Pulled Pork Sugo with Chestnut Polenta

Let me start first by saying, no, we haven’t set a date yet. Neal and I might be getting married this fall, or we might be getting married next spring. Or maybe we’ll get married fall 2010—though I think I might lose my mind if I’m in planning stages for another year-plus. We figured we’d pick a date once we found a venue we liked. But that’s just it, trying to find a venue has been like Amazing Race meets Survivor. I’ve gotten lost behind the Orange curtain, hit by a cyclist who ran a red light, seen a wedding venue come menagerie and driven all around Sonoma County with Slingblade barking at me from my father’s GPS, “Bear left, cow right.” All this running around is exhausting. And when I get home from a weekend’s worth of talking about tables and chairs and luxury Porta Potties, cranky for having missed my Sunday morning at the farmers’ market, the last thing I want to do is spend a lot of time cooking.

Which brings me to reason number 2,356 that I love my Le Creuset Dutch Oven: No-fuss cooking. Forget the crock pot. This can go in the oven, on the stovetop or even on the grill. It’s sturdy, conducts heat great and almost everything I’ve ever cooked in it tastes incredible. I’ve made carnitas, braciole and Hungarian Goulash. But right now my favorite dish is Pulled Pork Sugo with Winter Greens and Chestnut Polenta Cakes.

The word sugo is Italian for “juice” or “sauce” and it is up there in the country’s food lore with the best Bolognese—cooked slow, different for every family and nonna’s hallmark. Mine started with a recipe from Gourmet and is slowly morphing into something all my own. The dish is hearty and heart-warming, it takes very little effort to make come together—you literally stick it in the oven and walk away for hours—and the flavors have that layered balanced of savory and sweet, texture upon texture. While I love this sugo over chestnut polenta cakes for the nuttiness the chestnut flour adds, and the extra dimension of chew the polenta cakes get, and I like to add sautéed beet greens or Bloomsdale spinach from the South Central Farmer’s Cooperative, it’s also great with firm, dry pastas. The original Gourmet recipe paired it with orechiette, ear-shaped pastas that cup the sauce perfectly, holding onto it like a message from generations long gone. Bigoli, a rough-hewn spaghetti-shaped pasta is another favorite for the dish, and soft polenta goes well, too.

Winter’s running out, which means the opportunities to make this cool weather dish are trickling away with the lingering darkness. But for now I’ll make my sugo and eat the leftovers in the morning, topped with a gently fried egg, a pick through the last of the potential wedding venues on my list, knowing I had to do very little for this great meal.

Pulled Pork Sugo
adapted from Gourmet

2 lbs pork butt or shoulder
salt and pepper
1 large onion, chopped
2 celery ribs, chopped
3 garlic cloves, chopped
1 tsp dried oregano
11/2 tbsp tomato paste
1 cup dry white wine
2 cups chicken stock
½ cup cannellini beans, preferably dried and soaked
1 tbsp cider vinegar
1 bunch beet greens, Bloomsdale spinach or other hearty winter green
½ cup Parmigiano Reggiano or Pecorino Romano, grated

Place rack in the middle of your oven. Heat to 325 degrees.

Pat pork butt dry and sprinkle generously with salt and pepper. Roast in a small roasting pan or Dutch oven, tightly covered with foil and covered, about 3 hours, or until the meat begins to pull apart evenly. (This step varies greatly by your oven so the first time you make it, check after an hour.) When the pork is cool enough to touch, shred and set aside.

Pour off all but a few tablespoons of fat. Add the celery and onion and sprinkle with salt and pepper, cooking until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in garlic and oregano into combined, then add tomato paste. Cook 3 minutes, stirring constantly. Add wine, broth, beans, vinegar and pork and let simmer, covered for at least 30 minutes. If the sauce gets to thick, add a little water. If you’re pairing it with pasta, use the pasta water.

Wash, trim and shred your beet greens. Heat a sauté pan over medium heat, add olive oil and heat until glistening. Add the beet greens and lower the heat to medium-low. Sprinkle with salt and sauté until wilted and sweet. Remove immediately from heat.

Serve with Chestnut Polenta cakes (below), soft polenta, or dried pasta. Finish with grated cheese.

Chestnut Polenta Cakes

4 cups water
pinch of salt
1 cup coarse ground polenta
¼ cup chestnut flour
butter
olive oil

Note: The trick to polenta is cooking it for a long time, the longer you cook it, the softer and creamier the corn gets. It also makes it much easier to digest. The trick I learned is to have a pot of hot water on the stove, and to slowly add water as the polenta thickens, to keep it the right texture.

To make the polenta, add water, salt and polenta to a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil and cook slowly, stirring with a wooden spoon, adding water as it thickens. Cook for 45 minutes. Add chestnut flour and stir in until it’s full integrated.

Pour polenta into a greased 9×12 dish and let set, then cut into 3-inch squares.

Heat a sauté pan and add a teaspoon each of butter and olive oil. Add the polenta cakes and cook, about a minute on each side until they’re warmed through and they have a crispy skin. Top with beat greens and pour sugo over polenta and finish with cheese. These polenta cakes are also great with fresh tomatoes and sautéed green and a fried egg for breakfast!

Tuscan Chickpea Soup

Planning a wedding stinks. At least at this stage. Neal and I will have been engaged for a month (as of tomorrow), and I’ve already cried three times, gotten a migraine and fought with my folks. And I thought not having a preconceived notion about my “dream wedding” would be a good thing.

Neal and I decided we wanted a simple wedding—something like an oversized dinner party. Good food, good wine, good music and the people we love, we said, that’s all we’d need to make the day special. But apparently that’s a very tall order. Our families are huge. Venues are outrageously priced. And the extra costs associated with finding a cool site that will let you bring your own caterer and wine can be tens of thousands of dollars. The wedding planner we consulted suggested we be prepared to spend $75-90K. If we had that kind of we’d be buying a house instead of planning a wedding.

Times like these call for comfort food. And what’s more comforting than soup? Every culture has its soup recipes—from gazpacho to phở to menudo—with some combinations dating back thousands of years. Soup can be highbrow (vichyssoise), or lowbrow (potato leek). It can be made from the bones of animal, like chicken or veal stock, or the scraps of vegetables from your garden. Soup can be magical, too (think of the children’s story, Stone Soup) and restorative. In fact, the word restaurant derives from the French restaurer, a word used to describe cheap, filling soups sold be street vendors in the 18th century.

So when my friend Tracey invited me to her house for a soup swap last weekend, I was excited. We were all asked to bring six quarts of homemade, frozen soup, which we would then swap for different ones.

I had initially wanted to make a white bean soup, but with all the wedding venue hunting I didn’t have time to soak the beans, or make mirepoix for six quarts of soup—about three batches of your average recipe. So I settled on Tuscan Chickpea, a quick, easy and tasty favorite. Like the best soups, the ingredients are simple, basically garbanzos, canned tomatoes, onions, garlic, rosemary and water, with a splash of balsamic vinegar at the end for added depth of flavor and acidity. Ochre-colored and a little gritty, I love this soup topped with a handful of freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano and a big hunk of rustic, freshly baked bread.

I came home with some amazing soups, too: Joanna made a tasty chicken tortilla soup, Cami a mint and sweet pea that tasted like springtime, perfect for the warm weather spell we were having. Tiff made a chipotle tomato that had the slight smokiness of the peppers to warm you up. Krista made a hearty split pea that could give Anderson’s a run for their money (and she gets extra credit for using leftover ham that she froze after her Holiday party). Nicole made a curried eggplant soup that promises to be exotic and comforting, and our hostess, Tracey, made a white bean, sweet potato and kale soup with walnut pesto that I haven’t gotten to try yet, but am thoroughly looking forward too.

The afternoon was so much fun, talking with these women about life and soup. For a few hours everything seemed simple. Good food, good wine and good people. Maybe I’ll have a soup swap instead of a wedding.

Tuscan Chickpea Soup
from Cooking Light

2 tbsp olive oil
2 cups finely chopped onion
8 garlic cloves, minced
4 cups water
1 tsp salt
¼ tsp fresh ground black pepper
2 tsp chopped fresh rosemary
3 cans garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed
1 can diced tomatoes, undrained
1-2 tbsp balsamic vinegar
6 tbsp grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Heat a olive oil in a stock pot over medium heat. Sauté onion and garlic until soft, about 10 minutes. Stir in water, salt, pepper, rosemary, chickpeas and tomatoes. Boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cook for 30-40 minutes for the flavors to come together.

Using a stick blender or a stand blender (in shifts) blend until smooth. Return to pot. Add vinegar and bring up to a boil again. Season to taste. For best results, let cool and refrigerate overnight to allow all the flavors to come together. Serve hot with a sprinkle fresh Parmigiano.

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.

Homemade Cannelloni

Last Sunday my dear friend Brooke and I sat on the curb underneath an old avocado tree a few blocks from the Hollywood Farmers’ Market and flipped through the Chez Panisse Café cookbook before heading into the dizzying array of farm fresh fruits and vegetables. It seemed apropos, really, looking at recipes from Alice Waters, the woman who inspired a generation to get back to cooking in season, who praised farmers’ efforts by putting their names on her menus more than 30 years ago.

I love the idea of cooking what’s in season. It’s a wonderfully satisfying act with political and economic undertones—putting my money where my mouth is. And the more I read about the current state of our food economy, the more important that becomes to me. But moreover, it tastes better. And this is why I love Alice Waters. She reminds me that I don’t need to rant and rave and jump around to create change—though sometimes I still do. It starts by asking simple questions about where your food comes from and how it was raised and continues at the dinner table, with good friends and good food.

So that’s what I did this week. I made my political statement for dinner. I bought organic, heirloom tomatoes from Givens Farms, fresh green and purple basil, marjoram, thyme and Italian parsley and invited Brooke and her husband over to join Neal and I for homemade cannelloni a la Alice Waters. I persevered, even after slicing my hand on a broken glass, rolling out fresh pasta dough, mincing the garlic and chopping up fresh herbs. I used the amazing Buffala milk ricotta from Bubalus Bubalis in the filling and pasture-raised eggs from Lily Farms in Santa Barbara. And finished the night off with homemade ginger ice cream, but that’s another post.

Cannelloni
adapted from Chez Panisse Café by Alice Waters

Filling
1lb fresh ricotta
½ cup grated Pecorino Romano
salt and pepper
a dash of cayenne pepper
4 tbsp chopped herbs (basil, marjoram, thyme and parsley)
2 eggs, lightly beaten

Pasta
1 ½ c 00 or AP flour
pinch of salt
2 eggs lightly beaten

Sauce
1 lb fresh heirloom tomatoes, diced
1/3 c extra virgin olive oil
2-3 cloves of garlic, chopped fine
green and purple basil
salt and pepper

Heat oven to 425 degrees.

Mix ricotta, parmigiano, salt, pepper, cayenne and herbs together. Taste for seasoning. Add eggs and mix again.

Make pasta dough following your favorite method. I like to mix it until it just comes together with the paddle attachment on my Kitchen Aid, combine it into a ball by hand, then knead it with the dough hook for about 10 minutes. Let pasta dough rest at least 15 minutes before rolling it out.

Roll dough into 12 rectangles about seven inches long and six inches wide. Cook one at a time in salted boiling water, keeping the noodle firmly al dente. Cool in a cold water bath, then lay on a clean cloth. If you stack them they will stick!

Spoon about two tablespoons of the ricotta mixture onto each rectangle and roll into a loose tube shape. Place in a buttered baking dish in one layer (you may need two baking dishes). Brush the tops with melted butter. Bake in 425-degree oven for about 15 minutes, until puffed up and lightly crisped.

While the cannelloni are backing, heat olive oil in a non-reactive pan over medium high heat. Add garlic and let sizzle for about 30 seconds without letting it brown. Add diced tomatoes and cook until they just start to relax and give up their juice, about three to five minutes. Add a little chopped green and basil, salt and pepper to taste, stir and remove from heat.

Serve the cannelloni with the tomato sauce and more chopped basil.

Asparagus and Ricotta Ravioli with Favas and Sage Brown Butter

Never mind that the recipe was probably one of the easiest I’ve ever followed. A year ago, if you asked me whether I ever thought about making my own ricotta cheese I would have laughed, crinkling my brow like a concerned mother in a movie, and said plainly: no, never.

As frequent readers of SpicySaltySweet can attest, I do like making dishes from scratch. In fact, I get quite the kick out of deconstructing things I used to take for granted. A few years back I made a soupy mess that was my excuse for Greek yoghurt. I’ve made my own butter. I make fresh pasta almost weekly now. But cheese? Cheese is something spiritual—a vehicle for transcendence that no mere home cook could possibly concoct in her kitchen.

But when I stumbled across Julia Moskin’s article about ricotta in the New York Times two weeks ago, I became convinced that making my own would not require divine intervention.

So in less than an hour last Thursday night I made ricotta cheese, following Moskin’s simple instructions. And the results were transcendent. Not as sweet as store-bought ricotta, with a firmer texture, my homemade ricotta was bright and light with a curd that was velvety smooth.

Ricotta draining

Homemade Ricotta

Ricotta is a traditional Italian cheese that’s actually made from a byproduct of cheesemaking: whey. It literally means “re-cooked” and it is made by heating the whey and adding a bit of acidity, causing the curds to separate. It is delicious when made with cow’s milk cheese, and I really love the sheep’s milk version, which has a slight tang and a deeper, more complex flavor.

The best part about making ricotta, as opposed to any other type of cheese, is its versatility. Spread ricotta on grilled bread, with a little sautéed radicchio, drizzle it with honey and top with fresh leaves of rosemary and you have an elegant bruschetta to serve at a dinner party. Mix with sugar, egg whites, lemon juice, orange zest, spices and chocolate chips for cannoli filling. Bind it with egg, Parmesan, nutmeg and flour for gnocchi. Savory or sweet, ricotta can add dimension or foundation to a meal any night of the week.

It was hard to decide what to do with my ricotta, with so many options. But I finally decided on asparagus and ricotta ravioli with favas and sage brown butter. It was the perfect farewell to spring (though, fortunately both vegetables will be around all summer, their peak season is springtime).

Asparagus and Ricotta Ravioli with Favas and Sage Brown Butter
adapted from Bon Appétit

Filling
1 lb slender asparagus
¾ cups fresh ricotta
1 tsp fresh mint, chopped
1 large egg

Fresh Pasta
2 ½ cups all-purpose flour (preferably Italian 00)
3 eggs, beaten
pinch of salt

Sauce
1 lb favas, shelled
4 tbsp butter
1 tsp fresh sage, chopped

Remove the tough, bottom portion of the asparagus. Cut up the remaining vegetable into ½-inch pieces. Cook in saucepan with boiling, salted water until slightly tender, about 2 minutes. Shock in ice bath to set color. Pat dry and mix, in a large bowl, with ricotta, mint and egg. Set aside. **You may want to reserve a scant ½ cup of asparagus for the sauce.

Following either the well method or using the paddle attachment on your mixture, slowly incorporate eggs into flour and salt mixture to make pasta dough. If the dough is too wet, add a little flour, if the dough is too dry add a little water. When the dough just comes together, switch to your dough hook or knead by hand, about 10 minutes. Wrap in plastic and let rest for at least 15 minutes.

Roll pasta out into sheets either by hand or using a pasta roller to desired thickness (7 on a pasta roller). Spoon mixture onto half the dough lengthwise, spacing it about 2 inches apart. Fold the other half of the dough over to cover the filling. Cut ravioli using a pastry wheel or a ravioli cutter. (You can also cut using a knife, but crimp the edges of the ravioli with a fork to keep sheets of pasta from separating). Place filled ravioli on a baking sheet dusted with cornmeal. **I find it easiest to roll one sheet of pasta, fill it, then roll the next, continuing until I’ve used all the dough. Rolling all of the sheets ahead of time puts them at risk for drying out before you’ve got them filled.

Boil a large pot with salted water to cook ravioli. While water is boiling, melt 1 tbsp of butter in a sauté and cook favas until tender. Toss in reserved asparagus to warm. Set aside.

Melt remaining butter in sauté with chopped sage. When butter starts to brown, remove from heat.

Add ravioli to pot of water and cook for about 3-5 minutes. Cooked ravioli will float to the top. Plate ravioli, about 6-7 per person, top with favas and asparagus and drizzle with brown butter and sage.

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.

Egg Papardelle with Bagna Cauda, Wilted Radicchio and an Olive Oil-Fried Egg

I’m a culinary masochist. It’s taken me awhile to come to terms with this, but a few recent cooking endeavors have made the truth difficult to avoid. The facts are, perhaps, best exemplified by my new favorite cookbook: Nancy Silverton’s A Twist of the Wrist. Nancy’s book is designed to help home cooks create gourmet meals using the bevy of high-quality pre-packaged ingredients lining the grocer’s shelves. Sounds great, right? Used correctly, these jars, boxes and tins are timesaving complements to Nancy’s delicious, well-thought-out recipes. But in my DIY-addled brain I see Nancy’s timesaving devices as the opportunity to try making other, more time-consuming components from scratch. At my house, a meal from Nancy’s book that’s supposed to take a half an hour suddenly takes three—like when I made the Mole Poblano Chicken Casserole with Black Beans and Queso Fresco. The dish layers tortillas and jarred Doña Maria Mole mixed with Mexican chocolate, chicken, onions, Monterey Jack cheese and black beans. It’s supposed to take 55 minutes from prep to table. After making the tortillas and roasting the chicken, and running around all over town to find the mole and chocolate, dinner took nearly four hours. I was so exhausted by the time I put the meal on the table that I could hardly appreciate the perfectly melded flavors and the surprise of alternating textures.

Not one to learn my lesson the first time around, last week I made the book’s Egg Papardelle with Bagna Cauda, Wilted Radicchio and an Olive Oil-Fried Egg. I was really excited about this dish—a pasta version of my favorite Mozza pizza minus the guanciale—and with an estimated prep to table time of a mere 30 minutes I thought it’d be a great opportunity to try out the pasta attachment on my new Kitchen Aid mixer.

What I forgot was this: pasta takes time. Time to rest after the dough comes together and time to roll out—even with an electric pasta roller. Plus my dough was a little crumbly at first and needed some tweaking before it would come through in smooth, even sheets. After about an hour and a half of running dough, rolling it up and cutting it into one-inch strips, I finally had a floured baking sheet full of satiny, wide, pale yellow ribbons. It was another 45 minutes before the meal came together, since I was, um, unable to find jarred bagna cauda and I had to make that from scratch, too.

Ultimately, the dish was delicious. I love bagna cauda, which literally means “warm bath” in Italian. This simple sauce is comprised of butter, olive oil, anchovies, garlic and lemon and is really easy to make. It’s a little spicy, a little salty and a little sweet, with a refreshing lemon zip. It stuck to my homemade papardelle really well and the metallic, protein-y taste of the olive oil-fried egg added incredible depth to the dish; it was also a really nice contrast to the bittersweet wilted radicchio. And since it was only 9 o’clock when we sat down to eat—and I’d been enjoying a nice glass of Movia Ribolla Gialla while the pasta was boiling—I quickly forgot how difficult I’d just made things.

I may have twisted my wrists, my ankles and walked backwards for these dinners. I may have, ever so briefly, cursed Nancy’s name. But in the end, I enjoyed my pain. And I will surely do it again.

Egg Papardelle with Bagna Cauda, Wilted Radicchio and Olive Oil-Fried Egg
from Nancy Silverton’s A Twist of the Wrist: Quick, Flavorful Meals with Ingredients from Jars, Cans, Bags, and Boxes
 
Ingredients
8 oz egg papardelle
¾ c bagna cauda
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
4 large eggs
12 radicchio leaves, torn into large pieces
Parmigiano-Reggiano for grating
Sea salt
1 heaping tbsp fined chopped fresh Italian parsley
Fresh ground black pepper
 
Bring a large pot of water to boil; add a generous amount of kosher salt. Add the pasta and bring back to a boil, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking, until al dente.
 
While the water is coming to a boil, heat the bagna cauda, stirring occasionally until warmed through.
 
In another skillet, heat ¼ cup olive oil over medium-high heat, until the oil’s almost smoking. Break an egg into a small bowl and pour into the skillet. Once the egg starts to set around the edges, you can add a second egg in the same way (adding them one at a time like this keeps the eggs from setting together). Cook the eggs for about 1 ½ minutes each, until the edges are golden brown, the whites are set, but the yolks are still runny. Move the first two eggs to a plate and cook the other two the same way.
 
When the pasta is cooked, transfer it, without straining, from the water to the skillet with the bagna cauda. Toss to coat. Then place the skillet over high heat and add the radichhio, tossing for a minute or two until the radicchio wilts.
 
Divide the pasta amongst four plates, grate a generous amount of Parmigiano-Reggiano over each serving and top each with a fried egg. Finish egg with a pinch of sea salt. Scatter parsley over each plate, grate a little more cheese and grind some fresh black pepper and serve.
 
If you’re a masochist like me…
 
Bagna Cauda
1 stick (1/2 c) unsalted butter
20 anchovy fillets, finely chopped
8 large garlic cloves, minced
¼ c finely chopped fresh Italian parsley
Grated zest and juice of ½ lemon
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
 
Heat butter, oil, chopped anchovies and garlic in a skillet over medium-high heat, until anchovies dissolve, and the garlic is soft and fragrant. It’s important to break the anchovies up with a wooden spoon while cooking and to stir frequently so that the garlic doesn’t brown. Reduce heat to low and cook for another two minutes so the flavors have time to incorporate. Turn off heat and add the lemon juice and lemon zest, season with kosher salt and fresh ground black pepper.
 
Egg Papardelle
10 oz all-purpose flour
3-4 eggs
 
Mound flour on a wood cutting board, form a well and crack 3 eggs into center. With a fork, beat eggs and slowly incorporate flour until dough comes together. (Or, if you have a dough hook, put it all in your mixer.) If the dough is too dry, add the fourth egg yolk. If it is still too dry, add the egg white. Once a ball forms, knead the dough for 15-20 minutes. Wrap with plastic and let rest for at least 30 minutes.
 
Using a pasta roller (or, if you’re really hard core, some good old-fashioned muscle and a rolling pin) roll pasta out into thin sheets, no more than 1/16 of an inch. Cut the pasta sheets to the length you’d like your noodles, and then roll those sheets up lengthwise, like a cigar. Then cut the noodles the width you’d like them, about one inch in this case. Place the noodles on a cookie sheet for 20-30 minutes to dry before throwing them into rapidly boiling water to cook. And remember, fresh pasta takes just minutes until it’s al dente.

Butternut Squash, Asiago & Walnut Ravioli with Brown ButterRavioli Dough:
3 cups semolina flour
4 eggs
½ tsp olive oilMound 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.

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.

Roasted Red Pepper Calzone

Anybody can order a pizza when the guys come over for football—and believe me, there are plenty of games where I will, but this early in the season I’m still motivated to make some game time treats. So, after going for an 18-mile bike ride with my boyfriend and father on Sunday, I took quick stock of what I had the fridge and decided to stop by Trader Joe’s to get the fixins’ for quick calzones.

When I first started making calzones in college I would pick up fresh dough rounds from the local pizzeria, but I’ve been making my own pizza dough lately (and will include the recipe here). But with the Patriots game starting at 5 o’clock, I didn’t have time to let homemade dough rise, so I grabbed three rounds of pre-made dough at TJ’s, along with whole milk, low moisture mozzarella cheese, aged provolone, zucchini and a jar of roasted red peppers. Dinner would be a little nod to Nancy Silverton’s new cookbook, A Twist of the Wrist, incorporating quality ingredients that didn’t require much prep. My secret weapon, though, was a half pound of Soppressata from Fra’ Mani, Paul Bertoli’s salumeria in Berkeley, California. A course, hand-chopped salame with just a touch of clove spice and spicy peppercorn, the Soppressata would have the spicy counterpoint to the mild cheeses.

I made a total of three calzone, one with the zucchini and fresh basil, one with the roasted red peppers, red onion and chili flake and the third with the Soppressata. All three had layers of melty mozzarella cheese and the sharp, aged provolone and just a little seasoning to bring out all of the flavors.

Follow these instructions for an easy Sunday Night Football dinner, Monday Night football dinner, or a thank goodness football is only on two nights a week dinner. And for the record, my boyfriend was sure that his friends wouldn’t eat the veggie calzones—and the zucchini and basil was easily the first to be demolished.

Pizza Dough

4 cups flour
2 cups warm water
4 tbsp olive oil (you can also use vegetable oil)
1 packet yeast
1 tsp salt

Mix warm water, oil and yeast together in a large Pyrex measuring cup. In a large bowl, combine the salt and flour. Make a large well in the center and pour the water/yeast mixture in, stirring with a wooden spoon until it is incorporated enough to knead with your hands. When dough is smooth, cover the bowl with a towel and put in the oven (the oven is off) for two hours. After two hours, punch the dough down and recover. Let rise for another hour, at least. When ready, divide dough into for your calzones.

Calzones
Roll or toss out dough into a rectangular shape, the size of a large cookie sheet. Layer cheese and toppings being careful not to overstuff the calzone, then fold in the sides to seal—roll in long sides until they overlap, then the ends, creating tight seals so the cheese doesn’t ooze out. Bake in a preheated 400-degree oven until golden brown, about 25-35 minutes.

Note: I’ve used all sorts of ingredients to make this dish, which makes it a perfect last-minute meal. Try ricotta cheese and mozzarella with bell peppers, broccoli and onion, or pepperoni. Next round I’m going to attempt one with herbs, fresh roast red peppers and goat cheese.