Goodbye Is the Hardest Part

We have all kinds of relationships in our lives...but a theatre director's relationship with a longtime stage manager?

Priceless.

For those who don't know what a stage manager does, it is the person who takes all the blocking notes, keeps the director on schedule, is the primary contact for the the designers (sound, costumes, lights, props) and, when the show opens, has the primary responsibility for making sure that it runs right and on time--and those are just the common duties.  The director hands the show over on the day it opens. 

It's a terrifying thing, or would be if I haven't been fortunate enough to have a small handful of stage managers who I also consider good friends and confidantes.

My friend Erika first stage managed for me when I directed my first professional show, Deathtrap, in 2007.  I would trust her with just about anything, and never had a second's hesitation about handing a show over to her on opening.  I've lost track of how many shows we've done together, but Sandy, the head of our local semiprofessional theatre company, calls us "the Dynamic Duo."

Eeks, it sounds like I'm eulogizing her, doesn't it?  It's not that.  Erika is heading off to a four-year program at a Russian Orthodox seminary to become a counselor.  She moves to Kodiak Island later this week.

It's a perfect fit of a profession for her, and I wish her all the best. 

David and I had Erika and Sandy over to dinner this past Sunday to say our goodbyes, or at least our "farewell for nows."  It was a lovely dinner, but of course bittersweet since we will really miss Erika.

For a first course, we served the Barefoot Contessa's salad with phyllo-wrapped goat cheese.  It's a stunning salad, even if my phyllo purses were not quite as pretty as the ones in the cookbook.  Make sure you serve the salad when the purses are fresh out of the oven.

Summer Salad with Phyllo Purses

Adapted from Barefoot Contessa Back to Basics by Ina Garten

8 sheets frozen phyllo dough, defrosted

8 tbsp. unsalted butter, melted

6 oz. log goat cheese

Baby salad greens (I used a spring mix, about 2 oz. greens per person)

2 1/2 tsp. champagne vinegar

1 tsp. coarse Dijon mustard

1 clove garlic, finely minced

1 tsp. kosher salt, plus more for serving

1/2 tsp. fresh-ground black pepper

1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.  To prepare the phyllo purses, unroll the dough and set aside only what you need to use.  Cover the dough with a very lightly damp dishtowel--I ruined a couple of sheets of dough by using a towel that was too damp.



Trust me, they look so much better when browned.

Spread out one sheet of phyllo on a cutting board and brush all over with the melted butter.  Repeat with the remaining sheets of phyllo--you will want four sheets stacked on top of each other.  Cut the dough stack in half crosswise.

Cut the goat cheese log into discs about 1/4 inch thick.  Place two in the center of each phyllo section, then bring the sides of the phyllo square up to wrap around it.  The Barefoot Contessa compares it to wrapping a circular gift--you'll want to crimp together the top as much as you can, and get the dough as tight as possible around the bottom of each phyllo purse.

Repeat with the remaining phyllo--you will likely have some leftover goat cheese.

Spritz a small baking sheet or cake pan with nonstick spray and place the phyllo purses on it.  Bake for about twenty minutes, or until the purses are lightly browned.

In the interim, prepare the salad dressing by whisking the vinegar, mustard, garlic, salt and pepper in a small bowl.  Then whisk in the olive oil in a steady stream until the dressing emulsifies.

Place the greens in a salad bowl and toss by hand with a pinch of kosher salt, preferably flaked salt.  Then toss with the dressing until the greens are evenly coated.

Plate the salad with a small amount of dressed greens on one salad and one phyllo purse on the other.

Serves four, but could be easily doubled.

Bastille Day

Thanks to everyone who entered the olive oil giveaway last week.  After searching for a random number generator, I found one on random.org--who knew there even was such a site?  The winner is Nami from the terrific blog Just One Cookbook.



Yes, we have a French flag. 
David is obsessed with flags.

My friends Scott and Kathy used to celebrate Bastille Day every year--sadly, they've deserted Alaska and moved to Kentucky, but this year David and I hosted a small Bastille Day dinner to keep the tradition strong.

Since it's been chilly and rainy here in Anchorage, David made Julia Child's beef bourguignon and ratatouille, and I whipped up a frozen white chocolate mousse dessert (coming Friday!) and some savory madeleines.

You read that right.  Savory madeleines. My mouth waters just thinking about them.

We had two couples over for dinner, so David proposed that I halve the original recipe because two madeleines per person sounded like enough.  I refused, which was the right decision.  These little suckers are good, and there wasn't a leftover madeleine to be had.

If you don't have a madeleine pan lying around, the recipe suggested a mini muffin tin--not a bad idea, though obviously not as pretty.

Make sure that your pear is really ripe--mine was not quite there, and had less flavor as a result.

Blue Cheese, Pear and Hazelnut Madeleines
Adapted from Chocolate & Zucchini by Clotilde Dusoulier

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 tbsp. baking powder

3 large eggs

1/2 tsp. sea salt

3/4 tsp. fresh-ground black pepper

2 tbsp. olive oil

1/2 cup buttermilk

3 oz. blue cheese, finely crumbled

1 ripe pear, cored and diced

1/3 hazelnuts, chopped

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Whisk together the flour and baking powder in a small bowl and set aside.  In a larger bowl, whisk together the eggs, salt and pepper, then add the buttermilk, oil and crumbled cheese.

Whisk the dry mixture into the wet one until just combined, then fold in the pear and hazelnuts.

Spritz your madeleine pan thoroughly with baking spray with flour, and then fill the molds two-thirds of the way full with batter.

Bake for about sixteen to eighteen minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into one of them comes out clean.  Cool for a few minutes on a baking rack before unmolding.

Makes twenty-four madeleines. 



An Embarrassment of Riches

Let me begin by saying:  I am not much into cutesy.

Crab is everywhere right now:  fresh boiled crab legs served simply with butter, crab omelets, and something called "Tabby's Crabby Patty."  Please note that the last one is at one of the best restaurants in town.

It may be very good, but I can't get past the name.

Summer in Alaska is an embarrassment of riches when it comes to fish and shellfish.  I won't claim that crab is cheap here, per se, but you can get decent deals on fresh frozen crab legs.  It's a luxury item that's brought back down to earth a little, at least for special occasions.

David and I were invited to a potluck of sorts at a friend's house on the Fourth of July.  Since the Fourth was in the middle of the week, I was feeling anxious about being out of the office, plus I was a little sunburned (not a good look for me--and I'm vigilant with sunscreen!) and generally cranky.  I didn't feel like making that much of an effort, to be honest, but I'm too persnickety to take food that I'm less than proud of to a potluck.

Enter this luxe-looking spread, which looks more complicated than it is.  It takes maybe fifteen minutes to put together, and that's only because you have to shell the crab.  I've tweaked the recipe from how it is originally written because the crab/butter ratio was off.  Also, learn from my mistake and chop the crab a bit finer than you see here.

As an aside, I had a great time at the potluck.  Sometimes it's just hard to leave the house to socialize when I'm in a mood, but I'm always good when I get there.

Before I get to the recipe, don't forget to comment to win a bottle of very good olive oil, my treat--just go here and leave a comment.  I'll randomly choose a comment left by 6 p.m. on Sunday.

Potted Crab Spread

Adapted from Bon Appetit Magazine, April 2012

2 lemons, zested and juiced

2 tbsp. cooking sherry

1/2 cup good quality unsalted butter, softened

1/8 tsp. cayenne pepper, or more to taste

Kosher salt and fresh-ground black pepper

6 oz. lump crabmeat, chopped coarsely but in relatively small chunks

Fresh chopped parsley (optional, but would give it great color)

Boil lemon juice and sherry in a small pan over medium-high heat;  it should reduce to just over a tablespoon.  Set this aside and allow it to cool.

Using a mini-prep food processor, blend the butter with the zest, cooled juice mixture and cayenne pepper until smooth.  Add the zest to taste, then transfer the butter mixture to a small bowl and fold in the chopped parsley (if used), salt and pepper to taste.  Add a bit more cayenne if you like.

Using a small spatula, fold in the chopped crab.  Divide the spread into two ramekins or other serving dishes, then smooth the tops and cover with plastic wrap.  Chill for at least an hour;  you will then need to bring it up to room temperature to serve.

Serve with buttered toasts or your favorite cracker--steer away from strongly flavored crackers to allow the crab flavor to shine.

Makes about one and a half cups of spread.

Lettuce Entertain You

It's never good to start a Monday exhausted, am I right?

Eleemosynary opened on Friday night, and the actors were wonderful.  I was one kvelling director, and hooray for the great review that appeared online on Saturday.  There were four shows that opened on Friday--in Anchorage, of all places--so we're all fighting for audiences and hopefully the review will help.

On Saturday, I cooked a massive dinner for my mother-in-law Hope.  I seriously lucked out in the mother-in-law situation, although I'm not sure how hyperactive David emerged from fairly zen Hope.  I'm going to be wondering about that one for years.

So Saturday was serious cooking therapy--I'll be posting the results of the session this week.

It's really starting to look like spring in Alaska, which means melting gray snow, roads that are alternately slick and dry and moose ambling out of the woods in search of food further afield.  If you're ever thinking of coming to Alaska, this is probably not the time to do it.

This gorgeous salad is colorful, crunchy and substantial.  With the butter lettuce, it just looks like spring.  Although the original recipe called for baby heads of butter lettuce, no such luck finding those here, so I used a hydroponic full-sized head of butter lettuce.  Although my salads looked nowhere near as gorgeous as the ones in the cookbook, they were still suitable for impressing my mother-in-law.

Butter Lettuce Salad with Lemon-Shallot Vinaigrette

Adapted from the Mozza Cookbook by Nancy Silverton

1 batch lemon-shallot vinaigrette (recipe posted here)

1 head butter lettuce, leaves separated but left whole and thoroughly washed

1 cup hazelnuts, toasted

1 tbsp. hazelnut oil (good-quality olive oil would also work)

1 tsp. kosher flake salt

1/2 red onion, thinly sliced and separated into rings

1/2 small zucchini, shaved with a vegetable peeler

1/2 small yellow longneck squash, shaved with a vegetable peeler

1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese

First, make the vinaigrette.  Then chop the toasted hazelnuts and toss with the oil and salt.

When you have sliced the red onion and divided it into rings, place the rings in a small bowl of ice water until you're ready to use them.

Combine the zucchini and squash shavings in a small bowl and toss with one tablespoon of the vinaigrette. 

Place one large leaf of the butter lettuce on each salad plate.  When you are ready to plate, tear the remaining lettuce into large pieces by hand and toss with the vinaigrette and half a cup of the hazelnuts in a large bowl, being careful not to overdress the salad.  Any remaining vinaigrette will keep in the fridge for at least a week.  Add a small amount of salt and pepper to the dressed salad if necessary.

Mound a small amount of the zucchini-squash mixture on the lettuce leaves on each plate, then carefully pile a small amount of the dressed lettuce on top.  Then carefully slide two rings of the red onion around the lettuce leaves, which should then hold their shape on the plate.

Repeat with the remaining plates, then sprinkle a few additional hazelnuts on each salad and dust with the Parmesan.  Makes six appetizer-size salads.

Are You Ready for Some Football?

In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that I am not a football fan.

I grew up in football country.  My lack of attention to the football games of my high school years, in which I played in the marching band but yet never managed to absorb the rules of the game, is infamous.  My master's degree is from the University of Nebraska, one of the famous football schools.  I didn't go to a single game while I was there, although in my defense I was working two jobs in addition to my classes. 

David and I are invited to Super Bowl parties every year, and if I don't have other plans I'll tag along and read a book, glancing up occasionally at the commercials.  This too has earned me much mocking.

This year I don't have to endure the mocking, as the final show of Love, Loss and What I Wore is on Sunday afternoon.  I'm hoping that our audience will be a big group of women who ditched their husbands/significant others in front of the television and yelled "I'm going to go have some fun with the girls--don't wait up for me!" as as they raced out the door.

However, when I was deciding what to post next, this was the clear winner--an easy, totally delicious finger food that is as at home at a Super Bowl party as it was at the New Year's Eve party where they disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The key here is really good-quality sausage.  The original recipe calls for lamb sausage, but I substituted a spicy chicken andouille.  It would be interesting with a good chicken apple sausage, but whatever you use, make sure it has some personality.

Haute Pigs in Blankets

Adapted from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook by Ina Garten

4 large links andouille sausage (about 1 lb.)

2 sheets puff pastry, thawed

2 tbsp. Dijon mustard

1 egg

1 tbsp. milk

Whisk together the egg and milk and set aside.  Preheat the oven to 400 degrees, and place the sausages on a  cookie sheet.  Bake sausage until cooked through, about 20-25 minutes, turning halfway through.

While the sausage is baking, place the sheets of puff pastry on a floured surface so the pastry won't stick.  Slice each sheet of pastry in half lengthwise and brush with the Dijon mustard.

When the sausage is cooled, place one link on each length of puff pastry.  Roll it up, covering the entirety of each sausage and brushing the ends with the egg wash and pinching them to thoroughly seal the bundles.  If there is extra puff pastry on the ends, trim it off.  Repeat with the other sausages.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and space the sausage rolls out on it.  Brush the tops of the rolls with the remaining egg wash and lightly score the tops of the rolls into 6-7 pieces.

Bake for approximately 20 minutes, until the rolls are browned.  Cool for about five minutes, slice and serve.

And the Crowd Goes Wild (for Arancini)

Happy new year to everyone!

Like most people, I will be eating more salads and upping my exercise to get over the excess of the holidays.  The jeans still fit, but I know I've eaten too many bad-for-me foods over the past two weeks. 

But before I head into healthy-recipe season, I want to share the last of the fried recipes from Chrismukkah dinner.  To say these were crowd-pleasers is an understatement.  They disappeared just as quickly as I could set them out.

This recipe is ripe for experimentation, and you could make it with other varieties of risotto.  Just make sure to keep the mozzarella cubes small enough to pop in the middle of the rice balls, and after experimenting on the size I recommend keeping them about the size of ping-pong balls.

Arancini di Riso (Deep-Fried Risotto Balls)

Adapted from Lidia's Italy in America by Lidia Bastianich

5 cups low-sodium chicken stock

3 tbsp. olive oil

1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped

2 cups Arborio rice

1 cup dry white wine (I used pinot grigio)

1/2 tsp. truffle or kosher salt

1 tsp. fresh-ground black pepper

1 cup frozen peas, thawed

1 cup fresh Parmesan, finely grated

12 basil leaves, chopped

4 oz. fresh mozzarella, cut into small cubes

1 cup all-purpose flour

2 large eggs, beaten

2 cups fresh bread crumbs, toasted

Vegetable oil for frying;  enough to have an each deep in the frying pot

Heat the chicken stock over medium heat in a small pot;  keep warm on the stove.  In a medium saucepan, heat the olive oil.  Then add the onion and cook until lightly browned.

Add the rice to the onion, and toss to coat the rice.  Add the wine and bring the pot to a simmer. 

Add three cups of the chicken stock, the salt and pepper.  Bring the pot back to a simmer, stirring frequently until the stock is absorbed.  Then add the remaining stock in two installments and cook until the rice is al dente.  You will want to use all the stock.

Stir in the peas, then spread the risotto out on a baking sheet and allow it to cool to room temperature.  When it is cool, add the cheese and basil and fold to combine.

To assemble the arancini, wet your hands and take a quarter-cup of rice at a time and roll it into a ball.  Poke a cube of mozzarella into each and patch with a little more risotto to cover if necessary.

Prepare the breading station by putting the flour, eggs and bread crumbs into bowls.  Heat vegetable oil in a large deep pot;  make sure the oil doesn't exceed 350 degrees. 

Roll the arancini in the flour and shake off any excess.  Then dip the ball in egg and roll it in bread crumbs.

When all the arancini are assembled, add them a few at a time to the oil.  Fry until a deep golden color, turning them over with a wire skimmer to ensure they're browned on all sides.

Drain the arancini on cooling racks covered with paper towels.  Makes about 30 arancini.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Menorah

It's Chrismukkah in Cucina49.  What's Chrismukkah, you say?  It's what David and I name the rare holiday season where Hannukah and Christmas collide.

Jewish holidays are on a lunar calendar, so Hannukah can fall anywhere in December.  There are years it's started at the very beginning of December, and years when it is at the very end.  This year it started at sundown this past Tuesday night, which means it's a Chrismukkah year in our household.



In the lobby of Cyrano's 
on the second night of Hannukah.



It's been a busy week with the closing of the wonderful, sold-out run of Inspecting Carol tonight and the start of rehearsals for my next project, along with helping out at a theatre whose board I sit on.  The main Hannukah ritual is lighting a menorah each of the eight nights, so I've started a project I call "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Menorah," where the menorah has come with me for the past couple of nights to wherever my evening commitment has been.  Have menorah, will travel.



Backstage at Inspecting Carol on the third night of Hannukah. 





Before I share one of my favorite recipes from this holiday season, I want to thank my friends and fellow bloggers who have read, commented upon and advised on this blog, which is just five months old.  I've loved hearing from all of you and value your input.  A special thanks to two bloggers who have sent me virtual kudos over the past month:  Curry and Comfort, a fabulous blog specializing in international food and particularly the food of India, which awarded me a "Versatile Blogger Award," and Gluten Free Food, a blog that makes living gluten-free look very tasty, which awarded me a "Fabulous Blogger Award" earlier this week.  Thank you Ramona and Balvinder for the kudos!

I've made the following recipe twice in the last month and will likely make it again in an appetizer version for our big Chrismukkah dinner on Sunday.  You can vary the meats used in the meatballs to suit your taste, but this is one of those moments when (ahem) I'm going to ignore a little pork working its way into the food. 

Mama Lidia's Meatballs

Adapted from Lidia's Italy in America by Lidia Bastianich

I used crumbs I made from a stale loaf of rosemary bread,
which added another layer of flavor.

2 pounds 80% lean ground beef

1 pound ground mild Italian sausage

2 cups breadcrumbs, preferably fresh

1/2 cup parsley, chopped

1 large carrot, coarsely chopped

2 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped

2 stalks celery, coarsely chopped

1 medium yellow onion, coarsely chopped

1 tsp. truffle or kosher salt

1 tsp. fresh-ground black pepper

2 large eggs

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.  Once the oven comes up to temperature, toast the breadcrumbs for two to three minutes if you are using fresh ones (which I highly recommend).

 Prepare two large cookie sheets by lining them with parchment paper.

Place the carrot, celery, onion and garlic in the bowl of your food processor and pulse until the vegetables are almost liquefied. 

In a large bowl, combine the meats with your hands until thoroughly mixed.  Add the vegetable mixture, salt, pepper and breadcrumbs and mix again.  Beat the eggs in a small bowl and add them to the mixture, along with the parsley.  Mix again with your hands to combine the ingredients thoroughly.

Shape the mixture into balls with your hands.  You can vary the size of the meatballs--this recipe makes at least 48 large ones or 96 small ones. 

Bake for approximately eighteen to twenty minutes, depending on the size of the meatballs you are making.  This will result in a par-baked meatball that can then be finished while cooking in a sauce.  For a thoroughly cooked meatball, bake for another two minutes.

 

Serve with pasta or as an appetizer with a mustard or marinara sauce on the side.

To Pork or Not to Pork: That Is the Question

Once again, that sounds dirty.

But really, it refers to my conundrum:  if I am going to cook through Italian cookbooks, to really learn Italian food, what is a semi-religious Jew to do?

I am a reform Jew, and a twice-a-year Jew at that:  the high holidays and Passover, although I would say that being Jewish, the ethics of being Jewish, inform my daily life.

You see the problem here:  Italian cooking inherently involves a lot of pork.

I admit, I cheat:  a little salumi here and there, but that's about it.  On Sunday, I found myself staring at the extensive pork section of A16:  what is a Jew to do?

I'm deferring that answer for another day and substituting chicken.  Fortunately, it turned out delectably, tender and toothsome with a salty-sweet relish.  To die, I tell you.

This recipe is perfect for either a weeknight dinner or, if you're feeling like you want to impress people, an appetizer for a dinner party. 

I'm deferring the inherent conflict for another day.  In the interim, this recipe is brilliant.

Chicken Spiedino with Pine Nut, Garlic and Currant Soffritto
Adapted from A16 Food + Wine

2 pounds skinless chicken thighs, cut into even chunks
Kosher salt
1/2 cup dried currants
3/4 cup pine nuts
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2/3 cup roughly chopped garlic cloves
2 ounces arugula
Wooden skewers

After cutting the chicken thighs into chunks, toss with aproximately 1 tablespoon salt.  Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least an hour.

Put the currants in a small bowl and cover with warm water to rehydrate, for at least 20 minutes.

While the currants are hydrating, put the pine nuts and all but a tablespoon of the olive oil in a small pan over low heat.  Warm to a low simmer, stirring often--this will want to stick--for about 6-7 minutes, or until the pine nuts start to brown.

Add the garlic and simmer for about 8 minutes, until the garlic turns golden.  This mixture takes some careful watching and stirring, as you don't want to scorch the garlic.

When the garlic is golden, drain the currants and add them to the pan.  Remove the pot from the heat and cool on the counter.  The soffritto can be made ahead of time.

When you are ready to cook the chicken, remove it from the refrigerator and let stand for 30 minutes.    Toss the chunks with the reserved tablespoon of olive oil.  Soak approximately 10 wooden skewers in warm water while the chicken is coming to room temperature.  20 minutes out from cooking, start a hot charcoal grill--stack all the coals on one side, so you have both direct and indirect heat.

String the chicken chunks onto the skewers, with no more than five chunks per skewer.  When the fire is ready, put the skewers on the direct-heat side of the grill for approximately a minute, until they become less pink and have grill marks.  Then transfer the skewers to the other side of the grill and cook until fully cooked, approximately 10 minutes.

In the interim, arrange a platter with a bed of the arugula.  When the chicken is done, place the skewers on the platter and drizzle with the sauce.  You will have plenty of extra sauce;  save it for future dishes, including the panino that I will share later this week.

Serves 4 as a main course;  6 as an appetizer.