Holiday Hangover

I am having a serious holiday hangover.  Not an alcohol hangover, or a food hangover, but just general malaise related to the holidays.  It felt like the holiday season was longer than ever this year--I don't know whether it is that Hanukkah was early or the party rounds started even earlier.  All I know is that I have an absolute inability to make small talk anymore.  I need a vacation.

It probably doesn't help that I am directing a show these holidays and we open in ten days.  It's a very intellectual play called Freud's Last Session, which imagines a conversation that Freud would have had with C.S. Lewis (a/k/a the theologian who wrote the Narnia books).  I'm not sure I have the requisite brain cells for this show some days.

I did manage, though, to make this month's Cake Slice pick--Mississippi Mud cupcakes with marshmallow frosting.  The cupcakes made the rounds of two parties on Saturday, plus went to a rehearsal. 

The frosting took a little work, but the cupcakes were a snap--use your favorite chocolate cupcake recipe and add about a cup of chopped pecans. 

As for the frosting?  Let's just say I ate spoonfuls of it out of the bowl.  I adapted the original recipe slightly to decrease the amount of sugar and increase the vanilla.

Marshmallow Frosting

Adapted from Vintage Cakes by Julie Richardson

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1/4 tsp. cream of tartar

1/2 cup water

4 large egg whites

1/8 tsp. fine salt

2 1/2 tsp. vanilla

Stir together the sugar, cream of tartar and water in a small pot over medium heat.  Bring this to a boil, then cover with a lid and boil for an additional two minutes.

Uncover the pot and let it cook until a candy thermometer registers around 240 degrees, which is the soft ball stage for candy.

While the syrup is cooking, add the eggs whites and salt to the bowl of a stand mixture and whip them into firm peaks.  When the whites are at the firm peak stage, transfer the syrup to a measuring cup with a lip and then pour it gradually down the side of the mixing bowl. 

Keep whipping the egg white mixture until the peaks are very firm, then add the vanilla and whip the mixture again briefly.

Makes enough frosting for 24 cupcakes and some eating out of the bowl.

Bouquets of Freshly Sharpened Pencils

One chapter of this summer is closing.  My parents have just left after their annual visit to Alaska.  Another chapter is opening, though;  tomorrow I start rehearsals for On Golden Pond.  I always think of the first day of rehearsals like the first day of school:  anything can happen.  There is anticipation mixed with a little dread.  My evenings and Saturday afternoons will no longer be my own, there will be drama (hopefully mostly) onstage, but a little offstage as well.  It's inevitable.  The goal is that at the end we will have something wonderful.

The late, wonderful Nora Ephron wrote a great line that Tom Hanks writes to Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail.  He refers to the beginning of the school year in New York and says that if he could, "I would send you bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils."  I love that line.  It speaks of the same optimism with which I start the rehearsal process whenever I direct.

It's funny, but I never use pencils--except when I direct.  The notes I write for my actors, to be given at the end of rehearsals, are always in pencil.  The stage manager always writes notes in pencil in the script, so they can be changed at any time.  Theatre is a constantly evolving process, a living thing.

Tomorrow the cast will sit together for the first time and read through the script.  Several of them have never met, but they will spend much of the next ten weeks together. 

In honor of the occasion, I am bringing them these brownies.  They have great texture and a sweetness that I hope the twelve-year-old in the cast will love, but I made them with a combination of Ghirardelli and Guittard chocolates, which I hope the adults will appreciate.

The next time I make these, I will cut back the granulated sugar to 3/4 cup.  If you like a slightly less sweet brownie, I recommend this adaptation.

Rocky Road Brownies

Adapted from Fat Witch Brownies by Patricia Helding

6 tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature

2 oz. unsweetened chocolate (I used Ghirardelli)

1/4 semisweet chocolate chips (I used Guittard wafers, chopped)

1 cup granulated sugar

2 large eggs

3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp. salt

1/3 cup butterscotch chips

1 cup mini marshmallows

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and spritz a 9 by 9 baking pan with nonstick spray with flour.

In a small saucepan, melt together the butter, unsweetened chocolate and two tablespoons of the semisweet chocolate over medium heat.  As soon as all the ingredients are melted, remove the mixture from the heat and set aside.

In a medium bowl, beat together the sugar and eggs until they are light and slightly foamy.  Add the chocolate mixture and then sift in the flour and salt.  Beat the mixture again until just combined.

Spread half the batter in the pan and bake for about 12 minutes.  While this is baking, add the butterscotch chips, marshmallows and remaining semisweet chocolate to the batter and stir together.  Remove the pan from the oven and spread the remainder of the batter over the bottom layer.  Bake for about 15-18 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean.  Some of the marshmallows may burst and spread goo over the brownies;  don't worry, this just makes them tastier.

Cool the brownies for an hour on a wire rack.  Makes 12 to 16, depending on size.

Apron Anxiety

It's always interesting when food bloggers reach national  prominence.  Some of them rise to the top by just being great writers who cook appealing and approachable food, a la Orangette or Pioneer Woman, both of whom seem to be universally loved in the food blogging community.  And then there are the ones who irk most food bloggers, like Julie Powell.

I can't decide how I feel about Alyssa Shelasky, a/k/a Apron Anxiety, who has a sassy personality and a girlfriend's gift of flowing gab but who is also well-connected and sometimes feels as if she is name dropping.  A former writer for People Magazine who finagled a meeting with a Top Chefs contestant on whom she had a crush, she transplanted her life from NYC to Washington, D.C. (a place she labeled provincial) to she could live with him.

If D.C. is provincial, I can't imagine what she'd think of Alaska.

When she has too much time between freelance assignments, Alyssa teaches herself to cook.  The blog is a mishmash of fun photos (mostly not taken by her), coy storytelling in which she omits nearly everything about her personal life (as if she were saving it for the book) and the occasional recipe.  It's fun, but you wouldn't learn a lot about cooking from it.

The book gives the juicy details of her "relationchef" (relationship with a chef)--his name is Spike, and I have to confess that I don't have cable so don't have a clue who he is.  There are also more details about learning to cook, and I'm not going to lie--it's a fast, fun read, but I really wondered whether she would have received a book deal if she hadn't had her connections.  It's what I would call a good airplane read, but she's like the friend of your spouse that you're glad you only have to see once a year.  She wears out her welcome.

I will credit her blog, though, for leading me to the recipe for Fat Witch's white chocolate raspberry brownies, which are the perfect blend of fruit and chocolate.  They are sticky, and the white chocolate chips drifted to the bottom and stuck, but they are completely delicious.

Any idea how to keep chips suspended in batter as the brownies bake? 

White Chocolate-Raspberry Brownies

Adapted from Fat Witch Brownies by Patricia Helding

14 tbsp. unsalted butter, softened

1/4 cup milk chocolate, chopped or in chip form

1/4 cup plus 2 tbsp. bittersweet chocolate, chopped or in chip form

4 large eggs

1 cup granulated sugar

1 tsp. vanilla

1/2 cup plus 1 tbsp. all-purpose flour

1/4 tsp. salt

1/2 cup white chocolate chips

1/2 cup raspberry preserves, heated slightly to make it spreadable

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Prepare a 9 by 9 baking pan either by buttering it or thoroughly spritzing it with a baking spray with flour.

Using a double boiler or a small metal bowl over simmering water, melt the butter, milk and bittersweet chocolate.  Set aside the mixture to cool.

Whisk together the eggs, sugar and vanilla in a medium bowl, then whisk in the butter/chocolate combination.

Sift together the flour and salt into the mixing bowl, when stir thoroughly to combine.  Add the white chocolate chips and then stir again.

Pour half the batter into the pan, then do your best to spread the preserves over the batter--mine wanted to clump.  Then add the other half of the batter, smooth it so it's even and bake for about 35 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Cool on a baking rack.  Makes 12 good-size brownies.

This One's For You

Friday night, David and I went to a memorial service for a friend and former colleague who died in his mid-40s of natural causes.  Darryl was a prankster, an inveterate giver of advice (I remember him giving me dating advice circa 2005), and someone who loved to eat and drink.  He would have loved people getting together to raise a glass and tell funny stories about him--it's just a shame he couldn't be there to see it.

On a less somber note, it was a weekend filled with mostly great, sunny weather and friends.  My very first boyfriend from high school came through with his family after disembarking from an Alaskan cruise and we met them for dinner.  We also went to a fun potluck at our friends Arundel and John's, to which I took these brownies.



Brownies day 1, fresh out of the oven.



I know everyone swears they have the best brownie recipe, but I submit this one for your consideration.  I call them the "World's Best Brownies," which is probably an exaggeration, but they are simple, adaptable to mix-in ingredients and utterly delicious.



On the first day, the brownies have a slightly flaky crust and a cakelike texture.  On the second day, the crust disappears and the brownies become denser and fudgier.  I made them late Friday night and by Saturday evening they were at their best. 

I used hazelnuts in this recipe, but walnuts, chocolate chips or toffee bits would also be great mix-ins.  Darryl would have scarfed about three of these.  Darryl, this one's for you.

Ultimate Chocolate-Hazelnut Brownies

Adapted from Fat Witch Brownies by Patricia Helding

14 tbsp. unsalted butter, cubed
1/2 cup plus 2 tbsp. bittersweet chocolate chunks or chips
1 heaping cup granulated sugar
4 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup plus 2 tbsp. all-purpose flour
1/2 cup hazelnuts, coarsely chopped
Pinch of salt


Brownies, day 2--look how fudgy they are!

 Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Spray a 9 x 9 square baking pan with baking spray with flour, or butter and flour it.

Using a double boiler, melt the butter and chocolate over low heat until melted, then allow to cool.

Using a hand mixer, beat together the sugar, eggs and vanilla until just combined, then beat in the cooled chocolate.

Sift the flour and salt together in a small bowl, then add to the chocolate mixture.  Beat the mixture until well-combined, then stir in the hazelnuts.

Spread the batter in the pan and bake for 30 to 33 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.  Allow them to cool for an hour, if you can--David was into them at the half-hour mark and they were still great.

Makes 12 good-sized brownies.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

It is cold here.  Like, zero is the day's high temperature kind of cold.  The car protests when left outside at work, even David occasionally thinks it's too cold to go ski and everyone's skin seems perpetually chapped.

Then I talked to an opposing attorney in Fairbanks yesterday, and he informed me that it was 35 below.  In the middle of the day.  Talk about perspective.

Although I'm continuing to eat (mostly) healthy, I am really craving warm, hearty comfort food at night.  Not in huge portions, and not made with a stick of butter, but comfort food nevertheless.

When we made the Tuscan Chicken on Sunday night, I made a big pot of rosemary-scented polenta to go with it.  We've been continuing to eat the polenta with the leftover roast chicken, but last night I really wanted a little red meat, preferably in a red wine sauce, to go over the polenta.  I made kebabs of sirloin and braised pearl onions that were ridiculously good, and went together so fast that it didn't even occur to me to take more pictures.

The pearl onions can be either fresh or jarred.  When I went to the store last night, the fresh pearl onions were looking a little sad.  I think the same four bags had been sitting there for a while, so I went with the jarred.  If you use the jarred, I recommend rinsing and drying them before browning. 

Beef and Braised Onion Kebabs with Red Wine Jus

Inspired by a Recipe from epicurious.com

30 small pearl onions, jarred

1/2 tbsp. unsalted butter

1/2 tbsp. fresh-ground black pepper

1.5 tsp. rosemary, chopped

4 cloves garlic, chopped

1 tsp. extra-virgin olive oil

Pinch of kosher salt

1/2 lb. sirloin steak, trimmed of fat and cut into 1/2 inch cubes

1 cup dry red wine

Rinse the pearl onions in a colander.  In a medium skillet, melt the butter over medium heat and add the onions.  Cook for about three minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onions brown lightly.  Add the salt and pepper, cover the onions with water and turn the heat to low.  Cook for another 15 minutes.

While the onions are cooking, toss the beef cubes with the olive oil, rosemary and garlic and set aside to marinate. 

When the onions are cooked, remove them from the heat and separate the onions from the cooking liquid.  Reserve the liquid in the skillet and allow the onions to cool.

When the onions are cooled, string the beef cubes and onions on either metal skewers or soaked bamboo skewers.  The recipe is enough to make about six kebabs.

Preheat the broiler to high and place the skewers on a cookie sheet sprayed with nonstick spray. 

Return the onion cooking liquid to the stove.  On medium heat, add the residual marinade from the beef and the cup of wine.  Heat to a simmer.

Broil the kebabs for two to four minutes;  they do not need to be turned.  Three minutes resulted in a nice medium-rare kebab.

Serves two;  serve with polenta and drizzle with the wine sauce.

Rosemary-scented Polenta

Adapted from Gourmet Magazine, January 2009

6 cups water

1.5 cups polenta

1 tsp. sea salt

2 tbsp. unsalted butter

3/4 cup cheese, finely shredded*

2 tsp. fresh rosemary, chopped

Fresh-ground pepper to taste

In a medium saucepan, bring the polenta, water, rosemary and salt to a boil.  Reduce the heat and simmer the mixture uncovered for approximately twenty minutes.  Stir frequently with a long-handled spoon, because it will want to stick to the bottom of the pot.

Remove the pan from the when the polenta is tender but not mushy and all the water has been absorbed.  Stir in the butter and cheese and add fresh-ground pepper to taste.  Makes enough polenta for four to six people, or enough for two with lots of leftovers.

*Be creative with the cheese, although I'd recommend using a harder cheese.  I used an aged cow's-milk cheese from New Jersey called Pawlet that my brother-in-law sent us, but a good Parmesan or Pecorino would work too.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

This weekend was chock-full of the good, the bad and the ugly.

First, the good:  Love, Loss and What I Wore opened on Friday to a full house and was a benefit for our local chapter of the YWCA.  We were sold out again on Saturday and while we had a smaller house yesterday, the audiences have just eaten up the show. 

The bad:  stage fright.  I haven't acted in so long that I've forgotten what it was all about.  It didn't show in my performance, fortunately, but I was petrified going out there on opening night.  It really helped that my fellow actors were so amazing that I warmed up before too long.

The ugly:  the tiramisu cake I made yesterday for this month's Cake Slice pick.  You'll see what I mean on Friday. 

And a second entry for "the good":  last night's dinner.  How many of you were readers of the late, lamented Gourmet Magazine?  My guess is most of you.  It kills me that when I sold my house in 2008 to move in with my now-husband, I recycled almost a hundred issues of Gourmet because I didn't want to move them.  I figured that there were plenty more issues to come, right?  A year later Gourmet stopped publication. 

I have a handful, maybe ten, of random issues that survived the Great Recycling Binge of 2008, and I treasure them.  This recipe is a reminder of what made Gourmet so great.  I'll post the polenta recipe tomorrow.

Tuscan Chicken with Olives and Pancetta

Adapted from Gourmet Magazine, January 2009

Large chicken, backbone cut out and cut into 10 pieces*

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1.5 tbsp. rosemary, chopped

1.5 tbsp. thyme, chopped

1/2 tbsp. sea salt

4 peperoncini, crushed

5 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed

2 slices pancetta, diced (optional)

1 cup dry white wine (I used Vermentino;  any white will work as long as it's bone dry)

1/2 cup of good-quality pitted olives (I used a mix of black and green)

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees and position a rack in the middle.

In a large bowl, combine the chicken, olive oil, rosemary, thyme, salt and pepper flakes, ensuring that the chicken is coated with the oil and spices.  Lay the chicken pieces skin-side up in a rimmed pan--we used our large paella pan and it worked perfectly.

Scatter the garlic over the chicken pieces, along with the pancetta.  Roast until the chicken skin browns, about 25 minutes.  Remove the pan from the oven and drizzle the wine over the chicken, along with scooping up pan juices and pouring them over the chicken so it remains moist.  Bake for another 8 minutes, then remove the pan from the oven again and add the olives.

Bake for another 15 to 20 minutes, until the chicken is golden and cooked through.  Remove from the oven and tent with foil.  Allow to sit for another 10 minutes or so before serving to let the flavors intensify.

If you are watching what you eat at this time of year, remove the skin from the chicken before eating.  The flavor is still fantastic, and the fat is significantly reduced.

Suggested Wine Pairing:  Italian wine, naturally.  I used a lovely crisp Vermentino to cook the chicken, and it was a great match for the final dish.  If you prefer reds, a fruit-forward red such as Negroamaro or even a good-quality Chianti would be a good match.

*The way we cut it, there are ten pieces:  two wings, two drumsticks, two thighs and each breast is cut in half.  The original recipe recommended cutting the chicken breasts into three pieces each, but I think that's overkill.

Don't Know What to Do with Myself

It's 9 p.m. on a Wednesday and I'm home.  I don't remember the last time that happened, and I especially don't remember the last time I watched television on, you know, an actual television. 

David makes fun of me because I say I don't watch television, but there are a few shows I watch on Hulu when I have time.  Over the last month I've gotten hooked on an ABC show called Revenge, which is just ludicrous soapy fun.  Plus I really like to mock one of the character's New England lobster fisherman accent (if that's what it is, in which case it seems like an insult to lobster fishermen).  And the clothes are fun.

Tomorrow we start the slog into technical rehearsals for Inspecting Carol, which opens the day after Thanksgiving.  I won't be home (or sleeping) much for the next eight days, which hopefully will pay off when the show opens.  I have to watch bad television while I can.

It strikes me that unhealthy (but tasty) food is the only accompaniment for bad television.  This fall, David received a fondue pot for his birthday, in memory of the terrific fondues we had in Switzerland this past spring.  It's surprisingly hard to find a good fondue recipe, because it's such a retro food.  Fortunately, one of my favorite food writers--Mark Bittman--had an easy one in his How to Cook Everything Vegetarian.  Bittman, who writes for the New York Times, is a terrific, no-nonsense arbiter of what people really want to eat.  This recipe is no exception.

Classic Cheese Fondue

Adapted from How to Cook Everything Vegetarian by Mark Bittman

2 cups dry Pinot Grigio

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1 tbsp. cornstarch

2 cups Emmenthaler cheese, shredded

2 cups Gruyere cheese, shredded

Fresh-ground black pepper

Accompaniments:  cubed crusty bread, cubes of medium-rare steak, baby carrots

Start with the fondue pot on the stove (if yours is stove-safe), combining the wine and the garlic over medium heat and bring to a simmer.  Combine the cornstarch with a tablespoon of cold water and stir thoroughly, until the cornstarch is incorporated.

Reduce the heat and add the cheese, stirring constantly over low heat.  Keep the mixture at a simmer--do not boil--and cook for approximately ten minutes.

Add the cornstarch mixture and stir thoroughly to combine.  Cook for another five minutes and continue stirring.  It may look like the mixture won't come together.  If the mixture remains clumpy at that time, add wine by the tablespoonfuls until the fondue thins out.  Transfer the fondue pot to its burner and watch to ensure that it doesn't burn.  Add a little fresh-ground pepper to taste.

Serve with desired accompaniments.  Sure, it isn't vegetarian anymore if you serve chunks of steak, but it sure is delicious.

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

Cold Comfort

It's been a long week over here in Cucina49-land.  Not because of work, which is fine, or even the fact that I'm hardly home between work and rehearsal--I expect that. 

We were always meant to be at an awkward phase with the play, which opens two weeks from tonight.  The actors put down their scripts at the beginning of the week, which always leads to trainwrecks and uncertain acting.  We're going through that ugly duckling phase, which is worrisome but usually works itself out.

It's not even that I lost another actor last night, which I did.  It was the manner in which the actor exited, refusing to take direction or give his fellow actors his best work.  It was the actor yelling at me that this was not an enjoyable experience, leaving several of the actors and my inimitable stage manager wondering what they had done or if it was their fault.  It was the yelling at me that their emotional instability was being caused by the show.  It was the fact that this actor was a good friend and managed to make me feel a combustible combination of angry, deeply sad and worried, questioning my own abilities.

The fact that it wasn't either true or fair isn't much of a comfort. 

There are times that you have to be professional when you really want to be a mess.  A few weeks ago, before I started rehearsals, when I said that I didn't always want to be a leader--well, this is why.  Staying calm and reassuring the cast when I don't feel assured costs something.  Even with a good cast and a supportive husband and a fabulous stage manager, it's lonely to be in this position.

So, on this cold and snowy night, when I go to rehearsal to talk to the cast and crew and encourage us to move on, I am taking a big box of cupcakes from a place called Cake Studio.  It won't make everything better, but it's a start.

Snow City

During the night, it began to snow heavily here in Anchorage.  Snow makes me want to cook.  Of course, as my friend Paul says, so does rain.  And sun.  But never mind that.

Despite all the warnings, I managed to forget that daylight savings time started this morning.  This made my early awakening an extra-early awakening, and I found myself in my kitchen before 7 a.m. preparing to bake a cake for our new neighbors and start a pot of something warm and filling for lunch today that I can continue to eat for lunch into the week.

I have to tell you, no one is at my neighborhood grocery store at 7 a.m.  It's apparently the time to go if you want to miss everyone, particularly if you happen to still be wearing your pajama pants under a long coat and with a polka-dotted pair of Wellington boots.

The cake I'll blog about another day.  The main event was a Moroccan-influenced slow cooker chicken dish.  David hates the slow cooker with a passion (I have yet to figure out why;  maybe because he likes the idea of big casseroles simmering on the stove?), but even he had to admit this dish was a hit.

Serve this over couscous or brown rice, and add a dollop of plain yogurt to the top or--if you're feeling fancy--a mint raita.  While savory, this dish has an interesting acidic tang thanks to the stewed lemons.

Slow Cooker Moroccan Chicken

Adapted from Slow Cooker:  FoodMadeFast

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

3 lbs. boneless, skinless chicken thighs

1/4 cup olive oil

2 tsp. ground cumin

1.5 tsp. cayenne pepper

2 cups low-sodium chicken broth

1/2 cup chopped Italian parsley

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1 yellow onion, sliced

1 shallot, chopped

1 can crushed tomatoes with purée

1 can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

1 lemon, quartered

Kosher salt and fresh-ground pepper

Combine the flour, one teaspoon of kosher salt and an equal amount of pepper in a wide, shallow dish.  Pat the chicken thighs dry and dredge them in the flour;  set aside--don't discard any leftover flour.




Make sure to shake off any excess flour;  otherwise, the chicken will have a gummy coating.

 Warm the olive oil in a large, shallow skillet over medium-high heat.  Add the chicken thighs in a single layer;  this may mean you make more than one batch.  Brown the chicken on one side for seven to ten minutes until it is a deep caramel color.  Turn the chicken over and cook for another two to three minutes.  Make sure the chicken is well browned.  When it is all done, add the chicken in a single layer in the pot of the slow cooker.

Add the remaining flour to the frying pan, along with the cumin and cayenne pepper.  Stir until the spices are fragrant, about one to two minutes.  Add the chicken broth all at once and deglaze the pan, loosening the browned bits.  Pour the contents of the skillet over the chicken thighs.

Top the chicken with the onion, shallot, parsley, garlic and tomatoes.  Distribute the lemons in the corners of the slow cooker pot.  Cook on the high setting for four hours;  then add the chickpeas and cook for approximately another hour.  Remove the lemon quarters when you add the chickpeas, and taste for seasoning, adding additional salt and/or pepper if needed.

Serve with brown rice or couscous.  Serves 6 as a main course.

Back to School

I like school, other than the fact that I have nightmares about it.

That's not totally true.

I like learning, particularly about things that help me out not at all in the real world.  Offer me a class about cooking, wine, theatre or literature and I'd be there.  I'm convinced that I'm going back to school to either become a chef or a sommelier later in my life.

It's just math classes and not remembering my locker combination that feature in my nightmares.  A psychologist could almost certainly have a field day with this, but occasionally I have nightmares about being unable to remember my locker combination, failing a math test or forgetting to drop a class until the end of a term.  Hmm.

But I do love learning, and with this in mind I went to check out a new-ish cooking school on Tuesday night and dragged David (quite a good cook in his own right) with me.  I wasn't sure what to expect, other than the class was Italian Food.

The problem was that it was cooking for beginners, which was great for most of the people there.  The instructor was friendly and boiled things down to the basics, but once I caught that there wasn't much to be learned I played around with making the perfect puttanesca sauce.  I make sauces all the time that are almost puttanesca, but this time I was going to follow the recipe to the letter.  Except, you know, for adding an extra anchovy, which I totally recommend.

Fun fact:  puttanesca means "like a whore" and is named for the dish that (ahem) prostitutes would make between clients.

The photos show sauce for one, but I've quadrupled it for a standard size recipe.

Too-Easy-For-Words Puttanesca Sauce

Adapted from Let's Cook Alaska and epicurious.com

4 cloves garlic, chopped

8 anchovies packed in oil, rinsed and chopped

4 cups good-quality crushed tomatoes

1/2 cup chopped black olives

2 tbsp. capers, drained

2 tbsp. fresh oregano, chopped or 1 tbsp. dried

1/2 tsp. hot red pepper flakes

1/4 cup olive oil

12 oz. dried spaghetti

Kosher salt and fresh-ground pepper

Start a large pot of water boiling for the pasta;  when it reaches a boil, salt it well and add the pasta.

Add the olive oil to a large saucepan over medium heat.  After a minute, add the garlic, anchovies, red pepper and a pinch of salt.  Sauté for up to two minutes, until the garlic is just golden.  Be careful not to overcook.

Add the crushed tomatoes, breaking up the chunks with a wooden spoon, along with the olives and capers.  Turn the heat to low, add the oregano and cook, stirring occasionally, while the pasta cooks.

When the pasta is done to your taste (I prefer mine al dente, which usually means less than 10 minutes boiling time), drain well and add to the saucepan.  Toss with tongs and add salt and fresh-ground pepper to taste.



Sorry for the blurry quality of the photo;  the light was not good in the dining room.  The chopped salad was terrific--I'll post that recipe soon, too.

Serves 4 people, or 2 with plenty of leftovers.

Variations:  For a strictly vegetarian dish, omit the anchovies.  If you are a cheese lover, you could grate fresh parmesan over the pasta.

Food/wine pairing:  Chianti, baby.

Cooking with Beer, Part Two: Mussels in White Beer-Mustard Sauce

Is there an unexplored market out there for people wanting to cook with beer?  The last cooking with beer post had an overwhelming response.  I kept thinking of a line from that 10,000 Maniacs song "Candy Everybody Wants":  "give 'em what they want."

Seriously, I'd forgotten what a good song it was.  Check it out.

But I digress.  It's been that kind of day.  I leave tomorrow for Portland to do the marathon on Sunday and I'm running around in circles. 

Hence, the need for a simple but satisfying fall dinner.  This recipe is adapted from a Bon Appetit recipe that called for five fresh herbs and about fifteen other ingredients.  I've streamlined it to use what I had in my fridge, but you could substitute whatever fresh herbs you had around:  the others in the original recipe were chives, tarragon and chervil.  Don't go crazy buying herbs for this, because whatever you've got will be just fine.  It's that kind of meal.

The recipe calls for Belgian white beer, but I went local again with another beer from Midnight Sun Brewery. 


Once again, who names these things?  Check out the Lady Godiva-esque figure.  Riding a caribou, no less. 

This goes together in less than half an hour, assuming you don't get all fancy about it.  I recommend against it.

Mussels Steamed in Beer with Parmesan Croutons
Adapted from Bon Appetit Magazine, May 2010

3 slices hearty white or sourdough bread, cut into 3/4 inch cubes

1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese, shredded

1 tbsp. olive oil

3/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

2/3 cup 2% milk

2 tbsp. Dijon mustard

1/2 tbsp. grainy mustard

1 tbsp. unsalted butter

3 garlic cloves, minced

2 tbsp. fresh thyme, chopped

2 lb. mussels, scrubbed

1/2 cup green onions (white and pale green parts only), chopped

1 12-ounce bottle white beer, local if possible

Fresh-ground black pepper and salt, to taste

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Toss the bread cubes, cheese and oil in a small bowl until the cubes are coated;  add extra oil if necessary.  Spread the cubes on a baking sheet and bake for 15 minutes or until golden brown.

While the croutons are baking, whisk together the milk and mustards in a small bowl and set aside. 

Chop the parsley and set aside.

Melt the butter in a large pot that has a lid.  Add the garlic and chopped thyme, stir for a minute until the garlic starts to brown.  Add the mussels, green onions and beer.

Add the mustard mixture and some pepper, then cover with the lid and allow to steam for 3 minutes. 

Add 2/3 of the parsley and cover the pot again.  Allow to cook for another 5 minutes.

Take off the lid and get rid of any mussels that are cracked and unopened.

Serve the mussels in a bowl with the broth poured over them;  garnish with the croutons and remaining parsley.

Makes up to 6 appetizer servings;  serves 4 as a main course.

Food/wine pairing:  David drank the leftover beer and I managed to try it--I think if you like beer, it's a great match.  Otherwise, pair with a high-acid Spanish wine such as Albariño.

In Praise of Oktober: Cooking with Beer

Yes, you read that title right.  Friday was the start of Anchorage's Oktoberfest, which obviously doesn't have a patch on the German version but is a much-loved event.  Polka bands, dancing, beer songs, and of course lots and lots of different kinds of beer.

I'm not a beer drinker.  With that said, I like the flavor of beer in food.  It gives a rich, malty quality to chili, tastes good in mussel dishes and--most especially-- is the essential flavor in beef carbonnade.

I first learned about this dish when David and I went to Brussels last year.  Although I picked a great hotel near the subway line, it wasn't particularly close to any interesting restaurants.  We wandered around and around our first night there and finally went into a undistinguished-looking little café.  The menu wasn't huge or varied, but there was the expected large beer list and the best dish I ate in Brussels:  beef carbonnade.

This is essentially a beef stew flavored with dark beer, either Belgian or Belgian-style.  The Midnight Sun Brewery in Anchorage makes a dark Belgian-style ale called Monk's Mistress, and I appreciate the local connection.  Sure, you could always use Chimay, but it might be fun to try a local beer.



Seriously, who gets the job of naming these things? 

This is Oktoberfest food:  full-flavored and hearty, tasting of fall. 

Beef Carbonnade (Belgian Beef Stew with Dark Beer)
Adapted from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything and Bon Appetit Magazine

2 lbs. beef top round, trimmed of fat and tendon and cubed
All-purpose flour
4 tbsp. olive oil
2 large yellow onions, sliced into thick rounds
2 tbsp. unsalted butter
3 tbsp. brown sugar
6 garlic cloves, peeled and sliced
4  bay leaves
20 oz. dark Belgian or Belgian-style beer
2 cups beef broth, plus more to thin stew if needed
1/2 tsp. fresh thyme leaves
3 tbsp. red wine vinegar
1/4 chopped fresh parsley
Salt and fresh-ground pepper to taste

Dredge the beef cubes in flour.  Heat three tablespoons of oil in a large Dutch oven until shimmering.  Add the beef to the hot oil in batches--making sure not to overcrowd the cubes.  You don't want to overload the pan, otherwise the meat will steam rather than brown.  Brown each batch of cubes thoroughly, then drain on paper towels.

When the beef cubes are done, add the butter and last tablespoon of oil to the pan and stir to release the brown bits on the bottom.  Add the onions, sugar, the last tablespoon of butter and a tablespoon of red wine vinegar.  Sauté the onions until caramelized and soft, approximately 20 minutes.

When the onions are done, add the beef, beer, stock, garlic, bay leaves and thyme to the pot.  Cover the pot and simmer on the lowest heat for at least 1 hour and 45 minutes, until the beef is very tender.  Stir occasonally and add the last two tablespoons of red wine vinegar about half an hour from the end of the cooking time. 



The steam keeps it from being totally clear, but the stew thickens beautifully.  If you need to thin it, add extra stock.  If you like it thicker, use a flour-water slurry.

Add salt and freshly-ground pepper to taste.  Serve over hot egg noodles and sprinkle with parsley. 

Serves 4-6 as a main course.

Food/wine pairing:  Actually, beer might be the better choice here.  Drink a lighter-style Belgian ale, a German wheat beer or a stout.  If you prefer wine, try a Cabernet/Syrah blend such as Charles and Charles from Washington State.