The other week I mentioned my search for wontons in Chinatown that brought me to the treasured mangosteen. My desire for wonton soup must have been fate to find my true fruit love. But this pull must also mean that these little dumplings are truly blessed and a perfect treat for the Chinese New Year that started this past Thursday.

Where did this sudden desire for wontons come if not from the pull of the mangosteen?

A few weeks ago I was talking with a friend in my Community Supported Agriculture group. Many of the members are currently in a winter share, comprised of storage vegetables like beets, celeriac, carrots and cabbage. It is amazing to have the opportunity to buy local and in season in the winter, but the real challenge is finding unique ways through 25 pounds of 5 or 6 kinds of vegetables! So when this friend mentioned she was making wontons, without asking what she put in them, my mind was working and I knew they were too good to pass up. Off I ran to pick up some no-hassle wonton wrappers.

These days, wonton wrappers are available in many specialty supermarkets in the refrigerated section. I go to Chinatown because they have a larger selection from various producers, as well as shapes (circular or square). For these wonton wrappers, I found a local New York City producer that only uses flour, water and eggs to make the noodle (no MSG or other hard to pronounce additives). In addition, I picked up a young ginger and some scallions to complete the flavor profile I was after.

While most supermarkets carry fresh ginger rhizomes (not roots), young ginger is harder to find, but well worth the effort. The taste is sweeter, less bitter and has less of an astringent bite compared to regular ginger. It is also less fibrous and can be slivered into soups or salads for an extra kick. Young ginger has a smoother skin and a pinkish hue (not to be fooled with the pickled ginger you get with your sushi). Regular ginger (non-powdered) you find in most supermarkets will work in this recipe.

I made these wontons with ground pork, but you can make them vegetarian or with beef just as tasty. For a first time go I think these turned out fabulous. 50 wonton wrappers come in (most) packs so as I made them I assembled them on a cookie sheet to freeze and store for later. Now, whenever D wants some wonton soup he boils these wontons for 10 minutes, adds a little miso paste and dried seawood and voila, instant hearty wonton soup!

This soup is totally no-hassle as long as you have a few key ingredients.

Instead of a chicken stock base (which would be equally delicious) I used organic red miso paste, available at most Asian markets and health stores. Miso paste is made from fermented rice, barley or most often, soybeans. 1-2 teaspoons per cup of water makes a great fast soup base, but you can also use it to pickle vegetables! Red miso paste has a stronger flavor than white (which is used in most miso soup at Japanese restaurants). It is great to have around for fast soups, but also because it seems to last forever. But again, chicken or vegetable stock would taste equally delicious.

When you buy miso paste, don’t forget to pick up some dried (or fresh) seaweed. Experiment with different types, some are better for sushi rolls, others are meant to be re-hydrated in soups or for salads. My local health store carries all sorts of Wikame Eden brand. One package has lasted as long as the miso! If you don’t like seaweed, try bok choi, or stir spinach or even lettuce in there before serving (hey, why not).

As for the wontons, I wanted to use some of my winter storage vegetables so this was a key ingredient. All the recipes I found for wontons contained a basic meat, ginger and garlic trio, most added some soy sauce. Play around and find a flavor combination that works for you.

Wonton Soup
Serving Size= 2. Active time= 5 minutes. Inactive time= 12 minutes.

• 6-8 wontons (see recipe below)
• 4 teaspoons miso paste (available at most Asian or health markets)
• 2 strands dried Wikame seaweed
• 1-2 scallions

1) Bring 4 cups unsalted water to a boil. While the water is coming up to temperature, prepare the bowls.
2) Slice scallion into 1/4 inch slivers and cut seaweed into 1 inch pieces. Divide the scallion and seaweed between the two bowls. Add 2 teaspoons miso paste to each bowl.
3) When water is boiling, remove 1/2 cup of the liquid and set aside. Add wontons to the boiling water, cover, and boil for 8-10 minutes. Divide the 1/2 cup liquid between the two bowls and use a spoon to help break down the miso paste. Make sure the seaweed is covered. Set aside.
4) When the wontons are done, divide them between the bowls and add the boiling water over top. Serve hot.

Pork and Vegetable Wontons
Serving Size= 50 wontons. Active time= 1 hour.
This was my first time making wontons and I found once I developed a rhythm I could stuff them a little plumper and work a littler faster. I followed a technique similar to the one in this YouTube video, but you can make them by a simple one fold method and not worry about getting fancy.

• 2 carrots, shredded
• 1 celeriac, shredded
• 1/4 head of cabbage, shredded
• 4 scallions, sliced into 1/4 inch pieces
• 1 pound lean ground pork
• 2 teaspoons minced ginger
• 3-4 cloves minced garlic
• 1 tablespoon soy sauce
• 2 teaspoons chili flakes (optional, or what you think is best)
• 50 wonton wrappers

1) Peel the celeriac and carrot and use a food processor to shred these and the cabbage. Transfer to a large bowl and add the remaining ingredients. Mix the ingredients with your hands to evenly incorporate.
2) Assemble a cutting board in front of you, the wonton wrappers, a small dish of water and a cookie sheet (if you plan to freeze the wontons).
3) Assemble wontons: Place one wrapper on the cutting board. Dip your fingers in the water and rim the edges with a little water. Place one heaping teaspoon of filling in the middle of the wrapper, fold in half once and push out the air and seal. Finish there, or push the center filling in slightly and fold two corners onto each other to form a sort of hat. Continue until all the wrappers are used, assembling them on a cookie sheet to freeze (eat remaining filling in a small burger!). Once the cookie sheet is filled, cover and freeze. Once frozen, transfer to a freezer storage bag for a tasty wonton treat (steamed or boiled) whenever you’re in a pinch for time!
Note:See the YouTube video link above for a step-by-step video of the process (not mine), but it is easier to visualize- sorry, I didn’t have additional un-porked hands to handle the camera!

Happy New Year!Please take notice (some of you already have) that things have changed around Just Braise. I’ve implemented a new, cleaner design. I believe the new look not only displays my dishes more deliciously, but has a soothing feel that aids in digestion (much more so than the old blue/ orange harshness of last year)!

With every New Year we are asked to make Resolutions. I am sort of sick of the usual “lose weight,” ones that really just prep a person for the beach and allow the weight roller coaster to start up again in the fall. Really, do people still make these sorts resolutions or is it the media onslaught of fat trimming pills to pop come the New Year (has anyone else noticed these all over TV?!) that make us think everyone is making them. While I do think overall lifestyle changes are healthy, they should not be a New Year makeover.

Here are my “Resolutions”: Eat more food that is better for the environment, as well as the people that bring my food to my table (farmers and workers alike). To become better educated on where my food comes from, what is inside (packaging labels as well as gene splice) and the global impact my food choices have on us all. On a broader scale, I hope that more people have access to better food choices, more reasonably priced pesticide-free foods, hear less lies about GMOs, and increase worker rights on farms and in factories. Maybe these are not all resolutions, but simple hopes for the New Year.

As for the picture in this post…

D and I ate a lot of kale back in ‘07. I had never really considered the leafy green before. Like most people, I stuck with what was easy. Simply, more often than not, with what I knew. Sure I ventured out and bought new things here and there (much to D’s initial horror) because finding new delicious foods is always a positive.

But my local groceries don’t really carry much kale, which is unusual– it’s a New York food staple. It is so easy to grow, and more importantly, it is so healthy. Seriously, there is so much good information about kale it’s almost like the new chicken soup (see here, here, and here)! There are even whole blogs waxing poetic on kale (see here and here).

As a member of my local CSA I received a lot of kale. I’m talking every week. Initially, I chopped raw kale super fine and tossed it into salads. Mixed in with all the other vegetables it just became another complex, earthly flavor in those salads. Growing tired of that, I threw every bunch into omelettes. Sure, not very exciting, but now I was cooking the kale– One giant kale omelette after another. As the season tapered on and I realized I grew tired of my kale omelettes, I experimented with other methods.

While some folks in the CSA juiced their kale (adding in peaches, apple juice and more), some made kale pesto, others threw it into soups. I thought these methods, more often than not, covered up that great subtle bitterness I had come to love in the vegetable. So I thought, hey, it looks sort of like lettuce, and voila, the kale sandwich.

This method was so good D and I started making it nightly. We grabbed for extra kale at distribution (no joke) and when we ran out of kale, used other bitter greens (cabbage, broccoli rabe, collards). Still, our favorite green was kale. I added a creamy goat cheese to play with the earthy qualities of kale and come Thanksgiving, I made this sandwich for D’s sisters who ate it up– “that was kale?!” (Note that D’s sisters were subjected to kale salad earlier in the season and were not so into it, though the kale omelette did win hearts).

D and I eat these sandwiches open-faced and find them quite filling. You can cut these sandwiches into bite sized appetizer noshes and serve them at a party. If you have no bread, use crackers. If you don’t like goat cheese, use swiss, a smoky gouda, or whatever you find works best for you.

As for the celeriac chips. Need I remind folks that fried things are delicious? Celeriac, or celery root, is a variety of celery grown as a root vegetable. It sort of looks like a crushed brain when you buy it, but smells and tastes slightly, of celery. Just peel the skin and use it as you like. It’s great raw, as a soup, folded into mashed potatoes, or in this application, fried! Simply slice it thin, fry it 3-4 minutes in hot oil, drain on a towel and sprinkle with salt.

Kale Salami Sandwich
Active time= 10 minutes.
1 tablespoon butter or olive oil
1 bunch kale
2 slices good bread (I like to use sourdough)
2 tablespoons goat cheese
salami

1) Warm the butter or olive oil in a skillet on medium heat. Roll kale like cigars and slice into thin strips. Add kale into the skillet, coat with butter and cover.
2) Toast bread. Spread each with goat cheese.
3) Stir kale, when it has turned a deep green, add on top of cheese. Add a few slices of salami.

A little less talking and a little more cooking, eh?

Feast your eyes on the image above. Very fresh looking, right? This meal was so good I could stare at this photo to remember it all year. I won’t bore you with nothing while I drool, so let us continue.

Before I continue, don’t forget to sign up for the Just Braise email blast. Get Just Braise emailed to your inbox every night after an item is posted. You can still leave comments, see photos and even listen to the post. Just fill your email address in the blank to the right and hit “subscribe me!” Now to the good stuff.

A few weeks back I ordered a slab of pork belly from one of the farmers associated with my Community Supported Agriculture program. The pork these folks raise is tremendous. D and I always stuck with the pork chops, frankly because they are fast and easy. Truly, I cannot remember when I have had such delicious pork. Always juicy and full of flavor, it is what pork should be. So I finally ventured into the realm of belly.

D and I had the opportunity to visit this farm over the summer. It was fabulous to see not only our pigs, but also our cattle (they also raise grass-fed beef) in action, knowing what we purchase is actually what we are told. (Rather than “free-range”– what does that really mean?!) It is also an amazing opportunity to not only speak to the person who raises your food, but see their practices. Admittedly, to see these animals and think, “I’m going to eat you next month!” is sort of twisted in our modern detachment of food systems. (Going to our CSA’s vegetable farm and noting all the vegetables soon to enter my belly was much more hilarious.)

Our gracious host had us safely in her car as we careened around the 400 plus acreage, showing off vista points, watering holes and different grasses the cattle eat. Next stop was the pig field for feeding time. As we opened the second floor to the barn we saw the pigs in the distance, racing as a seemingly wild pack out of the distant trees for their feed. “They eat a lot of grub and whatever they find in the woods,” N explained, “but we give them a little more protein and grain as supplement.”

With that, she dropped a bucket of grain from the second floor, crashing on and around the pigs, who well, went hog wild pigging out. Piglets were shoved to the outer circle picking at scraps while the more assertive animals took center stage. Once feeding had subsided the pigs headed off to a small pond to retreat in the cooling waters, “Miami Beach,” N noted.

Back to the belly of the matter…

Pork belly comes from the same cut as bacon, though bacon has been smoked or cured. Pork belly is fresh, uncured meat, just as fatty good as bacon. (Mmmm, bacon.) The cut is ideal for braising. The technique leaves the skin crisp, fat oozing and the flesh velvety soft. If you can manage all three in one bite, try not to fall out of your chair as you swoon.

For this cut I adapted a spice rub I found online and braised it about 4 hours. The pork was served as an appetizer at a dinner party that was picked at throughout the night. I was lucky enough to stash away a few pieces for lunch the next day, bulked up as you see it, with rice, pickled daikon radish, fresh carrots, scallions and cilantro. The result? Really, a picture says a thousand words. I’ll just say one more: divine.

I made the daikon radish a day prior to the dinner party. The pickled radish played the perfect part to accent the pork’s flavor and cut through the fat. The only problem? Pickled daikon radish has a horrendous smell. Think men’s used gym socks. But, like many other things that can produce a horrific funk (think some wines), once you overcome your initial fear you’ll be glad you took the plunge.

Do not be daunted by these recipes. They are simple to make and most of the involvement is inactive time. It is a fabulous dish to make on a weekend lounging around the home.

Pickled Daikon Radish
Adapted from epicurious
Serving Size= About 1 radish per 3 persons. Active time= 8 minutes. Inactive time= 24 hours.
daikon radish
equal parts plain white vinegar and sugar
1/4 part salt

1) Julienne the daikon radish (cut into matchstick thin slices) and place in a non-reactive container.
2) Add equal parts white vinegar and sugar until just covered, add 1/4 the amount of salt (to the vinegar quantity).
3) Mix, cover and refrigerate for at least 24 hours before serving.

Braised Pork Belly
Adapted from Dan Barber
Serving Size= 6 persons. Active time= 10 minutes. Inactive time= 8 hours.
1 -3 pound pork belly
4 cups chicken stock or water
2 cups cure mix:
1/4 cup fennel seeds
1/4 cup cumin seeds
1/4 cup ground coriander
1 tablespoon fresh ground black pepper
2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons whole cloves
1 cup salt
2/3 cup sugar

1) Make cure mix, using fresh whole seeds and grinding, if possible.
2) Rub mix all over pork belly, cover and refrigerate 4 hours.
3) Preheat oven to 250F. Remove pork belly, rinse the cure mix off lightly, place pork in pan and pour in chicken stock, without fully covering the pork. Cook for 4-5 hours.
4) Remove from braising pan, drain, slice and serve.

To Finish the Dish as Above
Serving size= 2 persons. Active time= 10 minutes. Inactive time=30 minutes plus pork belly
1/2 cup uncooked rice, white or brown (I used Basmati)
1 carrot, sliced into matchstick slices
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
1 scallion, thinly sliced
pickled daikon radish
red chili flakes
pork belly

1) In the last half hour of cooking, make rice and prepare vegetables.
2) Assemble rice on plates, add sliced pork belly over top, a scoop of pickled daikon radish. Divide carrots, scallions and cilantro sprinkled over top. Finish with a pinch of red chili flakes.

As summer progresses D and I are receiving a more varied selection of goodies from our Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) group. When I tell people about CSAs they are often horrified– you don’t know what you’re getting each week? You cook every night? Don’t you throw a lot away? (Admittedly, some ask how they too can join.)

On all accounts, no.

CSAs help a person think seasonally. While it has become second nature for most to eat tomatoes all year round, I will actually know when they are in season in my region when I see them in the share I receive. This also means that when I finally get my tomatoes they will taste worlds better than those gassed-to-look-ripe at the grocery.

I also know I can check my farmer’s newsletters from years past to get an idea of what might be coming each week (or at least each month). I can also check the predicted weekly share that gets posted by Tuesday (we receive veggies two days later, freshly picked the day before). Usually though, it is more fun to just show up, be surprised, and Iron Chef style, make meals for the week. D even noted this morning how the unpredictability is really changing up our diets.

I like it because instead of D being annoyed at me for bringing home something we normally would not have purchased: “What?! Kale?! What are we supposed to do with that?!” I can just say our farmers grew it, we paid for it back in March, and now you’re going to eat it [insert sinister laugh here].

Further, it has opened up a whole new library of local vegetables for us and forces us to try new preparations so as not to tire of a single vegetable while the season lasts. We have found that while pretty much all hearty greens are good with bacon (above) we have found that Swiss chard does not take readily to being creamed (a la spinach), sauteed kale is delicious in eggs and fennel makes a fabulous cold soup, to name a few.

And no, we do not cook every night. With one small air conditioner (in the living room) that only gets turned on when temperatures reach over 95 degrees, a kitchen gets way too hot to be cooking throughout the summer. Sure, we take to the grill a little more often, sure we eat a lot of salads. More often than not, we set up a kitchen sauna about twice a week and prepare food for the week ahead. Our veggies go great in salads, but D has proclaimed a “one salad a day” policy which leaves us to be more creative with our veggies– zucchini bread anyone?

Do we throw a lot out? Although our farmers suggested one share can feed 3-4 non-vegetarian adults, D and I have found we easily finish our weekly allotment each week. It helps that we rarely go out for dinner and we bring lunch to work everyday.

Plus. with large preparations, especially in soups, much can be frozen for later in the year. I have contemplated purchasing a separate freezer, just for soups, but unfortunately, we lack the space. This week, I am most excited that we received a bounty of cucumbers– it’s canning time!

With all our trials and errors in the kitchen this summer, I still think bacon with hearty greens to be the best. It’s simple and delicious and takes little prep time. A perfect side from breakfast to dinner: great with eggs or cornmeal crusted fish (as shown here).

Collards (or other hearty greens) with Bacon
Serves 2. Prep time= 5 minutes. Cook time= 10 minutes.
While collards are usually cooked to an extreme doneness, leaving them limp and soggy, this preparation holds some of their structure, leaving them crisp.

2 cups loosely packed chopped collards, leaves only
2 strips bacon, cut into 1 inch pieces

1) Cut the bacon into 1 inch pieces. In a hot pan set over medium-high heat, cook bacon until crisp (or desired doneness reached).
2) As bacon is cooking, prepare collards: Wash collards and pull off leaves, discarding stems. Chop into strips, about 1 inch thick.
3) Push the bacon to the side of the pan and using a papertowel, soak up some of the bacon’s fat, leaving a thin surface on the pan. Add collards, stir to incorporate ingredients and coat with bacon fat, and cover.
4) Let cook about 3 minutes, uncover, stir and cover again, about 2 minutes more. Serve warm.

D and I recently had some friends over for an intimate feast. We prepared many items we had never attempted before, something I often shy away from when we have guests– there is nothing worse than messing up something you have never attempted before. But cooking, like any passion, is all about trial and error and you’ll never get better without an attempt. All in all, the 5 hours spread ended deliciously well, mishaps included.

All vegetables, and most fruits, were brought to us by our local Community Supported Agriculture program. Each week I am thankful that we have invested in our farm and I proudly brag about “my farmers” who brought me my organic vegetables– just picked yesterday!

This weekend we celebrated the spring bounty.

The evening began calmly as pictured above. I started prepping items 1 week in advance: spanakopita (spinach from “my farm” with local sheep feta), rhubarb syrup (rhubarb from last week’s CSA drop boiled down with water and sugar) and a rhubarb tart (crust prepared and frozen and rhubarb chopped and frozen). The rest was finalized and started the night before arrival…

We welcomed guests C and M with choice of champagne or a strawberry rhubarb “martini.” I like to call drinks served in martini glasses and made with vodka “martinis,” as do most bars and restaurants. I suppose because it makes the drink sound more sophisticated. D is angered by this and claims it is a merely a mixed cocktail if it has no vermouth. Our Strawberry Rhubarb “Martinis” contained rhubarb syrup, vodka, mashed fresh strawberries and were topped with champagne. We also eventually threw some mint in there.

Next was the spanakopita. I received pounds of spinach, amongst other greens last week. S

o much I feared we could not eat it, but didn’t want it going to waste. I could not bare to simply freeze the spinach so bought some filo and feta, steamed and chopped the spinach, added nutmeg, crumbled feta, wrapped in filo and froze. Laborious to wrap individually, yes (a spanakopita pie would have been easier), but well worth it.

An assemble-one’s-own course followed next. I like the idea of the guest doing some work, it allows them to understand flavor combinations you use a little more and how they work together. If they don’t cook, it also makes them feel like they are creating something. You can see the beginnings of this course spread out above: Buttered and toasted crostinis, fig spread, goat cheese and topped with prosciutto.

The fig spread is a treasured find of mine and D’s. We uncovered it in the Middle Eastern section of one of our local markets– the one I can easily spend hours walking down the aisles because they have floor to ceiling goodies from all over the world. This spread hails from Lebanon and has three simple flavors: fig, sesame, anise. It is a fantastic addition to sandwiches, crostinis

and is really a power secret ingredient. It would be simple to make, but at$2 for an 8oz container with such a pure ingredient mixture, why bother? The prosciutto was from a local Italian deli.

We entered the main of our meal. The moment D said C and M would be over for dinner I proclaimed rabbit would be the headliner. I held fast through D’s skeptism. My thought: no matter what produce we would receive from our CSA, rabbit would be a perfect compliment. D still thought it was slightly disturbing to serve “rabbit salad,” so we broke the salad into more of a side.

We wanted the rabbit sweet to compliment the warming weather– a more savory base is fitting for fall and winter. I found a marinade based in orange juice, honey and cayenne which seemed perfect for this. I wanted to incorporate nectarines into the dish and thought to make a nectarine mousse. Unfortunately, as witnessed in the picture above, the mousse never set properly (recipe now in the works). It ended more a thick sauce that we poured over the rabbit and topped it all with crumbled bacon. The salad, red bib lettuce, sugar snap peas and radish were provided by our CSA.

Gluttony followed.

My newest acquisition is an ice cream attachment for my Kitchen Aid. I’ve been itching for an ice cream maker for a few years now and with a few Am Ex gift certificates in hand, it was a real steal. I went all out and made two treats for this meal. The first was a lemon-lime-ginger sorbet. This was a great sweet-tart intermission though I would add a little more ginger next time.

This was followed by D’s conquest: foie gras.

Let’s just put out that I know both sides of the foie gras debate before we get all the comments coming in. I think Gastronomica Magazine has a great article about it in their Winter 2007 issue. Let’s just say I can rarely afford it so rarely eat it. (But it is delicious.)

At this point my local butcher thinks I am crazy. Each day I go in I discuss and request more from them: free range veal, grass-fed beef, truffle butter, truffles, and this weekend, I asked if they would put rabbits and foie gras aside for me. They know me by site now and if I ask for a simple steak they ask if something is the matter– just steak?

We couldn’t afford the entire “foie” so we split if with one of the butchers who was happy to take home the other half. I asked for his discount, but he denied. Note to self: get in with butchers until discount is granted. D took care of the prep, slicing it in thirds, de-veining, salt, pepper nutmeg, layer, port, cognac, repeat. For whatever reason our most trusted cookbook failed us for the first time when it failed to mention that the foie must sit for a few good hours post-cooking to re-set– many recipes suggest 1-3 days. While we knew some sitting would be necessary, the foie was a little loose when served, still delicious (and is a great topping on salad for a luxurious dinner another night).

Lemon-lime-ginger sorbet repeat and then the finale.

I found a rhubarb streusel tart recipe on epicurious that I knew would be perfect. Not only did we receive rhubarb from our CSA the previous week, D is a big fan of anything with streusel in the name. How can you not love butter and brown sugar? Instead of mixing almonds into the streusel as called for I used the handy new ice cream maker and created my own almond ice cream.

This I believed was my true triumph. Something D couldn’t imagine tasting good– “almond ice cream just does not sound good,” yet he keeps coming back for more and requesting me to churn out new flavors– dare I attempt arugula custard? Not just yet… a cognac creation is next.

MENU:
Rhubarb Spritzer
Spanakopita
Fig-Goat Cheese-Procuitto Crostini
Roast Rabbit w/ Spring Greens & Nectarine Mousse
Lemon-Lime-Ginger Sorbet
Foie Gras
Lemon-Lime-Ginger Sorbet
Rhubarb Streusel Tart w/ Almond Ice Cream

It was an event we had not planned for. We toyed with a grand feast but soon rejected the notion, it would be too much work, our friends work in the restuarant industry and would be occupied, it was too difficult to organize. We dropped it.

But we live in a neighborhood of many Greeks. Many religious folk, both Greek and non- alike. When Easter comes around, there is no stopping the call of lambs… Especially when two Easters fall on the same day.

We had heard stories: walking out the door on Greek Easter, following a trail of red to find it end in a slaughtered lamb being hoisted to the spit. We had seen the evidence: families roasting meats into the night for a celebration of Spring and birth, we could smell it all day in years past.

We retold these events Friday night to some friends, R and T, transplants from New Orleans. They wanted in and with a burst of emotion D invited them over for a feast. We didn’t realize what we had gotten ourselves into.

We pushed our way through the crowd gathered at the butcher to take our ticket and left to shop. We returned one hour later only to wait an additional hour for our number to arrive.

You could see people drooling for the blood: What number are you?

57.

Oh, I’m 80.

No, I’m I-57, see, you’re J-80. You have a long way to go.

He was defeated. But our ticket came up and somehow, we were fooled. We kept saying, just one lamb leg, just a leg. Only two people were confirmed, any more meat would have been too much. Yet somehow we left with half a lamb. A whole half, the right half– we let another customer take the head.

Was it the shopping carts of full carcasses, ready for the spit and our jealousy in their setup that got us buying more than we needed? Was it the utter craziness of people willing to wait hours for a piece of meat? Was it the recent viewing of the film Killer of Sheep? Was it the sly upsell to half a lamb when we saw half a leg and thought it looked a little meager?

We dragged our meat home and examined our bags– what had we done?

I planned the menu while D examined his different cuts and attempted to reassemble the animal. I think that’s a spine, oh look, marrow! These parts in the freezer for soup, random bits for kebabs, separating the chops. The main event was the lamb and the rest of the menu would follow a Greek-inspired theme as well as some leftovers we were looking to get rid of.

We started with a simple and savory appetizer platter. Figs in a Blanket (pictured above) were the highlight. Taken from a Martha Stewart appetizer cookbook my mother sent me. D exclaimed that this was definitely the best recipe in the book (he has never opened the book). These were a huge hit that D added would be our appetizer of choice here on out. We served our kebabs, marinated in a spice mixture and lemon juice and olive oil. A selection of cheeses R and T brought accompanied all this. When R and T entered the cheese shop and told the man behind the counter they were looking for cheese that would pair with wine braised figs wrapped in bacon the reply was, “niiiiiiccccce,” with half-closed eyes and a dreamy look. It was all very nice indeed.

The next course was a “palate cleanser.” Salt and peppered lamb chops quick seared accompanied some freshened up leftovers. I know, that whole “leftover” thing doesn’t sound that great, but it was rich and decadent: D and I bought a duck the other week (pictures to come) and part two of the duck was braised duck legs in red wine. We added potatoes and parsnips to the braise and had plenty leftover. We mashed the wine-infused potatoes and parsnips up, added a good heap of butter and some milk, fresh scallions and voila. A totally decadent side that had traces of duck fat and wine.

The next part of “The Grand Tasting Menu,” as the event was soon called was the lamb legs (plural). Half a lamb gives us 2 legs, both butterflied by the butcher. These were marinated a few good hours in a spice mixture I made heavy in garlic and fresh ground coriander. D seared them on our largest Le Creuset and threw them in the oven for about 1 hour. Served with a simple Greek salad.

We were bursting when the meal ended. Luckily, for all members of the party this was the only meal of the day. Still, when a meal reaches past the 4 hour mark, Gluttony may be knocking at the door.

We took a needed walk where R decided he needed a taco from our beloved man that sells out of a truck down the street. We returned for dessert.

I knew this meal would be heavy and chose a light angel food cake for dessert, baking them in cupcakes and stuffing each one with a fresh strawberry (pre-cooking) for individual servings. While we were on the walk, we decided ice cream would pair nicely with the light cake and picked up a quart. Somewhere along the way, the dessert also jumped the shark (although you could really say the meal jumped the shark with the purchase of the lamb). The leftover syrup from the braised figs was kept on reserve and rum was added with strawberries around the appetizer section of the meal and left to soak. Angel food cupcakes stuffed with strawberries, a hefty scoop of vanilla ice cream and a heavy dose of strawberries soaked in a balsamic-wine reduction with rum.

I would say the meal on whole was a long, dreamy, eyes closed halfway nnniiiiiiccccce. We wish we could have shared it with more– although there is a good amount of lamb leftover if you want to bring the wine.

Recipes to follow shortly.

For the Chinese New Year of the Pig I’ll be finishing out my pork dishes.

This luxurious soup was made from that citrus-sweet pork shoulder way back when. (This blog is not exactly in Real Time– although I suppose it is possible I froze the bone).

The weather this past week has been frigid. Growing up in the Chicagoland area, I can handle the cold (my school was once canceled because it was too cold to go outside, i.e. frostbite in under 1 second). When I first moved to New York City almost 10 years ago I used to (for brief stints outside) wear t-shirts in 30 degree weather. People thought I was crazy, I proclaimed it was the Chicagoan in me keeping me warm. But when winds blast exposed skin so it feels as though it is peeling right off your face… Well, that makes we want to crawl into a small room with a blazing fire and never leave.

When it is this cold outside and you can feel the cold shoot from the pavement through your shoes and freeze your bones, hot meals are all the more soothing. There is little better than the natural heating power of a steaming bowl of soup to keep you toasty (okay, maybe a steaming mug of hot cocoa or tea). This a the perfect soup for the blah weather. It is silky rich and deliciously filling with a little croute on top or crispy bread on the side.

My freezer is full of frozen individual portion sizes of soups. Once frozen and mixed up, they often turn into a game of surprise lunches that D and I will regale in after work: “Ooooh, I had that swiss chard soup from this summer– even better warm!” or “I thought it was the ginger carrot, but once hot I realized it was the winter squash.” The supply sometimes seems endless and the addition of this split pea is a welcomed one. How else do you think D and I have had nary a sneeze these past two winters (forgetting the recent bout of food poisoning that just reinforces the benefits of home eating).

I remember my mother used to make split pea for us in the winter. Just before serving she would float hot dog slices into the soup (how very Chicago of her). As kids, we loved it and I distinctly remember plucking each hot dog piece out with my fingers and shoving my whole fist happily into my mouth, licking it clean in the process.

These days, I don’t need that extra salty kick of a hot dog to eat this soup (I prefer the kick of a little bacon). Once the split peas soften into the broth, this soup is deceivingly thick. If I didn’t make it myself I would swear there was gallons of cream laced into this creation. In fact, the only cream is the (optional) tablespoon I floated on top before serving.

This is the kind of soup that can melt you out of the warm house, allowing you to brave the nasty elements outside. It is filling on its own, paired with a light salad or a good sandwich.

SPLIT PEA SOUP
Serving Size= 8-10. Active time= about 20 minutes. Inactive time= about 2 hours.
* 2 tablespoons butter
* 1 tablespoon olive oil
* ½ pound bacon, cut into ½ inch pieces (optional and used instead of butter and olive oil)
* 1 large sweet onion, chopped
* 2 stalks celery plus leaves, chopped about 3 inches long
* 2 carrots, chopped about 3 inches long
* pork bone, the shoulder works well
* 10-12 cups water
* 2- 12 ounce bags green split peas, washed and brown ones discarded
* ½ cup loosely chopped parsley, plus extra for garnish
* 2-½ teaspoons cumin
* salt/ pepper to taste

1) Warm a large stock pot over medium-high heat. Add bacon and cook until browned, about 8 minutes. Remove bacon set aside. Keep about 2 tablespoons of fat in the stock pot, discard the remaining, soaking it up with a paper towel. (If not using bacon, warm the butter and olive oil and continue).
2) Add onion and sauté until translucent; about 5 minutes.
5) Add celery, carrots and pork bone, sauté about 5 minutes. Add water, cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and uncover slightly.
6) Let simmer until pork bone begins to break down and smell infiltrates the air, about 1-½ hours. Add split peas, parsley, cumin and pepper. Follow directions for cooking length on back of package, usually the peas need about 30 minutes to cook.
7) Peas will have absorbed most liquid. Add salt to taste. Remove bone and cut any remaining pork into bite-sized pieces, add to soup. Additionally, if any pork remains uneaten from shoulder, about 2 cups of bite-sized pieces can be added to the pot. Add bacon, stir until evenly combined.
9) Serve plain or with croutes and a little heavy cream and/or parsley flakes drizzled over top.

Here’s another piece I wrote, and an event at that! I’ll be there chowing down on Sunday… Come on out, especially if you have Monday off!

If you live in Queens head to your local supermarket (or street corner news box) and pick up a free copy of the Queens Chronicle (Western Queens edition). The piece is in the Entertainment section (qboro): Pork Fest in Astoria This Weekend!

Alternatively, follow this link:

Queens Chronicle “Astoria Pigs Out”.

Enjoy.

I notice there are far too many sweets on display on this site. It appears we eat nothing but that sweet angel dust. In the next few days I’ll be adding all the delicious porky creations made from the one 6 pound shoulder discussed below.

A few that went without photos:

The first post-roast creation was a delicious sandwich that had no chance at a photograph. Served on hearty Jewish rye bread (any offended excuse the sac-religious combination), Korean pears ( mentioned here ) and a generous smothering of honey mustard. A few minutes in the toaster oven set this to a perfect sweet-crisp combination.

Another hog-a-licious idea was to be pulled pork sandwiches smothered in a hickory BBQ sauce. Instead, we mixed the pork with avocado, lime juice and tomatoes and wrapped them in the tortillas that remained after the pork tacos pictured above. Similar to the tacos, yet a totally new flavor combination and equally delicious.

The pork tacos appearing above are served with a healthy scoop of a black bean mango salsa and a dusting of cilantro. They compete with the chorizo taco from my favorite taco truck down the street.

It goes to show you can eat well on a budget and create a symphony of tastes with the result. There are plenty of dishes that were not created that would be just as delicious: pork fried rice, rice and beans, breakfast hash, hammy macaroni, a number of soups (a rich split pea to come), empanadas, pork dumplings or piradzini (Latvian pork puffs, also to come).

A $20 pork shoulder can take two people far.

This black bean mango salsa is a great summertime side. It is great with the addition of corn and can be used for a number of taco combinations, my favorite being a grilled shrimp.

BLACK BEAN MANGO SALSA
Prep time= about 10 minutes.
* 1 ripe fresh mango, cut into ¼-inch cubes
* juice of 1 lime
* ¼ red onion, cut into ¼-inch cubes
* 1 can low-sodium black beans, washed and drained
* 1 ear of fresh corn, sliced from stalk (optional)
* 8 grape tomatoes, deseeded and cut in quarters (optional)
* ½ cup fresh cilantro, chopped loosely (optional)

1) Slice the mango and put it into a medium-sized bowl. The meat surrounding the pit can be squeezed into the bowl. Add lime juice, chopped onion, black beans, corn, tomatoes and cilantro. Stir and serve.

A few weeks back D and I found ourselves in Flushing, Queens. Flushing is the China-Korea-Thai Town of Queens. Larger and more crowded than New York City’s, it seems to extend into Elmhurst and almost reach Jackson Heights where the Indian and Pakistani shops begin to mix with Columbian and Irish. We were in Flushing for Shabu Shabu, or hotpot.

In Japan they call it Shabu Shabu because of the sound the cooking food makes when it hits the water. In Korea it’s called Shin Sul Ro, and is often a spicier creation, based in kimchi. In China it simply translates as “hotpot.” All forms date back thousands of years from Emperors’ banquets to Ghengis Khan’s soldiers sharing a meager meal.

It’s essentially one and the same: a steaming bowl of water or mildly flavored broth (today kept warm with a hot plate, not fire) brought to diners with added accoutrements: crab, tripe, chicken, fish balls, duck, vegetables, for example– or a taste of all of the above. Various seasonings/ sauces from salty to sweet to spicey are added to your delight.

Originally, the hotpot was a shared dish and in China you can still find hotpot establishments “in the old way” with one pot for all diners (I have only seen it in China). Today it is more common that everyone is provided their own pot, as it was the day we were in Flushing.

Hotpot is the perfect cold weather meal. It warms the soul, fogs the glasses and leaves you full and as satisfied as Buddha.

The last time I took D for hotpot he was mildly terrified. We had just started dating and I took him into the depths of New York City’s Chinatown, under the Manhattan Bridge. His glasses fogged immediately as we entered the steamy dining room and being unable to see, and unable to understand the language around him, he meekly walked to the table pointing unconvincingly as he ordered pork from the waitress. I happily showed him the sauce counter, explained how to mix items, how long to cook them for and suggestions for mixing sauces.

Needless to say, when I suggested it again, he wasn’t too thrilled. I convinced him by offering to buy him some frozen handmade dumplings at the grocery and we were good to go with an explorative gourmand friend, R, in tow.

This time it was D explaining to R what he was in for: Jumping in by ordering extra fish balls, hitting the sauce station first and explaining how to best put creations together. We left, D received his 10 lb bag of dumpling reward, and I became mesmerized by items in the grocery aisles (which is none too difficult for me).

D and I scoured the soy sauces until we found a boutique variety without caramel coloring. We watched eels swim in their containers and crabs being tossed back and forth. In the fruits and vegetables I fought over plump kumquats and Korean pears on sale 4 for $1 (everyone else was doing it so why not join the fray?). I ogled the massive selection of seaweeds, keeping them in mind for a future visit and grabbed up some lemongrass.

I told D to keep a lookout for purple sweet potatoes. We had them at a restaurant once (where they called them Okinawa sweet potatoes. I was so fascinated by their rich color I could not believe there was no dye in them. He found them hiding behind a beige skin and we grabbed two large specimens. As we headed out my eyes landed on sugarcane sticks. My mind wandered to mojitos served with cane “straws” and I grabbed a package. Finally, D cut me off.

The next day we picked up a pork shoulder and remembering all my new treats in the fridge, I suggested we make a tropical glaze for the pig. I used the lemongrass, sugarcane, a lime and a bottle of cheap Brazilian beer to extract the flavors. I think allowing the meat to marinate in the resulting liquid would have been more successful, still, the pork turned out sugary sweet around the edges and perfectly juicy inside. While roasting, we wrapped a purple sweet potato in tin foil and threw it on the pan for baking.

The purple sweet potato is truly unique. It is sweeter than traditional sweet potatoes we are used to here in the U.S. with more of a honey overtone. It makes a beautiful presentation and would be perfect for a special Valentine’s Day meal. A few days later we sliced the second potato thin and fried it in some reserve bacon fat. The result was deliciously light and reminiscent of the Terra vegetable chips one can find in the markets.

LEMONGRASS-SUGARCANE PORK ROAST
Cook time= about 3 hours
* 1 pork shoulder, about 5 lbs
* 3 sticks lemongrass
* 2 sticks sugarcane, about 5 inches long, 1 inch thick
* ½ a lime
* 1 inch cube fresh ginger
* 2 Tablespoons honey
* 1 bottle lager beer

1) Using a sturdy blender, like a Cuisinart, puree lemongrass, sugarcane, lime (rind, juice and pulp), ginger. The result will be a mealy, fibrous consistency.
2) Warm a skillet on medium heat. Add puree and cook about 4 minutes, stirring often, until aroma begins to fill the room. Add beer and bring to a simmer. Cover and turn heat off, allow to sit 10 minutes. Warm again until just a simmer then remove from heat.
3) Line a large bowl with cheesecloth and place lemongrass-sugarcane puree into cheesecloth. Strain liquid, pressing the cheesecloth tight.
4) Warm an oven to 350F.
5) Wash and pat dry pork. Slash 2 inch diamonds along fat. Cover with ample salt and pepper.
6) Pour about half the lemongrass-sugarcane liquid over the pork, making sure some remains on top and inside the fat slices. If you have a syringe, inject some of the liquid into the pork. Reserve ¼-½ the liquid for later basting.
7) Bake on middle rack, basting 1-2 times, until pork’s internal temperature is 165F.

Oh, and Happy Birthday to me!!!
D and I are low-keying it today with a brunch out and lobster dinner at home. Okay, maybe that’s not totally low-key.