Yogi Berra, so weirdly wise, once quipped: "You can observe a lot just by watching."
I'm trying hard these days to observe a lot, or pay attention. Suffice it to say, this has not always been my forte. But I am glad to be slowing it down and taking a look around.
I saw the first goldfinch of the season yesterday, busily flitting from branch to branch in brilliant yellow regalia.
I took my time really tasting the dinner I made tonight...really paying attention to the texture and flavors, understanding how certain techniques used while cooking contributed to my enjoyment of it.
I didn't get annoyed when Arnold's vet appointment was nearly 45 minutes late. I observed that the elderly man next to me had a pet-pal with a grave emergency. I tried to give him whatever consolation you can get from a stranger in the waiting room.
We are all in it together. So what if we're late? So what if something goes on hold until to tomorrow? So what if you don't take the call right away? So what?
In our quest for high speed living in the age of technology we have tuned everything out with our cell phones and i-pods, including how the drek (Yiddish for excrement) that we pulled out of a cardboard box and "nuked" is a poor substitute for a wholesome dinner with family or friends.
I want to see goldfinches. I want to go slow at the table to decide if I like more or less of a seared crust on a scallop. I want to not be the undignified person in the waiting room throwing a fit because "my-appointment-was-45-minutes-ago-and-I'm-on-a-schedule-here" while the old man next to me is losing his best canine friend.
I hope I don't lose this perspective if I have a series of rushed and stressful days further down the road. I hope I can keep observing a lot, just by watching. And I hope that the work I do in others' kitchens allows them to slow life down by a notch, so they can watch, observe, and with any luck, enjoy.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Itinerant Wanderings: Asheville, NC
My sister Susan and I took our mom, MeeMaw, to see the Biltmore Estate in celebration of her recent landmark birthday. After a very civilized lunch in the library of the Biltmore Inn, MeeMaw and I sunk into some overstuffed club chairs for a moment and listened to the piano player work the eighty-eights with dazzling brilliance. MeeMaw said, "I feel just like a queen." I think I can speak for my sister as well when I say that that is exactly how we wanted her to feel.
Of course, we can't take all the credit...the restaurateurs of Asheville fed us like royalty.
Sazerac (http://ashevillesazerac.com/) was our first stop. Although Sazerac bills itself as a cocktail lounge, its food was a sensation. We dined under a clear evening sky on an airy rooftop filled with laughter and merriment. MeeMaw and Susan had a delicious soup infused with crab and French brie and I was wowed by a charcuterie platter. The sausage had such a wonderful flavor and texture, I have to assume that being in the heart of pork country is a real blessing for North Carolina chefs.
We also had a fabulous meal at the Posana Cafe (http://www.posanacafe.com/). They have a largely gluten-free menu and they focus on healthy cuisine, but so well-balanced and decadent are the flavors that you don't get that not-so-satisfied feeling you get when you go to one of those places that wants to beat you over the head with sprouts. Factor in the ultra-stylish decor and the nicest owner and staff you could ever hope to meet and you'd agree that it's darn-near perfect. Plus, the roasted quail MeeMaw ordered was served over this porcini rissotto that, had it been on my plate, might have been literally licked clean!
The people of Asheville also treated us like royalty. Maybe they thought we were with the President's entourage (the Obamas picked the same weekend for an Asheville getaway), but they were beyond awesome. People were nice and they meant it...because that's just how they seem to do things around there. Traffic considerately stopped to let us jaywalk. Every reasonable request was honored in the twinkling of an eye. People gave compliments that actually came across as sincere. Fashion and pretense were totally non-existent...but style and individuality came through. The manager/maitre d' at the Posana Cafe told us that Rolling Stone magazine voted Asheville "the happiest place to live". I'm willing to believe him because MeeMaw, Susan, and I had one of the happiest weekends we've ever had. Being nice has a very real ripple effect.
And I think I'm going to carry this one with me for a long time.
Of course, we can't take all the credit...the restaurateurs of Asheville fed us like royalty.
Sazerac (http://ashevillesazerac.com/) was our first stop. Although Sazerac bills itself as a cocktail lounge, its food was a sensation. We dined under a clear evening sky on an airy rooftop filled with laughter and merriment. MeeMaw and Susan had a delicious soup infused with crab and French brie and I was wowed by a charcuterie platter. The sausage had such a wonderful flavor and texture, I have to assume that being in the heart of pork country is a real blessing for North Carolina chefs.
We also had a fabulous meal at the Posana Cafe (http://www.posanacafe.com/). They have a largely gluten-free menu and they focus on healthy cuisine, but so well-balanced and decadent are the flavors that you don't get that not-so-satisfied feeling you get when you go to one of those places that wants to beat you over the head with sprouts. Factor in the ultra-stylish decor and the nicest owner and staff you could ever hope to meet and you'd agree that it's darn-near perfect. Plus, the roasted quail MeeMaw ordered was served over this porcini rissotto that, had it been on my plate, might have been literally licked clean!
The people of Asheville also treated us like royalty. Maybe they thought we were with the President's entourage (the Obamas picked the same weekend for an Asheville getaway), but they were beyond awesome. People were nice and they meant it...because that's just how they seem to do things around there. Traffic considerately stopped to let us jaywalk. Every reasonable request was honored in the twinkling of an eye. People gave compliments that actually came across as sincere. Fashion and pretense were totally non-existent...but style and individuality came through. The manager/maitre d' at the Posana Cafe told us that Rolling Stone magazine voted Asheville "the happiest place to live". I'm willing to believe him because MeeMaw, Susan, and I had one of the happiest weekends we've ever had. Being nice has a very real ripple effect.
And I think I'm going to carry this one with me for a long time.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Finer Points of London (Broil, that is)
In my quest to live every day to the fullest and to live well, I learned early about the expression "has champagne taste and a beer budget." So I made it somewhat of a mission to make the less choice cuts of meat taste as good as the stuff going for 19.99 per pound. I have been surprisingly successful in this endeavor. Allow me to introduce you to the London Broil. It's ultra-healthy, amazingly inexpensive, and show-stoppingly good.
The term London Broil is totally confusing. As far as I know, it has nothing to do with London, England and you will achieve far better results, hands-down, if you grill it rather than broil it. To add to the confusion, London Broil also means different things to different people. In some areas, it refers to a beef-wrapped sausage. When I first started cooking, someone told me it was the same thing as flank steak, which again is a regional thing...in some areas flank steak and London Broil are interchangeable terms. But as far as I can tell, here in sunny Cleveland, the term "London Broil" usually refers to an over-sized top-round steak.
The term "top round" probably doesn't tell you much either, unless you know a lot of butchers. But the cut I am describing is from the muscular part of the cattle's hind leg. This muscularity means it is packed with a lot of healthy protein and very little fat. In addition to being healthy, it is also very affordable. (Mine was 5.99 per pound, in contrast more highly-prized cuts of beef that can go for upwards of 19.99 per pound).
London Broil is always cut thick. Really, really thick. Almost TOO thick. For this reason, I butterfly my London Broil to create two thinner pieces of beef. It can then be marinated, but I find that just seasoning it, drizzling the surface with oil, and allowing the meat to come to room temperature before you cook it is also a very nice preparation, and allows the natural beef flavor to stand out (rather than showcasing the marinade).
The most important thing to remember with London Broil is to avoid overcooking it. If you must have well-done beef, then choose another cut of beef. No, really. This is not an edict of food snobbery mandating that you eat your meat rare to medium-rare, this is an empirical fact: the longer you cook London Broil, the tougher it gets. Since this cut does not have the texture of, say, Filet Mignon, to begin with, the longer you keep it on the heat, the more likely you are to have an un-chew-able piece of shoe leather on your plate. I cook it for a scant 3-4 minutes a side on a searing-hot grill or grill-pan.
Finally, when you slice it to serve or eat, cut it just as thin as you can, going against the visible grain of the meat. Somehow, this magically relaxes any muscle fibers that were still trying to stay tough after cooking. It sounds strange, but it really works to make the meat tender on the fork.
And since I like everything with just a little sauce, I will also tell you that a little chimichurri, or light sauce of fresh green herbs and citrus, was positively symphonic on London Broil.
The term London Broil is totally confusing. As far as I know, it has nothing to do with London, England and you will achieve far better results, hands-down, if you grill it rather than broil it. To add to the confusion, London Broil also means different things to different people. In some areas, it refers to a beef-wrapped sausage. When I first started cooking, someone told me it was the same thing as flank steak, which again is a regional thing...in some areas flank steak and London Broil are interchangeable terms. But as far as I can tell, here in sunny Cleveland, the term "London Broil" usually refers to an over-sized top-round steak.
The term "top round" probably doesn't tell you much either, unless you know a lot of butchers. But the cut I am describing is from the muscular part of the cattle's hind leg. This muscularity means it is packed with a lot of healthy protein and very little fat. In addition to being healthy, it is also very affordable. (Mine was 5.99 per pound, in contrast more highly-prized cuts of beef that can go for upwards of 19.99 per pound).
London Broil is always cut thick. Really, really thick. Almost TOO thick. For this reason, I butterfly my London Broil to create two thinner pieces of beef. It can then be marinated, but I find that just seasoning it, drizzling the surface with oil, and allowing the meat to come to room temperature before you cook it is also a very nice preparation, and allows the natural beef flavor to stand out (rather than showcasing the marinade).
The most important thing to remember with London Broil is to avoid overcooking it. If you must have well-done beef, then choose another cut of beef. No, really. This is not an edict of food snobbery mandating that you eat your meat rare to medium-rare, this is an empirical fact: the longer you cook London Broil, the tougher it gets. Since this cut does not have the texture of, say, Filet Mignon, to begin with, the longer you keep it on the heat, the more likely you are to have an un-chew-able piece of shoe leather on your plate. I cook it for a scant 3-4 minutes a side on a searing-hot grill or grill-pan.
Finally, when you slice it to serve or eat, cut it just as thin as you can, going against the visible grain of the meat. Somehow, this magically relaxes any muscle fibers that were still trying to stay tough after cooking. It sounds strange, but it really works to make the meat tender on the fork.
And since I like everything with just a little sauce, I will also tell you that a little chimichurri, or light sauce of fresh green herbs and citrus, was positively symphonic on London Broil.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Scofflaw in the Kitchen: Grilled Saltimbocca
Chicken Saltimbocca is a favorite dinner of mine. Chicken breast is seasoned with salt, pepper, sage, and prosciutto and then sauteed to a lovely golden brown and served with a barely-there sauce of lemon and white wine. It is a light, lovely, piquant entree.
The word "saltimbocca", roughly translated from Italian means "jumps in your mouth." Indeed, the interplay of flavors with lemon, sage, and prosciutto is a real treat on the tongue.
I had planned on making saltimbocca this week, but the 80-degree, sunshiney weather yesterday evening practically forbade me from turning on the cooktop in the kitchen. THIS was grilling weather. So I gave the recipe a detour.
I made a slap-dash beurre blanc and threw in plenty of lemon juice, white wine, chopped sage, and a liberal amount of salt and marinated the chicken breasts in the components that would normally be used to create a sauce. Also, it's worth noting that when I don't have a lot of time to allow meat to marinate, I actually heat the marinade in the microwave and pierce the meat a couple of times with a fork. The warm marinade seems to penetrate just a little better that way, but you have to be careful that the liquid is not hot, or you will start to cook the meat! After marinating for about a half hour, I wrapped the chicken breasts in bacon and threw them on a hot grill. As it grilled I basted the chicken frequently with the marinade (Please note to use caution and a long handled baster...the fat in the marinade creates a lot of flame). I gave the meat about 2 five-minute sessions per side, for a total grilling time of about 20 minutes.
Before serving, I sprinkled each chicken breast with a little more chopped sage and gave them each a squeeze of some more fresh lemon juice. I served this with couscous and fresh, young green beans. Saltimbocca was as lovely grilled as it is sauteed.
A big part of cooking is making adaptations. Sometimes you've forgotten an ingredient at the market, sometimes what is called for is out-of-season, and sometimes you'd prefer trying another cooking method (i.e. grilling versus cooking indoors). It is perfectly acceptable to disobey recipes. Of course there are cases where deviating from the instructions will not work out so perfectly, but in many cases, you can actually control your grocery budget, eat the freshest items at the peak of their season, or create new dishes by using your recipes as an inspiration rather than a rulebook.
If you are cooking, then let it always be inspiring and seldom a chore. If bending the rules helps toward this goal, then I fully encourage you to be a scofflaw in the kitchen.
The word "saltimbocca", roughly translated from Italian means "jumps in your mouth." Indeed, the interplay of flavors with lemon, sage, and prosciutto is a real treat on the tongue.
I had planned on making saltimbocca this week, but the 80-degree, sunshiney weather yesterday evening practically forbade me from turning on the cooktop in the kitchen. THIS was grilling weather. So I gave the recipe a detour.
I made a slap-dash beurre blanc and threw in plenty of lemon juice, white wine, chopped sage, and a liberal amount of salt and marinated the chicken breasts in the components that would normally be used to create a sauce. Also, it's worth noting that when I don't have a lot of time to allow meat to marinate, I actually heat the marinade in the microwave and pierce the meat a couple of times with a fork. The warm marinade seems to penetrate just a little better that way, but you have to be careful that the liquid is not hot, or you will start to cook the meat! After marinating for about a half hour, I wrapped the chicken breasts in bacon and threw them on a hot grill. As it grilled I basted the chicken frequently with the marinade (Please note to use caution and a long handled baster...the fat in the marinade creates a lot of flame). I gave the meat about 2 five-minute sessions per side, for a total grilling time of about 20 minutes.
Before serving, I sprinkled each chicken breast with a little more chopped sage and gave them each a squeeze of some more fresh lemon juice. I served this with couscous and fresh, young green beans. Saltimbocca was as lovely grilled as it is sauteed.
A big part of cooking is making adaptations. Sometimes you've forgotten an ingredient at the market, sometimes what is called for is out-of-season, and sometimes you'd prefer trying another cooking method (i.e. grilling versus cooking indoors). It is perfectly acceptable to disobey recipes. Of course there are cases where deviating from the instructions will not work out so perfectly, but in many cases, you can actually control your grocery budget, eat the freshest items at the peak of their season, or create new dishes by using your recipes as an inspiration rather than a rulebook.
If you are cooking, then let it always be inspiring and seldom a chore. If bending the rules helps toward this goal, then I fully encourage you to be a scofflaw in the kitchen.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
How I Learned to Love Life...and Food
A friend of mine is compiling an unusual memoir for publication. He is having each of his close friends write an essay about him. He will then edit and compile this collection.
Though it may sound like the machinations of an egomaniac, let me assure you that it is not. My friend, who I will call Randy, as not to expose his tome before its time, has truly had an exceptional life that SHOULD be documented. I can hardly wait to read the finished product.
Randy recently asked me to participate in this project. It was a quiet Sunday and mi esposo had gone fishing, so I set my hand to writing Randy's story.
Randy and I had many adventures in Chicago in the early 1990's, but as I continued my rough draft I realized that many of our adventures were culinary in nature. Randy took me to my first Oktoberfest, taught me what "tapas" meant, and explained why Chicagoans were so passionate about their deep-dish pizza. He exposed me to authentic Mexican, Thai, and Polish food for the first time in my nineteen years. Previously, I was one of those vegetarians who barely tolerated vegetables. I basically lived on noodles, potatoes, and cheese sandwiches...that was all I knew of food. Randy showed me new flavors and enabled me to develop a palate.
And then, there were the evenings "in" with Randy. For a time, Randy was my only friend in Chicago. I didn't know a soul, so every weekend was spent carousing with my sole pal. Randy lived with a brother who was almost NEVER home minding his swank abode. So, on weekend nights, we had the kitchen to ourselves. On Friday nights, after commuting there from work (Randy) and school (me) we were half-starved by the time we hit the doorstep. We began a game in his brother's kitchen of seeing what we could create with ingredients already in the pantry. It was almost a dare to see who would eat what. We came up with as many flashes of brilliance as we did bouts of nausea. But it was FUN.
In fact, everything with Randy was fun. He had a "joie de vivre" that was positively infectious. He never said no to anything. He seemed to know everyone, not just in town, but in the world. Sometimes, I suspected he exaggerated his tales, but he was so gung-ho about everything that there just had to be a reason. I was an awkward, shy, lonely kid going through extraordinary growing pains, but I just followed his lead. Eventually, I caught on that I, too, was put here to seize the day and value every moment given to me.
As time wore on, I tried out Randy's style for myself. Classes got more interesting. Life suddenly showed me opportunities. Food tasted better. Everything, in some strange way, was a gift.
Up until the moment Randy asked me to write for his book project, I never considered the influence he had on me. I can see now, that it's no accident that I cook for a living. Those Friday's in his brother's kitchen taught me that food and life is one big, exciting experiment.
Though it may sound like the machinations of an egomaniac, let me assure you that it is not. My friend, who I will call Randy, as not to expose his tome before its time, has truly had an exceptional life that SHOULD be documented. I can hardly wait to read the finished product.
Randy recently asked me to participate in this project. It was a quiet Sunday and mi esposo had gone fishing, so I set my hand to writing Randy's story.
Randy and I had many adventures in Chicago in the early 1990's, but as I continued my rough draft I realized that many of our adventures were culinary in nature. Randy took me to my first Oktoberfest, taught me what "tapas" meant, and explained why Chicagoans were so passionate about their deep-dish pizza. He exposed me to authentic Mexican, Thai, and Polish food for the first time in my nineteen years. Previously, I was one of those vegetarians who barely tolerated vegetables. I basically lived on noodles, potatoes, and cheese sandwiches...that was all I knew of food. Randy showed me new flavors and enabled me to develop a palate.
And then, there were the evenings "in" with Randy. For a time, Randy was my only friend in Chicago. I didn't know a soul, so every weekend was spent carousing with my sole pal. Randy lived with a brother who was almost NEVER home minding his swank abode. So, on weekend nights, we had the kitchen to ourselves. On Friday nights, after commuting there from work (Randy) and school (me) we were half-starved by the time we hit the doorstep. We began a game in his brother's kitchen of seeing what we could create with ingredients already in the pantry. It was almost a dare to see who would eat what. We came up with as many flashes of brilliance as we did bouts of nausea. But it was FUN.
In fact, everything with Randy was fun. He had a "joie de vivre" that was positively infectious. He never said no to anything. He seemed to know everyone, not just in town, but in the world. Sometimes, I suspected he exaggerated his tales, but he was so gung-ho about everything that there just had to be a reason. I was an awkward, shy, lonely kid going through extraordinary growing pains, but I just followed his lead. Eventually, I caught on that I, too, was put here to seize the day and value every moment given to me.
As time wore on, I tried out Randy's style for myself. Classes got more interesting. Life suddenly showed me opportunities. Food tasted better. Everything, in some strange way, was a gift.
Up until the moment Randy asked me to write for his book project, I never considered the influence he had on me. I can see now, that it's no accident that I cook for a living. Those Friday's in his brother's kitchen taught me that food and life is one big, exciting experiment.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Steelhead: A Study in Freshness
I've had quite a few entries about fish lately. I swear, I really do eat other proteins! But I have been eating lots of light, bright, springtime selections, and fish has worked so well with that program. So bear with me...chicken, beef, and pork are not in permanent exile.
But my latest fish story is about Steelhead Trout. A few weeks ago, I was lab-testing some trout recipes for a special event. I repeated my recipes with a wide variety of trout I found at my grocer's fish counter: rainbow, golden, and steelhead. In the end, I chose rainbow trout for the event because I thought it best accepted the seasonings for this particular recipe.
Nevertheless, I had been very excited to see steelhead at the grocery store. I really don't remember ever seeing it there before. While I am unsure of that particular grocer's source/purveyor, I was bolstered by the fact that I know steelhead definitely occurs locally. The grocery store steelhead that I had tested was fine, but it was MUCH stronger than the other varieties of trout that I tested. Not offensive, just strong. I thought it overpowered the light lemon-almond flavor profile I was going to be using, so I made a mental note that steelhead would be a good choice when I wanted to use a powerful sauce.
Barely a week later, mi esposo, a sport fisherman, called me to ask how I wanted him to wrap up and store the steelhead fillets he had just caught out on the Chagrin River that day. More trout! We had been eating a lot of fish and the busy Easter weekend was coming up, so I advised him to freeze his catch. It was the best option for our schedule.
Well, I thawed out his catch and we sampled his steelhead at dinner this evening. Despite the fact that we froze it, the best fish monger in town cannot hold a candle to what recently came fresh out of a local river. This steelhead was not the least bit strong. The flavor was so light and the texture was so buttery that I have a hard time imagining why all of these fisherman throw back their catches (that,I'm sure, is a discussion for another occasion). Really, though, our fresh steelhead had nothing in common with the grocery store stuff by the same name...nothing!
I am not going to stop eating grocery store fish entirely...I don't have the luxury, but I am going to look at this experience as a reminder that fresh really IS better. Everyone is spouting the rhetoric about "fresh and local" to a degree that if you surround yourself in food culture, the message can get lost in the tedium of repetition. But by God, it's NOT a lie. Please hit up a farmer's market, join a local farm-share, drive out to a country butchery, befriend a fisherman, plant some herbs in your kitchen window because the difference is night and day.
But my latest fish story is about Steelhead Trout. A few weeks ago, I was lab-testing some trout recipes for a special event. I repeated my recipes with a wide variety of trout I found at my grocer's fish counter: rainbow, golden, and steelhead. In the end, I chose rainbow trout for the event because I thought it best accepted the seasonings for this particular recipe.
Nevertheless, I had been very excited to see steelhead at the grocery store. I really don't remember ever seeing it there before. While I am unsure of that particular grocer's source/purveyor, I was bolstered by the fact that I know steelhead definitely occurs locally. The grocery store steelhead that I had tested was fine, but it was MUCH stronger than the other varieties of trout that I tested. Not offensive, just strong. I thought it overpowered the light lemon-almond flavor profile I was going to be using, so I made a mental note that steelhead would be a good choice when I wanted to use a powerful sauce.
Barely a week later, mi esposo, a sport fisherman, called me to ask how I wanted him to wrap up and store the steelhead fillets he had just caught out on the Chagrin River that day. More trout! We had been eating a lot of fish and the busy Easter weekend was coming up, so I advised him to freeze his catch. It was the best option for our schedule.
Well, I thawed out his catch and we sampled his steelhead at dinner this evening. Despite the fact that we froze it, the best fish monger in town cannot hold a candle to what recently came fresh out of a local river. This steelhead was not the least bit strong. The flavor was so light and the texture was so buttery that I have a hard time imagining why all of these fisherman throw back their catches (that,I'm sure, is a discussion for another occasion). Really, though, our fresh steelhead had nothing in common with the grocery store stuff by the same name...nothing!
I am not going to stop eating grocery store fish entirely...I don't have the luxury, but I am going to look at this experience as a reminder that fresh really IS better. Everyone is spouting the rhetoric about "fresh and local" to a degree that if you surround yourself in food culture, the message can get lost in the tedium of repetition. But by God, it's NOT a lie. Please hit up a farmer's market, join a local farm-share, drive out to a country butchery, befriend a fisherman, plant some herbs in your kitchen window because the difference is night and day.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Night Before Easter, At Home with the Family
I like feasts with the family...and that's usually what our holidays turn into. My grandmother made wonderful feasts, my mother and sister still do, and though I haven't been able to wrestle the reins from them completely...every once in a while, they'll let the baby (they always see the younger sib as the "baby") make a dinner.
Tonight was my night! I finally made that seafood terrine I have been threatening to make with herring. I used herring, but added some scallops to soften the flavor a bit. It was a total experiment, but it made no enemies, except perhaps with the under-12 set who preferred playing ball in the yard to having hors d'oeuvres in the living room. I would even be willing to put this starter in the "healthy" category, what with all the Omega-3 oils in herring. I'll list the recipe below.
We moved on to "Mock" Beef Wellington. Originally my dinner was intended to be a cookout, but who knows what the weather will do Easter weekend in Cleveland (we had a snowstorm a couple years ago!) and hamburgers inside cooked in a pan just seemed, well, kind of sad for a nice gathering of family, some of whom traveled quite a ways for the occasion. So, I jazzed up the burgers with a little duxelles and wrapped it in some puff pastry. It felt adequately celebratory for the adults, and the kids were willing to try it when it was sold as a "French Hamburger".
Finally, we celebrated MeeMaw's birthday with cake and ice cream. My sister (Hough cake EXPERT) thinks my cake was close to duplicating the Hough frosting experience, but I don't think she's convinced I have it down pat yet. Sigh. I am at least bolstered by the fact that I did not have to scrape ANY cake or frosting down the disposal hatch...so it was at least good enough to put everyone in the clean plate club.
The details of the food aside...isn't it just nice to sit around a table with people you love? The preparations mean something, to be sure, but more meaningful is being there all together. Even when I was barely in my twenties...I'd skimp on some item that the rest of the world deemed a necessity to be able to go out to dinner with my friends on the weekend. I recognized that someday, when I am on my deathbed and reflecting on my life, I'll never remember whether I had the "right" blazer for a job interview, but I would remember the meals and the laughter I shared with special people in special places. I'd still rather buy generic everything-else and be able to create and share wonderful times around the table with family and good friends. I hope you, too, see it as a necessity and not a luxury.
SCALLOP-HERRING TERRINE
1/4 lb. bay scallops
1 tin of kippered herring, deboned
6 oz cream cheese, brought to room temp. (about 3/4 of standard package)
1/8 C very thinly sliced scallions (green part only!...or use chives)
1 egg
1/4 C milk or cream
1 T flour
1 t salt
2 T lumpfish caviar (optional...garnish)
Puree the raw scallops in a food processor. Mix the pureed scallops with all other ingredients except scallions. Once thoroughly combined, fold in scallions. Line a small terrine pan/loafdish with parchment or waxed paper. Pour mixture into terrine pan. Bake in a water bath in a 300 degree oven for approx. 50 minutes to an hour. The top of the terrine may go a deeper shade of blonde, but do not let it brown. Cool under refrigeration for 1 hour before unmolding. Serve with water crackers, cold and garnished with lumpfish caviar.
Tonight was my night! I finally made that seafood terrine I have been threatening to make with herring. I used herring, but added some scallops to soften the flavor a bit. It was a total experiment, but it made no enemies, except perhaps with the under-12 set who preferred playing ball in the yard to having hors d'oeuvres in the living room. I would even be willing to put this starter in the "healthy" category, what with all the Omega-3 oils in herring. I'll list the recipe below.
We moved on to "Mock" Beef Wellington. Originally my dinner was intended to be a cookout, but who knows what the weather will do Easter weekend in Cleveland (we had a snowstorm a couple years ago!) and hamburgers inside cooked in a pan just seemed, well, kind of sad for a nice gathering of family, some of whom traveled quite a ways for the occasion. So, I jazzed up the burgers with a little duxelles and wrapped it in some puff pastry. It felt adequately celebratory for the adults, and the kids were willing to try it when it was sold as a "French Hamburger".
Finally, we celebrated MeeMaw's birthday with cake and ice cream. My sister (Hough cake EXPERT) thinks my cake was close to duplicating the Hough frosting experience, but I don't think she's convinced I have it down pat yet. Sigh. I am at least bolstered by the fact that I did not have to scrape ANY cake or frosting down the disposal hatch...so it was at least good enough to put everyone in the clean plate club.
The details of the food aside...isn't it just nice to sit around a table with people you love? The preparations mean something, to be sure, but more meaningful is being there all together. Even when I was barely in my twenties...I'd skimp on some item that the rest of the world deemed a necessity to be able to go out to dinner with my friends on the weekend. I recognized that someday, when I am on my deathbed and reflecting on my life, I'll never remember whether I had the "right" blazer for a job interview, but I would remember the meals and the laughter I shared with special people in special places. I'd still rather buy generic everything-else and be able to create and share wonderful times around the table with family and good friends. I hope you, too, see it as a necessity and not a luxury.
SCALLOP-HERRING TERRINE
1/4 lb. bay scallops
1 tin of kippered herring, deboned
6 oz cream cheese, brought to room temp. (about 3/4 of standard package)
1/8 C very thinly sliced scallions (green part only!...or use chives)
1 egg
1/4 C milk or cream
1 T flour
1 t salt
2 T lumpfish caviar (optional...garnish)
Puree the raw scallops in a food processor. Mix the pureed scallops with all other ingredients except scallions. Once thoroughly combined, fold in scallions. Line a small terrine pan/loafdish with parchment or waxed paper. Pour mixture into terrine pan. Bake in a water bath in a 300 degree oven for approx. 50 minutes to an hour. The top of the terrine may go a deeper shade of blonde, but do not let it brown. Cool under refrigeration for 1 hour before unmolding. Serve with water crackers, cold and garnished with lumpfish caviar.
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