Beignets for Fat Tuesday

People who know me know this: I have very few secrets. Maybe I read too much Dr. Seuss as a kid, or maybe I was interested in psychology too early, but I offer up information about myself like a flower does pollen. So when I recently let it slip that I have an obsession with donuts, I think my fiancé Neal was a little surprised.

I wasn’t allowed to eat many sweets growing up, and there were rarely any in our house. My mom occasionally bought coffee cake or, my favorite, boxes of Entenmann’s Donuts. I loved the mildly spicy powdered cinnamon ones best. They were cakey and just a little sweet, and they would almost dissolve into a glass of milk. When the cinnamon ones were all gone, I would furtively sneak the plain cake ones, thinking no one would notice.

Somehow, most of my donut eating after that was done on the sly—the honey-dipped Dunkin’ Donuts a secret treat from my Aunt, the dozen donuts at Yum Yum when my friends and I snuck out at 2 a.m. in seventh grade, even the pre-shift sugar donut in grad school that kept me bounding around the restaurant like a five year old at a birthday party after both cake and ice cream. No one knew.

When I confessed my secret passion for donuts to Neal I discovered, to my delight, that Neal secretly harbored a love for donuts too!

Since tomorrow is Fat Tuesday, the culmination of Carnival celebrations, I thought I’d indulge my sweetheart and my sweet tooth and whip up a batch of one of my favorite kinds of donuts: beignets. Beignets are a traditional New Orleans treat—deep-fried yeast dough dusted with powdered sugar. The word beignet is French for “fritter,” a word that any donut-shop frequenter would recognize. I like mine rolled in cinnamon and sugar, though they’re also good with a little spiced chocolate.

To find a recipe I turned to my Anne, a friend and colleague who also happens to be a trained pastry chef. She pointed me in the direction of the Village Coffee Café blog, which had this simple (and might I add, fast) beignet recipe a la the famous Cajun chef, Justin Wilson. I cut mine into little bite-sized circles and served them three ways: dusted with powdered sugar, rolled in cinnamon and sugar, and dipped into oozy good dark chocolate. And I saved some dough to make them fresh for the perfect Fat Tuesday breakfast: Fresh beignets and café au lait.

Beignet Justin Wilson Style
courtesy of Village Coffee Café

2 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp baking powder
1 tsp ground cinnamon (optional)
1 medium egg
3 tbsp sugar
1 cup milk
¼ tsp vanilla extract
1 quart of oil for deep frying
powdered sugar

Fill a large, heavy-bottomed pot with oil and heat to 375 degrees.

While the oil is heating, sift together the flour, salt, baking powder and cinnamon into a medium bowl.

In another bowl, beat the egg well. Then beat in the sugar, milk and vanilla.

Add the egg mixture to the flour mixture and stir until just moistened. Turn the dough out on to a well-floured work surface (it will be sticky) and knead lightly. Cut into diamond shapes or cut out 1-inch circles for bite-sized beignets.

Fry in oil, turning once, until lightly browned. Drain on a paper towel. Dust with powdered sugar or roll in cinnamon and sugar and serve hot.

These can easily be adapted to savory recipes as well.

I’m not as bitter about wedding planning as I was in my first post about the subject. I’m actually starting to enjoy it, thanks to my wedding planner, Emily, who has taken over all the research responsibilities. Now I can click on the myriad links she sends me leisurely. I can rule places out with a glance, and I don’t have to worry about hurting my mother’s feelings. And I can sit in my pajamas all day and flip through the stacks of wedding magazines my friend Suzy so thoughtfully lent me. None of this makes finding a location for both the ceremony and the reception that suits our budget any easier, however; it’s just less stressful.

But with most of my free time devoted to the business of getting married, and Neal hunkered down at his desk, working into the wee hours every night trying to finish a side project he took on months ago, I haven’t thought much about romance.

I’ve long had an aversion to Valentine’s Day. It was one of the few days that being single bothered me when I was, and it always felt cliché and unromantic when I wasn’t. But last year I fell off the anti-Valentine’s wagon lock, stock and chocolate-covered barrel. And this year I’m grateful that it’s coming up, if only that it’ll shake me out of my future-oriented daze and get me to pay some well-deserved attention to the man I love. While I’m working diligently to whip a mental recipe to make Neal melt like a box of Russell Stovers left in the sun, here are a couple of click-and-go treats from my quiver.

Recchiuti Confections
If your lover likes chocolate, these elegant, rich, subtly infused delights are a no-brainer. Using top-quality chocolate from Valrhona, El Rey, Scharffenberger and E. Guittard, Michael Recchiuti’s collection of sweets are like the cacao version of Jeff Buckley’s “Lover, You Should Have Come Over”—they will bring you to your knees. My favorite was easily the Sur de Lago—extra bitter chocolate ganache resting on a Sur de Lago chocolate disk with crushed Sur de Lago nibs all covered in bittersweet chocolate. While decadent enough to make you want to tear your clothes off, it wasn’t too sweet and it had the most textural contrast of all the Recchiuti chocolates that I tried. The San Francisco chocolatier has special Valentine’s selections, but nearly anything from this house of chocolate would work. If you’re really looking to impress (or can’t decide), try one of Recchiuti’s Chocolate Clubs and fill the next three, six or 12 months with chocolaty bliss. Order online or check out their store at the Ferry Building Marketplace in San Francisco.

Carmela Ice Cream
If you’re current relationship is hot and steamy, the last thing you’ll want to do is overheat before Valentine’s is over. Carmela Ice Cream’s cool, creamy confections will also quickly put the thaw on any anti-Valentine’s sentiments. Jessica has whipped up a Valentine’s assortment that includes a reprise of the ever-popular Rose Petal ice cream, which has a hint of rosewater and flecks of organic red roses. The sampler also includes Lavender Honey, made with organic lavender from Silver Lake Farms and local honey, Brown Sugar Vanilla Bean, which is exotic and earthy, Salted Caramel, Dark Chocolate Cacao Nib, Spiced Strawberry Sorbet, Blood Orange Sorbet and Aztec Chocolate, a blend that includes Ceylon cinnamon, whole Madagascar vanilla beans and spicy Ancho and Chipotle chile peppers—the perfect way to reintroduce the heat after these frozen desserts. You can order Carmela’s ice creams online by February 9th or pick them up from one of the area farmers’ markets: Culver City, Silver Lake, South Pasadena or Hollywood.

Sugarbird Sweets
Bring out the little kid in your sweetheart with handmade marshmallows and rosewater Rice Krispie treats from Sugarbird Sweets. Using gourmet fruit purees and fresh herbs from the garden or the farmers’ market, Kei takes the marshmallow to a whole new level. The strawberry heart marshmallows are intense, but to me the perfect Valentine’s flavor is passion fruit, which has a lovely tropical tang to it. Kei left her job working pastry at David Meyer’s Sona and now reserves her handiwork for these confections, currently available at the Carmela booth at the farmers’ market and from her Etsy site.

I have teamed up with the super-awesome wine shop K&L Wine Merchants (who also happens to be my employer!) for this year’s Menu for Hope, a campaign to benefit the UN World Food Programme. Started by Chez Pim after the incredibly devastating tsunami in Southeast Asia, Menu for Hope combines the efforts of food bloggers around the world to serve a higher purpose, namely getting food to those who need it. This year’s campaign is already underway and will continue through Christmas. The proceeds of this year’s Menu for Hope will benefit the school lunch program in Lesotho. This program sources food locally, supporting the local economy, and helps keep the kids in school, which can help end the cycle of poverty. It’s an incredible cause and one we’re thrilled to be a part of. Menu for Hope IV raised nearly $100k to feed the hungry.

So what does this mean?
There are a whole host of food-related goodies being raffled off for your charitable donation. For every $10 you donate, you earn one virtual raffle ticket to bid on a prize of your choice. At the end of the campaign, the raffle tickets are drawn and announced on Chez Pim. My dear friend and amazing writer/photographer Matt, of MattBites, is the West Coast coordinator, so check out his site to see all of the prizes available from the West Coast partners.

Our prize!
Hold onto your hats wine lovers. K&L Wine Merchants and me, SpicySaltySweet, are offering two magnums of Bordeaux with a combined retail value of $500!

2005 Pichon-Lalande, Pauillac (1.5L) This Left Bank second growth comes from the 2005 vintage, possibly the best vintage ever in Bordeaux and definitely among the top five. Beloved by the critics, the ‘05 Pichon-Lalande was rated 93 points by Wine Spectator and 90-92 points by Stephen Tanzer’s International Wine Cellar. Wonderfully aromatic and elegant, this wine has ripe, sweet black cherry aromas and flavors, spiked by currant, anise and spice box on both the nose and palate. Not a powerhouse Bordeaux that thinks it’s a California cab, but a beautifully integrated wine that will continue to gain complexity in your cellar over the decades.

1999 Cos d’Estournel, St-Estèphe (1.5L) This inimitable second growth Bordeaux is already starting to show, though like other top-notch Bordeaux it can continue to age for decades. Made by the talented Jean-Guillaume Prats, the 1999 is an elegant blend of 65% cabernet sauvignon and 35% merlot made from the estate’s best fruit–only 40% of the year’s harvest went into this grand vin. We love its mineral notes and classically restrained structure. Robert Parker says: “The dark ruby-colored 1999 Cos is a supremely elegant effort. The wine offers notes of dried Provencal herbs, smoke, licorice, black cherries, and cassis. This medium to full-bodied St.-Estephe is cerebral, intellectual, and refined…”

Offered by: K&L Wine Merchants and me, Leah Greenstein.

Prize Code: UW25

Special Note: Due to the complex shipping rules in the U.S. it is illegal to ship alcohol to the following states: DE, FL, GA, IA, KY, ME, MD, MI, MT, NH, NC, OK, PA, RI, TN, UT, VA, but there are plenty of non-alcoholic prizes to bid on.

Donation Instructions
1. Choose a prize or prizes of your choice from our Menu for Hope at Chez Pim. The code for this prize is UW25.

2. Next, go to the donation site at FirstGiving to make a donation

3. For every  $10 you donate, you will get one virtual raffle ticket. **Please specify which prize you’d like in the ‘Personal Message’ section in the donation form when confirming your donation.** You must write-in how many tickets per prize, and please use the prize code.

For example: If you make a $50 donation, you will get 5 raffle tickets that can be applied however you like. You can put all 5 toward UW25 (you would write: 5xUW25) or 2 tickets for EU01 and 3 tickets for EU02 (write: 2xEU01, 3xEU02) Please feel free to email me questions if this is not clear, the system isn’t perfect.

4. If your company matches your charity donation, please check the box and fill in the information so we could claim the corporate match.

5. Please allow us to see your email address so that we could contact you in case you win. Your email address will not be shared with anyone.

Celebrate Repeal Day with Homemade Limoncello!

If Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, Repeal Day, which wine-lovers and cocktail hounds alike will be celebrating this Friday, runs a close second. Repeal Day marks the passage of the 21st Amendment to our constitution, effectively overturning the 18th, which banned the manufacture, sale and transportation of alcohol in the U.S. for 13 long, dry years. But while everyone is running around Friday, celebrating the 75th anniversary of the repeal of Prohibition by getting appropriately schnockered, I thought I’d pay tribute the creative spirit—the speakeasies, the wine bottles market “for medicinal purposes” and, of course, the moonshine—that helped Americans survive the Noble Experiment by offering up a recipe for some homemade hooch.

Okay, limoncello isn’t exactly bathtub gin, and it isn’t likely to make you hiccup like Ms. Hannigan, but this beautiful digestivo is easy to make, wonderfully delicious and a great DIY holiday gift. Commonly served as an after-dinner drink on Italy’s Amalfi Coast, this liqueur makes use of the picture-perfect lemons of Sorrento, known for their intoxicating perfume. So whip up a batch, imagine yourself sitting on the deck of some Italian villa overlooking the cerulean Gulf of Naples and sipping on a glass after eating a fresh, mouthwatering pizza.

Limoncello
Courtesy of Eric Alperin of Cole’s French Dip, Los Angeles

1 liter of 100 proof vodka
13 large, fresh lemons (preferably organic—they should be clean of pesticides and added wax on the surface)
25 ounces table sugar (sucrose)
25 ounces boiling water

Peel or grate the zest from all 13 lemons.

Pour the zest in the liter of 100 proof vodka in a sealed container for up to three weeks. (You can agitate the contents every other day and try a week and a half, but three weeks is ideal.)

When your vodka is ready, make a simple syrup by completely dissolving 25 ounces of sugar in 25 ounces of boiling water. Cool the syrup to near room temperature and stir into the lemon vodka.

Refrigerate for 24 hours. Strain into bottles and store in the freezer. Serve ice cold in aperitif glasses.

For Ginger Limoncello: Substitute ginger simple for the plain simple syrup. To make the ginger simple, add 7 ounces of thinly sliced ginger and 5 teaspoons of whole black peppercorns to your simple syrup above and simmer for 30-40 minutes. Strain through a sieve, cool to near room temperature and finish as instructed above.

Thanksgiving is, hands-down, my favorite holiday. Any day dedicated entirely to eating, drinking, friends and family gets my vote under most circumstances. But Thanksgiving has the added benefit of being about gratitude, and I have a lot to be thankful for.

This will be a special Thanksgiving, the first, I hope, of many with my cousin and her family. It’s long been a dream of mine—complete with long rustic tables piled high with food, kids feeding dogs Brussels sprouts and someone gnawing on a turkey leg under the table—to have a big, family Thanksgiving. Maybe I’ve watched too many romantic comedies, but that’s what I want. Too bad my cousin’s son Max is a self-imposed vegetarian; I can easily imagine his sticky hands wrapped around a turkey leg the size of his head.

I’m not making the turkey this year, and after last year’s debacle with turkey-timing, if we were eating at home I might be making Cornish game hens. This year I’m responsible for some appetizers and dessert, so I’m making white bean bruschetta, butternut squash chips, butterhorn rolls and cinnamon ice cream.

What are you making? Are you trying anything new? What are you thankful for?

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Fresh bread, gorgonzola and quince paste

Fall is by far my favorite season and, since the trees here refuse to play dress-up in their crimson, persimmon and gold-colored October wardrobe like a stubborn child refusing to have fun, it’s the one I have to work the most to capture. Autumn comes in from the edges in Southern California. It’s most obvious in the morning—when the light is a little more slanted, illuminating the palm trees and mountains to the east with a pumpkin-tinge—and in the evening, when Orion rises in the sky, the stars on his belt sparkling like Paris Hilton’s bling. It creeps in at the farmers’ markets too, with apples and winter squashes peppering the farmers’ tables along with grapes and figs and dates.

But this year the weather here tells a different story. The summer-like blistering heat marches on like an oppressive regime. So I’m trying to bring the season in from the edges through cooking. Last week I made braised short ribs and slow-cooked chicken. I made sfratti (walnut cookies for the Jewish New Year) and bought a tiny kabocha squash all with the hope that if I ate the foods of fall, somehow I could make it feel more like fall. Mostly it just made my apartment even hotter than it was outside.

Then I found some quince—the yellow-green, lumpy fruit in the apple family with leathery skin like a pomegranate, the astringency of a persimmon when raw and an ethereal, sweet citrus-like flavor when cooked. The fruit has been around for more than 4,000 years in the Mediterranean and Asia, but is just starting to gain popularity here. Only a few farmers grow it, including Mud Creek Ranch in Santa Paula (California), and it’s season is short (late September/early October through December). It tastes delicious poached in vanilla syrup, red wine or honey, or stuffed with spinach—all great symbols of the fall. And because it’s naturally high in pectin, it also lends itself well to jams, jellies and, my favorite, quince paste.

Called membrillo in Spanish, quince paste is customarily served with Manchego cheese, though it contrasts nicely with other salty cheeses like parmigiano or pecorino. Try slathering a pat on fresh bread with gorgonzola, too. Because it keeps well, up to three months in your fridge, it’s easy to make and have ready for unexpected guests, or to serve as a no-fuss appetizer during the rapidly approaching holiday season.

Until I can feel the fall, I’ll be eating quince paste on everything—even if I’m wearing a sundress and the air-conditioning is on all the while.

Quince Paste
adapted from Epicurious

Ingredients
4 medium quinces (about 2 pounds), fully ripe
¼ to ½ cup water
2-3 cups sugar
1 tbsp fresh lemon juice

Directions
Heat oven to 350 degrees and lightly grease a 1-quart terrine.
Clean and dry quinces. Place in a small roasting pan and cover with foil, then bake in the center of the oven until tender. Transfer pan to a rack to cool.

When quinces are cooled enough to handle, peel and core them using a sharp knife.

In a food processor puree quinces with ¼ cup of water until smooth (if mixture is too thick, add a little water at a time, up to another ¼ cup, as needed). Push quince puree through a fine sieve into a liquid cup measure. Note the amount of puree. Transfer to a 3-quart heavy saucepan and add the equivalent amount of sugar and lemon juice.

Cook puree over moderate heat until thickened and begins to pull away from side of pan. If you do not cook the puree long enough it won’t set (though it will still taste good). Pour into terrine and smooth the top with an offset spatula. When paste has reached room temperature, cover with plastic and chill in the refrigerator until set, about 4 hours.

Run knife along sides of terrine and invert onto a platter. Slice and serve. Wrap unused paste in wax paper and then plastic wrap. It should store, refrigerated, up to three months.

Piselli con Asparagi e Basilco

Nature has put on her Technicolor dreamcoat and cast a verdant spell across California’s brown hills. Last weekend I found some gorgeous wild fennel tucked in amongst the daisies and sage in Runyon Canyon, it’s bright green fronds fanning the smaller plants in the breeze. I didn’t pick any, but fully intend to go back with a bag and a little gardening shovel to pluck out a licorice-scented bulb or two. I’ve also been on the lookout for ramps, the garlicky wild leeks prized by chefs; they’re bound to start popping up soon. Though, since there growing season is so short and the flavor so sought-after, I doubt any will remain in the ground long enough for me to find and pick. I’ll just have to watch restaurant menus to get a bite while I can.

The farmers market is awash in green, too. Fava tendrils hint at the broad beans to come, graceful, tender asparagus line stall after stall like crowned guards and snap peas and English peas pour out of baskets, crisp pods beckoning like the Jolly Green Giant’s fingers.

What? You don’t like peas? Chronically overcooked and often served to most of us either from a can or the freezer, peas have one of the worst reputations in the vegetable world (just behind Brussels sprouts, I think). But a fresh English pea is anything but mushy, grey or flavorless. A recently shelled pea pops in your mouth like fine caviar, exploding with sweetness. But peas start converting their natural sugars to starch the moment they’re picked. So the longer they travel from garden (or farm) to your table, the less appetizing they’ll be.

If you’ve got a black-and-blue thumb like me, the trick is to find English peas, also known as the common garden pea, at the farmers market, where you know they’ll be their freshest. Buy them in their pods, which should be unblemished and emerald-colored. If you can, crack one open and eat a pea or two, they should be glossy, crisp and sweet. If you don’t plan to use them right away, keep them stored in the refrigerator in a plastic bag for no more than three days.

Shelling peas is easy and surprisingly relaxing. After rinsing the peas in cold water, sit down with a bowl for pods, a bowl for peas and a bowl or bag to discard the spent shells. Snap the end drawing the string down the length of the pea like a zipper. Then, just run your finger through the inside of the pod, dislodging the peas inside. I love the plink-plink-plink sound as the first peas hit the empty bowl. Every now and then eat one straight from the pod.

Now what to do with those peas? Enjoy them raw or lightly sautéed with mint or tarragon. Puree them into a delightfully bright soup. Or, try this super-simple recipe for Piselli con Asparagi e Basilco (peas, asparagus and basil) from the April issue of Gourmet. It was a hit in my house on Easter, incorporated another springtime gem, asparagus, and is sure to win some converts at yours, too!

Piselli con Asparagi e Basilco

¼ c finely chopped shallots
3 tbsp unsalted butter
2 lbs asparagus, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces
¾ lb freshly shelled peas (1 ¾ lbs in pods)
½ tsp fine sea salt
handful torn basil leaves

Melt butter in a skillet and sauté shallots over medium heat until just tender, about four minutes. Stir in asparagus, peas, salt and a little fresh-ground pepper, the cover the skillet with foil. Cook over medium heat until vegetables are warm but still al dente, about eight minutes. Stir in basil and sea salt to taste.

Tortellini en Brodo

Last Thursday was the Vernal Equinox, the day in the Northern Hemisphere when the night and day are essentially the same length. It is also the official start of spring and my second favorite time of year after fall. But living in Southern California, it’s easy to get a little detached from the seasons—the daffodils, cherry blossoms and tulips started blossoming at the end of February and I’ve returned to wearing flip flops most days—but I find that cooking always keeps me in time with the earth’s clock. Feeling springy, I decided to host “Easter” dinner for a few friends, a slightly surprising turn of events since I’m Jewish. Yet no sooner was the guest list confirmed than I found out I was supposed to work Sunday brunch at the restaurant I’ve been moonlighting at. Rather than cancel I decided to pick a simple menu, prep Saturday and have Neal do a bunch of the cooking while I was at work.

The “simple” menu I planned started with Tortellini en Brodo, a soothing traditional Italian dish consisting of delicate tortellini floating around in clear, flavorful broth. For the second course I decided to roast a leg of lamb, following the recipe for Easter Leg of Kid I found in the bible of Italian cooking, the Silver Spoon. With that I’d serve a simple contorno of asparagus, English peas and fresh basil that I found in the April issue of Gourmet. With my dear friend Brooke of Foodwoolf promising to bring a deconstructed creamsicle for dessert it seemed easy enough. But remember, I’m a masochist.

I decided to follow the Silver Spoon’s recipe for tortellini since it was the simplest I found, but buying ground veal was harder than I thought. Whole Foods had none and would only grind me fresh veal if I paid $25 a pound for the bone-in veal shanks. Thanks but no thanks. I finally found fresh ground veal at Marconda’s, a butcher shop in the Fairfax Farmers Market, but by that point I’d already lost about two hours of precious time and was to hungry and frustrated to appreciate it.

Ordinarily I would go into all the gritty details of prepping: the meditativeness of shelling peas or the near tortuous task of peeling pearl onions, but it’s been nearly a week and the memories have been filtered through a wonderfully joyous meal. I will say this: making tortellini is not easy and I understand why most people would rather buy it from a box. Neal and I were up until one in the morning measuring two-inch by two-inch squares of pasta dough, filling, folding and pinching each into little tortellini shapes—probably not most people’s idea of a relaxing Saturday night at home. But then again, the first time is always the hardest and the results were so delicious, so perfectly balancing the salty sweetness of the filling, the melt-in-your mouth pasta dough and the soothing warmth of homemade organic chicken broth that I’d quickly do it again.

What I appreciated most about the meal, besides sharing it with fabulous and wonderfully appreciative friends, was how the table reflected the transition from winter to spring. The tortellini en brodo was like the last kiss of winter, warming and comforting. The lamb, rubbed with rosemary, garlic and olive oil and surrounded by onions, a rainbow of carrots and new potatoes sat on the cusp of the seasons. The carrots and onions were a nod at winter’s staples, the new potatoes and spring lamb a hopeful hello, like the first morning you awake to hear the birds yapping wildly outside your window. The tender young asparagus, snappy English pea and basil side dish fully embraced the new season, verdant and fresh they tasted like wearing a tank top and feeling the warm sun on your bare shoulders. So while I don’t really celebrate Easter in the Christian sense, our dinner that night celebrated the season, the idea that life can rise again out of the darkness of winter. I don’t think you need to be any religion to find joy in that.

Tortellini En Brodo
adapted from the Silver Spoon

Filling
2 tbsp butter
½ c ground veal
2 tbsp Parmigiano-Reggiano, freshly grated
½ c prosciutto, diced
¼ c mortadella, diced
1 egg, lightly beaten

Fresh pasta dough
1 ¾ c flour, plus extra for dusting
2 eggs lightly beaten
salt

Chicken broth
1 chicken, skinned and trimmed of visible fat
1 onion
1 carrot
1 celery stalk
salt

You can make the chicken broth ahead of time and either refrigerate or freeze it. Chop the celery, onion and carrots into large pieces. Heat a tablespoon of olive oil and add vegetables and a pinch of salt. When the vegetables start to sweat out their liquid add the chicken and cover with water and sprinkle with more salt. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, covered for at least two hours, occasionally skimming any scum that rises to the surface. Pour finished stock through a wire mesh strainer and let cool, skimming off any fat that rises to the surface. Set aside.

On a wood cutting board sift flour and a pinch of salt together and make a mound and a well. Add beaten egg yolks to the well and start incorporating the flour. When the dough comes together, knead for about 15 minutes by hand or with the dough hook on your mixer. Wrap dough in plastic and set aside to rest for 30 minutes.

In the meantime, melt the butter in a small pan; add the veal and cook, stirring frequently, until browned. Transfer to a small bowl and let cool. Stir in the Parmigiano, prosciutto, mortadella and egg. For a smoother filling place all ingredients in the food processor and pulse 3-4 times until incorporated.

Roll out a sheet of the pasta dough and cut into 2-inch by 2-inch squares. (It’s easiest to roll out a sheet at a time, since filling and folding is time-consuming and as the dough dries out it cracks when you fold it.) Pipe or spoon filling into the center of a square and then fold the square into a triangle and seal the edges with a little water. Fold the triangle over the top of your finger then gently fold the flap of dough backwards to make a tortellini shape. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Let tortellini dry on a cookie sheet for about a half hour before cooking or moving to the refrigerator, covered with plastic or in a zip-top bag.

When you’re ready to serve, bring the chicken broth to a boil. Add the tortellini and cook until they float to the surface, about five minutes.

Ladel broth and about 20 tortellini into a shallow bowl. Grate fresh Parmigiano over the top and finish with a dusting of fleur de sel.

Valrhona Suave au chocolat et aux pommes

I have long counted myself among the Valentine’s Day-haters, a scowling anti-cupid. And my hate was the self-righteous kind, the disdain of the enlightened, of someone who didn’t buy into a holiday concocted to sell more greeting cards and chocolate—something like a Valentine’s vegan. But then I fell deeply in love. And suddenly, like someone who had deprived themselves of bacon and butter too long, I fell off the deep end.

Square One
Casting aside my fear of doilies, heart-shaped boxes of chocolate and fluffy animals bearing pithy “conversation” hearts, I got quickly got down to the business of deciding what kind of Valentine’s Day I would like. After nearly 15 years in the restaurant business, pitching prix fixe menus, I knew I wanted to cook a meal at home. While scanning my cookbooks for the perfect menu, one that wouldn’t leave me in the kitchen all night, I began running through gift ideas. Neal, like my mother, is not easy to shop for. So after much contemplation, I had finally decided on buying him an autographed Manny Ramirez rookie baseball card. While it didn’t have the romantic sentiment that I had initially hoped for, Manny is his favorite player on the Red Sox. And we did fall in love over homemade dinners and Red Sox games on TV. But when a friend emailed me to say that autographed baseball cards weren’t as valuable as unsigned ones, and I noted the lack of memorabilia in our apartment (contrary to what you might be imagining, I do not live inside a scene from Fever Pitch), I decided to shelve the idea until I could get more information.

Back to Square One
My dad suggested doing something simple. He’s bought my mother a Nestle’s Chunky and a single red rose for almost all of the soon-to-be 35 years they’ve been married. But the candy and flowers thing, no matter how unconventional, isn’t really my bag. So night after night I stared blankly at our butter cream yellow walls, trying to imagine a perfect, creative gift, perhaps something that I could do instead of buy. Then, like a fresh coat of paint brightens the dullest room, it dawned on me: our walls! I would paint our bedroom (or at least promise to). Neal’s hated the color since the painters’ first stroke. It was simple and thoughtful and just unusual enough to work. So I got started on my I.O.U.

The Menu
My Valentine’s menu didn’t really take shape until the morning of, while I was cutting out pink, red and white paper hearts to scatter across our entryway. It had to have shrimp and chocolate, but also had to be easy enough to make so that we weren’t eating at mid-night. It was a workday after all. I remembered marking a recipe for Quick and Easy Cioppino in the October issue of Gourmet; that would work if I added shrimp and, perhaps, some fresh King or Snow crab to the pot. A little crusty sourdough from La Brea Bakery and a bottle of southern Italian wine and the dinner plan was set. Dessert would have to be something chocolate, since Neal loves it. I thought about a soufflé or a pot de crème, but decided on a recipe straight from the Valrhona chocolate website:

Suave au chocolat et aux pommes
3 tart apples, peeled and chopped coarsely
2/3 cup hazelnuts (with the skin), chopped
9 oz Caraïbe couverture, 66% cocoa, chopped
2/3 cup whipping cream
3 egg yolks
1 tbsp, slightly rounded, cornstarch
3 egg whites
3 tbsp honey
Softened butter for the cake pan
Powdered sugar
Powdered cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter an 11-inch springform cake pan. Prep the apples and hazelnuts; set aside. Bring whipping cream to a boil and pour over chopped chocolate. Whisk in the egg yolks and cornstarch, being careful to avoid lumps. Add honey to the egg whites and whip to soft peals. Incorporate a small amount of the whipped whites into the still lukewarm chocolate and cream mixture using a whisk, to temper it. Then, with a spatula, gently incorporate the rest of the remaining whites. Pour the batter into the cake pan then sprinkle the chopped nuts and apples over the top. Dust with powdered sugar and cinnamon before baking. Set on middle oven rack and bake for 25-30 minutes, or until a knife inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean.Cool on a rack and unmold only after it has cooled to lukewarm.

I’d never made a Suave before, but I’m glad I did. It was rich and dense, with the tang of the apples and roasted hazelnut flavors really complementing the bittersweet chocolate. I actually used 71% cacao Valrhona chocolate, because that’s what I had already bought, and I only used seven ounces (two bars), which was plenty! I also didn’t have a springform pan and substituted two 9-inch cake pans. I’m sure this affected the texture of the cake a bit, but it didn’t keep it from being utterly decadent and delicious. I made a small amount of fresh, slightly sweetened whipped cream to counter the richness. I might add a little cayenne if I make this again, though, the dessert definitely calls out for a spicy foil.

Overall, I’d say, our first Valentine’s was a success. And any chance of the gag-me-cheesiness was immediately lost when I slammed the door in Neal’s face when he arrived home for work 15 minutes earlier than I’d expected. I was just switching NPR for Tom Petty on the stereo and still had to scatter the hearts and light some candles. We laughed hysterically when I finally let him in, cold and a little pissed off for having been left out on the doorstep alone for so long.

Butternut Squash, Asiago & Walnut Ravioli with Brown Butter

Why are people so willing to start off the New Year with pie-in-the-sky expectations—thinking New Year’s Eve is going to be some transformational event—only to go to a large party, get sloppy drunk and end up in bed with a stranger? No wonder New Year’s is always a disappointment? I’m not trying to be Negative Nancy here, it just seems our New Year’s traditions are, shall I say, a little lacking.

What we know as New Year’s Eve is, essentially, an arbitrary designation made by two Roman consuls in 153 BC. Before that, the holiday was celebrated on March 15. And there are plenty of cultures that don’t even follow the Roman calendar, celebrating their New Year in the fall like Rosh Hashana—the Jewish New Year, or February, like the Chinese.

Normally, having spent much of my adult life in the restaurant business, I work on New Year’s Eve. The money is fantastic and, unlike my non-working friends, I wake up January 1st feeling refreshed. But at the beginning of December my dear friend Brooke, of Foodwoolf, and I were eating lunch at Joan’s On Third, when our cheese-pusher, Chester, mentioned he’d just gotten in the sausage for a traditional Italian New Year’s dish, cotechino con lenticche—cotechino with lentils. Traditionally eaten by northern Italians to bring prosperity in the New Year, the sausage is spiced with clove and encased in pig skin, which accounts for its unusually tacky texture. Brooke and I immediately decided there was no better way to reclaim New Year’s than to celebrate New Year’s Day and cook this ancient dish.

My first collaboration of the New Year ensued. Brooke and I decided on a full menu, comprised of a pasta course, the lentils as the main course complemented by homemade filoncino—an Italian-style baguette, a cheese course and cannoli for dessert.

Brooke’s written so beautifully about the cotechino that I encourage you to read about that on her blog.

Butternut Squash, Asiago & Walnut Ravioli with Brown Butter
Cotechino con Lenticche
Torta di Gorganzola
Cannoli Two Ways

While I still don’t have a pasta roller, I wasn’t so afraid of making the ravioli by hand. I decided to fill it with roasted butternut squash, asiago and walnuts, a recipe reminiscent of a one of my favorite bruschetta in Jennifer and Jason Denton’s Simple Italian Sandwiches.

Butternut Squash, Asiago & Walnut Ravioli with Brown Butter

Ravioli Dough:
3 cups semolina flour
4 eggs
½ tsp olive oil

Mound the flour on a wood cutting board, creating a well in the center for the eggs and olive oil. Using a fork, slowly incorporate the eggs, oil and flour, slowly pulling in more flour as the ingredients are blended. You’ll need to continuously reshape the mound to maintain the integrity of the well shape.

Once about half of the flour is incorporated, you should be able to start kneading the dough by hand. Once it’s all come together remove the dough from the board and scrape up any leftover bits and discard. Reflour the board and knead the dough for about six minutes; it should be elastic and a little sticky. Ball up the dough and wrap it in plastic. Let it rest at room temperature for a half an hour.

Butternut Squash Filling:
1 large butternut squash (about 3 lbs)
1/3 cup coarsely chopped walnuts
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
2 tbsp aged balsamic vinegar
1/2 tsp hot chile flake
1 ½ tsp honey
¾ tsp coarse sea salt
5 oz fresh grated asiago
Walnut oil

Peel and seed squash and cut into 1/4-inch cubes. Combine squash, walnuts, olive oil, chile flakes, honey and sea salt in a bowl. Toss ingredients until completely coated with oil. Pour out onto baking sheet and cook in 350-degree oven for a half hour, stirring every 10 minutes.

Turn temperature on oven up to 500 degrees and cook squash mixture for 10 minutes more or until squash are tender. Let cool.

In food processor, combine squash mixture and cheese. Blend until ingredients are almost smooth. Scoop squash mixture into a pastry bag or Ziploc, cutting off one corner to squeeze out filling.

Ravioli:
Cut your dough in half, forming each segment into a ball with your hands. Wrap one in plastic and set aside. On a large, lightly floured surface, roll out your pasta dough into a rectangle until it is about ¼-inch thick. Fold in half and roll out again. Repeat this four more times, rolling dough out thinner each time. Roll the dough out until it’s about 1/8-inch thick. Pipe filling out onto dough strip at 1-inch intervals, about ½-inch in from the edge. Fold the ½-inch of dough over and press to seal edges and individual filling pockets. Cut ravioli with a dough scraper–you may want to trim the edges with a kitchen scissor–crimping the edges closed with a fork. If you have a pastry roller, you can separate the ravioli using that, too. Put finished ravioli on a cookie sheet dusted with cornmeal until ready to use. You can also freeze them.

To serve: Bring a large pot of seasoned water to a boil. Add ravioli and cook for about five minutes or until ravioli are floating at the top. Drain.

In a sauté, melt ¼ cup of butter, allowing it to foam. As the bubbles dissipate the butter will brown, remove from heat.

Ladle six ravioli into a dish. Top with 2 tablespoons brown butter and finish with fresh-grated asiago and a drizzle of walnut oil.

Everything came out fantastic! The ravioli were like feather pillows of pasta filled with nutty sweetness. The cotechino was garlicky and rich and a perfect counterpoint to the earthy Umbrian lentils. I made a light orange zest-spiked ricotta to fill some of the cannoli shells with, filling the others with Boston Cream.

It was the perfect way to start the New Year, infusing it with the perfect ingredients: good friends, good food wine and great conversation.