Not Your Mother's Brussels Sprouts

Steph got some amazing Brussels sprouts at the farmers' market the other day. Even the compost bucket was made beautiful by them. (Note the purple veins in the leaves and the stalk they came on.)



We had them tonight with some leftover chicken meat gently reheated in a cup or so of of dark pan deglazing, orzo, and some crusty bread from Black Crow Bakery. The sprouts were perfectly sweet and nutty, with just the right springy but yielding texture - absolutely head and shoulders above the usual dodgy supermarket version. Tristan - who at the beginning of the meal claimed not to like Brussels sprouts - had seconds. So did Steph and I.

My standard method for sprouts - which I think came originally from Julia Child - is as follows:

Cut off the bottoms of the sprouts if darkened or dirty. Obviously you don't need to do this if you're plucking them right from the stalk. Remove any loose or buggy outer leaves. If they are large, cut the sprouts in half. You want to end up with even sized pieces for even cooking. Par-cook them in a large saucepan full of vigorously boiling water, until easily pierced with a fork but still bright-green and fresh smelling. Check every 30 seconds, as they can get away from you easily, and no one likes an overcooked Brussels sprout. Immediately plunge into several changes of very cold water to stop all cooking. See photo of sprouts in strainer to get an idea of the color you are shooting for. Set aside.



Five minutes before ready to serve, toss sprouts gently in a skillet over moderate heat with a generous amount of butter, until just heated through. Off heat, squeeze half a lemon over them and sprinkle with coarse sea salt. Serve immediately on warm plates.

Stiff Windpipe, Red Feet, and Larousse Gastronomique: They’re All Bad

To celebrate a special occasion some months ago, I forked over a bunch of money to buy the family a copy of the Larousse Gastronomique. It has a reputation as one of the great reference books for foodies.



It’s been a big disappointment. On six or eight occasions, usually over a family supper, we’ve hauled it out, eagerly anticipating an in-depth explanation of some term or concept. For example, earlier this week we looked up a controversial mackerel-family fish known variously as “white tuna” and “Escolar”. Marion Burros at the Times seems to know all about it, but not Larousse. Each time we have looked something up, we have found no reference whatsoever. Most recently, tonight, we found that there was no entry for turkey Tetrazzini. So much for the comprehensive encyclopedia of food and cooking.

The tome is fascinating to dip into, if you have no agenda and just feel like killing some time. For example, here is some information about turbot (entry immediately preceding turkey):

“...Its tough skin lacks visible scales but is covered with small bony tubercles (hence its name, which derives from the Scandinavian word for a thorn).

“Highly esteemed since ancient times and nicknamed roi du carême (king of Lent) for centuries, turbot has been prepared in the most sumptuous ways. For Napoleon, Laguipière created turbot à l’impériale (cut into slices, poached in milk, arranged with crayfish tails and coated with a truffle sauce). The way in which it was cut up at table, with a silver fish slice, was formerly governed by precise rules.”

Mostly, though, it just makes you understand, with exasperation and profound sympathy for American cooks of the mid twentieth century, exactly why Julia Child became so popular as a decipherer of French arcana. From the entry on turkey:

“Selecting and preparing turkey. A good turkey should be young, plump and short-necked, with a supple windpipe. If the bird is old, its feet are reddish and scaly.”

Thank you so much, Larousse Gastronomique.

Really Good Lentils

This is one of those recipes that's so simple and yet - every time - so amazingly more than the sum of its parts. And visually beautiful, in a serene, quiet way. I'm quoting it here almost verbatim from Rogers and Gray's Italian Country Cookbook. Do not substitute ingredients.




Lenticchie
serves 6 as a side dish

1 cup lentilles du Puy or Castellucio lentils
1/2 head garlic, cut horizontally
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
juice of 1 lemon
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves (book calls for "2 to 3 tablespoons chopped fresh herbs," but we like thyme in this)
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Rinse the lentils and place in a large saucepan. Cover with plenty of cold water, add the garlic, and bring to a boil. Simmer very gently for about 20 minutes or until the lentils are al dente. Drain, discarding the garlic, and toss the lentils in the olive oil, lemon juice, and herbs. Season to taste and serve warm.

2004 Edna Valley Vineyard Merlot, San Luis Obispo

Purchased 2009-10-04 at Hannaford supermarket in Yarmouth, for $13.00

Sight: Bright medium garnet moving quickly toward brick. Pretty, with no great depth of color. Looks older than it is, with telltale onionskin highlights at the edges.

Nose: Gentle forest floor – damp leaves and freshly sliced mushrooms. Allspice, black cherry jam, ripe raspberry, leather, prunes, dried cranberry, bit of quiet vanilla, amaretto, seasoned split firewood. Part of the fruit element is a bit wizened, but not with any of the over-ripe raisined quality of an Amarone, say. The intensity is moderate, but everything that is there is very appealing and balanced. At first the nose was plummy and round and puddingy like a good minor Pomerol, but after a couple hours of air it is now more Burgundian, with the fruit notes sharper and more attenuated, and the autumnal qualities more in the foreground. This kind of development in the glass is immensely appealing – what makes wine interesting.

Palate: Sweet plum fruit. Tannins obvious but very soft and savory. Beef au jus. (What it is and probably what it likes … but we had it with chicken in brown gravy and mashed potatoes, which was a fine match too.) Very good merlot typicity. Later, the flavors become less black and more red, with some brandy and cinnamon elements emerging, like a spiced sour cherry tart. Again, moving away from Pomerol toward Beaune. Two excellent experiences for the price of one! Blurb on label mentions olives but I’m not getting that. Okay, now I am. (Power of suggestion?) But in an entirely good way, like a hint of rich, mild, meaty Gaeta olives, not the vegetably green-olive thing that characterized so many central coast reds twenty five years ago.

Finish. Medium length, but growing longer as the bottle sits open. Earlier, the soft tannins were the satisfying show, but now the acid / fruit balance is more prominent. Very good. Brandied quality there that stops just short of being too alcoholic. Wood is present but totally integrated and understated. This is really a nice bottle.


One of the great joys of wine (and life) is its unpredictability. How is this bottle improbable? Let me count the ways: 1) I bought it in a big chain supermarket. 2) It’s a merlot.* 3) It’s from California.** 4) It was very reasonably priced. 5) It is a perfectly mature red wine. 5) It has a level of development and complexity and sophistication that I would be happy to get in a $30 bottle of wine these days. Very nice surprise at this price level.

Is this a great wine? No. Is it a big, attention-grabbing wine? No. Will it get any better? No. Does it pass the drinkability test?*** Yes. Is it a great and affordable introduction to what five years in the bottle can do for a modest wine that is nonetheless balanced enough to handle it? Yes. How often to you get to try a decent wine with some enhancing age on it, right off the shelf? Seldom. Go try it and learn what maturity is all about. Then, in your life, follow the example this wine sets. Age gracefully. Don't overreach, but let all you have hang out unapologetically.



* Unlike some folks who have taken a few too many cues from Sideways, I am not at all prejudiced against merlot. I love good merlot. I’d be a fool if I didn’t. (Ever hear of a little thing called Petrus?) Its just that in my sub-twenty-dollar price range there are SO many tedious over-priced examples out there that after a while you give up from sheer enervation.

** For decades, California, among all the famous wine-producing regions of the world, has consistently shown a truly stunning inability to provide interesting and yet non-freak-show wines for under about $40 in today’s money. Anyone wants to invite me over for some Kistler chardonnay, I’m there. (What can I bring?) Otherwise, you can come find me in the aisle where bottles from any of the dozens of regions in France, Spain, Germany, and Italy that are still churning out lovely bottles for less than $20 reside. And no, I did not omit Australia by accident. Chile? We’ll see. There are possibilities there.

*** Wait. What? Empty? Really? We just opened that bottle as you were putting the plates in the oven! How many glasses did you have? Two big ones? That’s all? Crap.

Hot-and-Cold “Double Corn” Polenta

serves 4

This recipe is a good way to use leftover corn on the cob and other vegetables lurking in your fridge. The contrast of the cold, tart yogurt with the hot, sweet polenta is what makes this dish.

1 cup polenta (I like “Corn Grits” from Bob’s Red Mill)
3 ½ cups water
1 cup milk
1 clove garlic, pressed
4oz grated cheese (I used 2oz Havarti and 2oz Romano)
1 cup plain yogurt
fresh herbs (mint and chives are good choices), minced
cooked on-the-cob corn, cut from 4 ears
mixed vegetables for roasting*
oil
hot sauce
pepper
salt



Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

In a large saucepan, bring the water, milk, and garlic to a boil. Stir in the polenta. When the polenta comes back to a simmer, reduce heat to very low and cook, partially covered, stirring often.

In a roasting pan, toss the vegetables (except for the corn) in a couple tablespoons of oil and sprinkle generously with salt. In a separate roasting pan, toss the corn with a couple teaspoons of oil or a bit of butter and some salt. Put both pans into the oven. After 15 minutes, toss contents of both pans to help with even cooking.

Remove vegetables from oven when tender and slightly browned but still colorful and moist – about 30 minutes. Corn may be done before other vegetables. If so, remove!

Stir the corn into the polenta. Add freshly ground black pepper and hot sauce to taste. Be careful with the salt, as the cheese garnish is salty. Stir the herbs into the yogurt. Place some vegetables, some polenta, and a small dollop of yogurt onto each plate. Sprinkle a little cheese over the polenta and serve.

Put the remaining yogurt and the grated cheese in bowls on the table for diners, with serving spoons.



* I used 1 very large red Italian / Cubanelle style pepper, cut into rings; 6 oz mushrooms, cut into quarters (if small) or large pieces; 4 cloves garlic, peeled; ½ red onion, in 1” chunks; ½ Vidalia onion, in 1” chunks. Zucchini would have been good too, maybe added part way through cooking.

What Wine Should Do for Us

2007 Grüner Veltliner “Wachtberg,” Salomon (Kremstal)



You revisit the beloved and find more there then you expected or even hoped. It is a subtle experience that happens over time. It is not at all like being “hit over the head,” except maybe retrospectively, when you suspect that you have been changed in some felicitous way.

Generally speaking, I observe, across my most satisfying weekend evenings with a bottle of wine, that they were European wines. Of course there are many exceptions. Names provided upon request. But I stand by my statement. Tonight Steph and I opened a bottle that at first seemed very pretty and fresh and summery, but not remarkable. It would never have made it past the first round in a rash tasting. The more time we spent with it the more clear it became that there was something special happening. It never stopped being pretty and fresh, but the variations and the length and the depth just kept increasing. Initially there was a clean, light, “laundry on the line” quality to the wine, with some minerality and crispness but no austerity. As it opened up, the intensity of its stony finish built. In the nose there was honeysuckle and new hay and lemon zest and fennel. This was a joy, but as with all seriously good wines it was the balance that made it all work: Tart, but not sour; ripe, but not sugary; edgy, but not cutting. Still more qualities and more depth emerged – a thickness of texture, a succulence and a near-oriental strangeness that surprised. Cardamom and lovage and a cascade of wet stone smells, like clean littlenecks pouring out of the wire bushel basket into which they were harvested just an hour ago.

A great wine always under-plays its hand. Then, briefly, it doesn’t. The veil drops away and there is neither discretion nor subtlety. Next the veil is back, mystery enhanced rather than diminished by a momentary thrilling disclosure.

Isle of Pines

This recipe is from January 2009 issue of Bon Appetit, but don't hold that against it. Steph and I both totally love this. And we're not normally big mixed drink drinkers. It's a bit sweet, a bit sour, a bit bitter, and a bit pink. Excerpt from the blurb in the magazine: "...little-known classic Cuban cocktail, the Isle of Pines, which takes the old-world name of Cuba's second-largest island." I've inserted some editorial comments.

Isle of Pines
makes 4

1/2 cup pomegranate juice [e.g., "Pom", available in supermarkets - TS]
1 Tb sugar
1 cup white rum [I used amber, because that's what I had, and it seemed fine - TS]
1/2 cup freshly squeezed grapefruit juice [with pulp - about 1 juicy grapefruit's worth - TS]

Bring pomegranate juice and sugar to boil in heavy small saucepan, stirring until sugar dissolved. Boil until reduced to 1/4 cup, about 5 minutes. Cool syrup. [I make double this recipe or more. That way I can just store the syrup in the fridge and use as needed. Too much of a pain to make this cocktail otherwise. - TS]

Pour 2 tablespoons pomegranate syrup, 1/2 cup rum, and 1/4 cup grapefruit juice into cocktail shaker. Fill with ice. Shake vigorously. Strain into 2 Martini glasses. Repeat to make 2 more drinks.