Summer's Visit

Yes, springtime's all about asparagus, rhubarb and ramps, but 85 degrees in April calls for summertime food. I'm talking potato salad, some vegetables thrown together in a quick dressing, and a terrific new scallop dish that I can easily see becoming a regular meal around here once summer arrives for good.

The recipe comes from Rick Moonen's Fish Without a Doubt, a book I'd skimmed for months but hadn't actually cooked from until recently. The marinade caught my eye not only because of its sweet-spicy combination, but because it looked so simple (and I was really needing a simple recipe, having run a half-marathon that morning in 80 degrees, and having totally flopped at dinner the night before). Sea Scallops with Jalapeno-Grapefruit Marinade it was.

The marinade is pretty tart from grapefruit juice and zest, and considerably spicy, with about one and a half diced jalapenos, seeds, ribs and all. But you're only marinating the scallops in the jalapenos, not actually eating them, so it's a very palatable spice. The marinade's other ingredients are cilantro, scallions and dry vermouth (you could probably use a dry white wine)--all summertime staples around here. After marinating the scallops for an hour, we seared them on a griddle (obviously if you had a grill you would use it here) for about three minutes per side.

They were fantastic. A little spicy, and sweet from the grapefruit. Moonen says this is terrific with head-on shrimp, too, which I'll definitely try once summer's here for good.--S

Sea Scallops with Jalapeno-Grapefruit Marinade

Serves 4 (8 as an appetizer)

Grated zest of 1 grapefruit
Juice of 2 grapefruits (about 1 1/3 c, and pulp is fine)
1/4 c minced jalapeno chiles (with seeds)
1/4 c chopped fresh cilantro
1/4 c chopped scallions
1/3 c dry vermouth
3 T olive oil
16 large sea scallops, tough bits removed
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper

1. Stir the grapefruit zest and juice together with the jalapenos, cilantro, scallions, vermouth and olive oil in a baking dish or plastic container.
2. Immerse the scallops in the marinade, cover, and refrigerate for 1 hour.
3. Prepare a grill so it's very hot.
4. Take the scallops out of the marinade. Season them with salt and pepper and brush them with vegetable oil.
5. Brush the grill with vegetable oil. Grill the scallops for 3 minutes per side. Scallops are like little sponges--they soak up the marinade, which will slow down the cooking. Don't expect these to get very brown, though you should have grill marks.

Recipe courtesy of Fish Without a Doubt

Merry Christmas!

It started with champagne, of course. Because Christmas Eve is always celebratory: the flocking of family members from around the country to one modest New Jersey dining room, the excitement of it being the night before Christmas, the happiness that comes from delicious eating foods you consume only once a year. Reasons enough to break open the bubbly!

This year, 23 of us sat down to three tables Aunt Mimi had lined up, stretching from the dining room bay window through the hall and well into the living room (God forbid we split up and eat in small groups). And we ate. Six fishes, with a bowl of Goldfish crackers on the table as our seventh. It sure was grand. The approximate order of events follows:

1. Antipasto: roasted red peppers, Italian tuna in olive oil, olives, marinated eggplant and artichoke hearts, Provolone.
2. Fresh mozzarella with tomatoes.
3. Fried calamari.
4. Pop's smelts, with vinegar and mint.
5. Baked stuffed clams in the beautiful clam shells.
6. Fork announces the scratch-off Lotto ticket my aunt left on his plate is a winner; once he has everyone's attention he admits he didn't win the lottery, but that he hit the jackpot: Spoon and Fork are getting married!
7. More champagne, kisses, hugs, tears.
8. Pasta with clam sauce.
9. Shrimp francese, affectionately referred to as "The Shrimbola," accompanied by Pop's retelling of Uncle Louie Barese's mispronunciation of the word "shrimp."
10. Mom's stuffed escarole, this year featuring Gaeta olives (instead of pimento-stuffed), capers (as usual), golden raisins, pignoli nuts, less breadcrumbs and no Parmesan cheese. A new classic.
11. More champagne. Pop tells jokes we've heard a thousand times, we all die laughing, for the thousandth time.
12. Family assembles around the piano for the worst-ever (musically speaking) but perhaps funniest-ever (performance-wise) rendition of A Partridge in a Pear Tree. Spoon can barely keep up with the mayhem, but the glittering diamond on her finger inspires her to keep playing because it sparkles nicely as she plays. Merry Christmas!--S

The Real Deal

My sister's home for a visit! I'm thrilled to see her and spend time with her, and in our family, spending time together almost always entails eating. For Laura and I, it's Mom's tomato sauce, Dad's grilled sausage and a guilty pleasure or two. Last night's dinner brought a new dimension to our familiar feasts: Laura's friend Laura--let's call her Spanish Laura for clarity's sake--made my family seafood paella. It was delicious. We were all so excited to be eating paella made by a real Spaniard! And it reminded us all that though we may not be able to converse with Spanish Laura, who doesn't speak much English, it doesn't really matter when we all sit down to the table before a massive bowl of steaming rice and shellfish and raise our glasses of wine to the chef, smiling and oohing over the feast.

As Spanish Laura explained, paella should be either exclusively meat or exclusively seafood. None of this mix-and-match you see in many Spanish restaurants. She says this is because the rice absorbs the flavor of the other ingredients, and you want your rice to be one or the other flavor--not some melange of both. The Lauras made a seafood stock by boiling shrimp, calamari and mussels. In a separate pot, the clams steamed open in their shells, and the chefs reserved that juice, too. Into a big paella pan borrowed from my mom's cooking school went onions and green and red bell peppers that they had sauteed. Little by little, Spanish Laura added the stock, until the vegetables were simmering, then slowly--"like feeding chickens," Spanish Laura said--my sister Laura tossed in the rice. Unfortunately, the Spanish rice they'd packed in their luggage is somewhere between Madrid and New Jersey, wherever their suitcases are currently hanging out. So long-grain white rice from Whole Foods stood in, and I think it did a fine job. A little saffron went a long way, and the rice was a delightfully deep yellow color. Finally, they added the cooked seafood.

We were all salivating when the beautiful platter hit the table. Spanish Laura served, suggesting a squirt of lemon to bring out the flavors. Wow. This was some seriously tasty paella. The rice was perfect, neither mushy nor hard, and the seafood was tender. The peppers flecked the rice with color and slight crunch, and each mouthful was just a little different, depending on whether your fork had found a sweet little ring of calamari or a plump mussel. No translation was necessary to understand we were all quite happy. They promise the recipe's coming...--S

Warm and Clammy--In a Good Way

I'll admit that dinner last night came more from my being in love with the idea of clam chowder than an actual craving for the stuff. Jasper White's kitschy-looking Summer Shack Cookbook has been sitting on my desk for weeks now, and I've idly thumbed through its pages too many times to count. Kind of like the J. Crew catalog, this book sells a concept--buy these clothes/cook this food and you will be on a tropical beach sporting a gauzy turquoise dress, wading into the ocean, who cares if it gets wet/wearing a damp bathing suit with sand between your toes, digging in to an alfresco seafood summer feast, pass the butter, please. So you can see why I was into the idea of making something from this book, namely the Creamy Cape Cod Clam Chowder.

Turns out, though, that once I got going, I actually started getting excited about eating clam chowder, too. Lugging nearly 10 pounds of Long Island cherrystone clams from the fishmonger back to my apartment, scrubbing them in my kitchen sink, watching them steam open in my biggest pot (I peeked under the lid and caught some just as they popped--it was so sudden and happy!)... it all made me really hungry.

This recipe, for a white chowder, called for salt pork, but my butcher didn't have any, so I substituted diced bacon, which imparted a nice smoky flavor. After steaming and chopping the clams, I crisped up the bacon, then sautéed it with butter, onions, garlic, celery, thyme and a bay leaf. Next, I added diced potatoes and the reserved clam juice, and cooked this until the potatoes were soft on the outside but still firm inside. The addition of the clams and heavy cream completed the dish.

And then I pretended I was wearing that bathing suit and feeling that sand on my feet, and dug in. Tasty chowder! Creamy and fresh and perfectly beachy. Anybody want to go watch the sun set over the bay?--S

Creamy Cape Cod Clam Chowder

10 lbs small quahogs or large cherrystone clams
2 c water
4 oz. meaty salt pork, rind removed and cut into small (1/3-in.) dice
2 T unsalted butter
2 med. yellow onions, cut into 1/2-in. dice
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, cut into 1/3-in. dice
5-6 sprigs fresh thyme, leaves removed and chopped (1T)
1 lg dried bay leaf
2 lbs Yukon Gold or other all-purpose potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2- to 3/4-in. dice
2 c heavy cream
Freshly ground black pepper
Kosher or sea salt if needed
1/4 c shopped fresh Italian parsley

1. Scrub the clams and rinse well. Place them in a large pot, add the water, cover, and turn the heat to high. Once you see a little steam escape from the pot, let the clams cook for about 5 minutes. Removed the lid and quickly move the clams around in the pot, so they will cook evenly, then cover and cook for 5 minutes more, or until the clams open.

2. Pour off the broth and reserve. After it has settled a bit, strain the broth, leaving the bottom 1/2 inch of broth (and sediment) in the container. You should have about 4 cups. Remove the clams from the shells, place in a bowl, and refrigerate until cold.

3. Dice the clams into small (1/3- to 1/2-inch pieces. Cover and refrigerate.

4. Rinse and dry the pot and heat over low heat. Add the salt pork and cook until crispy and brown. Add the butter, onions, garlic, celery, thyme, and bay leaf and sauté, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon, for about 10 minutes, until the onions are softened by not browned.

5. Add the potatoes and 4 cups reserved clam broth. The broth should just barely cover the potatoes; if it doesn't, add more broth or water. Turn the heat to high, cover the pot, and boil vigorously for about 10 minutes, until the potatoes are soft on the outside but still firm in the center. Smash a few potatoes against the side of the pot and stir them into the chowder to lightly thicken it.

6. Remove the pot from the heat and stir in the cream and diced clams. Season with black pepper; you may not need salt (the clams usually add enough of their own). If you are serving the chowder within the hour, just let it sit and "cure." Otherwise, let cool to room temperature and refrigerate it; cover it after it has chilled.

7. When ready to serve, reheat the chowder slowly over medium heat; do not let it boil. Ladle into cups or bowls and sprinkle with parsley.

Makes 3 quarts; serves 12 as an appetizer or 6 to 8 as a main course.

Recipe courtesy of The Summer Shack Cookbook

Best Fishes

"They're like the French fries of the sea," said the potbellied guy with the suntan, stubbly beard and New Yawk accent. He was probably in his 50s, wearing a sports jacket and Dockers, and stood with two other men in nearly identical get-ups. They balanced tiny cocktail plates in their huge hands, rhubarb Bellinis sitting on the buffet table, sweating in the Manhattan humidity.

These Dockers-clad angels turned out to be David Pasternack's fishing buddies, hard-working Long Island natives there to toast their local boy at a party celebrating the fisherman-turned-Manhattan chef's first book, The Young Man and the Sea: Recipes and Crispy Fish Tales from Esca. I piled some of these so-called french fries onto my plate, figuring if these guys say they're good, they're probably right. The french fries they spoke of were actually fried sand eels, crisped up with fresh mint. They were sensational.



The party, not coincidentally, was at Esca, the Mario Batali/Joe Bastianich-run Southern Italian seafood mecca in Midtown where Pasternack has been the chef since its opening in 2000. (pictured:Iron Chef judge Jeffrey Steingarten, Pasternack and Batali at the party). I'd been to Esca only once before, to celebrate my 26th birthday with Fork. We were blown away by the crudo, sort of an Italian take on sashimi. Before I tasted crudo, my only experience with raw fish was with soy sauce and wasabi, or lime and cilantro, a la ceviche. But at Esca, the fish was accompanied by flavors comfortingly familiar to me. Extra virgin olive oil. Lemon. Basil. Rosemary. Garlic. Crunchy sea salt. The restaurant also impressed us with its whole roasted fish and pasta dishes, too. I remember a linguine with rock shrimp that was out of this world.

As my colleagues and I sauntered up to the buffet table yesterday, we were tantalized by the offerings. It all looked splendid. Of course, we weren't sure what everything was. That's where the Pasternack's buddies came in. Like the finest fishing guides, they steered me toward whole roasted striped bass, ivory salmon crudo, Nantucket bay scallops, and razor clam crudo, served in the shell and topped with diced red pepper and julienned mint leaves (pictured). I eyed a baked stuffed clam that was laced with prosciutto, having a flashback to the recipe my Aunt Ann makes every year for our Christmas Eve vigil.

One of the fishermen smiled as I happily scooped a clam onto my plate. "If Dave made it," he laughed, "it's going to be good."--S

And Many More...

Jack's Luxury Oyster Bar
101 2nd Avenue
(Bet. 5th and 6th)
New York, NY 10003
(212) 673-0338

FOUR SPORKS


We at Spoon & Fork have a birthday tradition: on birthdays, our gift to each other is a great meal at one of the city's top restaurants. Fork started started the tradition on Spoon's 25th birthday with a meal at Wylie DuFresne's first love, the soon-to-be-closed 71 Clinton Fresh Food. In the ensuing years we've celebrated birthdays with Wylie (who Fork also knows from his softball league: DuFresne is a left-handed power hitter in addition to a culinary genius) at WD-50, with Mario Batali at Babbo, Esca, Del Posto, and Casa Mono, a star-studded, palate pleasing evening at Nobu and Shun Lee Palace. It's an impressive list that'd be tough to rank.

Last night, in honor of Fork's 40th, we added Jack's Luxury Oyster Bar to the list. We'd heard good things about the place, and we'd expected a good meal. But we never expected that Jack's would actually top that list. It may very well be the best experience we've had for a birthday meal--and they have all been special meals, so yes, high praise indeed.

What made the meal so memorable? First, of course, the food. We are seafood lovers, and every dish was exquisite. Fresh, mostly raw seafood accented with homey, landlubber touches like Cape Cod potato chips. The room is tiny, seating only about 16. The ambiance is romantic, but contemporary and not corny. Even the music was sensational, from old Bob Dylan to Art Brut. The service was first-class, personable and precise without being formal. They really seemed to care that we enjoy every single aspect. And we did.

Ah, to the menu. As usual for our birthday dinners, we opted for a tasting menu. Our philosophy is that it's always best to let the chef cook for you. This was a wise choice: the tasting menu was comprehensive, and a shocking value: although everywhere we read online listed the tasting menu at $75 per person, it was $50 on this night, for six stunning courses.


The meal began with a selection of fruits de mer: Washington State and Virginia oysters, littleneck clams, shrimp, and caviar on a toast point. A perfect start. Each bite was refreshing, icy cold and oceany, smooth and delicious and flavorful. Next, tartare: coho salmon for Fork, served with warm Cape Cod chips; big-eye tuna for Spoon. At this point, we were thrilled. Once again perfectly prepared, and the perfect second course. The third course, a knockout: homemade duck liver mousse served in little jars, topped with port gelee, served with a spoonful of black truffles and whole-grain mustard and toast points. In a word: decadent.

Just the thing to lead us to... more decadence and a triumphant piece-de-resistance: butter-poached lobster with pistachio, green beans, enoki mushrooms and lobster jus. All of it washed down with Fork's favorite wine, a crisp Muscadet. It was with this triumph of a dish that we began entertaining the notion that Jack's could possibly contend with Nobu for Most Amazing Birthday Dinner Ever.

After the lobster course, we were intoxicated. The flavors were still swirling in our minds, familiar flavors that we loved, but also new and complex at the same time. Just when we thought couldn't eat another bite, dessert began. First a palate cleanser of pear sorbet drizzled with a fresh vanilla bean cream. We wiped that out. Then a complimentary taste of Sauternes, a spectacular French dessert wine. At this point, NO WAY we could eat another bite, right? Until the dessert arrived: Jack's take on smores: so delicious we wiped that out too...

We can't wait to go back to Jack's Luxury Oyster Bar. Friendly, inventive, familiar yet new flavors, great music and ambiance, and a great value... it is a gem. It may not always beat Nobu, but on this enchanted evening, believe us when we say we have a new champion. --S&F