Chicken Marsala

  

  

    
What is the difference between Messina and McNuggets?  Syracusa and Special Sauce?  Palermo and, well, you get the idea.  Find yourself sailing near McDonalds?  Chart a course for Marsala, Sicily that is.  The other night, I prepared breaded chicken cutlets for my kids.  Dredged in flour, egg and bread crumbs, these home made "nuggets" fill their need with little more than a dollop of ketchup to top it off.  I, of course, have deeper needs.  I have a need to feel the ocean air in my face.  I need to have the sun so bright that even wearing sunglasses makes me squint.  I need old men on park benches, old ruins on hillsides, and old recipes made with the newest, freshest, most basic ingredients.  I need new fish caught from old seas.  I need new discoveries in old towns, towns so old that the list of conquerers is too long to read.  
    
Sicily fits this description.  I have never been to Sicily, but will go some day.  And until that day, I will eat in Sicily, or at least my transient idea of Sicily, until I experience the real thing.  I admit, that cooking with Marsala wine may be more of an American thing.  Sicilians, I believe, serve their fortified wine, the good stuff I'm talking about, not the swill you buy at the supermarket, as an aperitif between first and second courses.  Like a Port, it goes well with cheese.  Here in America, land of the lowest common denominator, our mass-produced Marsala is not good for much more than cooking.  But that is ok, because it gives us another way to transform everyday chicken cutlets into something more interesting, something more special, something named after a town in Sicily.  Soften some shallots, brown some mushrooms, reduce some Marsala and some chicken stock and voila! Another evening where I am that much closer to being in Sicily.  Serves 2.
    
Ingredients:
2 tbsp olive oil
3 tbsp butter
2 skinless, boneless chicken breasts
salt/pepper
1/2 cup flour
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup bread crumbs
1 shallot, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 small can of sliced mushrooms
1/2 cup Marsala wine
3/4 cup chicken stock
1/2 tsp dried rosemary
     
Directions:
Heat the oven to 200 degrees F.  In a large skillet, heat 1 tbsp of oil and 1 tbsp of butter over medium-high heat.  Rinse and pat dry the chicken breasts.  Cut them in half lengthwise to make to thin, flat cutlets.  Pound flat if desired to make the cutlets a uniform thin thickness.  Season each with salt and pepper.  Lay out the flour, eggs and bread crumbs in their own plate or bowl.  Dredge a cutlet through the flour, shaking off excess, then the egg, then the bread crumbs, and place in the hot skillet.  Do the same with a second cutlet.  Cook the cutlets for 2 minutes to brown and then turn the cutlets and repeat.  Remove the cutlets to a plate with a paper towel and keep warm in the preheated oven.  Wipe out the pan and heat another tbsp each of oil and butter.  Repeat the cutlet cooking process.  When the second batch of cutlets is removed, add the shallots to the pan and soften for a minute or two.  Add the garlic to release it flavor and then add the mushrooms.  Stir and cook a few minutes to release their liquid and brown slightly.  Add the Marsala wine and deglaze the pan, scraping up any bits.  Simmer and reduce the wine by half and then add the stock and rosemary.  Simmer and reduce the sauce by half or more.  Season to taste.  Turn off the heat and add the last tbsp of butter.  Stir in the butter and then place the cutlets in the skillet, coating with the sauce.  Plate the cutlets and then spoon out the sauce on top of the cutlets.  Serve.
     

Dinosaur Chicken Nuggets

  

  
Anthony Bourdain, noted author, television personality and chef, has a chapter in his latest book Medium Raw devoted to how he and his wife are scaring their toddler daughter away from McDonald's.  In the evening, after bedtime, they stand outside her door and whisper loudly tales of missing children last seen going into McDonald's.  Subtle comments are made on park benches about the cooties one can get by getting too close to Ronald.  Through means overt and covert, they are waging a war for the heart and mind of their daughter.  I can see why.  I imagine that for a chef, McDonald's is the true great Satan of our age.  His war is what we these days call existential.  He fights not just to win, but to define who he is and who he wants his daughter to be.
    
I have a similar story about shaping my son Jack.  It starts with me sitting in one of those little toddler chairs that barely comes up to the knee.  Knees are a consideration here because they are now very close to my chin.  I sit there with my ex-wife and Jack's pre-school teacher for a periodic parent/child conference.  Around the room are all the tools and objects of a Montessori preschool:  blocks and beads, buckles and polishing supplies.  This is mid-way through Jack's first year, and as a 4 year old, the tasks are mostly about working his little fingers, following instructions and learning routines.  The teacher is happy with Jack.  He is a good boy and a good student.  She describes his little friends in the classroom and how he likes to spend his time.  And then she drops a bomb, a neutron bomb, the kind that kills everything within miles without destroying any buildings.  She says his favorite activity is:  flower arranging.  The images and feelings that go through my mind are wild and extreme, flashing lights, worlds shaking and turned upside down.  A mental eyes rolling to the back of my head follows as I emotionally flail in images of a future florist, a passionate flower decorator, spending his days with lilacs and lillies, and other flowerphiles.  No. No. No.  That is not going to be my son.  The next day, I go out and by him a toy gun.
   
Mind you, this was not about making my son a future cold-blooded, jarhead, Rambo.  He was and remains a sweet and thoughtful boy, concerned with life and animals and protecting the weak.  Just now he will do so with a gun, leaving a trail of bad guys behind.  That evening in the classroom I didn't rail against the teacher, asking her what she was trying to do to my son.  I didn't rail against my ex-wife, asking what kind of future man we were raising.  I didn't rail against my son, scaring, scolding or otherwise souring him on flower arranging.  I merely handed him a toy gun, a Star Wars Clone Wars laser rifle to be specific, and off he went to pursue the rest of a now better balanced childhood.  Take that Count Dookoo, Pow, Pow (and take that flower arranger, bam, bam).  Does this make me a good father or bad?  How about Anthony Bourdain, right or wrong? From what I read, he sounds like he is a wonderful, loving, thoughtful father.  I consider myself one as well, but we do have different styles to parenting, and food.   
    
So, on what to eat for dinner, yesterday I had made my boys penne with a cauliflower ragu.  Of course, I didn't tell them it was cauliflower ragu.  That would be a death knell for getting children to eat it, and honestly, I was nervous that they wouldn't.  They asked what it was and I replied merely "pasta."  They nodded, picked up their forks, and wolfed it down like young boys do.  Later, they asked if they could have dinosaur chicken nuggets tonight.  No begging, no negotiating based upon forced fancy food the previous evening, just a simple reasonable request.  I said yes.  The trains are running on time, why get in the way.  My kids are eating the new recipes I make occasionally, the healthy food I serve them almost always, and if they want nuggets once in a while, then that's ok with me.  Besides, I try to convince myself, these are baked, not deep fried.  Serves 2.
    
Ingredients:
10 dinosaur shaped frozen chicken nuggets
  
Directions:
Place the nuggets in a microwave safe bowl and cover.  Microwave for 2 1/2 minutes.  Allow to   rest 1 minute.  Serve with a big dollop of ketchup.
    

Penne with Cauliflower Ragu

  

  
Spanish men live with their mothers until they marry.  Italians do this too, and maybe the French, but I don't really know about the French.  Spanish men, and I'm talking full grown men in their 20's, macho by day, who come whom to mama at night, live with their mothers until they find a new mother in their wife.  This is not to say that they are mama's boys.  That is an American phrase, appropriately reflecting American men who are mere actual reflections of their mothers.  No, a Spanish man who lives with his mother is not a reflection of his mother.  He is a man that loves his mother, with all his heart and soul.  Perhaps, in America, the best example of this is a father who loves his children with all his heart and soul.  That does not make him weak, or a woman, or a child.  He is a man.  A man who knows how to love, and he gives that love to his sons.  Completely, wholely, proudly.  No, not proudly, because pride is a reflection of how you feel in the presence or thought of others.  He loves them totally whether others are watching or not.
What does this have to do with cauliflower ragu?  One of my proudest (yes, that word, pride)moments as a cook came when I hosted a dinner party for parents of a classmate of my son's.  The father was from Spain.  To honor him and my appreciation for things Spanish, I prepared dishes of Spain: pork, potatoes, and Coliflor con Ajos y Pimenton (Cauliflower with Garlic and Paprika).  The cauliflower dish was that ideal blend of roasted savoriness.  That  taste you get when you combine garlic and onion, pine nuts and oil and heat.  The magic of caramelization, smokiness, nuttiness and roasted goodness.  At the end of the evening, when he was at the door on his way out, he of course thanked me as any polite guest would do.  But then he blessed me, not really, but in his words gave me the highest praise I can imagine, saying, "I am going to tell my mother about this meal."  Can there really be higher praise for food?  
So, is this that recipe?  No, not this time.  You will have to wait for that.  The recipe below is from Mario Batali's new Molto Gusto cookbook.  Don't get me wrong, his Pennette with Cauliflower Ragu tastes good, and my kids actually ate it.  Although, they will eat anything with enough oil, cheese and butter in it.  Which, I guess explains the difference between this recipe and that.  In the Italian way, Mario has us make the ragu, and then like a risotto, add butter and cheese at the end.  That may be fine for short-grained rice, but Mario, why did you have us simmer the cauliflower leaves for 20 minutes in advance?  Any delicateness in that flavor is overcome by the oil, butter and cheese.  Add bread crumbs and you have everyone's favorite casserole.  And on that basis, I offer this recipe.  It is good.  You will enjoy it.  But the Cauliflower con Ajos that Franco's mother would appreciate, that will be for another time.
    
Ingredients:
1 medium cauliflower
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 medium white onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced
salt
1 tsp red pepper flakes
4 tbsp butter
1 lb penne
3/4 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
1/2 cup bread crumbs
1/2 tsp dried rosemary (or 1 tsp fresh)
    
Directions:
Cut the cauliflower in half.  Cut off the leaves and reserve.  Cut around the core, cutting off the florets.  Separate the florets and cut into bite size pieces.  Cut the core into large chunks.  Combine the core, onion, garlic and leaves with salt to taste in a large pot over medium heat.  Stir and cook for about 3 minutes.  Reduce the heat and cook, stirring occasionally, for 20 minutes.  
Add the cauliflower florets, red pepper flakes, and 1 cup of water and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, then reduce to a simmer.  Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, for 20 minutes.  Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to boil and cook the penne, 12 minutes or until al dente.  After the cauliflower has cooked, remove the core chunks and the leaves so that only the florets remain.  Add the butter and stir to melt.  Reserve 1 cup of the pasta liquid and then drain the pasta.  Add the cauliflower ragu to the drained pasta and stir to mix.  Add some of the cooking liquid if desired to loosen the sauce.  Stir in the cheese, bread crumbs and rosemary.  Season to taste.  Serve.
    

Roast Beef Tenderloin

  

  

So, you want to buy that jacket.  I know the jacket, because I want it too.  It’s at that clothing store where the beautiful people shop, with their designer heels a little too high, their handbags a little too gaudy, and their sunglasses, definitely their sunglass, a little too everything.  They are waited upon by those clerks, excuse me those associates, with their clothes a little too tight, their hair a little too gelled, speaking into those headset microphones in hushed tones, like the popular kids used to do in high school.  The jacket is there, on the mannequin, raised up on a table, a pedestal really.  It’s over jeans that are a little too dark, with shoes and a belt a little too light, and a scarf jauntily thrown over its neck.  It says in that free and easy kind of way, “Ha, look at me, I’m so special.”  You know how good that will feel on you: soft, rippling, hugging.  You know how good you will look in it: tailored, stylish, sophisticated. 

For me, food can be that way.  Don’t get me wrong, I still want that jacket too, but I can just as yearningly look at that roast in the meat counter.  Roast is the wrong word, too Midwestern.  Tenderloin is better.  That word has it all.  It describes a place on the animal, it describes a feeling, it describes a place in ourselves where we all want to go.  Still, at $20 a pound you hesitate.  That’s a lot of money, but you think to yourself, this isn’t just a filet.  This is 3 pounds of crusty charred on the outside, meltingly soft on the inside, primal meat-eating bliss.  It’s not shaped like a tenderloin, long and slender, it’s shaped more like a roast.  You ask the butcher, “Is that the Chateaubriand cut?” You heard somewhere that’s the larger part of the tenderloin at the end that can look like a roast.  While you are curious, you are really just stalling, putting off this decision on whether you should splurge on yourself, whether you are worth this delicacy.  The butcher doesn’t know (about the cut, not your worth), but he does agree to sell it to you for $15 a pound.  “It’s the last one, they’ve been quite popular,” he says.  He knows how to push buttons like any good clothing boutique associate: sale, rarity, popularity.  You say yes, not because you really decided yes, but because your inner self forces you to say yes.  The one that for some says, “Damn it, I’m worth it” or for those who already know they are worth it also knows that this is an expression of how you love yourself and how good it feels to feel good inside.  You want that feeling.  You feel it sometimes.  You want to feel it again.  So, whether you’re staring at the counter or at the mannequin, listen to that voice.  Take that tenderloin home today.

    

Ingredients:

2-3 lb beef tenderloin

salt/pepper

2 tbsp olive oil

     

Directions:

Preheat the oven for 500 degrees F.  Season the roast with salt and pepper and leave out for 1/2 an hour to come to room temperature.  Preheat a skillet to medium-high heat.  Add  the oil and when just smoking add the tenderloin.  Brown on all sides a few minutes to form a nice crust and then put into the oven.  Roast the tenderloin until a food thermometer reads 120 degrees.  Remove to a plate and cover with foil.  The roast will continue cooking while it rests.  After 10 minutes, the roast should be medium rare.  Slice into thick medallions and serve.

    

Mediterranean Quinoa

  

 
  

What are the little things we do to make ourselves feel special?  We live busy lives that are too often rushed, hurried or marred by habit.  So, we give ourselves little treats, or we adorn ourselves with little baubles to make us feel better.  An iPhone convinces us we are stylishly special, a caffe latte reminds us that at least we think we deserve a little treat.  Of course, each of these things reinforces our American life on the run: a coffee bought and drunk on the go, an iPhone checked on the way.  Alas, this is the reality of our modern life, where cooking for hours is just not an option for a late weeknight meal.  Some nights after a long day at work, cooking for more than a few minutes may not even be an option.  But yet, we still rebel, we emotionally refuse to be plain, just as much as we refuse to wash, peel, dice or sauté vegetables when we are dead tired. 

What does this have to do with quinoa?  Well, who wants to eat quinoa by itself?  It’s not even a true grain, being related more closely to the tumbleweed than a cereal grass. And who wants to go to the trouble of fixing it up with diced vegetables, nuts or dried fruits when we are totally brain dead.  And yet, like the iPhone, quinoa is in style these days, as it should be.  It’s not your mother’s rice or potatoes.  It’s gluten free, a good source of fiber, high in protein, and unlike wheat or rice it contains a balanced set of essential amino acids.  So, what hurried thing can we do, what baubles can we add to our quinoa so that it is interestingly edible?  Well, that’s why God invented Rice-A-Roni for the millions of Midwestern housewives serving rice yet again.  An extra $1.39 and they have “the San Franciso treat.”  My quinoa-a-roni is in the cabinet and I am not ashamed.  This so-called Mediterranean Quinoa also has almonds, raisins, sauteed onions, and spices.  Heck, it's even kosher.  And it's always there, waiting for me when my fresh vegetable pantry is low, or my energy level is lower, but I still want to feel special by eating a fancy, stylish meal.  And, maybe next weekend, I'll slow down, take a breath, and make it the real way, but for tonight, thank you Streit's since 1925.

Ingredients:

1 tbsp olive oil

1 cup quinoa mix

Directions:

Bring 1 1/2 cups of water to a boil in a small pot.  In a medium pot over medium-high heat, warm the oil.  Add the quinoa and stir to toast for 1 minute.  Add the boiling water, stir, and reduce to a simmer.  Cook for 12 to 15 minutes.  Turn off the heat and allow to steep, 8 minutes.  Serve.

    

Fregula with Corn

  

  
Mario and Gwyneth hang out a lot.  By that I mean Mario Batali and Gwyneth Paltrow, and what guy wouldn't want to hang out with Gwyneth?  They're both busy celebrities, so I don't know that they actually hang out a lot, but they are friends and do projects together, so I at least project the influence Gwyneth is having on Mario.  They did their cookbook showcasing their mutual love of Spain and its food.  Now, Mario's newest cookbook highlights recipes from his casual Italian restaurant Otto Enoteca Pizzeria.  My favorite section is actually the vegetable antipasti.  How many times do we think to ourselves that we should or want to have a vegetable or grain side dish, but our usual stand-ins are just too boring?  In Molto Gusto, Mario provides us a host of new vegetable and grain side dishes that combine simple and wholesome ingredients in ways that refresh and inspire.  It is the Italian way, the Spanish way, the French way, even the Gwyneth way.  It is the way we should all cook and the way I feel like cooking here at the end of this summer.  His fregula with corn dish highlights that simplicity with summer ingredients.  The fregula (pearl or Israeli couscous to the rest of us) is paired with charred corn, for that summer vegetable and grilled taste.  The lemon vinaigrette keeps that summer brightness.  Here, I paired it with pan-seared cod, but this side would go with just about anything.  Enjoy it for yourself.  Serves 2.
  
Ingredients:
1/2 cup fregula or pearl couscous
2 ears of corn
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp fresh lemon juice
2 scallions, sliced
salt/pepper
    
Directions:
Bring half of a medium pot of water, lightly salted, to boil and cook the fregula 12 minutes or until al dente.  Meanwhile, cut the corn kernels from the cobs.  In a medium saute pan over medium-high heat, heat 1 tbsp of oil and add the corn.  Stir occasionally to brown quickly the corn on sides.  You may need to cover to avoid popping corn.  After 3 minutes, remove the corn to a plate.  Whisk the lemon juice and remaining oil and season to taste.  When the fregula is done, drain and allow to cool if desired.  Mix in the corn, vinaigrette and scallions.  Season again to taste if desired.  Serve.
    

Lime Curry Ribeye

  

  
This past weekend I was in the mood for something tropically inspired.  Ok, I'll admit it, I saw Eat Pray Love.  I suppose there's no reason to fear for my man-cred here, this is a cooking blog after all.  What flavors conjure better than lime and curry?  Although, I suppose gravitating toward beef is hardly an homage to India, but let's just say the curry was India inspired and the lime and cilantro SE Asia inspired.  Cooking doesn't always have to make sense though.  It's a reflection of ourselves, our wants and needs at the moment.  So, all in one it is possible to grill something for a summer menu, make it interesting with lime and curry, and still hit that meat and potatoes comfort spot.  On the latter, the recipe is really more American, but like everything, a little lime juice and cilantro instead of lemon and parsley can pair it well with another dish.  As for the marinade?  It took 30 seconds and 3 ingredients.  Serves 2.
    
Ingredients:
salt/pepper
juice of 1 lime
1 tbsp curry
3 tbsp olive oil
2 ribeye steaks
2 large or 4 small red potatoes
2 strip bacon, chopped
1/2 yellow onion, diced
1 garlic clove, diced
1 tsp rice wine vinegar
2 tbsp fresh cilantro, chopped
    
Directions:
Set a medium pot with water on high heat to boil.  Season steaks on both side with salt and pepper.  Mix all but 1 tsp (reserving for later) of the lime juice with the curry and 2 tbsp of olive oil.  Put marinade in a ziploc with the steaks and coat all sides.  Heat a grill or grill pan to medium.  When hot, add the steaks and cover.  Cook for a total of 10 minutes, turning once.  When the water is boiling, add the potatoes and cook for 12 minutes.  Meanwhile, in a medium fry pan over medium heat, cook the bacon and onions.  Drain and remove to a plate.  Remove the steaks when done to a plate and cover.  When the potatoes are done, remove and allow to cool a little, perhaps running under cold water if desired.  Mix together 1 tbsp olive oil, rice wine vinegar and remaining lime juice.  Season with salt and pepper.  Cut the potatoes into 1/2 inch pieces and mix with the dressing, bacon, onion and garlic mixture and cilantro.  Plate the steaks and serve with the potato salad.