In the Hands of a Chef (11 page)

MAKES 4 SERVINGS

2 large sweet onions (½dalia or Walla Walla, for example), sliced ½ inch thick

½ cup extra virgin olive oil

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Leaves from 1 bunch flat-leaf parsley

¼ cup pitted Niçoise olives

¼ cup pomegranate seeds

3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1.
Prepare a medium fire in a grill. You should be able to hold your hand near the grilling surface for a count of 4 before having to pull it away.

2.
Toss the onions with 2 tablespoons of the olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Grill until lightly charred and tender, 8 to 10 minutes per side. Be careful not to burn the onions. If you can cook with the top of your grill down, the time will be somewhat shortened. Transfer the onions to a plate and let them cool to room temperature.

3.
Toss the onions with the remaining olive oil, the parsley, olives, pomegranate seeds, and vinegar. Season with salt and pepper and serve.

T
he summer when I was
fifteen, we left England, where my father was taking his sabbatical, for two wonderful weeks in the ancient walled town of Flavigny, in Burgundy. Most nights we ate at a small bistro where each meal began with a large plate of perfectly ripe peeled tomatoes sprinkled heavily with chopped parsley. Our server whisked together a simple tableside vinaigrette of mustard, red wine vinegar, and extra virgin olive oil. As an adult, I tried for many years to duplicate the flavor of what my memory told me was a basic one-two-three recipe, but I could never get it to work out. Several years ago, I found myself nibbling a sample of curly parsley from my mother’s herb garden when I suddenly realized that I was tasting the missing ingredient. When we turned up our noses at curly parsley in the ‘80s in favor of flat-leaf, or “Italian, “ parsley, as it’s sometimes called, we eliminated a flavor from our palette. This salad needs the sharper taste of the curly variety to taste right, at least to me.

This dish is actually two salads, although I love them together when I can get my hands on good tomatoes and mushrooms simultaneously. A loaf of bread, a couple of nice cheeses, and you have a great summer meal.

MAKES 4 SERVINGS

½ pound assorted mushrooms large enough to slice or chop and grill (portabellas, cremini, and/or large white mushrooms)

1 garlic clove, minced

½ cup plus 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

2½ tablespoons red wine vinegar

1 pound ripe beefsteak tomatoes, peeled (see page 55)

¼ cup finely chopped fresh curly parsley

1 shallot, sliced paper-thin, soaked in ice water for 20 minutes (to remove bitterness), drained, and patted dry

1 ounce aged sheep’s milk or goat cheese, grated

1.
Prepare a medium fire in a grill. You should be able to hold your hand near the grilling surface for a count of 4 before having to pull it away.

2.
To prepare the mushrooms, cut large mushroom caps, such as portabellas, into 1-inch-thick slices. Cut other mushrooms into 2-inch pieces. The point is to cut them so they’ll cook fairly speedily while leaving them large enough not to fall between the bars of the grill. (Use a grill basket if you have one.) Toss the mushrooms with the garlic, 2 tablespoons of the oil, and the thyme. Season with salt and pepper. Grill, turning once, until tender and slightly charred, about 6 minutes. Set aside.

3.
Whisk the mustard and red wine vinegar together in a small bowl to form an emulsion. Whisk in the remaining
½
cup olive oil in a thin, steady stream until it is completely absorbed. Season with salt and pepper.

4.
Remove the stems and cut the tomatoes into slices ½ inch thick.

5.
Arrange the tomatoes in overlapping rows on a platter. Season with salt and pepper. Spoon two-thirds of the vinaigrette over the tomatoes and sprinkle with the chopped parsley. Arrange the grilled mushrooms over the tomatoes. Distribute the shallots over the top and drizzle with the remaining vinaigrette. Sprinkle with the grated cheese and serve.

B
eets and chèvre, fresh goat
cheese, are a solid combination, but simply not interesting enough by themselves. Figs and spinach add just enough interest to enliven the salad without overwhelming it. Many chèvres are pleasant enough but almost as nondescript as cream cheese. Try to find one with some chalky tartness that can offer a counterpoint to its mildly sweet partners, beets and figs.

MAKES 4 SERVINGS

4 small beets, washed, greens trimmed to an inch

2 orange quarters (wash the orange before slicing)

Kosher salt

1 teaspoon grated orange zest

¼ cup balsamic vinegar

1 teaspoon crushed toasted anise seeds

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

1 teaspoon minced shallots

½ cup plus 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil

Freshly ground black pepper

8 fresh figs, cut lengthwise in half

3 cups lightly packed baby spinach leaves

½ pound fresh goat cheese

1 tablespoon capers, rinsed

1.
Put the beets in a saucepan large enough to accommodate them in a single layer. Squeeze the juice from the orange quarters into the pan. Add the rinds and enough water to cover the beets by an inch. Season with salt, cover, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat to a simmer and cook until the beets are tender, about 45 minutes. Allow the beets to cool in the cooking liquid.

2.
Drain the beets, then remove the skins and stems by rubbing them with an old kitchen towel. Cut each beet into 8 wedges. Place the wedges in a large bowl and toss with the orange zest and 1 tablespoon of the balsamic vinegar.

3.
Whisk together the anise seeds, mustard, and shallots with the remaining 3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar in a small bowl. Add ½ cup of the olive oil in a thin, steady stream, whisking constantly, until the vinaigrette is smooth and completely blended. Season with salt and pepper.

4.
Preheat a grill pan over high heat (or use an outdoor grill, if you prefer). Brush the grill pan with 1 teaspoon of the olive oil. Toss the figs with the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. Grill cut side down until browned and tender, only a minute. Remove from the heat and toss with 1 tablespoon of the vinaigrette.

5.
Add the spinach and the remaining vinaigrette to the bowl with the beets. Toss well, then arrange on four plates. Crumble the goat cheese over the beets, garnish with the grilled figs, and capers and serve.

V
egetables were a marginal attraction
for me, an enhancement for the culinary centerpiece of meat or fish, until I studied the food of southern France, Italy, and Spain, where appreciation for fresh seasonal produce approaches a near-spiritual reverence. As opportunities to travel came my way, I began to understand why other cultures lavish such care on their vegetables. If you live in an environment where animal protein is historically scarce, you exercise your creativity on what
is
available. If winter means you have to work your way through a cellar full of turnips and potatoes, you become adept at purées and gratins and roasting in order to stave off monotony. The reappearance of tender greens in the spring is a welcome relief, and the ripening of tomatoes cause for celebration.

My approach to vegetables is to think seasonally, buy locally, and fill in the gaps with the best global produce available during the winter. From late spring through the fall, I cook with whatever looks best at the local farmers’ market. In the winter, when of necessity I need to shop indoors, I go to one of the really good produce or whole foods stores near to me.

My shopping at farmers’ markets is motivated by far more than a nostalgic fondness for a European lifestyle. Farmers’ markets are supplied by small farmers, and these producers are responsive to consumers in ways that large wholesalers are not. Heirloom tomatoes or peaches are far more
likely to show up in a farmers’ market than a grocery store. Before I decided to include recipes for squash blossoms in this book, I asked the zucchini vendor in my market whether she’d sell me zucchini blossoms. “How many do you want?” She was already selling them to other customers who ordered them in advance. As a chef, I’m accustomed to having suppliers try to oblige me, but in farmers’ markets, ordinary consumers find that vendors are eager to form the same type of sustaining relationships with them.

The recipes in this chapter offer you a broad range of seasonal choices. Warm Spring Vegetable Salad with Favas, Green Beans, Peas, and Radicchio, Warm Asparagus Spears with Aged Gouda, and Slow-Roasted Tomatoes are spring and summer treats, as are Simple Favas with Butter and Leek, Artichoke, and Fennel Strudel. (It’s unlikely that fava beans will ever show up in my New England farmers’ market, but they do put in a seasonal appearance in my local whole-foods grocery store.)

Crisp Shredded Potato Pancakes, Winter Vegetable Gratin with Cranberries and Chestnuts, a variety of roasted vegetable recipes, and highly seasoned purées and mashes provide an antidote to cold-weather tedium. Broccoli rabe, ordinary broccoli, and a selection of hardy leafy greens keep a green thread alive in your culinary repertoire through the winter months. Braised Escarole with Parmesan Crust is the dish to make when you just can’t stand another gray February day. By the time you’ve cooked your way through these, the first spring asparagus should be just around the corner.

O
nce you taste leeks braised
in a little white wine and chicken stock, you’ll never go back to braising them in water. Here the braised leeks are stuffed with a couple of sautéed shiitakes, then wrapped with pancetta to hold everything together. There’s a final sauté to seal the bundles. The finished leeks deserve their own course as an appetizer. Almost all of the steps in this dish can be done a day ahead and the bundles refrigerated overnight. Save the final sauté until just before serving.

MAKES 4 APPETIZER SERVINGS

4 large leeks (white part needs to be 6 inches long after trimming)

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

8 medium shiitakes, stems removed and discarded or saved for stock

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 garlic clove, finely chopped

1 cup Chicken Stock (page 31) or high-quality canned low-sodium chicken broth

¼ cup dry white wine

1 sprig thyme

¼ teaspoon finely chopped fresh rosemary

8 thin slices pancetta (3 to 4 ounces)

1.
Trim the roots off each leek. Cut off the green tops and any tough outer leaves. Slice each leek lengthwise, leaving a 2-inch section of the base intact. Holding the base tightly, swish each leek vigorously in a pot of cold water, spreading the leaves apart, then rinse under cold running water to dislodge any sand or grit trapped between the leaves. Shake off excess water.

2.
Heat the oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add the mushroom caps, season with salt and pepper, and cook, turning once, until tender, about 3 minutes per side. Transfer the mushrooms to a plate and set aside.

3.
Add the leeks to the pan and sear all over until lightly browned. Season with salt and pepper. Add the garlic and cook until it becomes aromatic, about a minute. Add the stock, wine, thyme, and rosemary, lay a piece of foil over the leeks, and then cover with a lid. Reduce the heat to low and simmer until the leeks are tender, 30 to 40 minutes. Remove the leeks from the liquid and cool; reserve the braising liquid.

4.
Insert 2 shiitakes between the halves of each leek, like a sandwich. Wrap 2 slices of the pancetta around each leek in a spiral, to secure the shiitakes and bind the leek halves together.

5.
Place the pancetta-wrapped leeks in a large nonstick sauté pan and cook over medium heat, using tongs to turn the leeks, until the pancetta is browned all over and the leeks are warm. Serve drizzled with the braising liquid.

A
sparagus are finger food in
my family, like corn on the cob or clams on the half-shell, and in the spring when they first appear in the markets, we eat as much as we can. Unless the spears are pencil-thin, I peel the stalks; unpeeled thick spears have an unpleasant “stemmy” flavor and are tough. Although we often eat steamed asparagus dressed with a little good olive oil, this recipe calls for blanching the asparagus, then giving it a quick roast. Roasting brings out a nutty quality in the vegetable’s flavor, well matched with the aged Gouda that is sprinkled on just before serving.