastic. Jesse had a charcuterie plate for an entrée as well, which meant enormous amounts of sausage and prosciutto sliced thinly from the giant hocks hanging in a display window not far away. I had a slow-braised lamb served with a very creamy polenta. On top of all that, we shared a dessert, which can also be viewed in the Times article: a glorified kit kat bar. As you probably know by now, KM has not the sweet tooth, but this was delicately textured, not overly sweet, and served with some of the best ice cream I've ever had. The wait staff was very professional, and kind enough to twice replace KM's napkin when he dropped it on the floor. I choose to blame this on the wine, which the waiter repeatedly poured into our glasses, hoping to get us drunk so that our judgment would lead us into another bottle of wine.

I definitely recommend this restaurant and will go back eventually. But next on the list is Cafe Atlantico, owned by another famous chef, José Andrés, who, according to the Post, is indefatigable. This is my new favorite word.

Pasta á la Jesse
After playing down her kitchen skills, the indefatigable Jesse whips this up from imagination, and daaaaamn eetz gooood. Very simple, fairly quick, and extremely tasty. You're getting the recipe in IM form. Deal with it.

Jesse: it was

ok -

so it's very detailed and intense

first chop one and half tomatoes

i used linguini if you care

me: i do, i really do

Jesse: i sliced, salted, and let the eggplant sweat for an hour

4:02 PM i didn't use any salt in the cooking otherwise

then i fried the eggplant in olive oil

me: lots of it

Jesse: you need lots

yeah

we drained it a bit - the eggplant after frying it right

then while the pasta cooked

4:03 PM i simmered the tomatoes with pepper and red pepper flakes

in a little bit of olive oil

added the eggplant cut into bite size pieces near the end since it's already cooked, just to heat it

added the procciutto right at the end

uhhhhhhhh

i think that's it maybe

4:04 PM i could be forgetting a spice

but i don't think so

i don't think i put onion

maybe i put garlic?

Note from the indefatigable editor: I think there was, in fact, some garlic in it.

Next time, Jamaica. (And fear not, I will not end any of my sentences with "mon").

Sea Bass . . . is that OK?

2007-08-15T20:33:00.000-04:00

Yes, it's OK, as long as it is certified "legally caught." And Whole Foods promised me that this Chilean Sea Bass was 100% wholesome and consumer-conscious friendly. And I trust Whole Foods--so far. Nonetheless, it got me wondering: what is all this sea bass hubbub? Which in turn got me wondering: am I spelling "hubbub" correctly?

Setting aside the second question, I turned to the obvious source of information for all things food related: the U.S. State Department. They have a nice page of frequently asked questions related to the sea bass. For instance, did you know that Chilean Sea Bass is neither a bass, nor always Chilean? Talk amongst yourselves.

Secondly, did you know that the Chilean Sea Bass can sometimes live for 50 years? Now, even if it isn't endangered, which it isn't, that fact makes me feel a bit bad for eating it. I prefer the animals I eat to have shorter lifespans (although, the reason I feel guilty about eating veal is the shortness of its lifespan, so the logic doesn't really hold). It just seems sort of strange to munch on something with 50 years worth of memories. On the other hand, without having done any research, I feel safe in saying that fish don't have tremendously good memories. And living for 50 years without any memory of what happened beyond last week? Miserable existence, I say. I did this damn fish a favor, if you ask me.

Really though, it was a fairly delicious meal, and something I whipped up sort of spur-of-the-moment-like. SIMPLE. I minced some shallots, which I'm finding are as versatile as Gary Oldman. In fact, they are the Gary Oldman of the vegetable world. Anyhow, I minced them and sauteed them in butter and a bit of white wine (fairly standard, eh?) but then added a few spoonfuls of real maple syrup. Not too much...just enough to give it a slight sweetness. This was the glaze for the fish, which was simply sauteed in butter and a bit of olive oil. The fish itself had a nice texture--firm, but not rubbery, like Monkfish so often is.

In other news...

I moved to a new part of D.C., known as Mt. Pleasant, so the grand old kitchen (with its 6-burner Viking Range) is no longer mine for the using. Nonetheless, I am living with three very cool people who all cook and appreciate good food, so I'm excited about the coming year.

Also, Kitchen Monkey's sister-in-law has a new food blog, which is simply awesome. However, it is in French. This is possibly the result of her being French. Don't read the French so well? You can still check out the pictures, which are lovely.

Also, I am no longer apologizing for not posting more often. I've done it so many times, and in any case, I've gone so long since posting that I'm not sure if I have any readers left! If I do, then you have my apologies for not posting more often, whoever you are. Mom?

Cheers
-KM

Green Parrot Bar - Key West

2007-05-17T20:40:00.001-04:00

That's right kids, Kitchen Monkey is on a much-needed vacation in Key West, Florida. For three days now, nothing but killer food and drink, sun, and meeting interesting people. You see, Kitchen Monkey has friends in high places. One of my college buddies grew up in Key West, and his pa, John Vagnoni, is a co-owner of Key West's coolest bar, the Green Parrot Bar. We're not talking about your bubblegum tourist trap (cough * Sloppy Joe's * cough), but rather a comfortable corner bar with loads of history. Nearly every photo, painting, or tchotchke on the wall has an interesting story behind it. They book an astounding variety of acts, with tendencies toward blues. This is where the locals go, and if you're ever in Key West, you should DEFINITELY stop by for some live music and local flavor (never any cover charge!) But please, if you go, do not snivel. Check it out here.

On to the food:
Day 1
We ate raw oysters and steak at Pepe's Cafe, the "oldest restaurant in Key West." Delicious. Firecrackers were going off in the background. Also, as you may know, the town is crawling with wild roosters. The longer you stay, the less you notice their cockle-doodle-doodling. Also, you need to see this picture of John Vagnoni's great kitchen. Check out this vintage stove! It could date back to the 1930s.

Day 2
The next morning we woke up with a shot of buchi (basically a super sugary espresso) and toasted cuban bread. We then went to the beach, where Kitchen Monkey acquired a beet red sunburn on certain torso regions that somehow managed to escape sunblock. Lunch was a great pastrami sandwich from the Waterfront Market. That night we went over to to the house of a couple of very talented local artists, Tom and Carrie--both lovely people and serious foodies. They made us awesome bar jack fish sandwiches, along with tomatoes and fresh mozarella, and some dynamite kimchi. They'll have to forgive me for posting this picture without permission, but I had to give you a shot of their awesome open air kitchen:

That night was finished off with some live blues and Jack Daniels at the Green Parrot. Life is so good. So to wrap up, an ENORMOUS thanks to Nick and John Vagnoni for all their hospitality, and thanks to John as well for the very tasty bottle of Hendrick's Gin.

Tomorrow its off to Tallahassee, where I will revisit my favorite sushi restaurant and hang with some dear old friends. Expect plenty of posts this summer!

Grilled Chicken Salad with Sage, Almonds & Cranberries

2007-04-26T19:06:00.000-04:00

Chicken Salad, Derrida Style

What is the perfect chicken salad? Philosophers and kings alike have dealt with this question since the accidental invention of mayonnaise in 400 B.C. in Alexandria, Egypt. Since that time, many variations have striven to attain the platonic form of chicken salad, each in their turn failing. Finally, in the year 2007, in Washington D.C., a chicken salad was ushered into the world. Some believe that it will change the entire concept of chicken salad as we know it, much like Stephen Hawking's research forced scientists to revisit Einstein's theory of relativity. Others believe, more modestly, that it will provide Kitchen Monkey at least two or three days' worth of delicious lunches.

I enjoyed it between slices of French bread, but it's also delicious in a croissant. You can find the recipe below the photo . . .

Chicken Salad

3 breasts chicken (preferably grilled or smoked, then cubed)
1/2 large onion (chopped)
2/3 cup slivered almonds (dry toasted in a pan on the stovetop until light brown)
6 leaves fresh sage (minced or chopped)
1 cup dried cranberries (you may call them craisins if you wish)
2/3 cup mayo

Simply mix everything together, using salt, pepper, and more or less mayo according to taste.

Ceviche!

2007-04-23T23:11:00.000-04:00

I know, I know, it has been forever since the last post. Kitchen Monkey has been supremely busy with this law school business. Happily, the second year is almost over, and I am happy to say that Kitchen Monkey has found a job for the summer which should last into the final year of school--at a great firm in northern Virginia that does immigration, family, probate, and other types of law. I have had a growing interest in immigration law for the past year, so this should be very exciting.

On to the food . . .

I learned to make ceviche while working at a sushi restaurant. With all that beautiful raw fish around, it would be absurd not to offer the customers this amazing dish, no matter that it finds its origin in Peru rather than Japan. Many of you know the deal: the seafood is "cooked" by lime and/or lemon juice. I have tried many many versions, and if you look across the web's foodysphere you'll find dozens of different and sometimes conflicting recommendations. My version combines the traditional Mexican variation with a bit of my old sushi boss's own innovations as well as my own. For this meal I had some pita bread on hand and decided to make pita chips (simply brush with olive oil and toast in the oven) and they went fantastically with the ceviche. This is a ceviche to write home about.

Ceviche

(serves 4-6)
1/2 lb. of shrimp
1/2 lb. bay scallops
1/2 lb. grouper (monkfish and tuna also work nicely)
1/2 lb. conch or octopus (you can leave this out if you can't find it at your seafood market)
5 limes
2 lemons
1 orange
1/2 bunch fresh cilantro (chopped)
1/2 large red onion (chopped)
1 large tomato (chopped)
1 avocado (cubed)
1 jalapeno (sliced)

(1) If you use shrimp, be sure to steam them first, otherwise they will turn into an unappealing mush. Octopus and conch also need to be steamed before marinating. They may already be cooked when you buy them. The grouper, monkfish, and scallops however will "cook" in the marinade. If you use large shrimp, cut them into pieces about the size of the bay scallops. The grouper or monkfish should also be cut into that size as well.
(2) Squeeze all the citrus into a large bowl, then add the rest of the ingredients and stir.
(3) Let it all soak for about an hour to an hour and a half. At this point I usually pour off the citrus mixture. Some prefer to marinade the fish for 24 hours, but I find that much of the great flavor of the fish is overpowered by the tanginess. Test the jalapeno for hotness. While I typically like hot foods, I like my ceviche with just a slight kick.

Serve in a large-mouthed wine class or small bowl, with pita chips! Amazing.

Chicken Ballotine (Ballotines de Volailles et Pommes Savonnettes)

2007-01-22T20:23:00.000-05:00

Ah yes, another elaborate French dinner with butter, creme, wine, and cognac. I'm glad this was too much work, if I could eat it more often I'd need a coronary bypass by the age of 40.
As with the last French meal, mes amis Tyler and Lily were the guinea pigs, and they both agreed it was better than the boeuf bourguignon.

Here's a general overview:

A few weeks ago I made another batch of stock, this time with beef and chicken. I froze half of it, then reduced the other half, by half. This made what is known as a demi-glace. The condensation of the collagen gives it the consistency of a jelly when it is cool, and it was used as the base of the creme sauce. I took half of the demi-glace and reduced that to 1/4, until it had the consistency of thick caramel. This is what is known as glace de viande. When it cools it is hard as a rock and keeps in the fridge longer than Walt Disney. Break a little chunk off and add it to liquid and you've got a supercondensed bit of meat flavor that forms the basis of many a sauce, including the one you see above in caramel-colored streaks.

The chicken is made by de-boning a whole bird while keeping the skin intact. The dark meat is combined with heavy creme and white pepper and pureed into a mousse. The mousse is layered on top of the breast, and the whole shebang is wrapped and tied in the skin of the chicken. It is then panfried in wine, cognac, and herbs, and served with the two sauces above.

The potatoes are delicious. The french name, pommes savonnettes, literally means "soap potatoes," because of their shape. This is much less appetizing when you know what it means, but the taste makes up for it. They are a bit time consuming, since you have to carve the potatoes into cylinder shapes, cut 1-inch coins, and bevel the edges. But after that, it's all very easy. It goes in an ovensafe sauce pan with some water, butter, and salt. Once the water boils, they go in the oven until the water has baked off and the potatoes are left to get crispy brown in the butter. They also tasted delicious with the two sauces. You want the recipe? Buy Jacques Pépin's book (see several posts below).

Five classes, the duties of being on law journal, and looking for a summer job aren't going to keep me from making the occasional elaborate meal.

Panang Curry Meatballs - Recipe

2007-01-16T20:53:00.000-05:00

Kitchen Monkey is back from a long winter hiatus (although, I have a hard time calling what we've had in D.C. "winter"). Before the recipe, here's an update on what's new, foodwise and otherwise.

For the first time, the Monkey is an uncle. That's right: my brother and sister-in-law had a beautiful baby daughter on Christmas morning! When she is old enough, she will no doubt feel enormous gratitude toward her uncle for featuring the news of her birth in a food post about meatballs.
The New Year's Eve feast was both delicious and dangerous. I won't mention names, but one friend cut himself two or three times. Another had the skin of her hands aflame from some allergy to the butternut squash she was preparing. And Kitchen Monkey? After slaving in a kitchen for five hours, perhaps with too little sleep and too many glasses of wine, fell asleep at around 11 pm, only to be woken up just minutes before the countdown. The food was great though: a ginger green bean salad, which I will post the recipe for eventually; butternut squash soup; mashed potatoes; no-knead bread; and my piece de resistance, a giant leg of lamb marinated in yoghurt, spices, and onion, and grilled to perfection.
Law school has resumed. In previous semesters, I lost much of my enthusiasm midway through the semester. This time is different. I've lost enthusiasm after the first week. I exaggerate, a little. The Immigration course and Legal Ethics both appear fairly interesting.

Now that you've been patient, you will be rewarded with a truly delicious meatball recipe. You may recall I had them at a potluck a little while back and found them highly addictive. Jennie, who brought the meatballs, was kind enough to get the recipe from her mother, who graciously approved of my posting it here. I thank both of them, and hope that many readers will try them. You'll notice it takes less preparation than many of the recipes I've been posting lately, so you have no excuse not to try them! But next on Kitchen Monkey, we're back to the absurdly complicated French stuff, this time a Chicken Ballotine with glace de viande. Happy New Year!

Panang Meatballs

3-4 lbs. ground beef, formed into balls, about the size of a golf ball
1 can coconut milk
4oz panang curry paste
2 tablespoons fish sauce
2 tablespoons kafir lime leaves (cut into shreds) (Whole Foods often has kafir lime leaves, but you'll more likely find them at a good Asian market. If you can't find them, the zest of two limes will give a different, but still nice flavor).
1/2 cup basil leaves
2 tablespoons brown sugar

1. Using medium heat, let four tablespoons of the coconut milk come to a boil.
2. Add in panang curry paste, stir.
3. Put the meatballs in, and stir until they are thoroughly cooked.
4. Add half of the remaining coconut milk. Keep stirring.
5. Add the fish sauce and the sugar.
6. Add the rest of the coconut milk.
7. When the coconut milk thickens, add the basil leaves and kafir lime leaves.
8. Give it a taste. You may need to add in more fish sauce or sugar depending on your preference
Enjoy!!!!!

All Tarted Up

2006-12-16T12:31:00.000-05:00

This tart is actually six feet wide, using giant, genetically modified fruits.

Walking into a kitchen store gives me the same unabashed delight now that I had as a child when going to Toys R Us. The rush of excitement that came from going home with a new Transformer, set of legos, or Atari game has transformed into the giddy anticipation of heading home with a new knife, splatter screen, or saucepan. Maybe not quite as excited, but still, it's a fair analogy.

Well yesterday I came home with something truly frivolous, made all the more ridiculous by the fact that I only went to the kitchen store to get Christmas presents for family and walked out with nothing but this: a silicone tartlette mold. How often do I make tarts? Very close to never. I don't even usually eat or make desserts. Those of you who read Kitchen Monkey regularly probably know of my abiding distaste for most forms of cake.

But I digress. I've always liked these little fruit tarts, and a friend's potluck yesterday was ample excuse to try my hand at them. The recipe came from Jacques Pépin's Complete Techniques (see previous post) and required an enormous amount of effort.

My friend Nick was recently lamenting a potluck he held where half the guests brought baguettes. I was sort of expecting a similar affair last night, particularly since most of the guests were law students, but to my delight the potluck offered an impressive array of delicious dishes. A perfect asparagus and red pepper frittata, a cous cous with complex flavors, latkes for hanukkah, and some Thai meatballs that were--and I say this without hyperbole--tastier than any meatball I have ever had in my entire life. Sadly, I failed to get the recipe, but am in the process of tracking it down.

Now then, the tarts. I may post the recipe at some point. For now, enough to mention that they were great fun to make, though next time I may try using a food processor for the dough to cut down on the substantial effort. The dough is a standard pie/pastry shell mixture (pâte sucrée et croûte), which I rolled to a quarter inch thickness and pressed into the mold with another piece of dough floured to keep from sticking. I then trimmed the edges and placed in each mold a piece of wax paper. I then filled the molds with black beans pressed down to keep the dough from melting inward, and baked for about 7 minutes. I then removed the beans and baked for another 10 minutes. The silicone mold is great. No sticking at all, and they popped right out. In the meantime I made a crème pâtissière, a standard vanilla pastry creme. A large spoonful of the creme went into each shell, I then arranged raspberries, blackberries, and bits of kiwi. Then I brushed the fruit with a glaze of melted strawberry jelly.

Cook Book Review: Jacques Pépin's Complete Techniques

2006-12-04T11:31:00.000-05:00

Jacques Pépin, whose eyes have no whites

I don't often buy cookbooks, and when I do I don't usually feel compelled to post about it. This one is a bit different, however.

After a Criminal Procedure exam on Saturday morning (how absurd is that?), a couple days working at the Superior Court, and a job interview with the D.C. Public Defender Service (for this summer), I have almost NOTHING to do for the next month. This means, of course, a great deal of serious cooking: and this, my friends, is where Jacques Pépin's book comes in.

There seems to be little method to my kitchen madness. I'm capable of enough dedication to make a coq au vin requiring three days preparation, but I burn at least half the grilled cheese sandwiches I make from carelessness. I make a fine ragu alla bolognese, but still consistently boil too much or too little pasta. I know how to apply a knife to an onion six different ways, but almost never make a perfect hard boiled egg. I bought this book in hopes of filling in some of the large gaps in my knowledge. My recent reading of Pépin's memoir, The Apprentice, alerted me to the book, and it arrived yesterday.

Jacques Pépin's Complete Techniques is a combination of two earlier, out of print books, which cover all of the techniques and methods of French gourmet cooking in immense detail, with explicit step-by-step instructions and thousands of illustrative pictures. They range from the almost absurdly basic (how to peel an onion), to the practical (how to properly bone a chicken), to the whimsical (how to make decorative swans and flowers out of fruits and vegetables), to the baroque (how to lard a pheasant pâté and encase it in a decorative crust of breading). It's fantastic because, apart from multiple forays into coq au vin, boeuf bourguignon, and various terrines and pâtés, I really haven't done very much French cooking. I've been a sushi chef, am reasonably familiar with Italian, Thai, Vietnamese, Mexican, Indian, and even some West African cuisines, but French cooking is largely terra incognita for me. I don't even know how to make a crêpe. Not true for long.

Some of these recipes and techniques I will never use (e.g. the pheasant pâté), but others I really look forward to. I especially want to master the art of making a good sauce. The foundation of this is a good stock transformed into a demi-glace and perhaps even a glace, which I hope to get started on this weekend. From there, who knows. I'll start with some simple roasting and eventually work my way toward good pastry dough and maybe even boudin.

Hopefully by Christmas I'll have mastered a couple of these dishes well enough to impress my French sister-in-law, who is an excellent cook in her own right.

KM's Five-Pepper Chili: Recipe

2006-12-03T22:59:00.000-05:00

I call this Five-Pepper chili because it has five kinds of peppers in it. Yes, I know, it's clever. It took me forty seconds to think of this name, but that's OK. I was willing to devote this kind of time and attention to finding the perfect name because this is the best chili I have ever had.

Maybe I am biased, but I am also capable of admitting, when the occasion arises, that I have made something that is less than fantastic, or even out-and-out slop. For example, just the other day, a combination of apathy and distraction (Tom Waits was on NPR) led to the most awful omelette I've ever made. I wouldn't have served this omelette to my worst enemy.

But I digress. The point is, this chili is GOOD. I'm sure you've had better chili. Or rather, I'm sure you think you have. Chili is one of those things where everybody thinks they make the best version. That's as it should be, and I'm only too happy to partake in that proud tradition.

On another note, the picture above demonstrates what it might look like if Caravaggio did a painting of cornbread and chili, which I'm certain he would have, had such things existed at the time. Seriously. He was into still life, and was fond of using white, red, black, and light tan colors. It also has his trademark geometric angles and deep chiaroscuro contrasts.

OK, I obviously need some sleep. Here's the recipe.

(Addendum, written following day: I really did need some sleep. When I posted this last night I included tomato peppers as one of the ingredients. I meant "cherry" peppers. Nick was kind enough to bring it to my attention. Tomato peppers do not in fact exist. Thanks Nick).

KM's Five Pepper Chili: Recipe
(note: this makes a LOT of chili. Probably enough to feed 12 people)

2 lbs. stew beef, cut into approximately 1/2-inch cubes and salted.
1 lb. ground beef
2 Tablespoons coriander seeds, ground
2 Tablespoons ground cumin
Extra virgin olive oil
1 bunch Parsley, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
4 red bell peppers, chopped
4 jalapenos, minced
2 dried ancho chiles, minced
2 cherry peppers, minced
5-7 canned chipotle peppers with sauce, minced
2 large onions, chopped
2 cups kidney beans
2 large cans diced tomatoes
8 oz. beer (I used Sierra Nevada Pale Ale - Delicious!)
1 1/2 cups beef stock
1 Tablespoon dried oregano
7 Allspice berries
1/3 cup tomato paste
salt and pepper to taste

(If you have a dutch oven, such as a Le Creuset or All Clad, the initial stages can be done on the stovetop with the stewing done in a 225 degree oven. If you're using a large pot, such as a stock pot, then the stewing will be done on the stovetop at the lowest heat setting)

(1) put a generous amount of olive oil in the pot and brown the beef chunks, in batches if necessary. Remove.
(2) put more olive oil in the pot, once it is hot, add the cumin and coriander, and let it fry for 1 minute, then add the ground beef, stirring until it is browned. Remove.
(3) Add more oil, then add the onions. Carmelize. Remove.
(4) Add more oil, then the chopped peppers and parsley. Sautee until soft. Remove.
(5) Add the garlic and all the minced chili peppers. Sautee for two minutes. Add the beer, and simmer for two more minutes. NOTE: If you want this to be really hot, leave the seeds in. If you want it to have a medium heat, leave the seeds out or add just a few.
(6) Add all the former ingredients back into the pot, along with the kidney beans. Add the beef stock, diced tomatoes, tomato paste, allspice, and oregano.
(7) Bring to a low boil, then turn down to a simmer (whether in the oven or on the stovetop), covered, for one hour. Then simmer uncovered for another hour. You may choose to let it stew even longer. I think mine simmered for almost four hours. Serve with cheese and sour cream if you like.

Red Rice and Roast Chicken Soup - Recipe

2006-11-28T21:16:00.000-05:00

How fortunate that I've become ill. You see, a couple days ago I roasted a chicken--the typical fare: garlic and rosemary inserted under the skin in several places and basted in its own juices along with some chicken stock--and had quite a bit leftover. If not for the fact that I seem to be coming down with a chest cold, I probably would not have stumbled on the idea of making this delicious soup, when I should have instead been studying for my Criminal Procedure and Evidence exams.

I have had a bag of Himalayan red rice in my cupboard for far too long (I bought it at a farmer's market in Sarasota) waiting for some enticing recipe to come along. My patience finally worn thin, I used it today in my own variation of the old standard: chicken soup.

Himalayan red rice is similar in texture and flavor to brown rice, and may even taste a bit nuttier. The rice you see above is uncooked. Once cooked, it opens up much like brown rice, which could serve just as well in this soup. There are other ingredients which could be substituted with the ones below. I just used what I had on hand.

Calvados is a French apple brandy with an alcohol content of about 40 proof. The kind I had in the cupboard was made strictly for cooking. I should have heeded the label's warning: "seulement pour les alimentaires." I tried a small shot and spat it out immediately (in a fine spray, for comedic value). It was flavored with pepper and a little bit of salt.

If it didn't make for a good apertif, it did add a great flavor to the soup. However, since some people don't have a bottle of calvados sitting around, I have to say that white wine or sherry would probably work just as well. Also, normally I probably would have used all chicken stock, but I had some beef stock left over from last week's bourguignon. It added a nice, extra richness to the soup.

Now if you'll pardon me, Kitchen Monkey needs to take an Emergen-C and a nap.

Red Rice and Roast Chicken Soup

Serves 6 - Cooking time approx. 2 hours. Prep time approx. 45 minutes.

1/2 roast chicken - shredded or chopped (I used the breasts for other meals, putting one on a salad, and used the thighs and drumsticks for this soup).
1 cup red (or wild brown) rice
4 cups chicken stock
1 cup beef stock
1/2 cup Calvados (or white wine or sherry)
1 sprig fresh rosemary - minced
small handful chives - chopped (you might use thyme instead)
2 bay leaves
4 medium-sized carrots - sliced
1 large onion - chopped
3 celery stalks - chopped
3 cloves garlic - minced
1/2 lb. mushrooms - oyster, porcini, crimini, or even just good old fashioned white
3 allspice berries
salt and pepper to taste

(1) Shred the chicken and set aside
(2) Combine stock and calvados in a large pot over medium-high heat.
(3) Wash rice repeatedly then add to the pot.
(4) In a large sautee pan, sautee the carrots, onion, and celery in olive oil for about 10 minutes, adding the garlic toward the end
(5) Once the pot is boiling, turn the heat down to low, and add the vegetables, the mushrooms, the herbs, and the chicken, along with some salt and pepper.
(6) keep at a simmer for at least an hour, preferably longer. Add salt and pepper to taste, eat with some good crusty bread, and start feeling better as soon as possible.

Incidentally, the picture below demonstrates that I used much more rice than the recipe above indicates. I wanted to use all the red rice I had on hand, but next time I would use less.

A North Carolina Thanksgiving Hootenanny

2006-11-26T22:15:00.000-05:00

Every Thanksgiving I try to talk my friends and/or family into stuffing ourselves with something different than the same tired turkey, mashed potatoes and overcooked green bean casserole. Why, when we could spend half the day chatting around the table while we make shredded pork tamales while a molé sauce slowly simmers in the kitchen? Why, when we could have a fine spread of mezze and a nice big roast leg of lamb?

Sometimes I'm too quick to subvert the tried-and-true of tradition to the new and the unique. This might be a problem if I decide to marry and have children. Heaven help that woman, if she is hoping to bestow her young with names that have been in the family for generations--or just good solid names like "Elizabeth," "David," and "Robert"--for I intend to name my children after various cheeses of the world. My daughter would undoubtedly be named Brie. Sure, gradeschool might be a tough experience for little Munster, but he'll have his older brothers to understand and help protect him, since they will have had plenty of experiences to toughen up under the names Drunken Goat and Stinking Bishop. And who can forget little Baby Swiss, who will go by her middle name Gruyere, once she's old enough.

In any case I inevitably lose out over the Thanksgiving meal planning and this is probably a good thing. This year's turkey was fantastic, as was the rest of the meal. But let's proceed chronologically, shall we?

One of my sisters has lived in Asheville, North Carolina for the past year and a half. I finally made it down there, for Thanksgiving weekend, and quickly fell in love with the surrounding countryside and the local barbecue. When we arrived late in the evening my sister had generously prepared for us a large pot of Italian-style spicy mussels as well as some outrighteously good hors d'oeuvres: mushroom caps stuffed with bacon, cream cheese, and figs, served with a balsamic vinniagrette reduction. If she's not careful she's going to surpass her older brother as the chef de la famille. I wish she lived closer, in part so that I could more frequently benefit from such a potential rivalry.

We had Thanksgiving dinner on Friday, since it took us all day to drive to Asheville from D.C. There were about ten of us, and everybody helped out in some way. The next-door neighbor, a wine distributor, brought a delicious carrot soup, a bottle of fantastic red wine, and two bottles of expensive champagne. As much as we liked them, our pallettes were probably too unrefined to really appreciate it. I made a couple loaves of bread (see recent post) that turned out a bit denser than before, since I had only regular and not instant yeast on hand. I also made an apple and raisin galette that turned out alright, but tasted quite good the next day. There was much drinking and rejoicing, and dinner was followed by a passing around of the guitar.

The following day we did our best to walk off our prominent bellies by hiking through the Blue Ridge Mountains. I'm not sure how far we hiked, but if the soreness of my legs is any guide, I would say probably about 375 miles. Our chosen endpoint was the waterfall you see in the photograph above. There was much rejoicing. Jean-Jacques, my soon-to-be brother-in-law dunked his head in the freezing water to demonstrate his manliness, or insanity, or both, after which he yelped loudly "my BRAIN is FROZEN!!" (It sounds better with his Senegalese accent).

After the hike we were ravenous. Fortunately one of my sister's friends treated us all to an enormous meal of North Carolina BBQ (which tends to be tangy due to a larger ratio of vinegar to other ingredients) mac n'cheese, coleslaw, and potato salad. He picked the 'cue up from Ed Boudreaux's Bayou BBQ. It was fantastic, and if you're ever in Asheville I highly recommend it.

So it was a lovely vacation. I'm now retreating reluctantly into the ascetic shadowland of studying for law school finals, so there may not be too many posts in store until after December 9th. Expect a deluge at that point. I'm going to try and make everything between then and the New Year.

And for Christmas dinner I'm going to try and talk the family into a nice big sushi platter.

Boeuf Bourguignon

2006-11-19T22:52:00.000-05:00

Last Christmas a friend gave me a copy of Jacques Pépin's memoir, The Apprentice: My Life in the Kitchen. It was a nice gift, but I didn't feel compelled to read it right away. I was in my first year of law school, and I knew little about Jacques Pépin except that he was a culinary bosom buddy of Julia Child's. I finally picked the book up last weekend in an effort to rest my brain from the infernal madness of the Federal Rules of Evidence.

It is really quite a read. The writing is good for a memoir--simple and direct--but more importantly his enormous enthusiasm for the culinary arts comes through on every page. He had an inspiring life, from a poor provincial upbringing to cooking for Charles deGaulle at a young age, followed by world reknown through his association with Julia Childs. By page 5 it had me drooling and achingly reminiscing about my stay in Paris and Montpellier a little over a year ago (ahhhh remembering wild boar saucissions and canard au miel).

At the end of every chapter is a recipe, none of which I've yet tried, but I intend to (and will certainly post about it when I do). In short, I recommend it to anyone who is either a francophile or crazy about inedible food.

Sorry, I meant "incredible" food.

I had been meaning to make Boeuf (pronounced behhhffff, as though a sock to the stomach just caught you by surprise) Bourguignon for some time now, but reading the memoir finally inspired me enough to do it. I adapted it from a few different recipes (including Julia Child's recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking), all of which shared the same basic elements.

Thanks to Tyler and Lily for being my guinea pigs. I'd rather cook for them than Charles deGaulle any day.

Boeuf Bourguignon

(this loose recipe serves about 6 people)

6 strips thick cut bacon
3 lbs. stew beef
1/2 large onion
2-3 Tbsp flour
3 cups hearty red wine (I used a Chianti)
1 cup beef stock
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon fresh thyme
salt and pepper
pearl onions, peeled (easiest if you boil them with skins on for 2 minutes, then dunk in cold water, chop off the stem portion, then squeeze the onion out of its peel)
crimini mushrooms

(1) boil thick cut bacon for 10 minutes, then fry bacon in a large sautee or casserole
(2) remove bacon, and sear about 3 lbs. of cubes of stew beef, remove from pan and combine with bacon, after which you'll want to preheat the oven to 325 degrees
(3) brown sliced onions in the remaining fat
(4) return bacon and beef cubes to the pan or pot, add the two or three tablespoons of flour to the pot and stir to make sure the beef is coated
(5) place in the oven for 4-7 minutes, remove, stir, and return for another 4-7 minutes
(6) remove pan to the range on high heat, then add 3 cups or so of wine until boiling
(5) add beef stock, continue to boil, add crumbled bay leaf, thyme, and salt and pepper
(6) turn down to a simmer, then remove the pan to the middle rack of the oven
(7) allow to simmer in the oven for 2-3 hours
(8) about 15 minutes before removing the ingredients, sautee the pearl onions and mushrooms in a bit of olive oil and or butter until just barely soft.
(9) remove pan, and strain the liquid into a saucepan. Set the meat aside while the sauce reduces on high heat (thick, but not too thick!) Just before it is done reducing, heat up the beef , bacon, etc. along with the pearl onions and mushrooms until sizzling just a bit.
(10) serve up the beef, etc. and ladle a good bit of sauce over it.

I served it with green peas braised in chicken broth and boiled red potatoes tossed in a bit of butter and some parsely. The bourguignon sauce also tastes fantastic on the potatoes.

Yes, it requires some work. But make enough for leftovers (it tastes even better the next day) and you'll thank yourself.

America Ready for Change: A Bread Revolution

2006-11-14T11:16:00.000-05:00

On November 7, 2006, Americans sent a clear message: "we are ready for a change." No longer would we tolerate the shoddy results of conflicting and outdated ideas. We wanted a new bread recipe. Yes, on the day and the day after a historic election, the number one most read and e-mailed article in the New York Times was not a narrative of a shift in Congress from the party of the corrupt and incompetent to the party of the hapless and eventually corrupt.

It was, rather, Mark Bittman's column as "The Minimalist" describing an amazing new method of making bread. The recipe is at the bottom of this post, maybe in flagrant violation of copyright laws. But hey, I haven't taken Intellectual Property Law yet, not until next fall, so who knows? Heh heh. Thousands upon thousands of Americans spent this past weekend making this bread, and its rewards are unmistakable. The secret is a long initial rising period (12-20 hours), followed by a 2-hour rising period, followed by baking inside a pre-heated, covered, piping hot dutch oven. The article suggested use of a Le Creuset type receptacle. Unfortunately, my budget has yet to afford me such a beautiful piece of cookware, so I made do with two large, deep cast iron griddles, and it worked beautifully.

After my initial attempt turned out well I made FOUR loaves the following day. Two of them were made with diced fresh rosemary, the other two with fresh basil and diced calamata olives. They were perfect. Crisp crust, soft but chewy inside. So good that I came home the next day to find out that my roommates had eaten an entire loaf! Guess I'll have to make more next weekend.

Oh, and sorry I haven't posted in a couple weeks. You know, the whole law school thing. A beintot mes singes.

Adapted from Jim Lahey, Sullivan Street Bakery Time: About 1½ hours plus 14 to 20 hours’ rising

3 cups all-purpose or bread flour, more for dusting ¼ teaspoon instant yeast (rapid rise yeast)
1¼ teaspoons salt
Cornmeal, wheat bran, or more flour as needed.

1. In a large bowl combine flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 5/8 cups water, and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, preferably about 18, at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees.
2. Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest about 15 minutes.
3. Using just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to work surface or to your fingers, gently and quickly shape dough into a ball. Generously coat a cotton towel (not terry cloth) with flour, wheat bran or cornmeal; put dough seam side down on towel and dust with more flour, bran or cornmeal. Cover with another cotton towel and let rise for about 2 hours. When it is ready, dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.
4. At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 450 degrees. Put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in oven as it heats. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Slide your hand under towel and turn dough over into pot, seam side up; it may look like a mess, but that is O.K. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 15 to 30 minutes, until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack.
Yield: One 1½-pound loaf.

Autumnal Italian Feast - Pumpkin Prosciutto Ravioli

2006-10-01T18:06:00.000-04:00

Kitchen Monkey had a birthday on Saturday and to celebrate he went and purchased for himself two wonders of technology that all of the kids seem to be carrying around these days: a ravioli pastry wheel cutter, and a stainless steel splatter screen.

It has been a while since I last made ravioli and I was really looking forward to making something new. A dinner party for 8 people seemed like the perfect occasion to try something appropriate for the season. I went to the local market to get some ideas for filling the raviolis. After staring blankly at the pumpkins for about thirty or forty minutes, a thought popped into my head. "Pumpkin ravioli." Another thought soon followed: "yum."

More than one pedestrian may have smiled at the image of Kitchen Monkey on a Vespa with a large pumpkin, a passenger, and many bags of groceries. I got home and sliced it into large chunks after scooping out the seeds and stringy bits (the pumpkin, not the passenger!) I then made a spice mixture of coriander & fennel seeds, garlic, dried chilis, and olive oil, spreading it on the inside of the pumpkin and laying the chunks on baking sheets in a 400 degree oven for about 45 minutes. The house smelled amazing, and when they were cooked through I scooped off the meat of the pumpkin and put it all in the food processor and hit puree. With a bit of white wine and cream it would have made a fine soup. Instead, I mixed it with a large container of whole milk ricotta and set it in the refrigerator.

While the mixture was cooling I made the pasta. The standard 2-egg-per-cup-of-flour, adding additional flour to get the right consistency. I usually like to make the pasta dough the old fashioned way, but I was in a hurry here and just plopped the ingredients in the food processor. It came out just fine. The ravioli always take longer than I expect, especially when cooking for 8 people, about 100 ravioli. But with my handy pasta machine I rolled out about 16 thin sheets .

Each teaspoonful of the pumpkin mix was then topped or wrapped with a piece of prosciutto and the top layer was laid down, the edges pressed together, and the roller used to separate the individual pieces. The sauce? Nothing more than butter, garlic, fresh sage leaves, and fresh grated parmesan.

But that's not all! Oh no, dear reader. I had to try out my new splatter screen, and the local seafood market had some beautiful-looking squid. I bought two pounds, chopped the tubes into rings (I really like the tentacle clusters best) and coated them in white flour seasoned with salt and pepper before frying them in vegetable oil. Served with marinara...amazing.

A Kitchen Monkey Retrospective - Favorite Posts

2006-09-23T10:06:00.000-04:00

Kitchen Monkey with a Saturday morning hangover.

KM has been cooking alot this week but not posting. Why? It has been a week of intense grilling. Starting with last weekend's pork ribs, and moving into three different experiments with chicken, various rubs and mops, and various types of wood chips for smoking. It was great fun, but I'm a bit burnt out on grilling for now. "Burnt out." Hahahahaha. I slay me.

Tonight a few people are coming over, including my friend Carlo. His italian accent is thicker than my ragu alla bolognese, and he's a huge fan of Elvis and Willie Nelson. He says he makes a good risotto. We'll see if it's any better than mine. I have my doubts. Yes, he was born and raised in Genoa, and I was born and raised in Utah, but that means nothing. I still haven't decided what I'll make to complement it. I'd love to make osso buco again, if I can find a veal shank in D.C. that doesn't cost a fortune. Who knows. You'll find out tomorrow.

Speaking of osso buco, I've been wanting for some time now to post my favorites from KM meals past. So to tide you over, here's a little retrospective... (cue harp music)

Japanese Meat Platter
This ranks near the top because it contains some of the best foodtography I've done on KM. I have to admit, the pictures have gotten sloppier lately, so check out this entry to Meathenge's Meat Platter Contest for an example of what KM was in its glory days. I use the term 'glory' very loosely here.

Hummus to end All Hummuses
The hummus post belongs here because the sheer superiority of my hummus-making skills has caused the mighty and powerful to weep like tiny children.

Tuna Tataki
The tuna tataki post is nothing particularly special. The picture is nice. But for unknown reasons "tuna tataki" is the most popular of the google search terms leading to Kitchen Monkey. In fact, if you google tuna tataki, KM is listed second, right behind "globablgourmet." Whoever they are.

Salmon and Vegetables in a Pouch
A very simple recipe, and one of the posts I had the most fun with.

Ramen Part 3
My ramen adventures have slaked a bit as of late, but follow this link to remember my ridiculously overwrought pursuit of good homemade authentic ramen.

Baked Polenta with Ragu alla Bolognese
I still make this from time to time, and its always delicious. I like the pic, too.

Kansas City Ribs - Recipe

2006-09-17T23:58:00.000-04:00

Like the Outlaw Josey Wales chewing on a cigar, a bottle in one hand a gun in the other, waiting in the arid dust-blown streets to take revenge against the men that burnt down his farm and killed his wife, I stood chewing on a piece of Chorizo, a plastic cup of sangria in one hand a pair of tongs in the other, waiting in the cool suburban night, smelling of after-rain and charcoal, to take revenge on the pig that burnt down my farm and killed my wife.

OK, I should tell the truth here: this pig never did anything to my farm and never laid a hoof on my wife. In fact, unless I am mistaken, I do not have a wife. Or a farm. What I do have is a good recipe for Kansas City style spareribs, and the only way to make it a reality was with a giant rack of delicious pork spareribs. Behold the beauty of this selection as seen when first placed on the grill. I'm really beginning to love grilling, and am dreading the quick approach of winter. I think I will still grill, even in December. Who can stop me?

Kansas City Style Spareribs

5-7 lbs. pork spareribs, trimmed of excess fat

For the Rub
2 Tbsp. kosher salt
2 Tbsp. hot hungarian paprika
1 1/2 Tbsp. cumin
1 Tbsp. dried oregano
2 tsp. onion powder
1 tsp. garlic powder
1 tsp. ground black peppercorns
1/2 tsp. allspice
1/2 tsp cinnamon

For the Sauce
3 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1/2 cup finely chopped celery
1/2 cup finely chopped yellow onion
1 1/2 cups ketchup
juice of 1 small lemon or about 3 Tbsp.
2 Tbsp. brown sugar
2 Tbsp. cider vinegar
1 1/2 Tbsp. worcestershire sauce
1 1/2 tsp. dry mustard
black pepper to taste

Instructions

(1) Mix the rub ingredients together in a bowl and coat the ribs on both sides. Allow to sit in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours. I left mine in overnight.
(2) for the sauce, sautee the onions and celery in the melted butter for about 7-10 minutes, then add the rest of the ingredients. Boil for a couple minutes while stirring constantly, reduce heat and simmer for another ten minutes.
(3) The grilling: you'll want to use indirect medium heat for these, so place all the briquets to one side and wait until the flames have subsided. I happened to have some oak wood chips, which I soaked in water for about an hour. Once the flames had subsided I added the chips for an extra nice smoky flavor.
(4) Place the ribs on an area of the grill that does NOT have any coals under it, or it will be charred on the bottom. After about an hour you may need to add a few more briquets on top of the burning ones to keep the fire going, depending on how hot your briquets burn. There is no need to turn the ribs, since this is indirect heat. Leave the lid closed! Total cooking time should be about 1 1/2 to 2 hours. During the last half hour, begin basting the ribs with the sauce. About every ten minutes or so. Reheat the leftover sauce and serve on the side.

These are really, really, very good.

Pinchy

2006-09-11T22:41:00.000-04:00

They say that during law school you should "live like a student now so you don't have to live like a student later." I have not really taken this to heart.

True, my rent is relatively low (for D.C.), and I try to pack a lunch on the days when I intern at the Superior Court, instead of eating small, overpriced sandwiches from "gourmet" chains like Costi and Au Bon Pain-ful For Your Wallet. But I can't resist using a healthy chunk of the financial aid on luxury foods now and then. Hence last week's $25 per lb. lobster.

It was my first time making lobster. Nothing special, really. You just put it in some salted water until its done. The little fellow in the picture above made no sound when he went in the pot, to my confusingly mututal relief and disappointment. We also sauteed some jumbo shrimp with capers in butter/garlic/lemon sauce. I don't typically like rosé, but we had a really tasty one - if I get the name I'll post it.

Also, from a few days ago:
Here's our back-patio grill. It's a dual charcoal/gas grill, but I usually use it for charcoal. These brats were boiled in beer before we put them on. TASTY.

I'm looking forward to this weekend. My amigo Javier from Madrid is sadly leaving for Spain in a couple weeks and is having a large fiesta. He has enlisted me to help with the food. He's supplying the chorizo, jamon serrano, and manchego. After dismissing the idea of a time-consuming paella, I decided to go with several different meats, including some memphis-style dry rub ribs and some lamb kebabs. That's on Saturday, so expect a good post on Sunday.

K.M. is BACK. For Real This TIme: Israeli Mango Soup Y'all

2006-09-09T18:40:00.000-04:00

Alright alright alright. I know I said at the beginning of summer that I was going to be posting again all summer long with fantastic recipes and adventures. It wasn't a lie. It was more of a well-intentioned but flawed prediction.* But the fans have spoken, all two of them (three if you count my mother), and I've decided that I missed the blog too much to let it slip away into the ethernet forever.

So how about a quick recap? (If you just want the mango soup recipe, skip to the bottom, you ingrate).

Law school is much better now that the first grueling year is over. I actually have time for the important things in life. Like fun. Washington D.C. is an all-around fantastic place, for music, nature adventures, and, of course, food. Toward the end of spring I bought a vespa and being more mobile has enabled me to explore more nooks and crannies of the area. There are three million sushi restaurants in this town. There are amazing Ethiopian restaurants on U Street, where you can see live traditional dancing several times a week. There are the inexpensive and very tasty Guatemalan and El Salvadorean restaurants of Mt. Pleasant. In Silver Spring, to the north, there is a gigantic Asian market where I'm able to stock up on panko, fresh fish of all kinds, and enormous containers of kimchi.

I also took a week-long trip to Memphis. Two major highlights: (1) Seeing Radiohead from about fifteen feet away at Bonnaroo Music Festival, and (2) gorging myself on Memphis BBQ. I didn't get a pic of the Q, so here's one I took of Radiohead. They so gooooood.

Other summer highlights: I've been playing soccer twice a week on the National Mall with a rag-tag bunch of grad students and foreign students studying english. One such gentleman, Carlo, from Genoa, promises me that we'll be cooking soon, so stay tuned for some nice Italian food.

Also, made good friends with a woman from Tel Aviv who taught me how to make this incredible spicy mango soup. No, it's not really an Israeli recipe, but calling it that made you curiouser, did it not? Thank you, I'm aware that 'curiouser' is not actually a word. It's called artistic license. Lay off man.

I have to say this is one of the most interesting and tasty soups I've ever had, and I heartily recommend it, especially while the last few weeks of summer are dripping away. So here it is, courtesy of Limor Ben-Har:

Mango Soup
4 large mangoes - 2 can be ripe and two maybe not so ripe
3/4 stick of butter
2-4 chillis - chopped (I used thai chilis, but whatever you like)
4-6 garlic cloves - chopped
1/2 cup white wine (I only had red wine on hand, but it tasted just as good)
2 cups of cream (the more cream the sweeter the soup will be)
pinch of ground nutmeg
pinch of ground ginger
salt and pepper

(1) Cube two of the mangoes and puree the others in a food processor.
(2) Melt the butter, add garlic for a minute, then the chillis for another minute, then the cubed mangos for a couple of minutes, stirring all the while.
(3) add the wine and spices, stir until it boils, then add the cream
(4) stir on low heat until it boils, then simmer for about 15-20 minutes, stirring occasionally. (5) taste to see if you need more spicy... if it's too thick, add milk, if it's not, add cream.

Tastes even better as leftovers!

Below you can see it on the stove, next to some of my now perfected gyoza.
Good to be back.

*See what law school is doing to me?

Summer Approaching - Return of Kitchen Monkey

2006-05-10T11:28:00.000-04:00

Yes, law school has been all-consuming. But KM's last final of his first year is on Friday, and he shall once again return to the blogosphere. Expect new Ramen adventures, trips to some of D.C.'s finest ethnic markets, and a trip to Memphis, hopefully with some sweet sweet BBQ.

The Monkey is back.

Help!

2005-11-10T19:18:00.000-05:00

I'm getting bombarded with SPLOG! Does anybody know a way to block out blog spam? PLease?

In other news, the predictive memo I'm working on is almost done, and finals are approaching quickly. Mindbogglingly so. If you need to be humbled, may I recommend law school?

I will try and post some actual, real, food posts during Thanksgiving, and tons during Christmas. The six burner Viking Range is going to get more of a workout than Richard Simmons on Oxy Contin.

Cheers,

KM

I've Been Busy

2005-10-03T18:17:00.000-04:00

So I feel compelled to post because Nick from I'm Cookin' Here memed me today. The idea of the meme: find the 5th sentence of your 25th post and repost it, looking for any hidden subtext or deeper meaning. So here it is:

"Don't ask me to make a cake, I won't."

Having analyzed the surrounding context of this phrase, and having also pondered the possible latent or subconscious meanings behind it, I have come to the conclusion that it signifies that I hate cake. This was also the overt and explicit meaning of the phrase. Go figure. Does it reveal something about my inner psyche? I believe that my inner psyche also hates cake. So there you have it.

What else is new? Just had a birthday sushi party. About 20 of my fellow law school classmates showed up, as well as some of my sister's friends from USAID, and I taught a number of them how to make sushi, then let them do most of the roll-making while attended to some potato croquettes. It was a grand old time, with much (perhaps too much) sake and wine ingested. We will be finding little bits of sushi rice stuck to chairs, tables, and cats for weeks to come, but it was worth it.
And just in case there are any doubts about the subtext behind this last paragraph let me be explicit:
Mmmmmmmmmmmm, sushi.

New Life, New Town, New Kitchen

2005-08-12T15:50:00.000-04:00

Friday, August 9, Washington D.C.
A monkey sits alone at his laptop, marveling at the fact that law school starts in little over a week. He wonders to himself many things. One thought surfaces again and again. What the hell is he doing here? There are, of course, many answers to this. Many of these answers are very good. Convincing. Some of them are even noble. But of course anyone who enters law school without any shred of doubt or ambivalence probably has serious underlying psychological problems. Watch for tics.

But lets backtrack a little, then we'll get straight to the food. A lovely family in a lovely neighborhood in Northwest Washington DC (near Friendship Heights) left for a year to three years for Austria, where the father works for the IAEA. To keep their house in order and make a few bucks ($36,000 to be precise) they decided to rent out their house to Kitchen Monkey, his sister, two friends from Florida, and another 1L at AU Law. The house is beautiful, and living in what is certainly the nicest house I've ever lived in or will live in for many many years at the moment of my life in which I am the most financially strapped...well, let's just say the irony is not lost on me. There is a fish pond with real fish (the turtle is fake) tons of flowers in the yard, a nice big porch with not one but two porch swings, a deck with nice big grill, and of course the amazing kitchen with lots of counter space, a breakfast nook, and this big fat six-burner gas stove. I actually got goose bumps when I first saw it. That's how much of a dork Kitchen Monkey is. Anyway, check out the goods:

That's beef liver and shallots sauteeing away, eventually to become a paté, in the way my friend Nick makes it (though I think he usually uses chicken livers).

That night I went all out for the roommates and a couple guests. I made my special caesar dressing, but the real work went into the raviolis. Loosely based on a Marcella Hazan recipe I made a filling of bay scallops, asapargus, herbs, breadcrumbs, and parmesan. The dough I made with my pasta roller and the raviolis were stuffed by hand, boiled, then dressed with little more than butter, fresh basil, and fresh parmesan. So GOOD. Here they be, just filled:

Its a shame that despite having such a nice kitchen I'll probably not have alot of time to cook once classes start. Hopefully I'll find a few epicureans among the field of budding lawyers and we can work out some rotating study/feast night. Tonightwe're using that gigantic grill on some brats for them and a big rib eye steak for me. With pesto butter-YEAH! Tomorrow I'm going up to NYC to hang with some friends. Will probably try to hit up Minca Ramen Factory again. Minca. Minca. I love Minca. Yes I do.

The Last Supper (in Florida)

2005-07-29T14:46:00.000-04:00

I have arrived in D.C. Tomorrow I will post pictures of my amazing kitchen.

First though, my last week in Florida couldn't have been better. A friend of mine took me out to Bern's Steakhouse in Tampa, where I had a 10 oz. delmonico steak that was so tender I could almost have gummed it, had I not had teeth. The menu was more like a short novel and the wine list was the size of a coffee table book. The interior decorations were lush, reminding me somewhat of the room Alisdair Cooke used to sit in when he hosted Masterpiece Theater. They also have a separate dessert room upstairs where I ate bannana chocolate cheese cake, and drank cognac while the piano player amused himself with lounge versions of Madonna, Bruce Springsteen, and the cantina song from Star Wars. You really should check out their website, its nothing if not thorough.

I also cooked quite alot during that week. The "last supper," if you will, was coq au vin, and it was fabulous. The recipe was gleaned from It Must've Been Something I Ate, by Jeffrey Steingarten, the Harvard-trained-lawyer-turned-food critic for Vogue. I'm told that Steingarten is often reviled in the food blogosphere, and I suppose I can see why some might not like him. He is, at times, almost laughably elitist. Even the occasional self-deprecating comments come off as staged. That said, the man clearly knows how to turn a phrase, and his passion for food is unmatched by any writer I'm familiar with. The recipes in this book tend to be either astoundingly complex or to include ingredients that are difficult to find outside of, say, a small village in southern France or the Baja peninsula. His hyper-authentic recipe for coq au vin fulfill both categories. First, you have to find a rooster; second, you'd best start 5 days in advance.

I cheated on both accounts. A whole free range, dry-packed chicken plus a bunch of thighs was good enough for me. I did start in advance, but only by three days. The chicken marinated for two days in a combination of pinot noir and cognac, along with onions, celery, and carrots. I won't go through the recipe or all the steps, since there were so many, but suffice to say it involved nearly every piece of cookware I own, and took about 4 hours of vigilance for the final preparation. My favorite step is the placing of the chicken (coated with flour and browned in bacon fat) on top of the vegetables and bacon, whereupon a 1/2 cup of cognac is poured on top and lit. The blue flames lick the sides of the pot and eventually subside, producing a wonderful smell. The final remaining sauce is unbelievably good. I'm actually thinking about making it again this week (a slightly truncated version), then shredding the chicken and stuffing it into raviolis. We'll see.

Paris Part II - Crevettes, Canards, and le Bad Plus

2005-07-20T15:14:00.000-04:00

I recommend watching the sunset from one of the bridges crossing the Seine.

During the first Paris leg of my trip I stayed in a great part of the Latin Quarter, on Rue Mouffetard, which is full of great little shops, markets, bars, and bistros. Here's a picture of one fantastic seafood market. Keep in mind that this is only the shellfish section of it. They had everything you could want and more.

Speaking of shellfish, there were a number of occasions in both Paris and Montpellier when I ordered something with crevettes, expecting shrimp. I love shrimp. Oh boy do I love shrimp. But more often than not what I got were the little salad shrimps that, in the States at least, are sold in cans. So be aware of this, and when dining in restaurants be prepared to specify what it is you're looking for.

One of the restaurants on Rue Mouffetard looked interesting, and we decided to spend the 16 Euro prix fixe which included an appetizer, an entree, and a dessert. Bear in mind that on French menus, entree means appetizer, and what we consider an entree will be called un plat.
My two friends both had an awful salmon with dill sauce, not complimented by the side of boiled potatoes. My appetizer was avacado with salad shrimps and a sauce that tasted vaguely like ketchup and mayo. Disappointing. The main course was even worse. Two relatively flavorless lamb chops with an ultra-heavy garlic sauce and a side of overcooked green beans. The creme brulee was good, but by this time I was so disenchanted with the meal that I didn't even bother to write down the name of the place. I wish I had, to warn you away from it.

On top of this, the music was an annoying mix of house music interspersed with Rod Stewart's greatest hits. This leads me to another odd fact about France (after which I'll stop ranting and get back to the good stuff). The French popular taste in music is hard to figure out. I'm told that a law prohibits radio stations from having less than 35 percent of their playlists consist of French music. I felt this law seemed a bit oppressive, ridiculous even, until at three different points during my trip I heard store radios or club DJs playing the theme song from Friends. The law seems quite justified to me now, and I support increasing the restriction.

Enough curmudgeonry, on to the real fine dining. Two of the Paris chow highlights, apart from Sapporo Ramen, were Royal Couscous, and Au Trou Normand. Both are highly satisfying, mid-range restaurants near the Place de République. I would also recommend at this point staying at the nearby Hotel de Nevers. This hotel is not for those requiring luxury, but it is comfortable, affordable (35 euro for a single room, and if you share a room with two friends it will cost you about 22 euro each: less than many of the city's hostels), and the owners are incredibly nice, especially for being Parisian. A husband and wife own the place and work the desk most mornings, and you will often find one of their three grey cats wandering the halls. Very friendly cats too.

In any case, Royal Couscous is, of course, a Moroccan restaurant, located on the Boulevard du Temple. The atmosphere is great; intricate traditional wood paneling and nice lighting. I had an incredible lamb, onion, and olive tagine. Though it was just a tad too salty, it was some of the most succulent lamb I've ever had. Expect to spend about 12 to 16 euro.

Au Trou Normand, located at 9, rue Jean Pierre Timbaud, is a bit more expensive, but if you can judge from just one dish, worth the price. The decor is nonassuming, the staff reasonably friendly, and the menu full of interesting dishes. I went for the canard au miel (duck served with a honey sauce garnished with chives) which was so juicy and delicious that I could have eaten twice the amount. Even the mashed potatoes and vegetables served on the side tasted fresh and perfectly cooked. An appetizer, a plate, and a carafe of wine will set you back about 20 - 25 euro. My mouth waters just remembering it.

Oh, I should mention too that I found the name of the shop where I bought the sausages. It's "Saveurs d'Antan." Great stuff.

Another great highlight of the trip came toward the end, on a Saturday when we were roaming around north Paris and happened to see a sign listing the various bands that were playing jazz in the Parc des Fleurs, near the Chateau de Vincennes in southeast Paris. That day there happened to be an American jazz trio playing called The Bad Plus.

First of all, the park is astoundingly beautiful, with countless types of flowers, a large pond and an interesting fountain all serving as the backdrop for a large outdoor amphitheatre. The band was incredible. If you haven't heard them, they play mostly their own compositions--jazz ranging from avant garde to straight-ahead and everywhere in between--but pepper the set with great interpretations of songs by artists such as Aphex Twin and Bjork. They played tightly and with a lot of enthusiasm. I suppose its easy to play with enthusiasm when you're in a country where people actually give a damn about jazz.

The weather was beautiful, we drank wine on the banks of the pond and gave pieces of our baguette to two little girls so they could feed the bizarre-looking red-billed ducks. Being surrounded by people who are simply and naturally enjoying the hell out of life is contagious. And I'm moving to Washington D.C. in less than two weeks. Sigh.

That's it for now. If other good stories about the trip spring to mind I'll post them in the coming weeks, but for now its time to get back to some cooking. And packing. Lots of packing.

A bientot mes singes.

Paris Part I - (Mussels, Ramen Part IV, and There's a Place in France Where the...)

2005-07-19T12:01:00.000-04:00

A nice view of the Pantheon as seen from the Jardin du Luxembourg. I think it might be a statue of Dionysus, saying to tourists "Please, drink wine in the park, for we French have no uptight anti-public-consumption-of-alcohol laws such as the Americans have." I was only too happy to take this advice. Several times.

Some friends of mine recommended a great Belgian brasserie on Rue Soufflot, which runs right between Luxembourg and the Pantheon. It's called La Gueuze, and for about 8 Euro they serve giant dishes of moules marinere, which, for the uninitiated, is simply mussels steamed in wine, butter, shallots, and herbs. You can also order it with creme added. Delicious. For a few euro more you can get a plate of fries on the side, a combo that is quite common in France and often seen on menus as "moules frites." La Gueuze also serves large glasses of various beers, the best of which is a Belgian ale called "Lucifer." Very strong and very delicious.

One interesting part of the meal was our extremely close proximity to a large and very boorish Russian man, who was unable to speak without bellowing. For over a half hour he dominated the conversation at the next table and occasionally overpowered ours, as he stuffed mussles and fries into his festering gob, mussel juice running down his chin and his hands, his face growing redder as he drank more and more ale. Finally, when the waiter cleared the table and asked if anyone wanted dessert, this same Russian pounded on his chest with one fist and grunted "creme brulee!" I should mention that his companions, also Russian, were quite well behaved. Wouldn't want to perpetuate any stereotypes, would we?

From a Slavic bear we move to French sparrows. A few breadcrumbs in any park in Paris will instantly make you a hit with the fat and ubiquitous pigeons. Perhaps to compete with these greedy oafs the sparrows have shed any fear of humans they might have and are perfectly willing to eat straight out of your hand--if you like that sort of thing. My two companions stripped the chocolate from a number of Malteasers, crumbled the malted candy within, and soon had a swarm of sparrows perching on their fingers and pecking crumbs from their palms. The two of them were delighted. As the swarm grew in numbers, all I could think of was Hitchcock.

And now for the ramen. If you've read Kitchen Monkey for any amount of time, you're probably aware of my obsession with great ramen. From my first pitiful attempt, to a pilgrimage to Minca Ramen Factory in NYC, to a subsequent and much better attempt, I have sought out great ramen restaurants and recipes for the better part of a year now. In this vein, I present to you Sapporo - Restaurant Japonais, which can be found in easy walking distance from the Tuileries at 276 Rue St. Honoré. They even have fiberglass or plastic models of each of their ramen dishes in the window so you can see what your options are (don't be put off by these, since none of them look very appetizing).

As far as ramen restaurants go, it's always a good sign when you see a lot of Japanese people eating there, and such was the case with Sapporo. The chashu ramen was so good I ate there twice, ordering the same dish both times. Its fun to hear French spoken with a Japanese accent, but greet the already friendly hostess with a "konichiwa" and say "arigato" when she brings your meal and she'll be even nicer. This hospitality can be refreshing after eating in a series of Parisian French restaurants.

Sadly, I did not get a picture of the ramen itself this time, but to tell the truth it was not as picturesque as the Minca ramen. The taste, however, was every bit as good. The only ingredients apart from the taro, the broth, and the noodles were some shitake mushrooms, a bit of spinach, and five heavenly slices of slow-braised pork butt. If you go for lunch you can get an order of gyoza and a bowl of ramen for about 10 euro; a pint of Asahi Superdry beer will cost you another five but will be well worth it.

Since I was sitting at the bar, right in front of the main kitchen area, I got to watch the chefs at work, and given the transcendence of the broth I was determined to get a picture when no one was looking. The dim lighting left it a bit blurry, but I'll be damned if I don't see two apples floating in the huge stock pot that contains the broth. Apples! It never would have occured to me, but next time I make stock for Japanese dishes I'll definitely throw in a couple.

I feel compelled to mention one other event. As my friend Liz and I were walking through the park toward an obligatory rendez-vous with the Eiffel Tower (which at that point bore a large neon sign reading "Paris 2012!") we passed by a curious sight. A very well dressed man was kneeling in the grass before a very beautiful woman, who was wearing a stunning peach-colored dress. He held in his hands the edges of the bottom of her dress, as what appeared to be a professional photographer focused a lens on the couple. Then, as quick as lightning the man lifted the dress up past the woman's waist to reveal her derriere, in all its stark, bare-assed nakedness. The camera flashed, and just as quickly as it began, it was over. As we passed beneath the steel spiderweb of the Eiffel tower, I thought to myself, "ahhh, Paris!"

Tomorrow we resume our time in The City of Lights with a great Morroccan restaurant as well as some cuisine from Normandy. Not to mention a great fishmarket and some sweet jazz!

Chenonceaux - Of Mistresses, Old-School Graffiti, and Wild Boar Sausages

2005-07-18T12:20:00.002-04:00

Chenonceaux. It is the name of both the chateau and the small village nearby. It is a great place to spend a day, whether you love history, good wine, good food, beautiful nature, or like me, all of the above.

Chenonceaux is an hour or so southwest of Paris (if you take the TGV). As you can see from the pictures above and below, the major part of the chateau is built over the Cher river.

Here is a view of the Cher from the chateau's library:

Desperate Castlewives: Chenonceaux was a focal point for the dramatic soap opera between Henri II, his queen, Catherine de Medici, and his mistress (20 years his senior, the grand dame of all cougars) Diane de Poitiers. All three of them lived in the chateau at the same time, an arrangement that caused Catherine some distress. I can't imagine why.

At one point the jealous queen had a hole drilled between her room and Henri's so she could see what the randy king was up to. Voyeurism? Emotional masochism? Who can say--maybe both. In any case, Henri II died in a fairly stupid jousting accident, after which Catherine booted Diane out, taking over Chenonceaux and ruling France from its tranquil surroundings for many years.

At one point Mary Stuart visited from England. As she worshiped in the chapel that forms the east wing of the chateau, her guards carved, in renaissance English, a bit of graffiti in the chapel walls which you can still see today--graffiti of a religious nature. If you're going to tag God's house (or even God's personal wing of someone else's house) it had better be about God.

Catherine de Medici died at the (then) ripe old age of 70. Chenonceaux then went to her son, Henri III, who was quite gay, in both the 16th century and modern senses of the word. His wife was nonetheless so devoted to him that when he was murdered (kings of France tended to have bad luck) she vowed only to dress in white, and, being by now a queen, became known as "the White Queen." She must have been quite a sight moping around the castle, which was no longer a very gay place to be, in either sense of the word.

La Cuisine: I found all of this very fascinating, but you might easily imagine that my favorite part of the tour was the kitchen.

I unfortunately failed to get a good shot of the massive oven, but I did enjoy the butcher's room, complete with a row of 17th century butcher knives and hooks for hanging rabbit, duck, lamb and other carcasses. One part of the kitchen was actually built into the first two archways that span the Cher, and a dumbwaiter system was constructed next to the window so that boats delivering supplies down the river could simply pull up next to the wall and have crates and boxes hoisted up.

A tour of the grounds will take you to the winery, and you can also tour the vast flower and vegetable garden, but more tangible treats await you in the nearby village of Chenonceaux.

Walk across the railroad tracks from the chateau entrance and immediately you're surrounded by picturesque little cottages with ivy and flowers covering everything. Immediately to the west of the train platform (on the village side of the tracks) walk up Rue de la Roche. Not too far in you'll pass this cottage:

Keep walking north up Rue de la Roche, you'll pass on your left a small patisserie that sells great baguettes and bottles of regional wine. Continue a little further up Rue de la Roche, turn left on Rue du Grand Clos, and you will find an amazing little shop filled with local products. You'll recognize it by the large fake wild boar's head out in front. Stacked majestically on a table, arranged by type, are dozens and dozens of dried sausages (saucissons secs), each about the size of André the Giant's thumb, which, incidentally, grew to its enormous size in the village of Moliens, 150 miles north of Chenonceaux.

Sadly, we only purchased two of these sausages, both of them made from wild boar, mine encrusted with black pepper. They were quite unlike any other sausage I've ever had. They were deliciously full of fat, for starters, and naturally air dried. Apart from that the process of making these little beauties is, to me, a complete mystery.

With our baguettes, our bottle of Touraine that we found to be really really really good (take a moment to admire my facility with describing wine!), and our saucissons secs, we found a cobblestone path that led us between cottages to a small rustic gazebo. We took shelter beneath it, surrounded by flowers and trees, and as we swigged the fruit of the vine from the bottle, and munched on the artisinally crafted flesh of a once carefree porcine animal, it began to rain softly. My primary thought at this point was: "life is good."

So without further ado, for all you meatlovers--and here I'd like to give a special shoutout to Dr. Biggles from Meathenge--I present a lovely if somewhat blurred picture of said saucissons:

You can see larger versions of most of these pictures by clicking on them. Tomorrow, we resume the adventures in Paris with steamed mussels, some underground jazz, and yes, RAMEN!!!!

Montpellier

2005-07-15T10:54:00.001-04:00

Backtracking a little, I'd like to say a few words about Montpellier, where I spent two weeks (one of them, as you know, sick as all get out) taking french courses, going to the beach, and eating more baguette and duck liver mousse than is good for one person.

As French cities go, Montpellier is not the most beautiful, nor the most exciting, but that's not to say I regret going. The size of the university there guarantees an enormous population of students and, consequently, a huge number of relatively inexpensive cafes and kebab shacks. I did eat at a couple nice restaurants there, but nothing that blew me away. Some of them were overpriced but had nice atmosphere. On the west side of St. Anne's cathedral is a charming salon de thé (I believe it's called Le pré verre) that serves a wide variety of teas as well as some breakfast and lunch dishes. The outside dining area is very peaceful, falling as does in the shade of the cathedral and a huge tree. Expect to pay for this atmosphere though. However lovely the presentation, 6 Euro was a little much for a cup of tea and what was essentially a glorified pancake.

The real highlights of my time in Montpellier involved perusing the local markets. I lived in a student residence very close to the center of town, and within a very small radius I could walk to a fish market, a butchery, several produce stands, and a number of patisseries, where you can buy a fresh baguette for .60 Euro or a perfectly breakfast-sized quiche lorraine for 2 euro.

The room where I stayed had its own kitchenette, and I had a great time cooking for some of the other students at the Institut Linguistique. One night I made a honey glazed salmon dish, another night I made lamb stew provencal. Much pate, saussicon, and cheese was eaten. Much wine was drunk.
I got a bit of a tan at the beach, Palavas les Flots, but after living in Sarasota for several years you start to demand a lot from your beaches, and crowded beaches with sticky grey sand don't really cut it. For all the natural beauty, I could have been at a beach in New Jersey, except that every once in a while a vendor would walk by selling beignets. On top of this, the only semi-naked people were fat, old, or both. Not that I begrudge them their nudity; I very much look forward to the day when I am too old to care about such nonsense as "dignity".
Still, we did find a nice seaside restaurant that served huge steaming pots of moules mariniere (more about this when we get to Paris).

And because it looks cool, here is a picture of the Roman aqueduct in Montpellier.

Tomorrow, a visit to a beautiful Loire valley chateau, and some wicked good wild boar sausages.

San Sebastian, Spain - Part 2

2005-07-13T10:54:00.001-04:00

Kitchen Monkey has returned to the U.S., and now that he's back in the states (with access to english-style keyboards) there will at long last be some posts that do justice to the amazing dining experiences in France and Spain.

Let's start, or resume, with San Sebastian. San Sebastian must be one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and is certainly one of the greatest meccas for foodies. The above picture is the view from the Monte Urgul, looking toward Monte Igueldo, the two mountains that stand as sentries to the port of San Sebastian (along with the small island you see between them, graced with a light house). From the top of either mountain you can see the city of San Sebastian spread out to the south, and the Bay of Biscay to the north. A hike to the top of Monte Urgul will bring you to Castillo de la Mota, a fortress built by Napoleon's army to guard the city (after they had taken it). Here is Kitchen Monkey checking out one of the original cannons still at the fort.
For those of you who don't know, San Sebastian is in the Basque country, which envelops both southwestern France and northern Spain. The Basque identity is particularly strong in Spain, where a small but very vocal minority of Basques support separation from Spain, and while most of them don't support the terrorist tactics of ETA, there is plentiful evidence of the Basque effort to maintain their identity. The face of one building that bore a large Spanish flag had been splattered with red and yellow paint.

Below is the tapas menu, or pintxos if you're Basque (pronounced "peen-choes,") at La Cuchara de San Telmo, which my friend Liz, who grew up in San Sebastian, swears is the best tapas place in town. Between myself and my two companions, we tried almost everything, and some of the items, especially the lamb paté croquetas, were nothing short of amazing. Also good was the roasted rabbit slices and the duck with pato asado (I don't remember what pato asado means).
Liz had been going on about how good fried fresh anchovies were, but that they weren't currently available because of overfishing (if I remember correctly). However, the next day we found a great restaurant, La Cepa, which had them on the menu. For my first course I had a very creamy crab mousse (pastel de txangurrol) served with a delicious home made mayonnaise. The anchovies (antxoas fritas) were fried in little more than garlic and olive oil, and bore almost no resemblance in flavor to the canned salty affair that occasionally adorns American pizzas. So tasty.

Dessert was an apple bread pudding that was quite good. All of it was accompanied by a bottle of Patxontxo Rioja, which like a lot of wine in northern Spain and France, was both reasonably priced (6 euro for the bottle) and incredibly good.

Finally, on my last night in San Sebastian, Liz's father took us out to dinner at a fantastic restaurant called Aita Mari (which means Father Mari in Basque). We all shared a couple bottles of delicious regional wine, some succulent jamon iberica that far outdid any prosciutto I've ever had, and for the main course I had the angler fish, also very good. But what really excited me about the meal was a complimentary starter, a very small but unbelievably rich and tasty nettle bisque. I've never cooked with nettles before, but I'm determined to locate some and find a recipe so that I can try (and, I assume, fail) to replicate what is really probably the best soup I've ever had.

If you're lucky enough to ever go to San Sebastian, I reccomend all three places, especially La Cuchara. Also, if you eat at Aita Mari, try to get a table with a view of the port. Tomorrow, a bit about Montpellier & Avignon.

La Cuchara de San Telmo
C/31 Abosto, 28 Bajos, (Trasera)
San Sebastian, Spain 20003
Tel: 34-943-420840

Bar La Cepa
31 de Agosto, 7-9, Parte Vieja
San Sebastián-Guipúzcoa, Spain 20003
Tel: 94-342-6394

Aita Mari
C/ Puerto 21-23
San Sebastian, Spain 20003
Tel: 94-343-1359

San Sebastian, Spain

2005-07-03T02:55:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I left Montpellier after two weeks of French language classes. Despite being sick for the first week, I made friends with other students, mostly from Germany and the UK. Montpellier has a good deal of South-of-France charm, and more restaurants, kebab stands, cafes and tea rooms than you could possibly imagine. The town isn´t as rich in history as, say, Avignon. Its main attraction is the huge number of students. I spent most of my time there in the Centre Ville, and I would say at least 70% of the people I saw were 35 or under.

The train East to the Bay of Biscay was 6 hours long and railed past some amazing scenery. I especially liked the Pyrenees region of souther France, where the buildings perched on tree-covered hills are broken up intermittently by a castle or a medieval stone wall.

Arriving in Hendaye, France, just across the border from Spain, I met up with a friend, who grew up in San Sebastian but has lived in the States for the past 10 years. Her father has a really nice apartment on the top floor of a building that looks out over a river that leads to the Bay of Biscay, and from his rooftop terrace you can see the ships coming in and out. With another friend from Sarasota, her and I went into the center of San Sebastian for some great Basque food (I had squid in ink sauce) followed by tapas, which in the Basque region is called pintos (don´t know if I´m spelling that correctly). By midnight we were exhausted. Today we´ll take a day trip up to Biarritz, France, then back down to San Sebastian until Tuesday, when we take the train to Paris. Hopefully we´ll see Mont St. Michel. I´d like to post some pictures of San Sebastien and Montpellier, but this computer is having trouble uploading them to Photobucket, so it may have to wait.

-Cheers

Yes, I am in France. No, I am not (quite) dead

2005-06-22T07:56:00.000-04:00

I know I promised to post my adventures here, culinary and otherwise, but I have a valid reason for not having done so. I spent the first week here sick as a dog. J'etais malade. Some kind of nasty sinus infection and cold that kept me from having much fun at all.

Fortunately it started after a few days in Paris, so at least I got that in. Paris is fantastic. I was lucky enough to meet up with some friends there who were staying at a student residence in the Latin Quarter, the roof of which had a garden terrace that looked over the entire city, from the Sacre Coeur to the Montparnasse Tower. We sat there drinking wine while the sun set and the lights of the Eiffel Tower glimmered on the skyline. We told bad jokes (How do you titillate an oscelot......you oscillate its tit alot")
The night was beautiful. I'm really going to miss being able to buy a good bottle of wine for about 5 dollars.

I spent a good while sitting in the Jardin du Luxembourg, listening to Mozart on the IPod, watching people of all kinds. Little kids playing chess with Arab men, Japanese tourists with cameras taking pictures of eachother in front of the fountain. Joggers everywhere. Leaving the jardin we saw a guy wipe out on his motorcycle. He wasn't hurt thankfully. But motorcycle wipeouts in big cities are always a little unsettling.

But the lack of sleep got me. By the time I arrived in Montpellier, on the southern coast of France, I knew something was up. After a day or so I began getting the chills. The snot came next, and my god was there plenty of it. I think I have issued (or tissued) my body weight in mucus over the past week. I managed to make it to the beach, and went to a music festival, but when you live in Sarasota you tend to be a bit jaded for beaches, and the music festival would have been more fun if I hadn't been sneezing constantly. Mostly I laid in bed and tried to read French magazines.

A couple days ago the sickness broke. I'm still a bit sniffly, but I finally got to drink wine last night, and yesterday I went to Avignon for the afternoon. Avignon is geographically pleasing and historically interesting. In case you don't already know, I was a History major in college, and in fact I concentrated primarily on French history. As you can imagine, I was thrilled by things that most people might not give a damn about.
In the 14th century the Catholic Church got a little crazy for a while. Various competing factions in the church hierarchy became more and more vicious, and eventually there was a great schism. The head of the Church was moved to Avignon, to the Palace des Papes. For many years there were two popes, and at one point there were three. One in Rome, one in Avignon, and one in Las Vegas. OK, I don't really know where the third one was, but the important thing to know is that the Chuch was in crisis.

The Palace des papes became a center of corruption, venality, and intrigue, which may be why it is more of a fortress than a palace. It is situated on top of a rocky hill called le Rocher des domes, which stands 100 ft. high over the Rhone river, and standing in the garden above the palace and its nextdoor neighbor, Avignon's Notre Dame cathedral, one can see the towers of an old monastery and vineyards to the north, and the city to the south. A small garden pond at the top is full of ducks and geese to feed, and a path winding down the rock and through the medieval towers and walls leaves you back on the banks of the river.

I may write more later about Montpellier. I can't say I'm in love with the town, but I have enjoyed finding little cafes, restaurants, and shops. So much great food, so little time. In two days I'll be eating tapas in San Sebastian, Spain. I'll try to post more at that point. Then its back up to Paris, hopefully with a trip to Lyons somewhere in there.

A bientot mes singes.

Kitchen Monkey Goes to France

2005-06-06T14:50:00.000-04:00

So - Kitchen Monkey is going to become a travel blog for the next month or so. Yes, there will be plenty of food-related stuff, but rather than starting a new blog for this adventure, I decided to muddy the thematic waters a bit.

My apologies for not posting much in the past weeks. I've been incredibly busy with travel plans and tying up loose ends. In just over a week from now I'll be arriving in Paris, meeting up with a couple other people who will be entering the same class (2008) as me at American University Washington College of Law. After a couple days, I'll take the TGV down to Montpellier for two weeks of language classes, sun, hiking in the Cevennes, and kayaking in the Mediterranean. After that, I'll be meeting two friends in San Sebastian, Spain, where I'll eat plenty of tapas. Finally, I'll be spending the last week in Paris, eating as much excellent food and drinking as much good cheap wine as possible. I'll be in NYC for a day or so when I return, and hopefully will be able to go back to Minca Ramen Factory. My mouth waters just thinking about it.

I'm quite lucky to able to take this trip, despite the fact that I will be nearly broke by the time I return. Hopefully you'll delight in sharing whatever adventures I may have. I hope to post at least every few days while I'm there, and if anyone cares to recommend good restaurants in Paris or Montpellier, please do!

Au revoir, mes singes

Curry-Glazed Salmon with Black Bean Orange Salsa and Mashed Boniato

2005-05-10T15:40:00.000-04:00

I know almost two weeks have past since I posted last, but I hope to make up for it by bestowing upon you, the reading public, one of my favorite meals to make. This is a Kitchen Monkey Fusion Original (one of very few) that developed through a process of continually tacking on menu items and ingredients that probably shouldn't work together but somehow do.

I tend to make it a few times a year, and it's great for summer. If you don't live in a state with a sizable hispanic population, you may have trouble finding Boniato, in which case you can substitute a combination of regular mashed potatoes and mashed sweet potatoes, which works out alright since Boniato could perhaps best be described as a cross between a potato and a sweet potato. Still, the texture is slightly different, and i think it goes great with the salmon.

Without further ado...

Curry-Glazed Salmon with Black Bean Orange Salsa and Mashed Boniato

Serves 4

Salmon
2 lbs. salmon fillet, scaled, with skin ON, sliced into 4 pieces
2 Tbsps. extra virgin olive oil
1 Tbsp. curry powder (or 1/3 tsp each of turmeric, garam masala, and coriander)
salt and pepper

Instructions:
1) Salt and pepper the salmon, combine olive oil and curry spices, baste top of salmon with curry and set in refrigerator for at least a half hour
2) Set salmon pieces in a broiling pan, set oven to broil, and place on the oven rack 2nd to the top. Fish should be done in about 7-10 minutes. Keep checking to make sure top of fish doesn't burn.

Salsa
1 large navel orange, peeled and chopped
1/2 cup black beans, cooked (or canned) and rinsed
1 fresh tomato, chopped
1/2 medium onion, diced
1/2 jalapeno, diced
1 small handfull of chopped fresh cilantro

Instructions:
1) Combine above ingredients in, hmm, let's see, a bowl. Yeah, that sounds good. A bowl.

Mashed Boniato

2 large Boniatos (each approximately the size of a nine-year old's shoe), chopped into 1/2 inch cubes
3 Tbsps. butter
2 Tbsps. sour cream
salt to taste

Instructions:
1) boil enough water for the boniatos, with salt
2) drain water when cubes are soft, mash and mix boniato while adding butter and sour cream. Add more salt if necessary.

Presentation

Simply scoop upa big wallop of mashed boniato onto a plate, lay a salmon fillet on top, then spoon the salsa on top of the salmon. I also served mine with some zucchini wedges sauteed in olive oil. Very tasty indeed.

Osso Buco - or, The Only Way I'll Eat Veal

2005-04-25T11:22:00.000-04:00

This osso buco was delicious, and even though I made it, I feel like I had very little to do with it. I was really nothing more than a conduit for a meal that owed most of its existence to an old friend, a new friend and a minor local celebrity transplanted from Italy via New York.

For those of you unlucky enough never to have had it, osso buco is simply veal shanks slow braised with a soffrito (sauteed onions, celery, carrots, parsley and lemon peel) white wine, tomatoes, and stock.

The old friend of whom I speak would be Nick (of I'm Cookin' Here), who introduced me to osso buco over a year ago when he made a batch that smelled so good I was compelled to cheat on my non-beef-eating standards (which disappeared completely last November). Nick, as you may know from a past post, also lent me Marcella Hazan's Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, which has the osso buco recipe I used here, and which I still have not returned to Nick. Lastly, the fine Le Creuset dutch oven you see above is also Nick's, and I had to borrow it because I do not yet have one of my own. Did I also mention that Nick introduced me to my wife and once pulled me from the burning wreck of a Norwegian schooner? OK, I made the last two up. I have never been on a Norweigan schooner and am not married.

The minor celebrity would, of course, be Marcella Hazan, whom epicurious.com calls "America's matriarch of Italian cooking." You simply can not go wrong with any of her recipes, and I highly recommend the book mentioned above (see also on Kitchen Monkey Ragu alla Bolognese and Baked Polenta). If I haven't already mentioned it, she now lives in the neighborhood, having moved last year to Longboat Key, just across Sarasota Bay. She also looks like my grandmother!

The new friend would be Kim, who is a professor at New College of Florida. Her role? She hosted the dinner party and footed the bill for the osso buco, the milanese saffron & pancetta risotto (see this post--the only difference this time from that time was the use of beef stock instead of chicken stock), and a good chianti, the name of which escapes me.

A former political science professor of mine and his wife also joined us, and while he himself is Jewish, he grew up surrounded by Italians and knows a thing or two about Italian food. Since the osso buco got his seal of approval I was willing to overlook his mocking me for pronouncing gnocchi "nyoki" instead of "noetch" (or some phonetic approximation thereof) as he insists it is pronounced.

I told him he has to bear in mind that I spent my childhood in Utah, surrounded not by Italians, but by Mormons, where the epitome of local cuisine is not a beautiful dish of lasagna or slow braised veal shanks, but rather green Jello with carrots and raisins.

You think I'm kidding, don't you? Ask any Mormon who grew up in Utah. They'll tell you.

Another Legal Monkey in the Making

2005-04-22T15:26:00.000-04:00

I am quite sure now that often, very often, in matters concerning religion and politics a man's reasoning powers are not above the monkey's.

- Mark Twain in Eruption

With that in mind, ladies and gentlemen of the blogosphere, Kitchen Monkey announces that he has made his decision. Starting in August 2005, after a month-long trip to France, he will be starting law school at American University's Washington College of Law, in the nation's capital, where one in every 12 people has a law degree--a city that could truly be said to be Poo-Flinging Central in matters concerning religion and politics.

I am excited by, fascinated with, and somewhat repelled by the three years of law school ahead of me. This also describes my feelings about DC, but in the end, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to study in a town so rich with history and diversity, which so many NGOs call home. Its going to be a crazy three years.

As you can imagine, and as I've said before, posts to Kitchen Monkey won't happen as frequently starting in August, but they will happen, so please keep reading. And I apologize in advance if, once I have started law school, the tone of my writing gets crankier or less colorful.

Cheers.

Mussels with Thyme and White Wine Cream Sauce - Recipe

2005-04-20T15:03:00.003-04:00

Wine, cream, and butter. The holy trinity of the devout epicurean. Together they produce a magic strong enough to bless many a dish, and this is probably my favorite. AKA "moules mariniere" without the cream, or "moules a la crème" with it. Famous at Belgian and French bistros, you'll spend significantly less if you make it on your own.

Difficult? Hardly. Expensive? Not really. Where I live, mussels are about $4 a pound. It really depends mostly on the type of wine you use. It is also quick (the whole shebang can be ready in about 15 minutes). Finally, it is delicious--perfect for sitting outdoors on your balcony while the sun sets. Eat while drinking a good white wine (I'm usually more of a red wine guy, but with this, a good pouilly fuisse is my favorite, or fume blanc). Enjoy with friends or a loved one and you are liable to see your entire life in a new, more optimistic light, at least until you have to do the dishes and dispose of the mussel shells.

I heartily recommend buying a good loaf of crusty bread to dip in the addictively delicious sauce. Fresh linguini is also a great option. As another alternative, if you have the wherewithal and motivation to make your own french fries (Belgian-cut, please), these too are delicious dipped in the sauce, and, of course, make up the traditional "moules-frites."

Recipe
Mussels with Thyme and White Wine Cream Sauce
(aka Moules à la crème)

serves 2

1 lb. mussels (de-beard if necessary and keep refrigerated until use)
5 shallots, sliced (or 1/2 large onion, sliced thin)
2 large cloves garlic, minced
1 handful of fresh thyme on stem
1 1/2 cups white wine
1/4 cup cream
4 Tbsps. butter
1 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
kosher salt and pepper

1) De-beard the mussels if necessary and keep them cold until ready to use. If any of them are open they might well be dead. If they are only slightly open, rap them on the side of a bowl or the counter. If they close up again, they're edible, if not, they are DEAD. If they are dead prior to cooking, do NOT eat. Dispose of immediately or possibly pay the horrible horrible consequences.

2) In a large, heavy-bottomed pot with a lid, heat the olive oil and melt the butter. Sautee the shallots and/or onions until translucent, then add the garlic, sautee for a couple minutes more, then add the wine and the thyme, stirring everything around.

3) Once the wine is bubbling, add the mussels. Put the lid on, and shake the pot a bit to coat them. Let stand for 5-7 minutes. By this time the mussels should have opened up. Those that haven't, you should discard. Add the cream, a bit of salt and pepper, and stir everything. Leave out the cream and you've got "moules mariniere."

4) Add some cooked, fresh linguini to a bowl (this is optional) spoon several mussels over the top, then ladle a generous amount of the delciously fragrant sauce over it all. Mop sauce up with crusty bread or frites!

And, in closing, I thought I'd post this somewhat zen-like bit of "engrish," brought to us from a chinese restaurant I went past in Minneapolis. Wouldn't you prefer this over "sameness soup"? I would. (click on pic to enlarge)

Weekend Trip to Twin Cities (Tom Yam Redux & a New Fish Sauce)

2005-04-19T12:06:00.000-04:00

This past weekend's trip to Minneapolis/St. Paul yielded some great culinary adventures. U of Minnesota Law School was truly impressive, and I already feel a bit of an attachment to the city after having been there only twice. That said, I have not made a decision yet. I will spare you the long list of factors that I've been weighing together and against eachother in trying to pick between U of M and American University in DC. Suffice to say, I'm more than a little torn, and will ultimately have to go on some sort of gut feeling that has yet to manifest itself. Hopefully this gut feeling will arrive by this Friday, when I will be forced to decide.

As you can see, I made Tom Yam soup and Larb Gai salad again. The soup was hotter last time, but the flavor of this batch was great. Unfortunately the recipe to which I linked before (for the Tom Yam) no longer exists, so I had to kind of wing it, but I found this recipe, and its pretty close. We were lucky enough to find this Asian market in Minneapolis:

It was huge, with anything you could want - Japanese, Korean, South Asian. They had tons of produce, fairly inexpensive seafood, and lots of meats you don't typically find at whitey markets. Including giant beef hooves. I found everything I needed for the soup, including kaffir lime leaves, lemongrass, black chili paste, and thai chilis. If you follow the recipe I linked to above, the heat is going to be entirely dependent on how hot your chilis are, and how hot the chili paste is. If you like it really hot, buy a really hot chili paste, or use much more than 5 thai chilis.

If you can't get to a good Asian market but are really craving this amazing soup, many supermarkets have "Thai Kitchen" red curry paste, which you can substitute for the chili paste. If you can't find kaffir lime leaves, just add extra lime juice. If you can't find galangal, you can use fresh ginger (though it really won't be the same), but use less, since ginger is more potent than galangal. There is no subsitute for fresh lemongrass.

Also, you may know that I have a special interest in fish sauce, more particularly the labels. With that in mind I present a new discovery in the fish sauce market:

Tilapia (and reminiscing about my bygone days of fishing)

2005-04-12T21:14:00.000-04:00

I have been fishing only two or three times in the past ten years, but for me, growing up out west with a father who worked for the US Forest Service, fishing was an inevitable pastime. We were not real fishermen. It was never approached with the intense seriousness you find in some fishing enthusiasts, the kind of intensity that is matched only by those who devote most of their thoughts to golf. Fishing for my family was one of many activities that were part of the camping "package," such as hiking, roasting marshmallows, playing capture-the-flag, and yelling at each other.

One fishing trip stands out in my mind, as much for its epicurean aspects as for the fact that recalling it makes me feel cool, rugged, and authentically western, despite the fact that I have been on the East coast for over 10 years now and only occasionally make it out of the city.
I was about fifteen years old, and I idolized the neighbor across the street. He was a Mormon, like all the other adults I knew, but he was different. He was a professor of English literature, he raised huskies, went bow hunting, listened to Led Zeppelin and Jethro Tull, and, best of all, occasionally swore in church. One winter he took me and a couple friends ice fishing on Utah Lake. Dressed for warmth, poles in hand, we waited as he hefted the augre out into the middle of the lake and drilled a hole the size of a dinner plate. We gathered around the hole and before long began popping small white bass out of the freezing water.

At one point he reached into his large pack, and, asking if we were hungry, removed a Coleman stove. We thought he was going to fry the bass, but watched as he removed a large ziploc bag filled with peppered venison, butchered from a buck he personally had felled with his compound bow earlier that winter. It was delicious. After filling up on venison and thermoses (thermosi?) of hot cider, we resumed the bass-a-thon, catching our limit within a couple hours. I'm afraid to say I don't remember eating the white bass, it was the venison that imprinted itself in the flavor zones of my brain. I definitely recall with a heavy dose of nostalgia how good it felt to be out on the ice that day, doing something that humans in colder climates have done for thousands and thousands of years.

Pardon that little reverie. You were wondering about the tilapia?

It turned out quite well. I made a marinade of cilantro, garlic, chiles, lime juice, and vegetable oil, which I slathered on both sides of the whole fish. The two fishes were then baked at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes, and served with mashed yucca (with salt & butter) and some cuban-style black beans, which were cooked with bacon, onions, garlic, chili pepper, and chicken stock. All of it enjoyed with a nice Tetley's Cream Ale. So good.

Turkey en Escabeche

2005-04-08T16:14:00.000-04:00

As Biscuit Girl noted, I haven't been posting all too frequently. This is mostly because I've been spending my evenings as "Justice Monkey"-- fighting crime in the gritty streets of Sarasota with my trusty sidekick Gibbon Boy, trying to rid the world of my evil nemesis, The Organ Grinder. If he gets his way, you'll all be wearing stupid decorative vests and dancing for money in a bleak, dystopian future.

I was in DC last weekend, might be in Gainesville this weekend, will be in Minneapolis the following weekend, and Grayton Beach, Florida the weekend after that for a wedding. A busy month, to say the least, but I will try to post more often during the week.

Due to lack of time and money I've been relying on the handy recipe search box on epicurious. If you haven't made use of it yet I highly recommend it, since you're bound to find something that includes the ingredients you have on hand.

This dish is a variation on traditional escabeche, a Spanish dish that usually features some kind of seafood. I happened to have a turkey breast half (on the bone) in the fridge, and found this recipe for Turkey en Escabeche. It was good, not great, I found that the turkey didn't absorb too much of the flavor. I'll definitely try the same recipe with shrimp or tuna though.

The rice on the other hand was delicious and very simple: Jasmine rice steamed with saffron, then mixed with freshly ground coriander, sauteed onions, garlic, tomato and green pepper.

The Power of Uni, Brunch & Bocci, and Easter Lamb

2005-03-28T15:36:00.000-05:00

It was a fantastic weekend for Kitchen Monkey, culinary and otherwise. A trip on Friday up to Tampa to see a friend's MFA graduation art show unexpectedly turned into a free Saturday trip to Busch Gardens. A long day of rollercoastering was followed by a trip to Tampa's Ichiban restaurant, a very decent sushi joint that happened to have fresh uni, pictured above.

Uni is sea urchin roe, and it is not for the novice sushi eater. It has a taste that can be described using a combination of adjectives such as buttery, nutty, and slighlty fishy. But no description can really do the taste justice. The consistency and texture, however, is easier to describe. Think somewhere between a smoke oyster and a big loogie. The texture turns alot of people off, many others don't appreciate the taste. Still others are deterred by the price (I rarely see it cheaper than $2.50 a piece, and in NYC its often $5 a piece or more.) But learn to love it, and you will forever be in search of good uni.

Upon returning to Sarasota, I discovered in the mailbox a letter of acceptance to University of Minnesota Law School, which I didn't quite expect, but am very happy about. Its one of the top 20 law schools in the country, and I have a lot of heavy thinking to do in the next few weeks. For those of you who have been following along, DC suddenly doesn't seem to be quie as certain as I thought. I am going up there this weekend however to check it out. It will all come down to vibes at this point.

But getting back to food: immediately after my return on Sunday I went over to Nick's house for Easter brunch. It was fantastic. He made a frittata, some home fries, Ann made some excellent crepes, AJ made fried plantains, and Mary made some disturbingly delicious chocolate truffles. I brought OJ. After brunch we all played bocci on the back lawn.

That evening I had a few people over for lamb dinner. I marinated a leg of lamb in fresh rosemary, olive oil, mashed garlic cloves, lemon juice, and lemon peel. I also made a delicious salad of cucumber, tofu, and leeks, with a sweet miso dressing. Maybe I'll post the recipe later.

Roasted Chicken with Mustard Rosemary Sauce (and a premature parting note to Florida)

2005-03-25T14:01:00.000-05:00

Since all odds point toward me leaving Florida for good within the next few months, I have begun to wax prematurely nostalgic about this strange, sun-washed paradise for the aged. For ten years I have lived here--longer by far than I've lived anywhere else. Yet I still have a hard time calling Florida home. Maybe its because when I arrived at the age of 20 I was planning on being here for no more than a year or two before leaving, and although this notion never changed, I somehow failed to make it out.

There are things I love about Florida. The laid-back atmosphere, the general and genuine friendliness of most people. The beautiful canopy of trees that covers the hilly streets of Tallahassee, where I spent the first five years. The eye-poppingly gorgeous beaches around Sarasota, where I've spent the last five. Amazing restaurants and fresh fish markets are abundant, and the produce is cheap, beautiful, and delicious. I love the prehistoric quality of Florida's state parks, where it seems as though at any minute Tarzan or a brontosaurus could come crashing through the woods. Or Tarzan riding a brontosaurus. That would be cool. Especially if the brontosaurus could shoot lava from its eyes.

There are things I don't like about Florida. I know that ageism is just another form of bias, but it is one that is difficult to avoid here. At least 1/2 of the cars in Sarasota are driven by old people who are either 1) confused, 2) on medication, 3) unable to see over the steering wheel, 4) trying to find a particular street, 5) yelling at eachother, or 6) all of the above. Also, grocery shopping is a real treat on a busy day, and if you don't want to spend an hour and a half in the store you are forced to navigate your shopping cart through aisles where grannies or grampies staring at rows of canned vegetables are stationed like grouchy obstacles in some Nintendo racing game.

I feel bad when my irritation toward Florida's old ones reveals itself. After all, it is a unique bias in the sense that, while I will never be an evangelical Christian, I will, probably, be old someday. At which point I will shake my fist at the arrogant young men who zip past me with their shopping carts--as though they had something to do that really mattered in the long run.

There are other things I'm not crazy about in this state. Without elaborating, let's just say the state is becoming a little too red for my personal tastes. And while southern culture has a wide array of charms ('cue!) that I never appreciated or recognized before living here, I have to say that, having bartended two dayshifts a week for a year at the ABC Liquor Lounge in Tallahassee (which is really southern Georgia,) a number of the less fortunate stereotypes of the south, do, like many stereotypes, exist for a reason.

Keep in mind that most of this doesn't apply to Miami, which is in many ways another world from the rest of Florida, and one that I've only experienced briefly (including a trip to the Miami Zoo to see some monkeys, most of which were seriously depressed and not half as charming or personable as the monkeys and gorillas in the DC Zoo. I demand happy caged animals, damnit!)

When eating Ramen, struggling with a daily commute, or glooming through the rainy, cloudy murk of DC, I will undoubtably miss Florida and the easy, pleasing life of leisure I've led here.

Florida, we had a good run.

What does all of this have to do with Roasted Chicken with Mustard Rosemary Sauce? Nothing. Here's the recipe:

Roasted Chicken with Mustard Rosemary Sauce (easy and delicious)

3 -4 lb. whole chicken (I used a brand of whole chicken called "Smart Chicken." Its organic, free range, air packed, and very tasty, although if it were all that smart, would it be in a package waiting to be eaten? Hahaha. I slay me.)
1/4 cup Dijon mustard
1/4 cup xtra virgin olive oil
2 Tbsp chopped fresh rosemary

1) Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Mix the last three ingredients in a bowl. Arrange chicken on a rack in a roasting pan.
2) With half the mustard mixture, coat the sides and top of the chicken. Use a narrow spooon to slide spoonfuls of mixture underneath the skin of the chicken breast. Smoosh around.
3) If you're lucky like me and have an electronic probe thermometer, slide it into the meatiest part of the thigh. When it reads 175 degrees your chicken is ready. With a chicken this size it should take an hour and a half at most. With a 7 or 8 pound chicken it will take up to 2 1/2 hours, the last hour of which you'll want to cover the top of the chicken with tinfoil so as not to burn it.
4) baste occasionally with some of the mustard sauce and the drippings if you like. Or use the dripping later to make a little gravy, but this chicken is succulent enough that it shouldn't need gravy.
4) I also sliced some large potato wedges, carrots, and cut a small onion into quarters, then tossed them in the rest of the mustard mix and arranged them on a baking sheet. About 1/2 hour after putting the chicken in I slid the vegetables in under the chicken. They were delicious.

If you have any chicken left over the day after, its delicious cold tossed with some greens and a light viniagrette.

This recipe came from Bon Appetit, October 2001. I made adjustments to the measurements.

Oyakodon - Japanese Comfort Food (Recipe)

2005-03-22T15:45:00.000-05:00

See the soft, somewhat dream-like glow of the oyakodon? This is a natural result of its deliciousness translated through the power of digital technology. Or maybe the steam from the hot rice fogged up the lens a little.

You've all heard of the Chinese egg & chicken dish called "Mother & Child Reunion" (inspiration for the Paul Simon song of the same name--no lie). "Oyakodon" pretty much means the same thing, but its taste is distinctly Japanese, with a sauce made of mirin, soy, caster sugar, and dashi stock. So long as you have these basic ingredients (along with rice vinegar and sake) you can make a host of Japanese dishes, but this is one of my favorite and certainly one of the easiest. Serve over short-grain steamed rice, preceded by a simple salad topped with your own ginger dressing (see recipe below)

For those not in the know:

Mirin: a sweet, low-alcohol content rice wine
Caster sugar: finely granulated sugar. You can use regular refined sugar and put it in the food processor it for a minute or so (thanks to Nick for that tip)
Dashi stock: a stock comprising bonita flakes (skipjack tuna) and konbu (kelp). Homemade dashi is delicious, but can be expensive to make. You can buy insant dashi stock granules --dashi-no-moto -- in many Asian markets.

Recipe:
Oyakodon
serves 3-4

1 lb. boneless chicken breast or thigh meat, cut into 2-inch chunks
1 large or 2 medium onions, sliced
3 large eggs, whipped

Sauce:
1 1/2 cups dashi stock (if using dashi-no-moto, mix 1 Tbsp. in 1 1/2 cups of water)
2 Tbsp. soy sauce (preferably light soy sauce)
3 Tbsp. mirin
3 Tbsp. caster sugar
1 Tbsp. sake (optional)

1) heat large sauce pan (with lid) over medium high heat. Mix together sauce ingredients and pour into pan. Add onions and spread in an even layer. Let cook for 4-5 minutes until they start to soften.
2) Add chicken in a single layer over the onions, cover tightly and let cook for 5 minutes. Turn chicken over and cook for another 5 minutes.
3) When chicken is cooked through, pour the beaten eggs evenly over the top and allow to cook for about 1 minute. Remove from heat and allow the eggs to cook a little more. You don't want the eggs to harden too much, they should be cooked, but still be ever so slightly runny.
4) Serve over short-grain, steamed Japanese rice (ratio: 1 1/4 cup water per 1 cup rice)

Tasty Ginger Dressing
(serves 4)

1-inch piece of ginger, peeled and chopped roughly
1/2 medium-sized carrot, peeled and chopped roughly
1 clove garlic, peeled, chopped roughly
1 tsp. caster sugar
2 Tbsp. seasoned rice vinegar
1/4 tsp. sesame oil
3 Tbps. soybean (vegetable) oil
1 tsp. sake (optional)

blend all ingredients except vegetable oil in a small food processor (if you only have a large food processor, quadruple the measurements and have lots of leftover dressing) until smooth, then add the vegetable oil slowly while blending.

Saffron Pancetta Risotto

2005-03-20T14:33:00.000-05:00

This risotto turned out to be the best I've ever made, and you should try making it, or one similar to it--if, that is, you don't mind standing next to a hot stove for 45 minutes making circular motions with a wooden spoon or silicone spatula. I find the stirring to be quite relaxing, especially when you assign the task to someone else while you sit down with a good book. When they (inevitably) complain, you may choose to remind them that they, having no kitchen skills beyond the boiling of water, are lucky to be the benefactor of your culinary wisdom and should be grateful of the opportunity to work on their underdeveloped triceps. However, you should resist the temptation of this response, since at best you will have to resume the stirring yourself, and at worst will have to dodge behind the papasan to avoid a hurtling, goopy spoonful of hot risotto.

I was kind of winging it, so the measurements are just estimates. The main thing is to keep an eye on it, add more liquid whenever it boils off, and keep stirring, stirring, stirring. Add whatever ingredients you like, but I have to say pancetta (Italian-style bacon), white wine, and romano all complement eachother excellently and make for a great, creamy-textured risotto.

The risotto was served with red wine-braised veal liver and onions, a request from a friend who mentioned that while it was tasty, it was not quite as good as the liver they ate in her native Kazakhstan, made with some sort of sour cream sauce. We also made some wine braised chicken cutlets for her boyfriend, who, forgivably, doesn't care for liver. No pictures of the liver or the purple chicken unfortunately, since I'm still getting used to the focus features on my new digital camera and the pics came out rather blurry. Visualize the purple chicken on your own.

2 cups arborio risotto rice
5 cups chicken stock
1 cup dry white wine
1/4 pound pancetta, sliced into small strips
1 medium sized onion, diced
1 carrot, peeled and diced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 Tbsp fresh thyme, minced (or 1/2 tsp. dried thyme)
1/2 tsp. saffron threads
1/2 cup grated romano
salt & pepper
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. butter

1) Start by heating a sautee pan over medium heat and add the pancetta, stirring occasionally, allowing the fat to cook off, then remove the pancetta to a plate and add garlic, carrot, and onion. Sautee until onion is a light golden brown and set aside.
2) Heat olive oil and butter in a large sautee pan, add the risotto rice and stir to coat. Add about 1/2 cup of white wine and continue stirring until wine has cooked off. Add another 1/2 cup wine and repeat process until wine is gone, then continue process using chicken stock, 1/2 cup at a time. It will take roughly 40 minutes for the rice to cook to perfection, and you may not need all of the chicken stock, or you may need more. The rice should be creamy, but with a slight firmness. As I mentioned, you or someone else MUST stir the risotto the entire time.
3) Once the rice is just about cooked, add the thyme, pancetta, onion mixture, and saffron. Stir for about another 5 minutes.
4) At the very end, add the romano (or asiago or good parmesan) and stir for another minute off the heat.
5) Enjoy.

Baked Polenta (with Ragu Alla Bolognese)

2005-03-15T16:17:00.000-05:00

First off, a hearty thanks to Meg of Too Many Chefs for featuring last week's lamb-bit as one of their "posts of the week." The site is a "group" food blog, with a wide variety of topics in the posts. Check it out, great content and a cool, somewhat retro design.

Now then, this little work of deliciousness pictured above was my attempt to use the coarse-ground cornmeal that has been sitting in my cupboard for over a year. I still haven't returned Nick's copy of Marcella Hazan's Essentials of Italian Cooking, so I began searching it for polenta recipes. To my delight there was a recipe for this baked polenta (its a bit like lasagna, only with sheets of polenta instead of lasagna noodles), which required ragu alla bolognese. I just happened to have a container of it in the freezer from a batch I made several weeks ago.

The polenta was easier to make than I might have imagined, and turned out quite well. The ragu was combined with a quickly-whipped-up bechamel sauce. The only thing I added to the recipe was the sprinkling of sauteed mushrooms and onions over the top, but I found these to be unnescessary. Distracting even.

I won't post the recipe here. You should buy the book. Its fabulous, and many people feel content to consider it the authority on Italian cooking, and everything I've made from it turned out wonderfully (in fact, I've got a stew cooking at home right now, also drawn from this book--and yes, its lamb stew).

The drawback to me telling you all of this is that Nick is going to want the book back now.

The Search for a Great Lamb Stew (Episode 2- Tunisian)

2005-03-11T11:55:00.000-05:00

Look at that face. Who could eat something so cute? Well, me for example. Eschewing foods based on their cuteness seems odd to me. Is it any more humane to eat a fish just because most of them are rather ugly and alien-looking? If you had been in the Donner party would you really have gone for craggly Old Man Johnson instead of young, plump Sally Smith? OK, bad example. I'm getting way off track here.

I love lamb, but at this point in my life can't typically afford the ultra-expensive, ultra-tasty rib or loin cuts, which are often $10 a pound or more. Sometimes I'll go for the more cost-effective whole legs, but that requires enough people to eat it all and defray the cost. So, that leaves me with the tougher, fattier cuts such as shoulder blade chops or fore shanks. These cuts are still capable of producing great dishes, but they typically require more trimming and a long cooking time, usually in liquid.

I'm talking about stew here people. Sure, it requires a little more foresight, since minimum cooking time should be a couple hours, but many stews are fairly simple to make, and lamb is perfect for a lot of them.

One of my favorites, and of the easier ones to make, is lamb stew provencal, but I wanted to try something different, and so found this recipe for a Tunisian-style lamb stew in Bon Appetit. It was rather delicious with some adjustments (I used a lot more spice than they did and used chicken stock instead of water--also, they use way too many onions). The dominant flavor is cardamom, which I love. You can use previously ground cardamom if you have to, but add less than you would using fresh. If you use fresh pods, simply crush them open in a mortar and throw the whole shebang in the stew. Once they've cooked for a few hours they'll be tender enough that you can eat them if you like. I like. Served over saffron rice (also with cardamom-no pods this time, just seeds) mixed with toasted pine nuts.

I'll be making more lamb stews in the near future. If you know of one that would knock my socks off, please send it to me!

Recipe
Tunisian Lamb Stew
serves 2-4

1 1/2 pounds lamb, trimmed and cubed
1/2 tsp ground cardamom (or preferably whole cardamom pods crushed)
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 hot red pepper, minced (or 1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper, less if you're heat sensitive)
1/4 tsp. ground cloves
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
2 cups chopped onions
2 tsp. minced peeled ginger
1 cup chicken stock

1 cup dried apricots, chopped
1 tsp. white wine vinegar
1 tsp. sugar

1) crush/grind the first four spices and toss with lamb pieces to cover, set aside in fridge for 1/2 hour.
2) Heat oil in large pot on medium high, add onions and sautee until translucent, add lamb and a pinch of salt. Sautee until lamb is brown (5 minutes or so)
3) Add ginger, stir, sautee for 1 minute
4) Add chicken stock, bring to boil.
5) Cover, reduce heat to low and simmer for anywhere from 2-4 hours
6) With slotted spoon, remove lamb and onions and set aside. Turn heat to high and boil juices for 10-15 minutes. When reduced, add apricots, vinegar, and sugar, reduce heat to medium high, and cook for 3-4 minutes.
7) Return lamb and onions to sauce and cook long enough to heat them back up.
8) Serve over rice cooked with ground cardamom, saffron, and pine nuts.

The Busiest of Times

2005-03-08T14:10:00.000-05:00

Hello monkeylings,

As you may have noticed, I haven't been posting much lately. This is due in part to how incredibly busy I've been with work, financial aid applications for law school, etc etc. and partly because most of my recent meals have been rehashes of previously posted recipes (such as the never-fail ragu alla bolognese and lamb stew provencal). I did make some a very large and very tasty homemade batch of split pea soup with lots of bacon. If you want some, I still have two containers of it in the freezer.

I will be posting again soon, later this week I plan on making one of my favorite dishes for a group of friends. Its an Iranian dish called fesenjoon, and its outrighteously good.

And one other thing. Dr. Biggles of Meathenge passed along this photograph, which is just too bizarre not to spread around. Somebody please explain.

Cheers.

Tarragon Dijon Chicken (and near death stock-making experience)

2005-02-28T14:38:00.000-05:00

One of the best chicken dishes I've had. Ever. And its easy too.

But first I want to demonstrate my commitment to making good chicken stock. I was quite thrilled on Saturday when the allegedly bilingual girl behind the meat counter at the Hispanic market said that they could sell me 4 pounds of leftover chicken bones, ribs, etc., if I came back the next day. Upon arriving at the store on Sunday morning (after a 20 minute drive) I was dismayed to find that there had been a miscommunication. They had packaged for me 4 pounds of chicken guts and a few spare parts such as necks. Very few bones. Very few bones = not enough collagen for a good stock.

Why did I choose to study French? Living in Florida (and the United States for that matter) I find myself wishing I knew Spanish almost on a weekly basis. How often does my French come in handy? Jamais. Maybe I should move to Quebec.

In any case, the butcher was none too happy when I tried to explain that I had no use for his bag o' guts. He gave me a look of disgust and muttered something underneath his breath. I don't know what he said, but I'm pretty sure I heard the words "loco" and "gringo." I wasn't about to leave empty handed though, so I purchased about 8 pounds of chicken legs (for only $6!) and some cilantro to make salsa. And I was off, into the pouring rain.

About halfway home I was proceeding cautiously through a blinking yellow traffic light, when out of nowhere a PT Cruiser came firing out into the intersection. I hate PT Cruisers. Slamming on the breaks, I found myself hydroplaning toward the nefarious vehicle, fortunately coming to a stop about four feet away from the cretin, blissfully anonymous behind his or her tinted windows. I couldn't help but think at that moment about the fact that, had I actually T-boned the vehicle hard, the accident scene would have been littered with about 30 raw chicken drumsticks.

Nerves shaken, I made my way home as the rain began to pour even harder. For about an hour afterward I cut the meat from these drumsticks with a dull knife. My hands sore, my kitchen looking like an abbatoir, I cursed my own temerity. And what did I get from all of it? Only 3 gallons of perfect chicken stock! Not to mention a whole lot of trimmed dark meat that will go nicely into some future dish.

Anyhow, you should try this Tarragon Dijon Chicken. It's based on a couple recipes from Gourmet and Bon Appetit, with alterations in measurement and ingredients depending on what was at hand. One of those recipes calls for brandy instead of vermouth or white wine. I have to imagine that would be delicious. No matter which you use though, I guarantee you'll like this sauce.

Recipe
Tarragon Dijon Chicken
Serves 4

4 chicken breasts w/rib (skin on)
1 bunch fresh tarragon
1/4 cup water
salt

sauce:
drippings from chicken
2 Tbsps. chopped tarragon
1/4 cup vermouth
1/4 cup white wine
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 Tbsps. dijon mustard

1) slide a sprig of tarragon between the skin and meat of each breast. Sprinkle with salt. Pour 1/4 cup water into a roasting pan and arrange chicken on a rack. Place in oven preheated at about 375 degrees.
2) The chicken should take about 20 minutes. After about 15 minutes, remove from the oven, remove from the pan, and pour the drippings into a sautee pan. The chicken should then go back on the rack and into the oven.
3) heat the sautee pan over medium high. whisk the sauce ingredients together then add to the pan with the drippings. Stir until the sauce thickens.
4) remove chicken from oven and pour sauce over the top. The sauce also tastes great with broccoli, cauliflower, or rice.

Saturday Produce Shopping

2005-02-26T14:12:00.000-05:00

My effort to save $$ on groceries has been a mixed bag, so to speak. While I seem to have splurged on a nice chunk of raclette cheese, a couple lamb shanks, and a good bottle of suvignon blanc, I also managed to get some real bargains today. For starters, the beautiful array of produce you see above, purchased as per my weekend ritual at the Red Barn produce market in Bradenton, Florida, cost a mere THIRTEEN DOLLARS!!! For little more than the price of a movie ticket in NYC, I have enough vegetables to last a week and a half.

We also stopped by a great new hispanic market where my amigo Nick picked up some "instant" masa, and I purchased two whole tilapias, which i might bake with a sea salt crust. Mmmmmm, sea salt crust. They also have great authentic mexican food with the best tortillas I've had since I lived in New Mexico. Two tacos al pastor and a quesadilla con pollo later I was stumbling out into the sunlight thinking about how wonderful life is. The woman behind the meat counter said if I came back tomorrow she'd sell me 5 pounds of chicken carcasses! I see a giant batch of stock in the near future.

We then hit up a nearby Korean market owned by an ebullient man named Yi, whose enthusiasm for his products was infectious. I walked out with some panko crumbs, a jar of Yi's homemade kimchi (deliciously sour!) and a stout called "The Hite," which is brewed and bottled in Seoul, Korea. It's no Guinness (what is?) but it is very smooth and rich.

What to expect from Kitchen Monkey in the week to come? Well last night's chicken tarragon will make an appearance. As soon as I finish this post I'll be making dill pickles out of those tiny cukes you see, and tonight I'll be slow-roasting a pork loin. Tomorrow maybe some eggplant parmesan or babaganoush. Who knows?

Fishkebabs! (Middle East Feast pt. III)

2005-02-25T13:36:00.000-05:00

click to enlarge the marinating goodness

Ahhhh, February in Sarasota. Perfect weather for grilling. Must enjoy it while I can; next year at this time I might well be in DC or Minnesota. Can a person even get swordfish in Minnesota? What do people eat up there? Lots of cheese I imagine. And tubers.

I'm not a huge fan of swordfish steaks, but the fishmarkets here often sell the chunks leftover from cutting the steaks as "nuggets." These nuggets sell for about $4.99 a pound and they are perfect for kebabs. One of the best meals I've ever eaten was composed simply of swordfish chunks, onions, and pineapple chunks marinated in homemade teriyaki sauce and grilled on a beach on Lido Key around sunset in late summer.

Same concept here, only I added tuna chunks, two kinds of pepper, and instead of teriyaki I used a marinade of crushed coriander seeds, crushed cumin seeds, diced onion, lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and pepper. I marinated it for about four hours, soaked the skewers in water, and popped the kebabs on the oiled grate of my tiny grill. Very satisfying.

This was part III of the Middle East Feast. Part IV was to be the Egyptian cous cous dessert, but while it looked purty, it wasn't really all that great, so no post.

Frittata alla Scimmia

2005-02-23T15:06:00.000-05:00

Starting in August, the blogosphere's own culinary representative of primates everywhere will be joining the already oversaturated ranks of prospective practitioners of the nation's legal profession. Yes, Kitchen Monkey is going to law school.

Top of the list is American University in DC, but also on the list of possibilities: Minneapolis, Boston, and Gainesville, FL.

What does this mean for Kitchen Monkey the Food Blog? Well, in the long term, fewer posts, since I will not be cooking nearly as much during my first year in hell. In the short term, a flurry of posts as I try to get in as much cooking as possible.

What does all this have to do with frittatas? In the coming months more of the posts on KM will be recipes that are simpler, cheaper, and quicker, since I am trying to conserve money for law school and for the June/July trip to France. Expect more dishes like this one and Salmon in a Pouch.

You don't need many ingredients for a good frittata, but I do recommend that you have a good cast iron pan, properly seasoned. You can substitute different cheeses or vegetables quite easily. Its quick, easy, and delicious. It also goes extremely well with Mae Ploy Sweet Chili Sauce.

Recipe:
Asapargus & Tomato Frittata
serves 4-6

8 eggs
1/4 cup water
2 Tbsp. cream
1/2 cup asiago cheese, shredded (parmesan or romano are suitable)
3 shallots, sliced thinly (1 medium onion would also work)
12-15 stalks asparagus, 1 inch trimmed off the bottom and discarded, then chopped in half
1 large tomato, sliced
salt, pepper
2 Tbsp vegetable oil

1) preheat oven to 325 degrees farenheit
2) with fork, whisk together eggs, water, cream, and half the cheese
3) in large cast iron pan (or oven safe sautee pan) sautee the shallots and asparagus in the oil over medium high heat
4) Turn off heat, make sure that the vegetables are evenly distributed across the surface of the pan, and pour in the egg mixture, tilting pan if necessary until surface of the frittata is flat. Place tomato slices on top.
5) place in the oven for 10-15 minutes, or until the top has started to brown. At this point, remove the pan, sprinkle on the remaining cheese, turn on the boiler, and place the frittata under the broiler for a minute or so.

Goes great with red wine and a nice light salad.

Dolma (Stuffed Grape Leaves - Middle East Feast Part II)

2005-02-21T15:37:00.000-05:00

Presenting one of Kitchen Monkey's Top 10 favorite dishes to make. Part of Saturday's Feast.

Dolma, like gyoza, do require a good bit of effort, but try bringing 50 of these little beauties to a potluck and you will both delight and impress your friends, most of whom brought chips and salsa or some sort of casserole topped with crumbled potato chips.

Would you like the recipe along with detailed instructions? Happy to oblige...

click on any of the pictures to enlarge

Dolma (Vegetarian or Not)
Makes 40 to 50 dolma

1 Jar grape leaves
1 lb. ground lamb
1/4 cup mint, chopped finely
1/4 cup parsley, chopped finely
1 large onion, diced
4 tbsp. olive oil
1 1/2 cups uncooked long grain rice (I use basmati)
1 tsp. salt
2 lemons
1/3 stick butter
2 cups chicken stock

1) In 3 cups of boiling water, add the rice, and cook for 10 minutes or so, until slightly tender. Drain, rinse with cold water, and set aside.
2) gently pull the bunched rolls of grape leaves from the jar--careful not to tear any. Unroll them, and place them in a large bowl filled with boiling hot water. Let them soak for about 15 minutes, then drain and rinse in cold water. Remove stems with a pair of kitchen scissors, being careful not to rip the leaf.
3) In a pan, sautee the ground lamb until just brown. Set aside.
4) In a different pan, heat the olive oil and add the onion, sauteeing until transluscent. Add the parsley, mint, and salt. Sautee for a few more minutes.
5) Combine the lamb, onion and herbs, and rice, stirring thoroughly. Allow mixture to cool. Feel free to omit the lamb and add more onion and rice for a vegetarian version.
6) Separate the leaves, setting the smallest or torn ones aside. Use some of these to line the bottom of a baking sheet or roasting pan.
7) Now for the rolling. Start with large leaves until you get the hang of it, laying it flat in front of you. Place a spoonful of the mixture toward the bottom of the leaf, leaving about an inch of leaf below. Fold the bottom part upward just over the mixture. Fold in the right then left sides of the leaf, then continue rolling from the bottom. Voila! (See photos above for a clearer example)
8) Place the dolma next to eachother on the baking sheet. When you have rolled all the mixture away, top the dolma with thin pats of butter and thin lemon slices. Now pour the chicken stock over the dolma. Don't use all 2 cups if this means not being able to navigate to the oven without spilling.
9) Cover the dolma with more leaves, or foil if the leaves are all used. Place sheet in an oven preheated to 350 degrees for about an hour to an hour and a half.
10) remove covering and leave to cool for 10 minutes. Drizzle with olive oil and lemon juice, and place on a serving tray or plate with lemon wedges. Eat.

Feast from the East (Middle, that is)

2005-02-20T16:03:00.000-05:00

In the days of the Ottoman Empire and well before, some Arab tribes would welcome a very important guest by preparing a special dish that puts Turducken to shame (as though Turducken weren't already a bit of a shame). They would start by stuffing a quail into a chicken. The chicken would then be stuffed inside a larger bird, two of which would then be stuffed inside the carcass of a sheep. Repeat this 3 more times for 3 more sheep, then stuff all 4 sheep into the carcass of a camel. Roast for a long time. Serve with..........pride, I suppose.

After failing to procure a camel, we decided to scale back our ambitions, and prepared a lovely feast of mezze. If you've ever had hummus, or falafel, you've had Mezze. It could be seen as the Middle Eastern equivalent of tappas, I suppose. I've listed below what was included in the spread, along with the person responsible for making it.

Dolma (Kitchen Monkey)
Hummus (Liz)
Yoghurt Dip (Nick)
Tabouleh with Cauliflower and Fennel (Nick)
Feta with some sort of honey & spice glaze (Mary)
Pita & Olives (Guapo)
Swordfish and Tuna Kebab (Kitchen Monkey)
Laban al Loz - Almond Drink (Liz)
Egyptian Dessert Cous Cous - (Kitchen Monkey)
Dates soaked in Coffee and served with Yoghurt - (Nick)

Later I'll be posting detailed instructions on how to make dolma (stuffed grape leaves), one of my favorite dishes to make and always a surefire hit with guests. I'll post recipes for the cous cous and the kebab later in the week. Salam.

You Did What With That? (Episode 1-Ghee, Fennel, and Hoisin)

2005-02-17T13:09:00.000-05:00

A new feature on Kitchen Monkey.

Anytime you see this little guy it signifies a new experiment with 1 or more ingredients. Sometimes the experiment will be a great success, born out of creativity and giving rise to a new menu favorite that will spread across first the nation, then the world.

More often it will simply be a result of me having some leftover ingredients from a past meal, or the need to make do with what I have when I don't feel like shopping, or, as with today, some combination of both. Sometimes they will be common ingredients, other times, as with today, they will be less common ingredients incorporated into common meals.

Click on picture of omelette basking in the morning sun to enlarge

Omelette made with Ghee

For breakfast I had an omelette and an english muffin. "Normal enough" you say? Perhaps, but this omelette was made with the leftover ghee I had from last Saturday's Indian Feast. It was, perhaps, the most perfect omelette I've ever eaten. I credit an episode of Alton Brown's Good Eats for curing me of Chronic Bad-Omelette-Making Disease. I used to overfill them with loads of cheese and meat or vegetables. They never flipped right and more often than not they would acquire a half-burnt tan-colored crust. Blech. These days my omelettes are simple. Eggs, salt, pepper, butter. That's it. This time I used ghee instead of regular butter and it was dynamite.

Rating: A+

English Muffin with Hoisin Sauce

I was out of honey, out of jam, and I left my damned bottle of Marmite in Utah, and that stuff aint cheap. Although it does last a good while. So anyhow, what I did have was a jar of hoisin sauce leftover from the mu shu pork I made a while back, and I figured it has a taste and consistency somewhere between jam and marmite, so why not? Well, I'll tell you. While it wasn't awful by any means, it was because it has a taste and consistency somewhere between jam and marmite that it didn't work as a breakfast spread. Try it if you have an adventurous pallette.

Rating: C+

Tuna Salad Sandwich with Fennel Seeds

This was lunch today. I'm sure somebody has tried this before, but it was a first for me. The tuna salad was made from a can of "tonno in olive oil" by Chicken of the Sea, a tablespoon or two of mayo, and a chopped up bread and butter pickle. I took about a 1/2 tsp. or more of fennel seeds, crushed them quickly with the mortar and pestle, and mixed it into the tuna salad. It all went on some toasted whole wheat bread with a few slices of tomato. Very good.

Rating: A

If you have any ideas for these three ingredients, simple or complex, let Kitchen Monkey know in the comments.

Coconut Lime Lassi (with Recipe)

2005-02-16T17:51:00.000-05:00

I decided to celebrate with a fancy drink today after work. Why?

Kitchen Monkey is going to France.

I'll be leaving on June 9th and returning on July 12. For three weeks I'll be polishing up my waning french language skills in Bordeaux, where I will also polish up my waxing wine swilling skills. Can you say "waxing wine swilling skills" five times fast? I thought not.

In early July I'll be going to a small village near Lyons to attend the wedding of my brother and his fiancee, who is one of those French people. After that, Kitchen Monkey might even skip down to Rome to meet up with a couple amigos from Tampa. In other words, there will be many many many food adventures. Since I'm flying out of JFK, I may even get a chance to stop in at Minca Ramen Factory again.

So I decided to make a fancy drink after work. Nick made these last Saturday (see post below) and left his blender here, so I decided to make my own. There are many different kinds of lassi. The one Nick made, for instance, had no coconut milk and involved crushed fennel seeds. This one is fairly simple and very refreshing. Did I add a little rum? No. Would it curdle? Maybe. Would I care? No. Did I have any rum to add? No. Should you add rum? Yeah!

Recipe
Coconut Lime Lassi
makes 2 glasses

Blend together:
15 oz. coconut milk
3/4 cup plain yoghurt
1/4 cup lime juice
1/4 cup caster sugar (I used the sugar Nick left here, which is just regular sugar that has gone through the food processor).
8-12 ice cubes.

Garnish with mint or a slice of lime.

Indian Feast - Murgh Makhani (Recipe)

2005-02-13T16:31:00.000-05:00

Another in an illustrious series of collaborations with Nick (of I'm Cookin' Here), this Indian spread included murgh makhani as the main course (a buttery chicken and tomato curry), a sugar pea and mushroom curry for the vegetarian in our little dinner party, garlic naan, paneer, lemon pickle, mango chutney, mint chutney, and mint lassi, a sweet Indian yoghurt drink that compliments spicy curries perfectly...

This is the third time I've made naan, a soft flat bread ubiquitous in Indian cuisine, and this time it was far better than the last two, but still not perfect. It would help if I had a partially subterannean stone oven, but Florida Palms Apartments despite being nice enough, do not yet offer this feature. I made do with dry-frying the flattened dough in my cast iron griddle, brushing with ghee and garlic, and sticking under the broiler for a couple minutes.

Nick made the paneer, the mango chutney, and the lemon pickle. The paneer is an Indian cheese that is made simply by straining the curds from the whey after adding white wine vinegar to lightly boiled milk. We sprinkled it on top of the curry. Delicious. The chutney was quite good as well.

The murgh makhani gave me the opportunity to finally use some of the spices I purchased at the farmers' market last week:

The curry included garam masala, sweet paprika, ground coriander, fresh ginger, chili powder, cardamom pods and cinnamon sticks. The sauce comprised tomato puree, ghee, yoghurt, cream, and lemon juice. The next morning I used the leftover ghee to fry an omelette, and it was perfect. I'll be making ghee more often I think.

This recipe was one of a number of Indian dishes in "The Essential Wok Cookbook." I was skeptical at first, since they do not typically use woks in India and these recipes were obviously adapted for the wok in order to pad out the cookbook. But I have to say I was impressed. INot only was it delicious, but my wok is large enough that it was perfect for cooking curry for 10 people. You could just as easily use a large pot. I'm not quite sure why the recipe calls for all the spices and garam masala, since garam masala is made of all the other spices listed her, and perhaps a couple others. In any case, I might try it next time without the garam masala, and just adding more of the others. I'm beginning to really love fresh cardamom, so if anyone has a good recipe involving these little pods and seeds, please let me know.

Recipe:

Murgh Makhani
Serves 4

2 Tbsps peanut oil
2 lbs. chicken thigh filets, quartered (I used some breast meat as well)
2 oz. ghee*
2 tsp. garam masala
2 tsp. paprika
2 tsp. ground coriander
1 Tbsp. fresh ginger, finely chopped
1/4 tsp. chili powder
1 cinnamon stick
6 cardamom pods, bruised
12 oz. pureed tomatoes
1 Tbsp. sugar
1/4 cup plain yoghurt
1/2 cup cream
1 Tbsp. lemon juice

1) Heat the wok or pot on high, add 1/2 the oil and swirl to coat. Add the chicken a bit at a time until brown, removing and setting aside, add more oil if needed to brown all the chicken pieces.
2) Reduce the heat to medium, add the ghee until melted, then add the spices and stir for a couple minutes. This will smell amazing. Return the chicken pieces and stir to coat in the spice mixture.
3) After a few minutes, add the tomatoes and sugar, simmer for 15 minutes
4) Stir in the yoghurt, cream, and lemon juice annd simmer for 5 more minutes. Serve with basmati rice, various chutneys, and naan or poppadoms.

*You can use regular old butter, but ghee is a delight to cook with because of its higher smoke point and has a wonderful flavor. Just melt a whole lot of butter in a small pot over medium heat, occasionally skimming the foam of the top until it is clear. Keep it going for at least 45 minutes, then run what is left through several layers of cheesecloth. Ghee!)

Salmon and Vegetables Cooked in a Pouch!

2005-02-11T14:02:00.000-05:00

Tired of kitchen drudgery? Disappointed by complex recipes that ask for so much yet return so little? Need a quick, shiny, modern meal for today's fast-paced, go-getting, hyphen-filled life-style? A dish that says "yes!" when your schedule says "no"?

Then you should try "SALMON & VEGETABLES COOKED IN A POUCH." Guaranteed to satisfy young and old alike, this dish will impress everyone from your vicious, unnapreciative teenage daughter to your severe Scandinavian mother-in-law. After tasting your SALMON & VEGETABLES COOKED IN A POUCH, even your pals at the Rotary Club will be asking, "say, what's your secret Jim?" Though they will probably not call you Jim. Unless your name is Jim; then they might.

With SALMON & VEGETABLES COOKED IN A POUCH, you can make dinner in less time than it takes to scrub the bloodstains out of your new golf shirt. So instead of slaving away with fancy kitchen tools and dirty dishes, you'll be standing out on the patio enjoying martinis with the Hendersons--and Cindy Larson, that hot little number from Marketing.

With SALMON & VEGETABLES COOKED IN A POUCH, the flavor is sealed RIGHT IN THE POUCH. Unable to escape, the flavor reaches levels of intensity hitherto not reachable by un-pouched salmon & vegetables. You may say, "now Kitchen Monkey, is this salmon really that good? After all, it's just cooked in a pouch with vegetables."

Haven't you been listening? SALMON & VEGETABLES COOKED IN A POUCH is the flavor-dish of the new millenium! Just listen to what others have said about this amazing recipe:

"This is pretty good." - Liz Palomo-Phillips

"This is the most delicious salmon ever eaten by me." - Anonymous

"Salmon & Vegetables Cooked in a Pouch saved three of my marriages" - Burt Reynolds*
*this quote paraphrased from something alleged by an unreliable third party to have been said

Try SALMON & VEGETABLES COOKED IN A POUCH, you'll be glad you did.

Recipe:

Pouched Salmon & Vegetables
Serves 4

2 lbs. salmon, cut into 4 filets
Assorted vegetables
(In this case I used:)
2 large carrots, julienned
2 cups bok choy, chopped
1 yellow bell pepper, chopped
salt and pepper
4 Tbsps. butter

1) Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Cut four large heart shapes out of a roll of parchment paper.
2) On one half of each heart, arrange equal portions of the vegetables, then lay a salmon filet on top. Sprinkle salt and pepper on the filet, then add 1 Tbsp. slice of butter to each.
3) Fold the other half of the heart over, and cinch by folding the edge of the paper in toward the salmon a little at a time, starting at the bottom of the heart with each consecutive fold working toward the top.
4) Place in a casserole or on a baking sheet and set in the oven for approx. 10 minutes. Serve with rice.

It really is pretty good, and quick too.

Meat Henge Contest

2005-02-08T15:47:00.000-05:00

Well alas, Kitchen Monkey's meat platter came close to placing but did not make it into the top 3. C'est la vie--it was fun anyhow. Thanks to Dr. Biggles of Meathenge, and congratulations to Deb, Meg, and Nic!

You can see the entries here. And you can see my original entry post here.

A Basque Feast

2005-02-05T19:15:00.000-05:00

Pimientos del Piquillo Rellenos de Bacalao

Almejas a la Marinera

Usually the posts on Kitchen Monkey are dishes that Kitchen Monkey made, but I had to make an exception here. These two lovely items were Liz's doing. She grew up in the Basque region of Spain, in San Sebastian, a town which Food and Wine magazine recently called the "culinary capital of Spain." Because of all this, and my association with Liz, I am occasionally on the fork end of some amazing dishes. Let me present Pimientos del Piquillo Rellenos de Bacalao, and Almejas a la Marinera...

Pimientos del such and such, which you see in the cast iron pan, is a delicious appetizer which is made by stuffing a type of sweet Spanish red pepper called "pimiento del piquillo" which looks a bit like a gnome hat. What are they stuffed with? Well I'll tell you. Liz purchased two filets of dried salt cod, which were soaked in water for three days, the water changed every eight hours, to get rid of the salt and soften up the fish. Once the cod was ready, it was de-skinned and shredded, sauteed with olive oil and garlic, with flour and milk added later. Carefully stuff the pimientos del piquillo (which you can get at imported food stores or Whole Foods for a great deal of money) with the cod mixture. They were then packed in a small cast iron pan and placed in the oven (the Spaniards bake and serve them in a clay pot, because they haven't yet discovered metal) just until they're hot. Serve!

Almejas a la Marinera = clams in a sauce of white wine, scallions, garlic, and fresh parsley. This too is often made in a clay pot. So versatile, these clay pots. These clams were fairly good, but I have to say I'm a bigger fan of mussels (especially with white wine, garlic, shallots, and fresh thyme).

We also ate Manchego, a hard sheep's milk cheese that has been made the exact same way since Don Quixote was in diapers. We also had fancy Spanish pickled garlic, which is very different than the kind you find in the States. I could describe it, but I'd have to kill you. With my garlic breath.

Sarasota Farmer's Market

2005-02-05T16:04:00.000-05:00

I've lived here for four years now and this was the first time that I managed to make it to the Farmer's market. You see, it starts early and closes early, and its not often I'm awake at 8 o'clock in the morning on Saturday--call me crazy. This weekend was different for reasons that are not even slightly interesting.

Many of the booths sell slightly upscale knick knacks, but there are some that sell food, including one that advertises their "sexy sausages." Sadly, I did not get a picture. There are a few good produce stands, including one that sold all-organic produce grown by the booth's proprietors. As you might imagine, it was a bit expensive, but they had a variety of hard-to-find Asian greens and all of their produce looked perfect, as you can see from the radishes and turnips above. I purchased some bok choy that will find itself in a stir fry sometime this week, but I was saving most of my cash for the spicemonger, where I bought all kinds of great spices that the supermarket doesn't carry: fenugreek, cardamom pods, whole allspice, whole coriander, and some great looking saffron. I also purchased a pound or so of Himalayan red rice, so if anyone knows of any good recipes for this nutty, chewy rice, please let me know.
For a great picture of the spicemonger's booth, see this post at I'm Cookin' Here.

Roast Lamb (With Panko and Pine Nut Crust)

2005-02-04T13:43:00.000-05:00

Click on photos to enlarge

There are a lot of great food blogs out there, but an unforunately small number of them devote sufficient time to lamb. In doing my small part to alter this tragic scenario, I offer this roast lamb recipe that I enjoyed last night with a tomato feta salad and the aforeposted hummus...

I have to admit to it not being quite as succulent as this braised lamb, but it was still quite good. It also gave me a great excuse to use my digital meat probe thermometer/timer. I know, you're jealous. But they're actually not that expensive if you get one, as I did, at an outlet mall. And 'Merica is just filled with malls of all sorts, so start shopping and pretty soon you too can probe digitally.

The marinade was simply mint, dijon mustard, olive oil, garlic, and lemon juice. The "crust" was made of ingredients I had left over from meals gone by: panko crumbs and chopped pine nuts, along with some mint, onion, & butter.

Truthfully, the tomato feta salad was really just a bit of spring mix surrounded by tomato wedges and slices of a really creamy french feta, all of it drizzled with olive oil and lemon juice. After carving the lamb, something I have yet to truly get the hang of, I served it with the "salad," the hummus posted yesterday, and some warm flatbread. I recommend tearing off a piece of the flatbread, dip it in the hummus, top that with a tomato wedge, a spinach leaf, and a wee chunk of feta. If there's room left, a chunk of the lamb as well. So good.

Roasted Lamb (With Panko and Pine Nut Crust)

1 leg of lamb roast (on the smallish side)

Marinade:
1/3 cup fresh mint
3 cloves garlic
Juice of 1/2 lemon
4 Tbsp. Olive oil
1 Tbsp. dijon mustard
salt and pepper

Crust:
3 Tbsp. pine nuts
1/4 cup panko crumbs
1/4 cup onion, diced
3 Tbsp. fresh mint, chopped
1 1/2 Tbsps. butter

1) Blend all marinade ingredients in a food processor and seal lamb in a large ziploc with the marinade for at least a few hours
2) Place lamb on a wire rack in a roasting pan and place in an oven preheated at 325 degrees for about an hour (your thermometer should read at about 125 degrees at this point.
3) For the crust: melt butter in a sautee pan, sautee onions until translucent, then add remaining ingredients and sautee for 5 minutes more.
4) After the lamb has roasted for an hour, take it out and smooth the crust on top, return to the oven and bake for about another hour. For a medium rare roast, the temperature at the center of the roast should be about 140 degrees, so be vigilant. It will cook a bit more when you take it out, bringing itself up to 145 degrees. The crust will have started to be toasty brown.
5) Carve. What I think I'll try next time, is taking the leftover liquid of the marinade, adding some yoghurt, and reducing it all in a sautee pan to have a tasty, minty green sauce for the lamb.