Day 333 - Fish Fumet

Here's another one of those things I've been stalling on... When I drag my feet around making something, it usually has to do with the difficulty of getting one of the ingredients. In this case, that ingredient was: fish heads and bones. Yuck.

Fish Fumet (p. 55)

Fish Fumet is my last broth!! Yay!! It's an ingredient in a clam dish I have coming up, but I'm only going to need a couple of cups for that, so I'm not sure what I'll be doing with the rest of this. I mean, how often do you have the need for a fishy fish broth?

Back to the fish heads.

I thought I was going to have to buy a bunch of big fish and fillet them to get enough heads and bones. It never occurred to me to just ask at Fairway if they sell those parts separately. Turns out they do, and cheaply, to boot: $1/pound.

I asked for two pounds, and the fishmonger proceeded to butcher a bunch of heads for me. He was doing quite a bit of cleaning, chopping them down the middle and taking out a bunch of stuff that looked like liver. It was probably fish brain or something equally distasteful, and I was really glad he was doing it because otherwise, I would have had a very brainy soup.

I ended up with three relatively big fish heads, which went in a cauldron with eye of newt and three cat whiskers. Not really. The ingredients were normal, but the smell was a little "double, double, toil and trouble."

The rest of the ingredients were chopped leeks and celery, then some white wine that got reduced, and finally, a bunch of water, a bay leaf, and peppercorns. The potion is cooked for a comparatively short amount of time, 35 minutes, before being strained and cooled.

I'd been skimming the stock throughout the cooking process, but after putting the cooled stock in the fridge overnight, I was shocked to see a thick grey layer covering the top of the stock in each of the containers, resembling the kind of stuff I'd been skimming during the cooking process. I don't now what it was (fat? impurities? brain juice?) but I was happy to be able to spoon it all away.

What was left underneath was a clear fish stock, which I was surprised to see had that same kind of jellied consistency that the chicken and beef stocks have. Magic!

I'm excited to make the clams now, but I'm going to have to find some other recipe where I can use the rest of this stock. Cioppino, maybe?

Jeff: A
Martha: A

Until we eat again....

Day 332 - Rosemary Balsamic Marinade and Grilled Steak

Since Adinah was going to be spending a few hours here, watching me set up her new computer, I thought I'd take the opportunity to feed her.

I started her off with the last of the Cassoulet. (Big hit. I had added some liquid to the leftovers, so they were wet. Yummy!)

Then, I did some more indoor grilling....

Rosemary Balsamic Marinade (p. 173)

Martha says this goes really well with steak, so it seemed crazy not to use it on the Grilled Steak recipe.

It's quite easy to put together: it's just coarsely chopped garlic and rosemary sprigs, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. (But wait- can one really coarsely chop rosemary sprigs? Mine were so twiggy, I ended up having to snap them instead.)

It's curious that there's no salt in this marinade. Is it a mistaken omission? Intentional? Maybe I'll be able to tell when I eat the steak....

Jeff: A
Martha: A


Grilled Steak (p. 164)

Porterhouse: it sounds so 50's/Mad Men. Translation? A nice big steak with a bone through the middle.

This steak sat in the marinade for 3 hours refrigerated and 1 more hour as it came to room temperature. Then I tied some twine around it. I was very excited about tying it. In fact, at the store, I flipped through a bunch of steaks until I found one that looked like it would benefit from some tying. (I don't want to miss a thing!)

Martha says season generously with salt and pepper on both sides, so I went to town with the S+P.

The first side went on the very hot grill, and after rotating once, the cross-hatch marks were a thing of beauty. Then I repeated on the other side and turned down the flame for the "continue cooking with indirect heat" part of the process.

Now, I'm grilling this on a stovetop cast iron grill, so there are certain things I can't quite achieve, i.e. cooking with indirect heat. I try to simulate the heat environments by raising or lowering the flames on the burners, but the way that cast iron conducts heat, I'm not sure if this is terribly effective.

The biggest indicator that it's not effective is that my steak reaches it's desired internal temperature in about 5 minutes, when it's supposed to take 14-16 minutes. Granted, my steak isn't outrageously thick, but still, that seems fast. Ah well.

The texture? Just OK. A little tough. Maybe it's the meat, maybe it's that part two of the cooking process went too fast at too high a temperature.

The flavor? Pretty good. The marinade isn't overwhelming, after four hours of service. It's a nice background flavor, but it's not changing my life.

Meanwhile, what happened to all that salt? It was as if I hadn't salted or peppered this meat at all! I guess I could have seasoned more generously. Or maybe there was supposed to be salt in the marinade...

I almost forgot to top this with compound butter but remembered right under the wire. Not sure if it brought anything to the experience, other than a few more calories.

As you can probably tell, I was underwhelmed by this marinade/steak.

But here's the crazy thing. When I ate the leftovers cold today as the filling in a sandwich, it tasted completely amazing! Much better than when it came right off the grill. Go figure....

Jeff: A
Martha: A

Day 330 - Eleventh Tally

What?? Wait!! How did that happen? I'm a month away from my deadline?!? I feel like I just started!

I've been getting sentimental about this year... remembering certain meals, certain failures and successes, friends, flavors, and a ton of dish and pot washing....

I can't believe how much I've learned, how much I've eaten, how many I've served, how many groceries and housewares I've bought, how infrequently I've eaten out... Wait - this is starting to sound like my farewell entry, and though I've completed a total of 318 recipes and lessons, I still have another 48 yet to do!

:-O

48 recipes in 35 days. Whoa.

Can he do it? Will he do it?

I can and I will. If it means throwing a dinner party every other night. If it means making a leg of lamb just for myself. If it means staying up through the night filling cream puffs. I will finish this thing, by God!

I had a reader request (my first!) for pictures of my "wellworn" cookbook, which frankly doesn't look that bad. Maybe it's the dark colored cover that hides how much it's been abused... I tried to find a couple of angles that exposed the wear and tear: cracked binding and frayed creases.






I would like to take this opportunity to thank Cathy H for her sweet gift of the KitchenAid mixer sausage attachment. There are no sausage recipes in the book, but I put this on my wish list anyway because who doesn't fantasize about making their own sausages? (Um... actually, Jeff, you're the only one who fantasizes about making his own sausages.) OK, fair enough. But if I don't get around to making sausages and writing about them on this blog, it's only because I have 48 recipes left, not because I don't love my new sausage attachment. Thanks again, Cathy.

And look what arrived in my email box today - my photo with Martha!! Jeff and Martha, for real! Photo credit: Nick D / ‘The Martha Stewart Show’

Until we eat again....

Day 329 - How to Coddle Eggs

This was supposed to be for Marcy and me, but she called in sick to our weekly date, so I'm treating myself to a special breakfast.

How to Coddle Eggs (p. 90)

This sounds like a children's story....

Coddling eggs, in fact, is cooking them in coddlers (or in my case, ramekins wrapped tightly in foil) that sit in simmering water, first uncovered for four minutes, then once the heat is turned off, covered for another 4-7 minutes. Before the egg goes in, though, the coddler is brushed with butter and filled with a teaspoon of cream to keep the egg moist.

The finished effect is really quite adorable. It's like naughty soft-boiled eggs (naughty because of the added butter and cream). One of mine was cooked through, and the other was softer. I liked both, but I think this is better with a slightly runny yolk. Of course, it's impossible to judge how cooked your eggs are if you're using ramekins vs. glass coddlers, so you just have to guess. Or peek. I checked one at 4 minutes, but it looked undercooked, so I left them in for another minute or two.

Martha serves these with toast soldiers, so I did too. (I'm such a good student. Teacher's pet...)

It's some extra effort to pull this off, but if you're looking for a cute twist on an egg breakfast, this is a good one.


Jeff: A
Martha: A

Until we eat again....

Day 328 - Pan-Seared Scallops with Fennel Puree and Cassoulet

I was very excited when my incredibly accomplished friend, Emily, invited me to be a part of a small group of people with whom she wanted to watch her new HBO movie Temple Grandin, which she executive produced. The film centers around an actual woman named Temple Grandin (played brilliantly by Claire Danes) who is famous not only for revolutionizing cattle slaughterhouse design but also for being autistic. I was so touched by Emily's invitation that I offered to host a dinner party around the movie-watching, and she accepted.

My guests tonight are Emily and her husband Andy, and Emily's (and my) Northwestern University classmates: James, of the Duck Breast and Bolognese dinners, and newbie Beverly, with her husband Philippe.

Note: Philippe is French, and I'm making Cassoulet. What am I, crazy?

Pan-Seared Scallops (p. 260)

How easy is this? Very!

And quick too. It's a little messy, what with very hot oil involved, but it's over really quickly. Just be prepared to turn on the fan for a minute or two.

All you have to do is cut the scallops in half (to make two thinner circles, not half-moons), salt both sides, get oil very hot, throw the scallops in the pan for not even a minute, flip them over for another 30 seconds, drain on paper towels, and Voilà! Delicious hors d'oeuvres in seconds!

My first batch didn't stick at all, but I think the pan got a little residue-y and the second batch was a little tricky to flip. Still, there were no scallop casualties.

I should take a moment to mention something I've learned from this Cooking School experience. I've learned that if I want to have six perfect portions of scallops, I should plan on making eight. One of the raw scallops might be split (as one of my was) or one of the scallops might stick to the pan and tear.

If I don't care what my food looks like, I won't overbuy, but if I care about the presentation, I now make extra.

I was just talking to my friend David about how steamed scallops can taste icky. And I'm also remembering how the Chinese scallops were my least favorite of all the Black Bean Sauce variations.

But these scallops are perfect! They really don't need any seasoning other than salt to shine. Seared is definitely the way to go!

That's Emily, James, and Andy, from left to right.

Jeff: A
Martha: A


Fennel Puree (p. 310)

How easy is this? Not very.

The fennel gets trimmed and chopped, then simmered in a milk bath, then pureed, then strained, then strained again, then reheated. And all this for 3/4 C of puree. Humph.

That said, it tastes pretty great. And it tastes great with the scallops, which is Martha's serving suggestion. (She serves one scallop half on each plate, but I served two.)

I do want to say that I got a little confused by this recipe, but having reread it, I now see that it's totally clear.

Here's the confusing paragraph, verbatim, which comes after having pureed the cooked fennel:

"Transfer to a fine sieve set over a large bowl or liquid measuring cup and press with a rubber spatula to extract as much puree as possible. Discard remaining solids and rinse sieve thoroughly. Return puree to the sieve and set over a bowl to drain for 1 1/2 hours longer."

First of all, when I use my finest sieve for jobs like this, it never works out. I always try, but then inevitably nothing pushes through, and then I have to swap it out for a less fine sieve. You'd think I'd learn my lesson, but no.

So I'm on my second sieve, I've pushed the puree through the sieve with my spatula, and now I have a slightly more refined puree (very few solids left in the sieve). Then I wash the sieve and put the puree back in it.

For some reason, I've got it in my head that I'm going to have to push this puree through again. But after letting it sit for an hour, it's clear that the only thing coming through that sieve is liquid, no puree. That's when I realize that Sieve Part 1 is for keeping solids out, and Sieve Part 2 is for getting liquids out.

Yes, I now realize it says "drain," but for some reason, I missed it before.

Jeff: A
Martha: A


Cassoulet (p. 403)

I can't believe I'm finally making Cassoulet. It's been a punch line for me for the past 11 months, often inserted as an example of some terribly complicated, arcane dish (e.g. "It was tricky, but it was no Cassoulet.")

One of the reasons I've waited so long is that I needed to have made duck confit to proceed. But with that task completed, I was anxious to give this a try.

I've never made Cassoulet. I've never even eaten Cassoulet. I was so perplexed by it that I called Martha on her radio show to ask what I should serve with Cassoulet. (Her answer was: a green salad and a citrus-flavored dessert.)

I'm not going to lie- there were a few curveballs in the recipe. But if you're reading this and contemplating making Cassoulet, I can at least save you from some of those confusions/potholes.

It all begins with an overnight soaking of navy beans. (Well, it really all began with the duck confit last week, but you already knew that.) Next is the assembling of a bouquet garni, i.e. herbs and vegetables tied up in a little cheesecloth package. Then, some fatback (or pork belly, which is what I used) is cooked to render the fat in which to cook the pork shoulder pieces.

Here's the first divergence - Martha says that the pork pieces should brown in about 5 minutes. After about 10 minutes, mine were cooked but still not brown, so I moved on. FYI, at this point, she says to pour off all but 1/4 cup of fat. I didn't even have that much in the pan.

Now comes the cooking of the beans, with various added ingredients: onion (unpeeled?? and halved with one clove stuck in), canned tomatoes, the bouquet garni, a ham hock (in my case, three small pieces of ham hock - same weight), and a carrot, halved. Martha says 8 cups of water will cover the ingredients by 2 inches, but I needed more like 12.

She also specifically states that the beans should be cooked in an 8 quart pot and the casserole should cook in an 8 quart Dutch oven. I actually bought an 8 quart Dutch oven specifically for this purpose. And I'm here to tell you that I think I would have been fine doing this in my 5.5 quart Dutch Oven. Both the beans and the final casserole didn't come anywhere near the top of either vessel, so if you only have a 5.5 to 7 quart pot, I think you'll still be OK.

Once the beans are tender, you remove the onion, carrot, bouquet garni, and the ham hocks, from which you remove the meat and dice to put back in.

Next, you rub the Dutch oven with garlic halves. I didn't think this would make much of an impact, but I really could taste it in the end. Interesting flavoring technique.

Then you layer half the bean mixture in the bottom of the Dutch oven, place the duck confit and French garlic sausage on top, and then cover with the rest of the beans.

Side bar: When Martha and I were chitty-chatting about this meal, she recommended a great place for me to get this sausage (aka saucisson a l'ail), Salumeria Biellese, which just happens to be two blocks away from my apartment! I went over there to pick up the sausage, and I mentioned that Martha sent me. I'm so glad I started a conversation with the guy behind the counter, because he offered up some info without which I would have been sunk. He said I should leave the sausage out (i.e. unrefrigerated) overnight, and then before using, put it in cold water, bring to a boil, and let simmer for a half an hour. I was confused, and I explained that I was making cassoulet, so the sausage would cook in that, but he said if I didn't simmer the sausage, it would fall apart in the cassoulet. I nodded and thought, Whatever, and figured I would make a judgment call in the morning.

Well, when I cut into the sausage, I realized why he made this suggestion. The sausage was uncooked! I thought I was buying a cooked sausage... So I cut the one pound sausage in half and followed his instructions. When the half hour was up, I looked at the cooked sausage and I thought, hmmm, that looks a lot smaller than what I started with. When I weighed it, it was only 4 ounces! And I needed 8 ounces! Yikes! I quickly cooked the other half, and it all worked out fine. But clearly, the lesson is, you will need one pound of raw sausage to get a half pound of cooked.

Martha doesn't really deal with this in the recipe at all. She says to cut the sausage into 1/2 inch thick half moons, so I'm assuming she means cooked sausage as uncooked sausage would never be able to hold that shape. But you should know that if you buy this sausage raw, which I guess is how it's typically sold, then you should plan some extra time into your preparation, and double the weight.

Once the cassoulet is assembled, it goes in the oven for hours and hours. I started mine at 300° with the convection fan going, but there was no bubbling after a half an hour (which there should be) so I switched the fan off and raised the temperature to 325° and I got a nice steady bubbling around the sides. I only had to add liquid once, as the level barely dropped the whole time.

Finally, I added the buttered bread crumbs.

Another side bar: What does Martha mean when she says "Fresh Bread Crumbs?" Does she mean not dried, i.e. take some fresh bread and make crumbs in the food processor and use that? She probably does. I actually let my bread crumbs dry overnight, but I think I may have gotten this one wrong. Ah well.

For the last hour in the oven, the bread crumbs brown and the stew finishes cooking.

I had started my cassoulet a little early, and then we ate a little later than I expected, so my cassoulet was done about 45 minutes before we were ready to eat it. I didn't want to cover it, because I didn't want it to get soggy, so I decided to turn off the oven and leave it in there... without checking to see what was going on underneath all those breadcrumbs.

Alas, the cassoulet was totally dry. I have to say, I really liked it anyway. Even Philippe said that though it was definitely drier than the cassoulet he'd eaten in France, he enjoyed this consistency. (Maybe he was just being polite. That's him, pictured to the right with Beverly.)

I take full responsibility for having dried this out. I should have checked to see how dry it was when I shut off the oven. However, I will say that it would have been nice to be offered some ideas of how to stall the serving of this dish. I mean, it's in the oven for 3 to 3.5 hours. It's impossible to know at 3:30PM precisely what time everyone will be ready for the entree.

Flavor-wise, I really didn't know what to expect. I was concerned that there was no seasoning whatsoever, not a speck of salt added anywhere along the way. Yet this was a plenty salty dish! Must have been a combination of the ham hocks and the sausage. The flavors are really unique, and the overall effect is homey, comforty, and hearty. I sort of felt like I was eating gourmet Franks and Beans.

I probably won't make this again - as much as I enjoyed eating it and relished the experience of having made it, there are a hundred other things I prefer to eat that are easier to pull off. Still, it was fun pretending I was French for a couple of days.

Jeff: C (major points off for drying it out, but major points added for the rest of the efforts)
Martha: B (we could have used more info about the sausage and also some tips for stalling the serving of it)


I should mention that Emily's film was sensational, truly compelling and quite moving. I'm so proud of Emily, who in addition to being a very successful personal manager, is also a wife and mother of two teen-aged sons (one just started his freshman year at Northwestern, the other is autistic), and a major mover/shaker around raising money and awareness for autism issues. She accomplishes more in a week than I do in a year.

After watching the movie, we ate my beautiful Lemon Curd Tart, elements culled from several other recipes in the book. It looks great, but I'll own up to some mistakes made along the way. (The little tart baby was made with the extra ingredients.)

First of all, I should have used the optional gelatin when making the Lemon Curd. Even though I served it cold, the lemon curd was oozing out of the slices.

Second, I should have let this get to room temperature before I served it. The crust was too hard and it didn't taste nearly as good when I served it as it did an hour later. (Although can you imagine how oozy the lemon curd would have been? Oy.)

Until we eat again....

Day 325 - Lime Sorbet

If you've been listening to Ask Martha, Martha's call-in show on Sirius Radio, then you know that I've become somewhat of a fixture lately. I can't seem to resist calling Martha with the most trivial of questions, and why? Because I CAN! I can literally pick up the phone and get advice straight from the queen once a week, as long as I'm willing to do it on the air.

So the other day, I called because I'm gearing up for a dinner party this weekend where the main attraction will be Cassoulet. I've never had Cassoulet before, but just looking at the recipe, I can tell that it's a pretty distinctive, all-encompassing kind of meal. And my question for Martha was: What do you serve around Cassoulet? Her advice -- actually, their advice (she was working in tandem with a special cohost - Anna Last, editor of Everyday Food) was: green salad before, citrus dessert after.

Martha went on to talk about Lemon Cream, but my mind went straight to Lime Sorbet, since this is something I still need to tick off my master list.

Lime Sorbet (p. 485)

The first few sorbets I made, I stayed absolutely true to the recipe, no extra-added flavors or ingredients. But I reread the sorbet "lesson," and it seemed that Martha was encouraging me to be adventurous, try some interesting combinations.

So then I moved into my experimental sorbet phase, which brought such treasures as a pineapple sorbet with apricot/ginger/cinnamon syrup (leftover from the Poached Apricots recipe) and my recent orange "Christmas" sorbet, both pretty great.

Since the Cassoulet meal is going to be very Frenchy, I thought I'd swing out by Frenching up this sorbet with a splash of Pernod (still making my way through that bottle I bought for Bouillabaisse). I've read that adding liqueur to a sorbet can give it a better texture, so that might be an added bonus. Plus, I'll be serving fennel puree with an hors d'oeuvre, and it'll be cute to bookend the meal with anise flavored dishes.

Martha estimates that eight limes will generate two cups of juice, but she must be talking about some special jumbo limes, because it took me more like 13. Just to drive home the limey citrusiness of it all, I steeped the syrup with a few strips of lime zest. I couldn't really taste a whole lot of extra limeyness in the syrup, but who knows? Maybe it'll come forward once frozen.

I mixed the juice with the syrup, did the infamous egg test (perfectly balanced) and then splashed in about two tablespoons of Pernod. (I did the egg test again, just to make sure I didn't screw anything up.) It tasted fine, maybe not the most spectacular flavor combination, but interesting. Not sure about the sourness, though. Seemed pretty sour.

I chilled the mixture, then froze it in the ice cream maker. Still tastes pretty sour. I'm feeling even less confident about the flavor combo.

After a night in the freezer, I tasted it once more. OK. Now I'm sure: I can't serve this for dessert on Saturday. It's not that it's terrible, it's just not right for that meal. For the record, there was a significant texture improvement - the sorbet was scoopable right out of the freezer. It's amazing that such a small amount of alcohol could make that much of a difference. Too bad it tastes so weird... Maybe I could serve it as a kind of bizarre, between-courses palate cleanser? Nah.

I'm now making what I'm sure is going to be a beautiful Lemon Curd Tart (taking the Pâte Sucrée recipe and filling it with Lemon Curd instead of Panna Cotta). See, I'm learning to mix and match!

It must be noted that this degree of analysis about dessert appropriateness is a completely new phenomenon.

Jeff: B (maybe I should have tasted lime juice and Pernod before contaminating a whole batch)
Martha: B (eight limes = two cups of juice? oh, eight elephant limes...)


Until we eat again...

Day 324 - Chicken Soup

I'm finally doing this perennial favorite, after already having completed its two variations, Matzo Ball Soup and Chicken Soup with Spring Vegetables. Based on the variations, I have high hopes for the original....

It's just Tracy and me tonight, reminiscing about our dreamy trip to Spain last month.

Chicken Soup (p. 43)

This soup is the best example of what I think is so brilliant about Martha's soup technique. Instead of the ancient (Jewish?) tradition of throwing everything in a pot, cooking it all to death, and then just serving it, Martha's version involves more ingredients and more dirty dishes and utensils, but it's so worth it.

In a nutshell, you bring chicken, herbs, and coarsely chopped vegetables to a boil, then simmer. Once the chicken is cooked (in my case roughly 10-15 minutes), take it out, remove meat from the bones and put bones back in the stock. (Chicken goes in the fridge until ready to use.) Simmer for another hour, then strain into a clean pot and skim fat.. Put all NEW vegetables in and cook until tender. (I actually like mine with a little crunch.) Then add chicken back in and heat through.

What you end up with is this amazingly bright, almost sweet stock with amazingly bright, almost sweet vegetables and perfectly cooked chicken floating in it. There's no mushy, overcooked carrots, no soggy or falling apart chicken pieces. It's just sparkly and fresh-tasting, delicious and nutritious. We were in soup heaven.

Jeff: A
Martha: A

Extra Credit :
Caramelized [Bananas] (p. 490)

There's no recipe for Caramelized Bananas in the book, but there is a little lecture about caramelizing fruit (before the Caramelized Figs recipe). I've made the figs about ten times now, so I thought I'd branch out and try something new.

I followed the recipe for the figs exactly, substituting bananas as the fruit, and white rum as the deglazing liquid. As you can see, I did some experimental slicing to see what would work best. I sliced too thin, though, because the bananas got too soft by the time they browned and it all pretty much became mush. I think it I were going to do it again, I'd slice the bananas as inch-thick disks, so they might retain their shape.

I wondered whether or not to do the final lemon juice squirt, but I ultimately decided yes, and it was a good call. Bananas are so sweet, and then there's the added sugar, not to mention caramelization. So the sweetness definitely needs some mitigation. I think I'd also add more rum next time, maybe twice as much, for extra flavor. The little bit I used disappeared flavor-wise.

All told, it's really great. I mean, how could it be bad? Bananas, sugar, salt, rum, butter, lemon juice. Killer.

Until we eat again....