Not So Winter Pasta: From Freezer Stock and Pantry Spoils

It seems the sub-freezing temperatures that set in this week are here to stay and we’ve finally begun to see the heart of Brooklyn winter. Local produce has rapidly dwindled to a limited selection of root vegetables, cold storage apples a handful of hearty greens. I confess that by this time I’ve had more than enough apples and it won’t be long before even winter squash seems a bore. The Spring harvest is a long way off.

I always wait until January to break into the stock of foods I’ve hoarded in my freezer for winter months: Tomato and tomatillo sauce, frozen peas, pesto, zucchini bread and the random quart or two of corn chowder or broccoli soup. From now on I will carefully ration these items as we otherwise consume hearty meals of meat, beans and grains. I will look to my spice cabinet instead of my herb garden and occasionally dream of things like peaches and bikinis.

Eventually I’ll be desperate for variety and fresh produce, but when I first break into my winter storage, it’s more like a treasure trove than a bunker pantry. The other night I sacrificed a bag of dried cherry tomatoes from my farmer friend Ray Bradley and a bag of freshly shelled and frozen green peas, and paired these precious items with some amazing dried pasta that my good pal Alexis brought me back from a recent trip to Italy. I added some pecorino cheese left from a holiday feast to a light cream sauce, and for a moment I could almost taste summer.

Torcetti with Sundried Tomatoes, Peas and Cream

  • 1 lb. dried short pasta (torcetti, strozzapreti, campanelle, etc.)
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 cup sun-dried tomatoes, sliced
  • 1/2 cup heavy cream
  • 1 cup frozen peas
  • 2 cups finely grated Pecorino Romano cheese
  • freshly ground black pepper
  • salt
  • minced parsley for garnish (optional)

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package instructions until just tender.

While the pasta is cooking, heat oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat and add the sun-dried tomatoes, stirring occasionally until they begin to soften (about 3 minutes). Add the cream to the pan along with the peas and reduce heat to low. Allow to simmer gently until the peas are warmed (about 5 minutes).

When the pasta is ready, reserve a bit of cooking water, drain and add immediately to the cream pan along with cheese and a very generous amount of black pepper. Toss until combined, you can add a splash of cooking water if it seems dry, taste and salt if necessary, then serve garnished with a light dusting of parsley.

Slow Food for Slow Days: Braised Cabbage and Stewed Lamb

These first few days of 2012 have felt like a big stretch and yawn as I wake from my holiday hibernation. The week between Christmas and the New Year was full of long restful days. Casual celebrations with family and friends and entire afternoons of reading books and watching movies – the perfect setting to let dinner slowly stew on the stove until you’re ready to gather at the table.

I made a Christmas Eve feast of a mustard-rubbed pork loin, potato pancakes and braised red cabbage. While I focused on making pancakes and prepping the roast, the cabbage slowly cooked down into a savory balance of sweet and sour. Even my dad, the pickiest eater on the planet, couldn’t get enough of it.

After the Christmas dust settled, when Brad and I finally found ourselves alone on a cold day with no plans, I set out to make some stewed lamb. It simmered gently with spices until a few hours later when I served the tender and flavorful meat with some simple roasted squash and couscous.

Slow Spiced Lamb

Serves 4-6

  • 2 pounds lamb shoulder, cut into 1.5-inch chunks
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 medium onions, thinly sliced
  • 6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  • 2 teaspoons ground coriander
  • 2 teaspoons ground cumin
  • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1 dried hot chili, crumbled
  • 1/4 cup red-wine vinegar
  • 3 cups stock or broth
  • 6 pieces lemon peel (from 1 lemon)
  • Salt, pepper and fresh lemon juice to taste
  • Chopped parsley for garnish (optional)

Pat lamb dry and season with 1 teaspoon salt and 3/4 teaspoon pepper. Heat oil in a wide 5-to 6-quart heavy pot over medium-high heat. Brown lamb on all sides in 3 batches until golden-brown, 4 to 5 minutes per batch, transferring to a plate with a slotted spoon.

Add onions to pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until golden-brown, about 8 minutes. Add garlic, spices and chili, and cook, stirring, 2 minutes. Stir in vinegar and cook, scraping up brown bits, until vinegar has evaporated, 1 to 2 minutes.

Return lamb with meat juices to pot. Stir in stock and lemon peel and simmer, covered, stirring occasionally, 1 1/2 hours until the lamb is extremely tender. Uncover and increase heat to high, allowing the liquid to boil and thicken slightly, about 5 minutes. Taste for seasoning, add juice from lemon, and serve with couscous or rice, garnished with a bit of chopped parsley.

Happy 2012! Winter is here and it’s cold outside, so what’s the hurry? Praise the braise and cook slow and low.

Braised Red Cabbabge

This recipe is a winner and the perfect Winter companion for pork. I dare you to make it just once.

Braised Red Cabbage

Serves 8

  • 3 1/2 lb red cabbage (1 medium head), quartered, cored, and thinly sliced crosswise
  • 4 bacon slices, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
  • 1 large sweet onion, thinly sliced
  • 2 apples, grated
  • 1/2 cup white-wine vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon black pepper
  • 2 tablespoons honey

Rinse cabbage under cold water and drain but don’t dry. Cook the bacon in a 6-quart heavy pot over medium heat, stirring, until crisp, about 3 minutes. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and add butter to bacon fat and cook onions, stirring, until golden brown, 10 to 12 minutes. Stir in cabbage, apples, vinegar, salt, and pepper and simmer, covered, stirring occasionally, until tender, about 1 1/4 hours. Stir in honey and reserved bacon, and adjust seasonings to taste.

*Recommended pairing: Mustard Rubbed Pork Loin. I used this recipe as a base, rubbing the pork loin, inside and out, with a mixtures of 3 tablespoons grainy mustard, 3 tablespoons olive oil, 6 cloves minced garlic, salt, pepper and a bit of thyme.

I Want Candy!

Back in 2006, around the time I was compulsively baking and cooking to fill holiday gift boxes with homemade gourmet treats, Brad and I came across this article by Mark Bittman in the New York Times, “Have No Fear, It’s Only Candy”. It contained a recipe for one very easy and very delicious peanut brittle. Peanuts and sugar, that’s all it takes, and I started making pounds of it. We gave it to friends and family, and when Christmas was fast approaching and I wished we had some left for ourselves to enjoy, I made more. Then I went to the dentist in January and had 3 new cavities.

Fillings aside, I still have no fear. In fact you could say I’ve got a sweet tooth for the crunchy brittle. The following year I decided to doctor the recipe adding cardamom, a pinch of cayenne, and mixing up the nuts to include almonds and pistachios. This is the way I’ve been making it ever since.

This holiday season as the we countdown to Christmas, I’ve been itching to make candy and cookies. In addition to some of my tried and true favorites, I am seriously drooling over the 12 Days of Cookies recipes over at Lottie + Doof. But I won’t be baking anything until we’re finished with what I’m now referring to as 12 Days of Renovation: My apartment is being painted from top to bottom, ceiling to trim and it’s taking forever. Just a few more days until Brad and I can start to put everything back in its place and decorate our Christmas tree.

Over the weekend while the painters took a day off, I rushed into the kitchen to tackle some nut brittle. Working batch-by-batch, I kept thinking I needed to improve on the process. The sugar caramelized so quickly that it was maybe too brown, there were a lot of lumps to melt, and I didn’t spread it evenly enough to cool. But as I carefully tweaked my technique I found it made no difference at all. The results, once broken into pieces, were more or less the same and all equally delicious. So really, have no fear. Just make the candy. What’s Christmas without some cavities?

Cardamom Spiced Nut Brittle

  • Butter for greasing pan
  • 2 cups sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
  • pinch of cayenne
  • 3/4 cup roasted, unsalted peanuts
  • 3/4 cup slivered almonds
  • 3/4 cup roasted, unsalted, (no shell) pistachios

Use a bit of butter to grease a baking sheet, preferably one with a low rim. Combine sugar, spices and 2 tablespoons of water in a heavy skillet and turn heat to medium. Stir until thoroughly combined, then cook, stirring occasionally until mixture turns golden brown and is eventually smooth – this happens slowly, and in parts suddenly. Be patient and don’t be worried. Turn the heat to low.

Stir in the nuts and toss to coat evenly. Pour mixture across a greased baking sheet and spread out (I find a butter knife is a helpful tool for scraping the mixture off the spoon and spreading it in the pan – DO NOT TOUCH the mixture with your fingers. It’s extremely hot). Cool for about a half-hour, then break into pieces. (You can score brittle with a knife when it has solidified slightly but not yet turned hard; that way, it will break into even squares.)

Store in a covered container for up to two weeks.
Yield: About 1 pound.

When you’ve got that sweet feeling, here’s a tune for your holiday kitchen soundtrack from the very soulful Candi Staton:
[audio:https://opgastronomia.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/09-Sweet-Feeling.mp3|titles=Sweet Feeling]

Return to Paradise: Passion Fruit and Sunsets

That might sound like the title to the sequel of some cheesy romance novel, but if you were wondering, it’s the answer to the question, “where have you been?”. Last week Brad and I escaped to paradise, or actually returned, to a little Puerto Rican island called Vieques.

Sun setting over Sun Bay

Over the past few months we both worked through a long, hard stretch of 6-7 day work weeks and an unending string of deadlines. Remember when I went to Utah back in September? Brad was supposed to be on that trip. We were supposed to escape the Internet together, but I left him behind to plug away on website code. So when we we launched several websites in mid-November and there was not a deadline in sight for weeks to come, I quickly planned a vacation.

Sunset in Esperanza

Brad and I took a trip to Vieques to celebrate an anniversary nearly 2 years ago. We spent days tooling around in a Jeep Wrangler, lounging, swimming and snorkeling on pristine beaches where there was often not another person in sight. We navigated our way from local food truck to food truck and spiffied up to try the island’s restaurants by night. We kayaked in the bioluminescent bay and rode horses around the island getting drenched by a brief, passing shower. When our return flight back was canceled we spent one great night in Old San Juan, a beautiful part of the city where we strolled the cobblestone streets and enjoyed traditional Puerto Rican dishes, like Mofongo and Mallorca, in old-school local haunts.

The inner courtyard of El Convento, Old San Juan

I can’t travel without spending weeks in advance obsessively pouring over maps and planning, especially when it comes to what and where we will eat, but this time, none of that was necessary. I have discovered the wonders of the repeat vacation. There was no need to plan. We just got on a plane, with bathing suits and some some good fiction tucked in our carry-on bags, and made our way to the beach(es). I passed entire days alternately reading and swimming, until I was sunned and tired and ready for a good meal and a good night of sleep before another day of the same.

Me, and Secret Beach

But there is never travel without culinary adventuring. We embarked accidentally on what I like to call a Tropical Fruit Safari – or eating as much passion fruit as possible. When we arrived at the Hix House, the incredible open-air, architecturely fascinating hotel where we like to stay, there was a pineapple and a mango in our kitchen (along with fresh-baked bread and eggs and Puerto Rican coffee to enjoy with the French Toast Brad would make us the next morning) which we promptly began to enjoy along with the view.

View through the trees, from our studio at the Hix House

I stopped into the office the next day to ask the lovely Joanne if we could get some more of either. There was a bowl of odd looking tennis ball-sized fruit on the counter and when I asked about it she said “They’re passion fruit, take some”. When I expressed excitement, and told her how much we had loved the local bananas the last time we visited (they weren’t ripe this time), she said, “well then I have a present for you. ” She handed me a papaya that was with her things behind the counter and told me it was from a woman up the road. She also recommended that I squeeze a little “limón” on it, which she pulled from the bowl of passion fruit.

Papaya, and another beautiful day

We did enjoy that papaya with limón the next day for breakfast. But sooner than that I went back to our studio to grab a knife and googled “how to eat passion fruit” (tropical fruit is exotic, foreign territory for a Brooklynite). Brad and I sat in our beach chairs looking out at the ocean as we slurped the juicy membrane and seeds. Eventually Joanne pointed us up the road to pick the ripe passion fruit for ourselves and I became deft at making a whole with a car key and then prying them open to eat.

Passion fruit and the Caribbean

I even did this in the airport when I successfully convinced the inspector with the USDA not to take my last 3 passion fruits. She made me promise I’d eat them before the security line.

Ginger Beet Risotto

Despite the fact that this Fall roared into Brooklyn with a snowstorm in October, it’s settled into a long, mild season. It’s December already but we’ve yet to have a serious freeze and we’re still getting tons of cauliflower, broccoli and loads of delicious greens from our farmers. But what has caught my eye recently is fresh young ginger. I’ve spotted it at both the Greenmarket and our local Food Coop, and when I also happened upon some beets with a leafy bunch of greens attached to them, I thought to call in an old favorite.

I’ve got a risotto for every season and Ginger Beet Risotto is my go-to for Fall. I’ve served it as a main or as a primi in a multi-coarse meal, heading up some chili braised short ribs and sautéed greens (tossing the beet greens in with some Swiss chard). This time around I though about serving the greens on the side of the risotto with a bit of garlic and a splash of vinegar, but in the end I just chopped the them up and stirred them in, allowing them just to wilt among the gloriously red risotto. This is the vegetable version of nose to tail eating, let’s call it root to leaf – you’ve just got to include those lovely greens!

You’ll need to roast the beets in advance since they can take about an hour and a half by the time you cool and peel them. Let them sit and steam under the foil for a bit when you take them out of the oven. It’ll make them easier to peel when you’re ready. Your hands will be stained when you sit down to eat, but that’s half the fun.

I had a small bunch this time so I used the whole thing, but if you’ve got a large bunch of beets, roast them all anyway. You can use half in the risotto and save the rest to slice and add to a salad with greens and some goat cheese the next day.

Ginger Beet Risotto

  • 1 small bunch of beets or 2-3 large (about 1/2 lb) roasted, peeled and cut into 1/4″ pieces
  • 2 tablespoons fresh ginger, peeled and minced *with super fresh, young ginger I use more
  • 3/4 cup finely chopped onion (1 small onion or 1/2 a larger one)
  • 3 tablespoons butter (divided)
  • 5 cups stock (I use chicken or turkey most often)
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine
  • 1 1/2 cups Arborio rice
  • I bunch beet greens, rinsed and chopped *optional, if you’ve got ’em
  • Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Bring the stock to a simmer in a small stockpot on a rear burner. In a large, heavy saucepan, melt 2 tablespoons butter over medium heat. Add the ginger and onion and cook, stirring often, until tender – be careful not to let them brown – about 8-10 minutes. Add the rice and stir to coat in the butter, then add the wine and simmer, stirring, until the wine is completely absorbed.

Begin adding the stock by the 1/2 cup, stirring slowly and frequently until almost completely absorbed, then add the next 1/2 cup. Continue cooking like this until you have about 1/2 cup of stock left (about 25 minutes). Taste the risotto – it should be tender with just a bit of firmness to the bite. Stir in the roasted, cut-up beets (and chopped greens if you’re using them) and final 1/2 half cup of stock. When nearly all the liquid is absorbed, stir in the final tablespoon of butter and salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to serving bowls and serve immediately. *Go ahead, grate some fresh Parmiggiano Reggiano over it and open a nice bottle of wine too.

Lazy Long Weekend Cooking: Turkey Stock and a Potato and Kale Tortilla

Thanksgiving has come and gone and so has a long, lazy holiday weekend. I’m not sure what I consumed more of in the days that followed our turkey feast, food or movies. After an amazing evening of eating and drinking and eating some more with our Thanksgiving guests, Brad, my mother-in-law, Caryl, and I slipped into movie marathon mode and let the rest of the weekend leisurely pass by.

When it comes to leftovers, I love T2. The reheated and reconstructed plate of Thanksgiving, complete with gravy and cranberry sauce, can sometimes be even better than the original. I often assume this is because it hasn’t followed a long day of cooking and hosting, but maybe it’s just because I’m already starting to feel nostalgic about the annual dinner.

Once I’ve had my second fill, I always make turkey stock. There is a reason why I own a 12 quart stockpot – and it’s not for lobsters. It holds one turkey carcass just perfectly. Even after making some turkey soup with the scrappy meat leftovers, I end up with tons of rich stock to freeze for months to come. So on Saturday I filled that pot with turkey and water, tossed in some onions, carrots and bay leaves and let it go for hours.

This year I opted for a faux tortilla soup using this recipe for Turkey Soup With Lime and Chile from the NY Times. It was pretty darn tasty, although if were to make it again I’d spice up the broth much more.

And speaking of tortillas, turkey stock wasn’t the only make-ahead cooking I did this weekend. My new favorite “feed a crowd” – or yourself a few times – brunch recipe is no longer a frittata, it is a Spanish Tortilla. I’ve found if you sleep late and make this on a Sunday morning, you can enjoy it with your coffee. It keeps wonderfully at room temperature so you can enjoy it again for an afternoon snack, a light dinner with a simple salad, or even sliced on sandwiches.

I made a basic potato and egg tortilla using this recipe the weekend of hurricane Irene – you know in case the power went out, I figured it was “shelf stable”. Later in the Fall, I made one where I sautéed sliced red bell peppers in the olive oil and tossed them in with the potatoes and eggs. This time around, I couldn’t resist the urge to eat some greens, and I folded sautéed kale and onions into the mix.

Here’s the recipe I use. The key to the deliciousness is letting the potatoes “bubble lazily” in the oil. If you want to add sweet peppers, or kale, or anything else you might imagine – return about 2 tablespoons of the olive oil to the pan after you drain the potatoes, sauté your ingredients and the gently mix them in with the potatoes and the eggs before you start cooking the tortilla.

Now back to my regularly scheduled program of deadlines and late night dinners.

A Post-Thanksgiving Aside

This year my mother-in-law was in town and so the star of my Thanksgiving table was not the turkey (which was dry-brined and delicious), but the actual table.

In addition to shopping for food and prep cooking for the big meal, I was sure to have some decor supplies ready (including burlap for a table runner, flowers, and branches inspired by a recent photo shoot with my lovely Bad Feather client, B Floral). Caryl arrived with tablecloths, napkins, matching dishes and chargers – you know those plates under your plates that are just for looks? I didn’t know what those were until I met Brad’s mom.

Let’s Talk Turkey

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday – a day that is centered around a great meal.

My mom is all about Christmas. She spends 6 months of the year shopping for presents and starts playing the Christmas music as soon as she’s packing turkey leftovers into the fridge. By December 1st she’ll be talking about the tree. But me? I sent out a cheerleader email the first week of October encouraging past, present and hopeful future guests to join us for our now annual feast. As I type this blog post there is a 19 pound turkey salt-brining in my refrigerator.

Drawing by Aaron Newman, aka Baarbarian

For the past six consecutive Thanksgivings I have roasted a turkey.

The first year Brad and I cooked the turkey in our oven and then transported it to our friend Megan’s house where a most memorable meal took place. I should note that we arranged for the turkey from our CSA at the time, who informed us just a week in advance that the turkeys had grown bigger than they planned. My 15-pounder would now be a whopping 23 pounds, as I recall. Nothing like a little challenge for your first time.

There was the year when my friend Paul invited his Korean girlfriend. When she saw me open the oven door to check and baste the turkey, she squealed and immediately started taking photos with her cell phone to send to her friends back home. She had never seen a bird so big, not in an oven anyway.

Our Brooklyn friends all remember the Thanksgiving that never ended. It started at 4pm and most of our guests finally went home at 4am. There was dinner, dessert, after-dinner and after-dessert cocktails. We moved the furniture for a dance party and there were activities involving hats, glasses and “the splits”.

And then there was the “doublestuff” incident in which I made cornbread stuffing and encourage my friend Christine to make a delicious looking parsnip bread pudding. Shortly after dinner we all slipped into a slightly painful carb-induced coma. Lesson learned.

A personal history of turkeys, and Thanksgivings, 2005-2010

So now it’s Thanksgiving Eve and you can’t turn around without coming across some advice about how to cook a perfect turkey. I’m not really one for perfection – although ironically Thanksgiving is the one time of year I find myself gravitating towards Martha Stewart recipes – but I thought I’d throw my 2 cents into the roasting pan.

Here are a few tricks and recipes I’ve picked up over the years:

Know Your Bird! I’ve had heritage and non-heritage birds, but I’ve always purchased my turkey from someone who knew what the bird looked like. If you have the privilege, do the same, but regardless, be conscious of where your meat comes from. This year I’ll be cooking a bird from DiPaulo Turkey Farm.

Butter! I put butter under the skin before I roast my turkey. It makes for one tasty, succulent bird. I typically make a compound butter blended with a mix of sage, rosemary, salt and pepper.

Maple Syrup! Your turkey needs to be basted, but why settle for water or wine? My favorite basting liquid has been maple syrup. When diluted with water you can use the syrup to baste and ultimately glaze the turkey. If you make a gravy from the drippings it’ll have a deliciously subtle sweetness.

Aluminum foil! I tend to make larger turkeys. I like a crowd and I also like leftovers. By the time your turkey is good and roasted (but don’t overdo it, take that bird out between 160 and 165 degrees and let it rest), the skin will be far too brown unless you tent it with foil. One year I tried using cheesecloth instead, it didn’t work. Check out how to roast a turkey the Fleisher’s way.

Silky Gravy! I don’t use cornstarch, I use flour. And I whisk it into some of the fatty pan drippings before I add the stock. Just try it.

Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you enjoy a wonderful meal and have much to be grateful for.


Aaron Newman has been a participant in several Thanksgivings, including the epic 2007 extravaganza. He is also an Austin-based illustrator. baarbarian.com

Butternut Squash Lasagna alla Bolognese

For the past few years I’ve been making various pasta dishes with butternut squash, but each time I sit down to taste them I always find they’re lacking a certain, “how do you say…” And then, one night recently I woke up saying it: “Besciamella” pronounced, besh-a-me-La. This beautiful, white sauce is one of the mother sauces of French cuisine (known in this case as “Béchamel”), but it is also used in many Italian recipes, especially in lasagne alla Bolognese.

Inspiration: Butternut Squash, Parmigiano-Reggiano and Sage

So this, this was my inspiration. A traditional Bolognese lasgana, but instead of a meat ragù, a ragù di zucca. I envisioned tender bits of flavorful squash and sage paired with the rich, creamy, nuttiness of the besciamella. When I finally got around to making this recipe that’s been swimming in my mind, it was everything I dreamed it would be.

Parts to a whole (clockwise from top left): Besciamella, pasta, ragù, formaggio

Brad told me he doesn’t see this as a Thanksgiving recipe. But that’s because the man loves himself some stuffing and he’s secretly hoping I’ll be making the lasagna over and over again this Winter (and I will). But I think this would be a lovely Vegetarian entree or side dish for your Thanksgiving table that will truly show your guests just how thankful you are for them.

Butternut Squash Lasagna, al Forno

I won’t say it’s easy. It has many steps (as does any lasagna), and takes time. At a certain point you will have three pots going on your stove while your oven preheats. But it is only moderate in terms of difficultly and the the rest of what is required from you is love. You can prepare it in advance and bake it when the time comes, serving it from your heart, al forno.

Butternut Squash Lasagne alla Bolognese

Begin with…

Butternut Squash Ragù

  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1 large Butternut squash (about 2lbs.) peeled and diced into 1/2″ pieces
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped (1/2 cup)
  • 1 large or 2 small carrots, finely chopped (1/2 cup)
  • 1 small fennel bulb, finely chopped (1/2 cup)
  • 1 garlic clove, minced
  • 6 sage leaves, minced
  • 3 cups stock (chicken or vegetable, if store-bought, use low-sodium)
  • salt and fresh cracked black pepper

Heat the butter in a large 12″ sauté pan over medium-high heat. Cook the squash, stirring occasionally for about 6-8 minutes until it begins to soften and brown in spots. Reduce heat to medium and add the onion, carrots, fennel, and garlic, stirring occasionally for another 6-8 minutes until the onions are translucent and all the vegetables are beginning to soften. Stir in the sage and add the stock.

Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer, stirring occasionally for about 20 minutes until the squash is tender and beginning to break apart and the remaining liquid is thickened. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

While the ragù is simmering, make…

Besciamella

  • 5 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 1/4 cup flour
  • 3 cups whole milk
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan, add the flour, and whisk until smooth. Continue to cook over medium heat, stirring regularly, until the mixture turns golden brown, about 6-8 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat the milk in a separate pan over medium heat until it is just beginning to bubble. Add the milk to the butter mixture, 1 cup at a time, whisking continuously until the sauce is very smooth. Bring to a boil and cook for 30 seconds longer. Remove from the heat and season with salt and nutmeg.

Finally, assemble the…

Lasagna

  • 1 pound fresh pasta sheets*, or dried lasagna noodles cooked until just al dente, blanched in cold water and drained
  • 1 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
  • Butter

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter a 9-by-13-inch glass baking dish with melted butter.

Reserve 1 cup of the prepared besciamella and layer remaining ingredients from the bottom: ragù, pasta, besciamella, and grated cheese  making 3 to 4 layers finishing with pasta. Top with reserved besciamella and 1/4 cup of the Parmigiano-Reggiano sprinkled over the top. Bake in the oven for 45 minutes, until the top is golden brown and the lasagna is bubbling. Remove from the oven, allow to cool for 20 minutes, slice, and serve.

*I prefer this lasagna with a fresh egg pasta. If I’m not making my own, I like to buy Raffetto’s lasagna sheets, which are also available at Union Market in Brooklyn. Check your local gourmet market or Italian grocer for packaged fresh pasta, either refrigerated or frozen.

Something Special: Roasted Chestnut and Apple Soup

Chestnuts! Popped and peeled.

For a food with song lyrics about it ingrained in so many memories, it’s amazing to me how few people I know have actually eaten chestnuts, let alone roasted them and watched them pop (an activity I don’t recommend, but I’ll come back to that). Admit it, you can already hear Nat King Cole singing “chestnuts roasting on an open fire…” or perhaps The Andrews Sisters singing, “at the fireplace while we watch the chestnuts pop!” – that’s my favorite version anyway.

A little internet sleuthing about why this may be lead me to read about the blight imported from Asia that wiped out the the entire population of chestnut trees from Maine to the Florida panhandles in the early 1900’s. This would be the reason, I suppose, why every recipe I read calls for chestnuts from a jar, and we only sing about roasting them over an open fire.

Coming across fresh chestnuts in a farmers’ market is like spotting an opossum in Central Park. By all rights, they shouldn’t be anywhere near New York. But there they are, as real as pigeons.

– From “The Faint Taste Of a Lost Harvest: Native Chestnuts“, NY Times 2000

Ray Bradley

Here we are in 2011 and I do indeed come across chestnuts at the Greenmarket. For a brief but glorious few weeks earlier this Fall, Ray Bradley harvested and brought them to us here in Brooklyn. I actually began cooking with fresh chestnuts a few years back (they’re available at our Food Coop and non-imported ones often appear during the holiday season), but I had my mind blown the first time I saw Ray wearing gloves and prying the things from their sharp!, spiny outer cupules. I couldn’t believe these nuts that already require so much effort to remove from their inedible hard shells come with another layer of protection. And yet, somehow this knowledge just makes them all the more special to me.

Roasted chestnuts, ready to peel

How To Roast Chestnuts:

Find the flat side of the chestnuts and score them using a sharp knife, all the way through the shell in an X formation. On a baking sheet, roast the chestnuts in the oven at 425 degrees for about 15-20 minutes (if some of them haven’t split open, you can return them to the oven for a bit more time).

Remove them from the oven and wrap in a towel to steam. When they’re cool enough to handle – but don’t wait too long or they’ll be difficult – remove the husks and peel the dark brown skin. The chestnuts should be golden brown, tender and absolutely delicious.

We ate some chestnuts when they arrived at the market in late September, and I threw the rest in the freezer. If you’re lucky enough to find fresh chestnuts, they keep wonderfully this way until you’re ready to roast and eat them. I’ve been thinking about them lately as Thanksgiving approaches – aside from ‘sausage and cornbread’, ‘mushroom and chestnut’ is my second favorite turkey stuffing combination. However, when I recently returned home from a local farm event with several pounds of apples, I thought that the perfect tribute would be a chestnut and apple soup.

NY State Apples

I’m not usually the type of person to make rich soups that start with butter and end with cream. If I cooked that way at home all the time, what would be the fun in restauranting? And my goodness, can you imagine how fat my butt would be? But like I said, I think chestnuts are special. And once you’ve roasted them, and peeled them, you might as well go the distance.

Roasted Chestnut and Apple Soup

Roasted Chestnut and Apple Soup

Makes 4-6 servings

  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 3 stalks celery, chopped
  • 4 large sage leaves, torn into bits
  • 1 teaspoon allspice
  • 1 lb. chestnuts (about 3 cups whole), roasted and peeled
  • 1 lb. apples, peeled, cored and coarsely chopped
  • 5-6 cups stock or water (I like a half and half combination)
  • salt and pepper
  • 3 tablespoons heavy cream
  • Maple syrup for serving

In a heavy stock pot, melt the butter over a medium heat and add the onions, celery and sage. Cook until tender, stirring occasionally, about 8-10 minutes. Add the allspice, apples and chestnuts and stir to coat, cooking for a minute more. Cover with 5 cups stock/water and bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce to medium and allow to simmer for about 20 minutes or until the chestnuts and vegetables are tender enough to mash against the side of the pot.

Puree the soup and add more liquid as needed for the desired consistency (it may be quite thick). Taste and season with salt and pepper, then push the soup through a mesh sieve to catch any stubborn bits of firm chestnut. This will produce a nice silky consistency. Reheat gently as needed and stir in cream. Serve with a drizzle of maple syrup.

If you make this soup ahead of time, wait to add the cream until you reheat to serve.

If you can’t find fresh chestnuts, jar peeled cooked whole chestnuts can be substituted.

So about that popping…

It’s important to score the chestnut husks so they split open instead of popping when they roast. I did this, but I guess I didn’t score a few of them well enough. About 10 minutes in the first one POPPED! and Francine went absolutely insane. It’s sort of like someone firing a gun inside of your oven, the nearly simultaneous popping and then ricocheting of the nut as it catapults from its husk. It happened about 4 times within a few minutes, only causing Francine to grow more and more alarmed that we were most certainly under attack.

Now, barking dogs aside, why would anyone consider it a fun family pastime to sit around and watch the chestnuts pop?