one hundred year old gumbo

There's nothing like the combination of food, New Orleans, and other people's obsessions to inspire you. It was on a visit here that I encountered a little gem masquerading as a worn, blue hardback entitled Cooking in Old Creole Days. Published in 1903 by Celestine Eustis, it offered an incredible look into the methodology of Creole cooking and the attitude towards culinary arts in the previous centuries. Despite, or maybe in part due to, a remarkable overtly racist prologue ("as a race, we are certainly not gifted with culinary talent") by S. Weir Mitchell, the book is fascinating from start to finish.
I jotted down a recipe for the most basic dish in the Creole repertoire: okra gumbo. I wanted to see how the traditional elaboration compared to what comes out of my pseudo-New-Orleanian family kitchen. So I followed the "receipt" to the best of my abilities-the ambiguity of it I actually found to result in a fun cooking challenge, allowing me to fill in the gaps with my own knowledge and whims.
And...most importantly...the gumbo was delicious! Chip proclaimed it amazing, and I thought it tasted quite good as well. A fairly easy meal. I do have to say I like my dad's darker, more Cajun gumbo better, but that could just be due to another tradition that dates back hundreds of years: a strong loyalty to your own flesh and blood's roux.



okra gumbo

Put into a saucepan a spoonful of pure lard* and one of flour. Stir it well until it is of a light brown. Chop an onion into small pieces and throw them in. Cut up a fat capon or chicken into small pieces and put it into the saucepan with the flour and lard. Stir it all the while until the chicken is nearly done. When the whole is well browned, add a slice of ham* cut up small. Throw in two or three pods of red pepper*, and salt to your taste. Then add a quart of boiling water, and leave it on the fire for two hours and a half.

During that time you take either a can of okra or the fresh okra, and chop it up a bit. Put it in a saucepan with a little water and let it simmer a quarter of an hour, stirring it all the time. Then add to it either six fresh tomatoes or half a can of tomatoes, and let it cook on a slow fire for an hour, uncovered.

When your gumbo has been on the fire the two hours and a half, you take it off to cool, and skim all the grease off. Then you put it back in the saucepan and add your okra and tomatoes and let it simmer slowly for an hour or until the okra is thoroughly cooked. Serve hot, and eat it with dry rice served in a separate dish.
-Mme. Eustis, Mére.

*for the lard, I used butter. for ham, I used andouille. for the red pepper, I used chile de arbol.

the buckley thanksgiving menu

Roasted Cauliflower and Radicchio Salad

Roast Turkey with Innards Stuffing
Prime Rib
Creamed Corn with Scallions
Potatoes a la Grandma

Cranberry and Vanilla Bean Sorbet
Prune, Almond and Cherry Frangipane Tart

butternut squash soup with curried parsnip

We had the best soup in the world at work the other night. Unfortunately, it wasn't this one, but it did inspire this one. It was a similar to a typical lentil vegetable soup, but with a cream base instead of a broth one. And, atop of this already plenty delicious soup were delightfully crunchy cubes of roasted potato.

At home the next afternoon with a squash and daydreams of tiny crunchy squares of tuber, I devised this soup. It's oh-so-delicious, and quite simple and quick. The star anise adds an imperceptible depth and richness to the yummy yummy soup. And the curried parsnips are the perfect garnish, adding a kick of savory heat. Homemade chicken broth if possible, people!


butternut squash soup with curried parsnips

1 medium butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1 in cubes
3 star anise
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
2 shallots, chopped
3-4 cups chicken broth
1 large parsnip, peeled and diced small
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp curry powder
2 bay leaves


Preheat oven to 375.

Heat 1 tbsp olive oil and add garlic, shallot and star anise. Sautee until translucent and add squash and chicken broth to cover. How much you use will depend on how big your squash was. Simmer until squash is tender, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, toss parsnip with curry powder, 1 tbsp olive oil, bay leaf, salt and pepper. Roast until softened but still a tad crunchy, about 10 minutes.

Remove star anise and puree everything else. Thin with broth if desired. Serve with parsnips in the middle and, optionally, croutons.

apple walnut butter cake

We have this amazing cake at work, the most unassuming yet moist and delicious thing you have ever put in your mouth. It was my dad's birthday this week, and so I immediately thought about making it for him. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time to collect the recipe, so I had to wing it by piecing together a few different ideas and hoping for the best.

I chose a cake recipe from Bon Appetit, but when I set out to make it I realized it was going to make a teeny tiny sheet of a cake, so I doubled the recipe. Then, when it came out in all of its ugly glory, I knew I would need something to fancy it up, as well as something to go in between the layers. The moist crumb was a red light for a traditional frosting...I know my limits and controlling the wild crumbiness was definitely beyond them.

With my remaining apples, I sauteed an apple butter for a moist middle layer, and then whipped up a glaze to try to disguise what turned out to be the ugliest yet most delicious cake this side of 2009.



apple walnut cake

apple butter::
6 apples
1/2 c packed brown sugar

Juice three apples. Dice three peeled apples. Simmer the juice and diced apples until mixture is reduced to about a third. Add sugar, stir, and cook over medium heat about twenty minutes.

brown sugar glaze::

1/2 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
1/4 cup whipping cream
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt

Stir all ingredients in small nonstick skillet over medium-high heat until sugar dissolves and mixture comes to boil. Reduce heat to medium; whisk until glaze is smooth, about 1 minute. Remove from heat.

cake::

4 cups diced peeled apples (about 4)
2 cup sugar
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted, cooled
2 large egg
2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts


Preheat oven to 375°F. Butter and flour 2 8x8x2-inch baking pans. Mix diced apples, sugar, butter and egg in large bowl to blend. Sift flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt over. Add chopped walnuts; mix thoroughly. Transfer mixture to prepared pans, dividing evenly.

Bake until cake is brown and crusty on top and tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 45 minutes. Cool cake in pan on rack.

Spread apple butter over one layer and place the other layer on top. Make glaze and pour over top of cake; let cool 30 minutes before serving.

*adapted from Bon Appetit

tomate frito

Any grocery store in Spain devotes at least half an aisle to tomate frito, a Mediterranean sauce par excellence. It comes in jars, it comes in briks (cardboard boxes), it comes dried in packets, it comes in any form one could possibly imagine, matched in ubiquitousness perhaps only by American ketchup.

Tomate frito is essentially a slow cooking of tomatoes in a sofrito of the chef's choice. While the packaged version of tomate frito dates only from the 20th century, this puree of 'fried tomatoes' was most certainly being made and used before. Ever since Cortes brought back the first tomato from the Aztecs in the 1500's, it seems likely that cooks combined it with the already popular onion over heat. The first tomato recipes appear in a Naples cookbook in 1692, but the author obtained the recipes from Spanish sources.

Everyone in Spain swears by their mother's (or grandmother's) version, so there are really no definitive rules. I am of the opinion that the simpler the better, otherwise you may as well whip up an Italian tomato sauce. So I keep mine plain-a little onion, salt, and a bit of sugar. Depending on the tomato variety and ripeness, you may not even need sugar. Some people insist on peeling the tomatoes and seeding them, others simply on seeding them, and still others just do a light chop and thrown the tomatoes in, seeds and peels included. I've done it both ways, and as long as you pass it through a food mill, seive, or chinois, I believe it doesn't matter.

As far as uses go, this silky, rich sauce is incredibly versatile. It's featured in typical Spanish dishes, such as tigres (mussels cooked with mirepoix then filled with tomate frito and bechamel before being breaded and fried) and patatas bravas (i love you), as well as infinitely adaptable to any meat or vegetable dish. So hurry-if you live down South you can still grab the last of the season's tomatoes and store some for winter.





tomate frito

5 lbs ripe tomatoes,
small onion, chopped
about 6-8 tbsp oil
tbsp of salt
pinch of sugar

In two 12 inch saucepans, heat oil (enough to cover bottom of pan) over med. high heat. Add half of onion to each pot. Fry until translucent, not browned. Add tomatoes, dividing equally between pots, sprinkle with salt and sugar, and turn heat to low. Cook for 30-50 minutes, until tomatoes are dark red and slightly caramelized.
Blend very well and pass through strainer, pressing to release all the sauce.

brown butter sage pasta

Last Sunday, I was engaged in wolfing down some of my best chicken salad ever when I noticed my poor husband standing off to the side, looking sad and hungry.

I took pity on him and set to the fridge to see what I could rustle up, and it turns out I got a little bit jealous by the time I was finished. We had a couple half portions of frozen ravioli, some butternut squash, some cheese. I pulled some butter and parmigiano out of the fridge, some sage out of the garden, and got to work creating a pretty pantry friendly and delicious lunch. The husband was happy too...he even graced it with one of his Chimays, which he rations out pretty strictly. Honor of honors!


ravioli with brown butter and sage

a serving of ravioli, preferably squash filled
4 tbsp butter
a handful of sage leaves
2 tbsp olive oil
peeled parmigiano reggiano

boil pasta water. heat oil over high heat and lightly fry the sage leaves until crisp; set to dry on paper towels and sprinkle with salt.
melt butter over medium heat. skim off foam and continue to cook. meanwhile, boil pasta according to directions.
when butter begins to smell nutty and turns a brown color, pull it off the heat. toss pasta with butter, plate, sprinkle with salt and liberally with black pepper. top with fried sage and cheese peelings.

a dinner summary:: restaurante akelarre, san sebastian, spain

Sorry for the lack of pictures here....we were so focused on the amazing meal we had at Akelarre two weeks ago that we took no photos, choosing instead to savor every bite of our amazing meals.

Overall, I must begin by saying, this was one amazing meal. I have never eaten at Mugaritz, or Arzak, or Etxebarri, or El Bullí, so this isn't really about recommending one place over the other. All I can say, with every fiber of my food-loving and food-breathing and food-working body is this was worth every penny. The food was exquisite, perfectly timed, perfectly cooked, of incredible quality, and, of course, fascinating.

So let me get down to the details:

The meal started with an amuse bouche: a little box with 4 "candies". The first we were instructed to take all at once, and it turned out to be an oyster encased in a "shell" (get used to the parenthesis...this meal is filled with things that appear to be something other than they are) of black, sandy, crunchy, salty something. Next came a roll of black pudding and crispy wafer. Then a bite-size piece of tuna rolled in crunchy nuts. And finally a powdery "polvorón" of almond and artichoke.

We each got our own tasting menu, sharing the plates. For the first course, B. had the Cold and Hot Crab Salad and its Coral, sitting in what looked a little forest, with a tiny cucumber, she claims an eggplant, and a little "carrot" that was sort of gelatinous and filled with carrot essence, or puree. This crab was the best I've ever tasted, sort of stringy but in the best way that word can be used... I had Little Pearls and Porous of Foie-Gras, Toasted Peanut Bread. A strange translation (from poroso de foie gras) but I don't have a better one; it was a plate of foie gras beads with an airy foie mousse and a thick piece of crispy peanut bread with silky peanut butter.

For the second course, B. had Prawns and French Beans cooked in Orujo Fire, which they brought to the table in a little cauldron and set on fire, infusing these beautiful shrimp with orujo, a liquor made from the pomace of grapes left after wine pressing. These we were instructed to suck the heads of and then dip the bodies in both the green bean puree (again, super silky) and this "soil" of crushed rice and shrimp shells. Amazing. I had Mollusks in the Net of the Fisherman, a challenging dish for someone who barely likes most seafood. However, even I could tell that the razor clams, mussels, shrimp, clams, squidy squids and whatever else was on there (!) were perfect. On top sat a little puffed rice "net" with the cutest little dried shrimp and delicious blobs of dried seaweed.

For the third course, B. had the Wild Mushrooms and Egg Pasta, a slab of impeccable wild mushrooms (enoki, shitake, some other white enoki cousin) with yellow and white "noodles" made by steaming egg whites and egg yolks in noodley shapes. On the side was a dab of deeply flavored mushroom aioli. I had Vegetable Ravioli, four lovely assorted discs of thinly sliced vegetables filled with the cream of each respective veggie: beets, turnips, carrot, and another....and in the center was a little "ravioli" of Iberian ham fat-whoot whoot!

For the fourth course, B. had Red Tuna with Onion Threads and Roasted Peppers. The tuna was gloriously simple, and the red pepper puree that accompanied it was thick and luxurious. There were also "rocks" made of red pepper meringue and a marinated guindilla pepper. I had the Integral Red Mullet with Sauce Fusili. The mullet was crusted with ground up fish bones (yum, for real!) and, as with all the proteins, impeccable. On the side were six little corkscrew shapes of green, white, and brown. They were soy sauce, parsley juice/puree, and garlic juice/puree, fashioned using nitrous something into the shape of corkscrews. Amazing.

The fifth course had B. eating the Roasted Baby Pig with Tomato Bolao and Iberian Emulsion. The pig had the crispiest skin, and it was uber decadent to drag it through its own fat straight to my mouth. My Loin of Lamb Roasted in Live Coal was incredible, as were the black (squid ink) tempura fried veggies alongside.

Next, dessert course one. B. had the most interesting dish: Milk and Grape, Cheese and Wine in parallel Evolution. It was a slab with five little components, starting with a bland looking domino that was basically gelatinous milk and a light grape gelee sort of thing. The flavors got more concentrated and intense the further down the slab we got...a crumbly, powder tart cheese with grapes, a creamy, sweet cheese with ginger jelly and something red, a strong cheese with something encased in a sherry shell, and a gorgonzola ice cream with wafers. Sorry for the ambiguity on that one...we were freaking out over it. The other was Xaxu and Coconut Iced Mousse, a feathery frozen coconut cream with airy frozen creams of goat and cow's milk.

Dessert course two was the Peach in Syrup for me, a lovely white chocolate shaped "peach" that, when cracked open" oozed cold essence of peach, accompanied by a little piece of french toast and a distilled mint water that had the most amazing body in the mouth. B. had Another Apple Tart, which came covered in a piece of edible silver paper with Akelarre written on it. The paper was apple flavored, the writing chocolate. Underneath was a delicious wafer and cream apple flavored dessert.

Finally, there was a little treat box, covered in another piece of edible paper, with chocolates, a candied hazelnut, and who the heck knows what else because we were pretty euphoric by the time this meal was over, two and a half hours after we sat down.

So, a long post that does not do justice to that which it describes. Sorry if I bore any of my usual readers, but I know this will steer someone towards having the same amazing experience I did...so it's worth it.

Viva Pedro!