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.

A Pox on Your House, Thomas Keller

There was a line in the show I just directed:  "Some words are meant to be spelled, not used." 

My adaptation of that line: some recipes are meant to be aspirational, not made.

I read food magazines on the elliptical at the gym, which is a way to pass the time and dream about food that I don't always want to make.  So when I read the article about chef recipes made easy, I was intrigued.  Despite the fact that one of them was by Thomas Keller.

I know I've said this before, but I pretty much never use my Thomas Keller cookbooks.  They're fun to look at, but I have no desire to spend six hours and every pot in my kitchen making dinner.  But what can I say?  The recipe sounded great.

Two hours later and only most of the pots in my kitchen sullied (what did I DO with all that time?), I concluded that even a simplified Thomas Keller recipe was more than I wanted to do for a weeknight dinner.  But hey, it sure looked pretty, and it was quite tasty except for the fact that the recipe had the vegetables finishing way before you're ready to use them.  I've modified the recipe here to hopefully get everything to the table still warm. 

I was unable to find large sea scallops on the day I made this, but I recommend them if they are available.  That gorgeous, spicy rice recipe will come later this week.

Seared Scallops with Peanut Sauce

Adapted from Food & Wine Magazine, January 2012

2 tsp. hot curry powder

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

2 tbsp. fresh-squeezed lime juice

1/2 lb. cauliflower, cut into small pieces

6 oz. snow peas, trimmed

2 tbsp. panko crumbs

1/4 cup plus 2 tbsp. crunchy peanut butter, preferably natural

1 1/2 pounds sea scallops, preferably large

Kosher salt and fresh-ground pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.  In a small jar or bowl, shake or whisk together the curry powder and olive oil.  Let this sit for at least 15 minutes, or until the curry settles at the bottom.  Then strain through a coffee filter so the curry is removed, leaving you with just the oil.  Stir in the lime juice and add salt and pepper to taste.

Arrange the cauliflower on a baking sheet and drizzle evenly with two tablespoons of the olive oil.  Meanwhile, bring a small pot of water to a boil for the peas.

In a small skillet, warm one tablespoon of the olive oil.  When it is shimmering, add the panko crumbs and stir until they are slightly toasted, about three minutes.

Pat the scallops dry and season them with salt and pepper.  Place the cauliflower in the oven and bake until it is brown in spots, about fifteen minutes.  Place a large, oven-safe saucepan over high heat and add the remaining olive oil.

While the oil is heating, combine the panko crumbs with the peanut butter and stir to combine. 

When the oil is shimmering, add the scallops and sear them on one side for approximately four minutes.  Then turn the scallops over and lightly sear for another minute;  then remove the pan from the heat and top each scallop with a dollop of the peanut sauce.

Place the saucepan in the oven for approximately two minutes, which should melt the peanut sauce.  Boil the snow peas for approximately one minute, then immediately drain and rinse in cold water.

Remove the scallops and cauliflower from the oven and plate immediately on a bed of the cauliflower and snow peas.  Once the scallops, cauliflower and snow peas are on the plate, drizzle with a little of the curry oil.  Serve immediately.

Serves 4 as a light main dish.



Vintage Gourmet: Prawn Curry

As a movie buff, I am following the whole discussion about The Help with great interest.  This isn't a new discussion, of course, but it seems to have risen as a topic of conversation again because the movie is up for a number of Oscars this weekend, and Viola Davis and/or Octavia Spencer may actually win.

The issue is partially who has the authenticity and the right to tell the story of African-American maids in the 1960s South, and also whether it is demeaning for prominent actresses to have to play maids at this point in their careers.

I'm not participating in this debate, other than to say I'm always happy to see Viola Davis in any role and she gave a great interview on NPR where she talked about drawing on her mother's experiences as a maid.  The movie itself was kind of a meh for me despite some good acting.

The interesting question to my mind is this:  what is authentic? 

I swear that long segue has something to do with cooking.  Last week, I decided to make a prawn curry, mostly because I'd had a not-great chicken curry at an Asian-fusion restaurant the week before that was totally ruined by the addition of a liberal handful of pineapple tidbits.

Surely, I thought, I could make something more authentic than that.  But really, I'm not sure that I did, particularly after reading the terrific curry recipes written by some of my fellow bloggers.

I will say this:  it tasted awfully good, authentic or not.  A warning on the heat quotient:  I left the seeds in the bird peppers, but omitted them from the habanero.  It was what I'd called medium spicy, not for the faint of heart but not requiring either David or I to fan our mouths in pain.

Prawn Curry
Adapted from Gourmet Magazine, August 2008

1 small red bird pepper, minced
1 small yellow bird pepper, minced
1 small orange habanero pepper, seeds omitted, minced
1 tsp. good-quality hot curry powder (I used Penzey's)
1 tbsp. fresh ginger, peeled and minced
4 garlic cloves, chopped
1 1/2 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 tsp. whole mustard seeds
1 tsp. whole coriander seeds
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. ground turmeric
1 medium onion, sliced
1 can light coconut milk
1 1/2 pounds large prawns, peeled

Warm a large skillet over medium heat, then add the oil.  When the oil is shimmering, add the chiles, curry powder, garlic and ginger.  Cook, stirring frequently until the chiles are softened.

Add the mustard and coriander seeds, cumin and turmeric and cook, stirring frequently, until the seeds start to pop.

Add the onion and cook for about another five minutes, stirring occasionally, until it starts to go limp.  Then add the coconut milk and stir to combine the ingredients.  Cook until the milk is reduced slightly, about five minutes.

Add the shrimp and cook until they are bright pink and cooked through, about five to seven minutes.  Taste for seasoning and serve hot with jasmine or basmati rice.  I added a few drops of sesame oil to the rice for a little additional depth of flavor.

Serves four as a main course.

Something Out of Nothing: Makeover Edition

I  started rehearsals today for the new play I am directing, which means that for the next five weeks I will almost never be home for dinner.  "Dinner" will be protein bars, fruit and some tea grabbed between leaving my office and arriving at the theatre.  Whoever said theatre was glamorous had another think coming.

For the last week, I have been cooking as often as I can, using whatever was in my refrigerator and pantry to inspire meals.  On the day of the bosses' day lunch, for instance, here is what came home with me:

That's right.  No chicken adobo, but about 8 cups of jasmine rice.  Add some shrimp and a few things out of the pantry, and you've got shrimp fried rice.  I don't actually like restaurant fried rice:  it seems greasy, heavy and salty.  It's not something that I would ordinarily choose to make, but I have a thing about wasting food and I wanted to see if restaurant fried rice could be made over into something appetizing.

Good news:  it can.  I'm not going to lie, fried rice is, you know, fried.  However, the oil can be minimized without sacrificing the flavor.  Dare I say, it actually improves the flavor. 

Made Over Shrimp Fried Rice

Adapted from Cooking Light Magazine, January 2001

2 tbsp. reduced-sodium chicken broth

1 tbsp. white wine*

1 tbsp. fish sauce*

1 tbsp. reduced-sodium soy sauce

1 tsp. sesame oil

1/4 tsp. black pepper

2 tbsp. olive oil

2 large eggs, whisked

1 cup chopped scallions

1 tbsp. fresh ginger, peeled and minced

5 cups cooked white rice (I had jasmine rice)

1 lb. medium shrimp, peeled, cooked and roughly chopped

10 oz. frozen peas, thawed

Whisk together the first six ingredients in a small bowl.

Warm a large saucepan or wok over medium heat, and add the oil.  When the oil is shimmering, add the eggs and stir fry until a wet scramble forms.  Add the onions and ginger;  stir and cook for one minute.  Add the rice, shrimp and peas and cook until the rice is heated through. 

When the rice is thoroughly heated, add the wet mixture and stir to coat the rice.  If it is still too dry, add a little more broth or fish sauce.

Serves four as a main course.

*The original recipe called for two tablespoons of rice wine or sake, neither of which I had on hand. 

A Meal Worth Coming Home To

It's been an eventful five days since I last wrote on this blog.

On Sunday, I did the Portland Marathon with my friend Paul.  It wasn't our best time, but it was a good race and I will take any excuse to travel to Portland.  I tried three new restaurants, made two pilgrimages to my favorite bookstore and decided--again--that I was going to retire from doing marathons.  I'll still do half-marathons, but the training for a full marathon takes up valuable cooking, reading and writing time.  We'll see if I stick to it.

As much as I love eating in restaurants--and I love going to new restaurants--it was nice to cook again last night.  Which is a good thing, since today the new appliances arrived and it looks like some sort of war (what would a kitchen war be called, I wonder?  Discuss.) broke out in my kitchen.

This dish could easily be doubled, and don't skimp on the marinating time for the prawns--you can work on something else during that half an hour.  If you're feeling adventurous and it's more than 40 degrees outside at night, you could cook the shrimp on an outdoor grill.

Post-Marathon Prawns and Saffron Orzo

Adapted from Bon Appetit Magazine, June 2011

For the prawns:

1 lb. prawns or large shrimp, in their shells

3 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 small peperoncino dried pepper, or 1/4 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes

1.5 tbsp. low-sodium chicken broth

1 large fennel bulb, thinly sliced and with fronds reserved

Sea salt and fresh-ground black pepper

1 small head radicchio

2 tbsp. fresh lemon juice

For the orzo:

1 pinch saffron

2 cups low-sodium chicken broth

1 cup orzo pasta

Sea salt and fresh-ground pepper

Put the pinch of saffron in a small bowl with 2 tablespoons hot water and set aside to steep.

Heat one tablespoon of the olive oil in a small sauté pan over medium heat;  add garlic and red pepper and cook for about 30 seconds or until the garlic is light brown.  Keep an eye on this, because the garlic can scorch very quickly. 

Cut the fennel fronds from the stems, and chop enough to equal 1 tablespoon.  Pour oil mixture into a medium bowl, add the fronds and chicken broth.  Stir in salt and pepper to taste.

Cut a slit in the back of the prawns and devein if desired.  Add the prawns to the oil mixture and toss.  Marinate at room temperature for half an hour.

Remove the outer leaves of the radicchio and slice thinly.  Toss the fennel bulb and radicchio and set aside.

For the orzo, put the chicken broth on to boil and add the saffron with its steeping water.  When the water has boiled, add the orzo and cook for up to 12 minutes.  It will need a minute or two less if you'd prefer it al dente.

Heat an indoor grill or panini pan to high.  While it is heating, drizzle lemon juice and last tablespoon of oil to the fennel/radicchio mixture.  Add a little salt and pepper and set the salad aside.

Grill the prawns for two minutes on each side, brushing with the marinade.  The shells should take on a caramel color and the prawn meat will turn bright pink.  Don't overcook--prawns are too good to be tough.

Plate the salad greens and arrange the prawns over them.  Serve with a side of orzo.

Makes enough for two people with leftovers.

Food/wine pairing:  Serve with a lively, bright white wine such as Sauvignon Blanc, Vinho Verde or Viognier.

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.