Hold Onto Summer

With summer slipping through my fingers (60 degrees when I stepped outside to run this morning!), I resolved to get myself to the greenmarket this week and enjoy the still gorgeous produce. The tomatoes, especially, continue to look amazing, and when I saw a recipe for a Caramelized Tomato Tarte Tatin in Wednesday's paper, I knew I had to make it.

I somehow skipped over the "tatin" part when I first read the recipe. What really drew me in were the words "tomato" and "tart." (Incidentally, it was almost exactly a year ago that I discovered this magnificent tomato tart.) The ingredient list seemed perfectly reasonable--puff pastry, onions, sugar, sherry vinegar, olives, tomatoes and thyme--so I made a split-second decision to make it for dinner. Many farmers at the market were selling cherry tomatoes in gorgeous colors, and I asked one of the vendors if I could mix and match them. He thrust a plastic pint basket at me and said, "Go nuts." So I did, handpicking about a pound of red, orange, yellow and purple cherry and grape tomatoes.

And then I got home and read through the recipe--and realized this was a tarte tatin--French code word for "upside down." Riiiight! I've made plenty of apple tarte tatins, and actually love them for their rustic look and simplicity. And that's exactly what this tomato tarte tatin was. I caramelized thinly-sliced onions and set them in a bowl to cool. Then I made a caramel sauce in a nonstick skillet, added the tomatoes and olives, spread the onions on top, plus thyme, salt and pepper, and topped the whole thing with a round of puff pastry dough. Into a 425-degree oven it went, and about 20 minutes later it was golden brown. A quick (and you must do it quickly, there's no other way) flip over onto a plate, and we were ready to eat.

The tarte was both savory and sweet, dessert-y and dinner-y. We gobbled it up with a big green salad, and helped ourselves to seconds. The roasted tomatoes exploded in our mouths, the puff pastry crust slightly crunched, and we were happy to hold onto summer a little bit longer.--S

The Non Frittata

Lidia Bastianich's Frittata with Asparagus with Scallions is not exactly a frittata. But then, when you're Lidia Bastianich--the real doyenne of Italian cooking, as far as I'm concerned, whose recipes have never failed me--you can call a mess of gently scrambled eggs, lightly cooked asparagus, crisped up prosciutto and melted onions whatever you want.

In the recipe's introduction, Lidia explains, "This is a different sort of frittata, not the neat golden round of well-set eggs that's probably most familiar. Here the eggs are in the skillet for barely a minute, just long enough to gather in soft, loose folds, filled with morsels of asparagus and shreds of prosciutto." It's a pretty brilliant combination, actually, and who cares if it's a far cry from the perfectly pan-shaped version? My lackluster supermarket was out of scallions, so I used a large onion, which turned out fine. Next time, however, I will definitely use a nonstick skillet, as my stainless steel one is still showing evidence of the frittata-non-frittata (need to get my hands on some of this).

After being away from home for awhile, this was the perfect dinner: warm, homey and uncomplicated. I'm not going to turn my back on the traditional frittata, but I'll surely turn to Lidia's version again.--S

Frittata with Asparagus and Scallions/Frittata Asparagi e Scalogno

Serves 4 as a light meal or 6 as an appetizer

1 lb fresh, thin asparagus spears
4 oz prosciutto or bacon, thick slices with ample fat (about 4 slices)
1/2 lb scallions
3 T extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 t coarse sea salt or kosher salt, or more to taste
8 large eggs
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Snap off the tough bottom stubs of the asparagus, peel the bottom few inches of each spear, and cut them crosswise in 1 1/2" pieces. Slice prosciutto or bacon into strips, or lardoons, about 1 inch long and 1/3" wide. Trim the scallions, and cut crosswise into 1" pieces.
2. Pour the olive oil into the skillet, scatter in the lardoons, and set over medium heat. When the strips are sizzling and rendering fat, toss in the cut asparagus, and roll and toss them over a few times. Cover the skillet, and cook, still over moderate heat, shaking the pan occasionally, until the asparagus is slightly softened, 5 minutes or so.
3. Scatter the scallion pieces in the pan, season with a couple pinches of salt, and toss the vegetables and lardoons together. Cover the skillet, and cook, shaking the pan and stirring occasionally, until the scallions and asparagus are soft and moist, 7 or 8 minutes more.
4. Meanwhile, beat the eggs thoroughly with the remaining salt and generous grinds of black pepper.
5. When the vegetables are steaming in their moisture, uncover the skillet, raise the heat, and cook, tossing, for a minute or so, until the water has evaporated and the asparagus and scallions seem about to color.
6. Quickly spread them out in the pan, and pour the eggs over at once. Immediately begin folding the eggs over with the spatula, clearing the sides and skillet bottom continuously, so the eggs flow and coagulate around the vegetables and lardoons.
7. When all the eggs are cooked in big soft curds—in barely a minute—take the skillet off the heat. Tumble the frittata over a few more times to keep it loose and moist. Spoon portions onto warm plates, and serve hot and steaming.

Recipe courtesy of Lidia's Italy

Buen Provecho on the Camino

A person can eat a lot over the course of a week of hiking up and down the mountains of northern Spain. And I'm not talking about trail mix. Last week, while my sis and I were covering about 140 miles of the famed Camino de Santiago from Hendaye, France, to Bilbao, Spain, we did consume our share of nuts, dried fruit, Babybel cheese and ham sandwiches. But at the end of the day, without fail, we rewarded ourselves and gave the local economy a boost by checking out the offerings at whatever bar we could find. And in Basque Country, the bar is often covered in food--specifically, pinxos, one-serving appetizers, eaten in a few bites, washed down with a glass of Rioja, a caña (glass of light beer) or, my personal favorite, the clara--a light beer mixed with lemon soda. Knowing we'd find refreshment and some sort of delicious food made lugging an 11-pound backpack through some tough terrain totally, totally worth it.--S
Note the beer teetering on the edge of the bar, to the left.
Most pinxos cost about 1,20 euros--sometimes more than a glass of beer.
These were in Lezama, at the town's annual fiesta. We ate while watching a wood-chopping contest and listening to a local band.
Cafe in Gernika.
Celebratory pinxos at the end of our journey, in Bilbao.
Basque doesn't seem to resemble Spanish at all--all those x's and k's. Thankfully there are usually Spanish translations. But even if you don't know what you're ordering, it's going to taste delicious.

My New BFF

I am delighted to introduce my (excuse me, OUR) latest kitchen toy: the KitchenAid Stand Mixer, Artisan Series with tilting head and direct drive transmission! (Excuse me while I bow.)

Fork and I received this awesome machine last weekend at a wedding shower, and it was the one item I insisted on bringing back to the City. Everything else can wait in my parents' basement, for now, anyway, but I was dying to clear off counter space for the mixer.

I gave it a whirl the other night, with Banana Chip Cookies. They're basically chocolate cookies with a little extra mixed in: chopped, toasted walnuts; and chopped dried banana chips. The recipe also calls for a touch of toasted wheat germ and whole wheat flour. The mixer handled everything like a pro, naturally, turning the butter light and fluffy in less than a minute, and incorporating the sugar with results that can only be described in the words of my grandfather: poetry in motion. Oh, and the cookies? Delicious.

As summer winds down and we head into fall, I can't wait to show the mixer some love. Just think of all the cakes, cookies, bread and whipped cream that await.--S

Summer Love

So much for the dog days of summer. We've been having spectacular weather lately, with the morning temperature when I set foot outside for a run somewhere around 75. Skies are sunny and blue, and the humidity's low. Can we have this weather for a few more months, please? Oh, and while we're at it, can we continue to have the amazing fruits and vegetables currently on offer at the greenmarket?

I finished a six-miler yesterday at the market, and picked up a dozen or so plums from Miglorelli, the kind with rosy pink skin and yellowish flesh. They finished ripening while I was at work, and I when I got home, I set to work slicing them, then halving the slices. Into a square ceramic baking dish they went, tossed with a tiny bit of flour and brown sugar. In a separate bowl, I whisked rolled oats, brown sugar, flour and salt; then I cut in a cold stick of butter. I sprinkled the sugary, oaty, buttery crumbs over the fruit, forming a thick carpet, then baked it for 40 minutes. The smell was heavenly, and after the dish was bubbling and lightly browned, I took it out of the oven and let it cool by the window (nice touch, right? I was in a rush to get the thing uptown to book club).

Somehow the crisp made it safely 20 blocks north on the subway, and my friends and I enjoyed it, still warm. Sweet, a little tart, gently crunching from the oatmeal, kind of slurpy--this is August at its best.--S

Plum Oatmeal Crisp

serves 6

1/2 c plus 1 T all-purpose flour
1 c plus 2 T packed light-brown sugar
1/2 c old-fashioned rolled oats
1/4 t salt
1/2 c cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
2 1/2 lbs ripe plums, cut into 1-in. pieces

1. Preheat oven to 375. In a medium bowl, stir together 1/2 c flour, 1 c sugar, oats and salt. Using a pastry blender or two knives, cut in butter until coarse crumbs form.
2. In a shallow 2-qt baking dish, toss plums with remaining 2 T sugar and 1 T flour; sprinkle with oat topping. Place dish on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake until topping is golden brown, 40-45 min. Let cool 20 minutes before serving.

Clams by Another Name

After a lovely day at the beach on Sunday, Fork and I emerged from Penn Station wondering what to have for dinner. One look at the long taxi line on 7th Avenue was all we needed to convince us to walk home--via a route that took us past Garden of Eden.

We picked up two dozen Connecticut littleneck clams, some tomatoes, a cucumber, dill and a $1 bag of day-old bread. A stop at the wine shop for a chilled bottle of Albarino (our latest favorite, from Galicia and perfectly crisp) and we were set. On the agenda: the unfortunately-named Gwyneth's Clams. The recipe comes from a road trip Gwyneth Paltrow, Mario Batali and Mark Bittman took through Spain, documented in a TV series, forthcoming book and recent article in Food & Wine. Dirty jokes from Fork notwithstanding, we were kind of psyched to try Gwyneth's clams.

There's not much to the dish: well-scrubbed clams steam open in the wine, with a horizontally halved head of garlic and a couple of bay leaves. Drizzle the opened clams and wine broth with olive oil, and dinner's ready. Before preparing the clams--which took all of 10 minutes--I threw together a tomato/cucumber/dill salad, a classic summer salad my friend Anne taught me years ago.

It probably goes without saying that we wiped this out. The clams were delicious, and you tasted more of their ocean flavor since they were cooked in wine, not butter. Sopping up the broth with the bread (and rubbing it first on the halved garlic head floating around inside the wine) was very enjoyable, too. Aside from the name, this is one of my favorite dishes of the summer.--S

Herbal Delight

With the vegetable situation still verging on out-of-control, I threw down the gauntlet the other night. I was sitting on vast quantities of lettuce, green beans, red onion, and herbs (basil, cilantro and chives). This time my rescuer was dear Heidi Swanson, of 101 Cookbooks. Her Herb Salad was just the ticket to wipe out nearly all the veggies Fork's mom brought. Snow peas are all that remain.

Again, I wondered if this would be filling enough for dinner, and again, I was worrying about nothing. What gives this salad oomph is its rich dressing, made from avocado, Greek yogurt, lemon juice and garlic. It's heavenly. It pulled the whole dish--blanched green beans, corn, toasted pumpkin seeds, lots of fresh herbs, and red onion--together. And it gives it some substance. Oh, and did I mention it is delicious? In fact, I'd seriously consider making this dressing in lieu of guacamole, adding some jalapeno and perhaps lime juice instead of lemon. I'd say this recipe's star is the dressing, actually--though the fresh herbs are pretty fabulous, too. I rarely put herbs in salad, and this recipe reminded me how they add freshness and flavor to simple vegetables.

Make this one NOW. It's seasonal, and I really don't want you going without this amazing dressing any longer.--S

The Dish to the Rescue

Lately it feels like if I'm not making ice cream, I'm trying to figure out what to do with huge quantities of fresh vegetables. Not that either of these situations are a problem. But last night I was starting to panic about the number of bags of veggies in the fridge. Andrew's mom was down the weekend before last, and she brought a bounty from her garden. I roasted beets, baked zucchini bread, and ate the broccoli and green peppers--both so green they barely resembled the stuff they sell at Gristede's--raw with hummus. But still there remained yellow summer squash, more peppers and green beans. Salvation arrived yesterday, in the form of The Dish, Food & Wine's weekly e-mail. Subject line: "10+ Delicious August Vegetable Dishes." Yes.

Yellow Squash Soup with Scallion Salad is a delicious summer soup, hot but refreshing, with a nice tang from buttermilk. The presentation is lovely; you ladle the sweet, yellow pureed soup into bowls, scatter a "salad" of cooked and raw chopped veggies in the middle, and add a few bits of fried cheese to the side. I was nervous about this being filling enough for dinner, but both Fork and I were happily stuffed.

I made a few changes to the recipe, based on the veggies I had in my fridge. Instead of just grilling scallions, I added sliced onions, too. I subbed chopped blanched green beans and chopped green peppers for tomatoes and cucumber. And in place of tarragon and parsley, I used cilantro and chives. I did, however, stick with the recipe's suggestion for manchego in the "fricos," little fried cheese crisps. They added the perfect salty crunch. Yes, making this dish put a serious and much needed dent in the crisper drawer. But it also resulted in a great dinner and new summer soup to add to my repertoire.--S

Yellow Squash Soup with Scallion Salad

1 T unsalted butter
1 lb. small yellow squash, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 fresh bay leaves [I used one dried]
1 1/2 c low-sodium chicken broth
1 1/2 c water
6 scallions, white and tender green parts only
1 T plus 1 t extra-virgin olive oil
1 c buttermilk
Salt and freshly ground white pepper
3/4 c finely grated Manchego cheese (2 ounces)
1 c grape tomatoes, quartered
1 T minced tarragon
1 T minced flat-leaf parsley
1/4 c finely diced peeled cucumber
1 t lemon juice

1. In a saucepan, melt the butter. Add the yellow squash and bay leaves and cook over moderate heat for 8 minutes. Add the broth and water and bring to a boil. Simmer just until the squash is tender.
2. Meanwhile, preheat a grill pan. Rub the scallions with 1 teaspoon of the oil and grill over high heat, turning occasionally, until lightly charred, 5 minutes. Let cool, then cut into 1/2-inch pieces. Transfer to a bowl.
3. Transfer the squash and 1/2 cup of the broth to a blender and discard the bay leaves. [I left the squash in the pot, removed all but a 1/2 c of broth, and pureed it using an immersion blender.] Puree the soup and blend in the buttermilk. Season with salt and pepper. Keep warm or refrigerate until cold.
4. Heat a nonstick skillet over moderate heat. Spoon twelve 2-inch-wide mounds of the Manchego into the skillet; cook over moderate heat until browned on the bottom. Off the heat, flip the cheese crisps. Return to the heat and cook until browned. Transfer the crisps to a rack and let cool.
5. Add the tomatoes, tarragon, parsley, cucumber, lemon juice and the remaining 1 tablespoon of oil to the scallions and toss. Season the salad with salt and pepper. Ladle the soup into bowls and garnish with the scallion salad. Serve the soup warm or chilled with the cheese crisps.

Recipe courtesy of Food & Wine

When You Tire of Plain Old Ice Cream

Ice cream is all well and good, but an ice cream sandwich takes the pleasure up a notch. The nostalgia factor, the portability, and the combination of cookie and ice cream all add up to a refreshing break from a plain ol' bowl of ice cream. (Boooooring!)

My favorite homemade ice cream sandwiches (incidentally, the only ice cream sandwiches I've ever made) combine coconut and vanilla. They're Coconut Cream Sandwiches, and while the original recipe suggests you buy two pints of vanilla ice cream for the filling, would it really kill you to make a batch of homemade ice cream? No French-style, egg-based seriousness needed; a simple Philadelphia-style ice cream fits the bill just fine, especially since the cookie part of the ice cream sandwich is pretty rich, made with sweetened shredded coconut, butter, sugar, flour and salt.

You'll probably find the cookies expand in the oven--it happens to me every time--so shape the unbaked cookie dough into a smaller piece than you'd ideally want for an ice cream sandwich. And when the cookies have cooled and you're ready to make the sandwiches, make sure the ice cream is slightly softened, otherwise you'll break the cookies. And then you'll have to eat them on the spot.

It's August, summer's half over, and you're probably sick of ice cream. Okay, you're not sick of ice cream. I still recommend these ice cream sandwiches!--S

Coconut Cream Sandwiches
Makes 12

1/2 c unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 c sugar
1/4 t salt
3/4 c all-purpose flour
7 oz sweetened shredded coconut
2 pints vanilla ice cream, slightly softened (recipe below)

1. With an electric mixer, beat butter, sugar and salt until smooth. Mix in flour, then coconut, beating until a dough forms. Transfer to a piece of waxed paper; pat into a rectangular log, about 3" wide and 6" long. Wrap with waxed paper; freeze until firm, about 30 min.
2. Preheat oven to 350, with racks in upper and lower thirds. With a serrated knife, slice log of dough crosswise 1/4" thick (you should have about 24 slices); arrange slices on two baking sheets. [Leave plenty of space between the cookies; as mentioned above, they will spread.]
3. Bake until golden, rotating sheets from top to bottom and front to back halfway through, 20 to 25 minutes (watch closely toward end of cooking time to avoid overbrowning). Cool completely on sheets.
4. Dividing evenly, spread ice cream on flat side of half the cookies; sandwich with remaining cookies, flat side down. Freeze on a baking sheet until firm, about 3 hrs. (To freeze longer, up to 1 week, wrap sandwiches individually in plastic.)

Recipe courtesy of Everyday Food

Cheesy Cracker

Next time you're cracking open a beer or uncorking a bottle of wine, forgo the cheese and crackers and turn your eye toward the magnificent hybrid known as the Cheese Straw. This classic aperitif accompaniment is easy to make and can be adjusted to taste. It goes equally well with a Yeungling or a glass of prosecco, and whets the appetite without filling you up. And I've always loved Cheese-Its, so these are slightly classier, homemade version. With some kick, especially if you're a little heavy with the red pepper flakes.

I got the recipe from Aunt Betty about five years ago, and it's been a workhorse ever since. A default finger food for when guests are coming over, since you can make them ahead of time, put them in a cute glass or lay them on a platter, and most everyone loves them. It's a simple recipe: combine cheddar, butter, flour, salt, red pepper flakes and half-and-half; roll the dough into a sheet; cut the dough into strips; bake. Ta-da. Cheese-Its for grown-ups.--S

Cheese Straws

4 oz extra-sharp Cheddar cheese, grated
4 T butter, softened and cut into 4 pieces
3/4 c. flour (more for rolling dough)
1/2 t salt
1 t crushed red pepper
1 T half-and-half

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees. In a food processor, combine cheese, butter, flour, salt and red pepper, and pulse until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add half-and-half, and process on low speed until dough forms a ball. [You might need to add more half-and-half; if so, do it little by little.]
2. On a lightly floured surface, using a lightly floured pin, roll dough to a rectangle 8 by 10" and 1/8" thick. With a sharp knife, cut dough laterally into thin strips, 1/4 to 1/3" wide. Gently transfer each "straw" to an ungreased cookie sheet, leaving a 1/4" space between them, and bake 17 minutes, or until the ends are barely browned. Let cool.

Yield: About 30 straws.

Recipe courtesy of the New York Times

We'll Be Back...

Let's call this a dry run. After giving a coveted three-spork review to Bar Stuzzichini with one hand, and slapping it around with the other, Spoon and I were excited for dinner with friends Cara and Bryan, at newcomer Lunetta, just half a block away from Bar Stuzzichini. We had a lovely evening. We especially enjoyed the company, and there were some culinary highlights. Still, this new Flatiron neighbor kind of fell flat. But, hey, how fair is it to rate a restaurant after just one meal, and after just a few months in business? So no sporks, this time Lunetta, but next time you see us coming, you better...

Lunetta is situated in the space occupied by the old Mayrose Diner, and it comes to us already having achieved a following in Brooklyn, one of the more respected establishments on Smith Street. Note to Chef Adam Shepard: this ain't Brooklyn. You have Bar Stuzzichini within sight, Georgio's and Pizza Fresca around the corner, Beppe and Novita a block away, and the class of the group, A Voce, just six short blocks away. You have time to work out the kinks, chef, but not much.

Let's start with the highlights: the bruschette were tops. We went with the ricotta, hazelnut and lemon zest, and it was sensational. We also had a nice bottle of wine, a sangiovese, from their very reasonably-priced list, and we were ably helped in our selection by the sommelier.

It was hit or miss after that. We went with a tentacled theme to start. The fried calamari, was, well, fried calamari. It's good at Hooters, too, so, you know, whatever. The octopus came served with a Mediterranean flair, on a bed of cucumber, and, frankly, it was abysmal. Cold, rubbery, discolored, and a bit fishy, about as far from the always perfectly cooked octopus served steps away at Bar Stuzzichini.

The main courses were delicious, if inconsistent. My tagliatelle with pork and short rib ragu was fantastic. Perfectly cooked, and seasoned, generously portioned, and with great texture. Meanwhile, with half a dish of my pasta to go, I noticed Spoon's linguine with clams was wiped out. For the record, I rarely see Spoon clean a plate, and never before I do. There couldn't have been more than a fistful of pasta in the bowl. She said it also lacked linguine with clams's signature garlicky punch. Bryan had the meatballs (pictured), also delicious, but served alone in a white bowl, and not quite a filling meal. Cara, meanwhile, enjoyed a nice, simple pomodoro. For dessert, a hazelnut gelato was decadent, while an olive oil gelato was passable, though unremarkable, rather like eating vanilla gelato with an oil-soaked spoon.

The service, while enthusiastic, was also spotty. It was somewhat jarring that our perfectly nice, cheery and tall (at least 6'4") server seemed to have his own hobbit, training a 4'11" comrade who did not speak. When I asked the waiter if the antipasti were individually portioned or suitable for sharing, he replied, "Yes!" enthusiastically. Um, oooookay.... When Bryan ordered the meatballs, he failed to explain that they were served alone. He asked if Bryan wanted a side order of pasta, but he really should have recommended it.

Spoon and I were split over the room itself. Spoon liked the decor, and I agree, it is pretty: high ceilings, all windows on the outer walls with nice drapes, and mirrors on the inner walls. The tables are marble, and we were seated in a comfortable banquette. To me, however, it lacked the gravitas of Bar Stuzzichini's heavy, deep wood and hanging lamps. The decor seemed like it could be disassembled in a day's time. Which it very well might be if Lunetta doesn't do something soon to distinguish itself in a neighborhood already packed with good Italian.

Adam Shepard is clearly a very talented chef. He also is apparently up for a challenge, moving into a neighborhood with so much competition. We're hoping he's up to that challenge. Time, and a few more meals, will surely tell.--F

Tapas, Italian Style

BAR STUZZICHINI
928 Broadway, at 22nd Street
(212) 780-5100

THREE SPORKS

Sometimes, it's hard to tell the one you love how you really feel. No, not Spoon, and no, not the delightful Bittman sisters, with whom we enjoyed a fun meal Friday evening. For months now, however, we've been meaning to do a proper review of Bar Stuzzichini, one of Spoon & Fork's favorite new spots and a welcome addition to the Flatiron's already brimming culinary wellspring. After dozens of meals over the past year, sampling virtually everything on the menu, and a good chunk of the wine list, well, it's time to get some things off our chest.

When it opened in June 2007, Bar Stuzzichini offered a refreshing proposition, different from the "family style" meals associated with so many Italian restaurants. Its specialty is rustic "stuzzichini," small plates, not unlike tapas, with each plate offering a few bites, ranging from $5 and $10 per, or, the house deal of any combination of five plates for $22 (for two people), or $40 (for four to six people). A nice selection of entrees are served sparely as well, without sides or garnish, alone on white plates.

It's a lovely way to eat, Spoon and I agree. Over the course of a meal, one can enjoy many flavors and textures. It's visually appealing, too, if tough on the dishwashers. You can really appreciate the richness of Italian cuisine when it lays in front of you, simply presented, on small plates, unspoiled by a careless side dish. The wine list, meanwhile, is outstanding, mostly Italian vintages, particularly southern Italian, available by the bottle, glass and "quartino," a beaker-like vessel that holds about two glasses. For me, however, it's hard not to go with an ice-cold Peroni, served in a tall glass. They also prepare a perfect cocktail at the bar, for those unpersuaded by the wine list. The room is nice, lots of wood, with an elegant banquette, illuminated by hanging wagon-wheel lamps, although Frank Bruni's one-star review called the restaurant's opaque light "unflattering."

By now, Spoon and I have our favorites: a typical meal for us includes a fantastic grilled octopus; scamorza, a fried, spiced piece of aged cheese that's a mouthwatering must; grilled prawns, served with the head on; clams presented in a garlicky broth, ideal for sopping up with fresh-baked bread; and a plate of crisp green olives. For entrees, the restaurant serves the best braciole (pictured) outside of your Nonna's kitchen. Spoon has been addicted to the orechiette with cauliflower and bread crumbs since the beginning, though lately the crispy lemon chicken has taken a toe-hold. Other offerings include an excellent bone-in rib-eye steak served with a little spice, a decent rabbit, and striped bass cooked in parchment paper.

Friday's meal, aside from the exceptional company, was fairly typical. Yet Spoon and I both left the restaurant with a feeling that perhaps all is not quite right in Bar Stuzzichini's world. To start, the service was lackluster, and over the past year has been very hit-or-miss. One meal, a server may be very well-engaged, others, barely present. On Friday, it was the latter. I never received a second Peroni (though it showed up on the bill), despite repeated efforts to flag down our waiter in the hardly busy room. We ordered stuzzichini for four, and four of the dishes were appropriately doubled in size, except for the olives: there was only one small dish instead of two. Only one basket of bread, too, and the end piece I had was stale and chewy. Erratic service can be overcome or at least tolerated in some restaurants, but not at Bar Stuzzichini, where ordering and enjoying the menu requires a certain level of engagement from the server.

Of general concern, after more than a year the restaurant has not changed its menu, and there are no specials. For regulars like us, it is beginning to seem like the formula is set and that's it. In fairness, we usually have our meal plotted out before we walk in. But it's beginning to feel like Bar Stuzzichini isn't trying. Why not offer some seasonal specials? Serving small plates of stuzzichini surely offers an excellent opportunity to branch out, especially considering the restaurant is just six short blocks from the Union Square Green Market.

Judging from the dwindling number of diners, we're not alone in our assessment. When we left at 9:30 on Friday night, the restaurant was less than half-full. It could be that we were between seatings, or that numbers tend to fizzle in summer, when patrons leave town. Nevertheless, Bar Stuzzichini, which was packed front-to-back for months following its opening, is less and less so. On a recent Sunday night, we were virtually alone dining in the bar room. That scares us a little, and we have to wonder if the novelty of "Italian tapas" has worn off for newcomers, if the regulars are getting bored, and if those on the fence have been knocked off by the inconsistent service.

If Bar Stuzzichini needs a cautionary tale, it needs only to look around the corner (ahem, Rocco, Banana and Caviar, and now Borough). While Bar Stuzzichini is a far cry from Jeffery Chodorow's brand of hubris, it has made some questionable choices of late, most recently the addition of sidewalk seating. Situated along a treeless stretch of battered pavement that features a bus route, a view of the road construction just a block away, and a subway grate, it offers all the allure of picnicing in a parking lot. We recommend the bar room, as it is generally more festive than the back room, less grimy than the sidewalk, and the service tends to be better.

Despite the restaurant's inconsistency, we still recommend Bar Stuzzichini. Even when it slips, it manages to deliver at a fairly high level. Last night, however, I asked Spoon if we would be such regular patrons if the restaurant was, say, across town, rather than a few steps from our door. The honest answer: probably not. That's too bad. Bar Stuzzichini burst on the Flatiron scene a little over a year ago, and it earned both our business and its considerable buzz. Lately, though, it seems to be coasting, and in a neighborhood brimming with esteemed restaurant competition, including a lot of consistently solid Italian, from newcomer Lunetta, to staples like Beppe, Novita, Georgio's, and Pizza Fresca, there is never time to coast.--F

Beyond the Taco

I'm still swooning over Rick Bayless's Tomatillo-Sauced Enchiladas. The soft, sauce-soaked tortillas. The sauce itself, bright from so many tomatillos and kicked up with cilantro and jalapeno. The stuffing: hearty yet not heavy, made of spinach, mushrooms and chicken. And crumbled cheese on top, a finishing touch adding sparkle and tang. "This tastes like something you'd get at Dos Caminos," I proudly remarked as Fork and I ate. "You'd be lucky to get this at Dos Caminos!" Fork scoffed. (Isn't he the greatest?!)

I'm also still congratulating myself on making tomatillo sauce. I'm pretty swift when it comes to tacos, quesadillas and guacamole, but I've never ventured beyond those Mexican-American staples. I actually wasn't even sure what a tomatillo was (turns out it's like a sweet, tart tomato) or where to find one (I struck gold on Avenue C at Fine Fare, a supermarket that brought me right back to the one we used to shop in on our annual visits to Puerto Rico). After preparing this fabulous sauce, I think I will be buying tomatillos more often. Rick instructs you to puree them in a food processor with garlic, jalapeno pepper and cilantro, and then to cook the sauce down until it's the consistency of thick tomato sauce. You add chicken stock, simmer some more, and then stir in heavy cream. (I've really got you now, haven't I?)

To serve the enchiladas, you dip a warmed corn tortilla in the sauce, place some filling (shredded chicken, sauteed mushrooms and red onion, and steamed spinach) in the middle, roll it up and place it seam-side down on the plate. Once you've got three enchiladas on the plate, you top them with the tomatillo sauce, a few slices of red onion, a couple of sprigs of cilantro, and some crumbled cheese. Rick recommends Mexican queso fresco, but I forgot to look for that at Fine Fare, so I used feta, which I was a little skeptical about (Greek cheese on a Mexican dish?) but it worked nicely.

The best part about this dish was the flavors. There are a lot of distinct notes--cilantro, tomatillo, jalapeno, feta--and everything meshed together just perfectly. I'm thinking the sauce could've been a little thicker, but it's still really tasty, and we have plenty leftover, which I'm sure we'll eat with tortilla chips.

Here's to branching out.--S

Tomatillo-Sauced Enchiladas with Spinach and Mushrooms
Serves 4

3 garlic cloves, peeled
Fresh hot green chiles to taste (I used 1 jalapeño), stemmed and quartered
1 1/2 lb (10 to 12 medium) tomatillos, husked, rinsed, and cut into quarters
1 c (loosely packed) roughly chopped cilantro, plus a few extra sprigs for garnish
3 T vegetable oil or olive oil, plus some for the tortillas
2 c chicken broth
8 oz mushrooms (I used button), stemmed and sliced
1 large red onion, thinly sliced
10 oz (about 10 cups) spinach, stems removed
1 c (about 4 oz) shredded cooked chicken (optional)
Salt
12 corn tortillas, preferably store-bought
3 T Mexican crema, sour cream, heavy cream, or crème fraiche
1/2 t sugar (optional)
1 c (4 oz) crumbled Mexican queso fresco or other fresh cheese such as feta or goat cheese

1. Turn on the oven to 350°F. With a food processor or blender running, drop in the garlic and chiles one piece at a time and finely chop before adding the next piece. Add the tomatillos and cilantro; process until smooth.
2. Heat 1 1/2 T of the oil in a medium (3-quart) saucepan over medium-high. Add the puree and cook, stirring nearly constantly, until the mixture is the consistency of thick tomato sauce, about 7 minutes. (The more you cook down this base, the richer and sweeter the sauce will be.) Add the chicken broth and simmer over medium heat to blend the flavors, about 10 minutes.
3. While the sauce is simmering, heat 1 1/2 T oil in a very large (12-in.) skillet over medium-high. Add the mushrooms and cook, stirring nearly constantly, for a couple of minutes, until they begin to brown. Add about three-quarters of the onion (reserve the rest for garnish) and continue cooking, stirring frequently, for another minute or two, until the onion looks translucent. Add the spinach and optional chicken and cook, stirring constantly, for a minute or so, until the spinach is wilted. Season with salt, usually a scant teaspoon. Cover to keep warm.
4. Lay out the tortillas on a baking sheet and spray or brush lightly on both sides with oil, then stack them in twos. Slide the tortillas into the oven and bake just long enough to make them soft and pliable, about 3 minutes. Remove from the oven and stack them in a single pile; cover with a kitchen towel to keep warm.
5. Stir the crema (or its stand-in) into the sauce. Taste and season with salt, usually about 1 teaspoon (add the sugar if the sauce seems quite tart to you). Holding a tortilla by one edge, dip most of it into the sauce, then lay it on a plate. Spoon a heaping 2 T filling down the center, roll up and lay seam-side down on a dinner plate. Repeat with 2 more tortillas, arranging them on the same plate. Douse the enchiladas with about G cup of the warm sauce, sprinkle with a quarter of the crumbled cheese and garnish with some of the reserved onion and cilantro sprigs. Assemble the rest of the servings, and carry right to the table.

Recipe courtesy of Mexican Everyday

Ladies' Lunch for Dinner

Last night's dinner was very Ladies Who Lunch: a pink and green, light and citrusy Grapefruit and Avocado Salad with Shrimp and Leafy Greens. Fork and I probably should've been drinking white wine spritzers with the meal. But Fork had just won a softball game, and I'd just completed a speed workout with my training group, so we were more in a water guzzling mood. Dinner, though, rocked.

I found the recipe in Joyce Goldstein's new Mediterranean Fresh, a book of one-dish salad meals and mix-and-match dressings. It's the kind of book I love: easy, healthy plates that can be prepared vegetarian or not. The simple dish I made last night features grapefruit segments and sliced avocado over greens, all tossed in a simple citrus dressing made with orange juice, lemon juice, orange zest and olive oil. Joyce suggests adding crabmeat, scallops or shrimp, and I went with shrimp, which I cooked in a saute pan with some of the citrus dressing and laid atop the salad just before serving. I'm sure seared scallops or crabmeat would be terrific, too.

The grapefruit's tang, avocado's mellow creaminess and greens' springiness all came together beautifully under the citrus dressing. The shrimp gave the salad a little power. We wiped our plates clean.--S

Grapefruit and Avocado Salad with Leafy Greens

Serves 4

2 small grapefruits
2 avocados
3/4 to 1 c mixed citrus dressing (recipe follows)
6 handfuls of assorted mild, sweet leafy greens, such as butter, oak leaf or red leaf lettuce
1/2 lb crabmeat, shrimp or scallops (optional)

1. Working with 1 grapefruit at a time, cut a thin slice off the top and bottom to reveal the flesh. Stand the grapefruit upright and remove the peel in wide strips, cutting downward and following the contour of the fruit. Holding the grapefruit over a bowl, cut along both sides of each segment, releasing the segments from the membrane and allowing them to drop into the bowl. Using the knife tip or a toothpick, pry out any seeds. Squeeze the membrane over another bowl to release the juice. Repeat with the remaining grapefruit. You should have about 1/2 c juice.
2. Cut the avocados in half and remove and discard the pits. With a large spoon, scoop the avocado from the peel. Cut the flesh into 1/4-in. slices. Drizzle with 1/4 c. dressing.
3. Toss the greens with 1/4 c. dressing. Distribute among 4 salad plates or arrange on a large platter. Top with avocado slices and grapefruit segments and drizzle with the remaining dressing.
4. If you are adding shrimp, sprinkle it with salt and pepper. Place 1/4 c. citrus dressing in a large saute pan along with the reserved grapefruit juice and bring to a boil. Add the shrimp to the pan and cook, turning once, until they are barely cooked through, about 4 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and arrange the shrimp on top of the greens, alternating them with the grapefruit and avocado. Drizzle with the remaining citrus dressing.

Citrus Dressing

Makes 1 scant cup

1/2 c. mild, fruity extra-virgin olive oil or pure olive oil
Freshly grated zest of 1 orange (about 1 T)
1/4 c fresh orange juice
2 T fresh lemon juice
1/2 t sugar, if needed
1/2 t sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper

In a bowl, whisk together all of the ingredients. Dip a lettuce leaf into the dressing to see if it is tart enough, has enough salt, and is balanced. Add more lemon juice or sugar if needed.

Recipe courtesy of Mediterranean Fresh

Just Your Average Day at Per Se and Nobu

Running through Central Park in autumn, hailing a taxi and asking the driver to "step on it," sipping champagne on a terrace overlooking all of Downtown... some experiences are just so New York. You feel like they couldn't happen anywhere else in the world. I had one of those experiences recently when I was invited to media luncheons at Per Se and Nobu 57--on the same day. What could I do but attend both?

The Per Se event was for chef Thomas Keller's forthcoming book Under Pressure: Cooking Sous Vide. It began with cocktails and hors d'oeuvres at 11am. Just another Wednesday morning for me, you know. Around 11:30 the other journalists and I were ushered into the restaurant's private dining room for a demonstration of the sous-vide technique, in which you submerge food (lamb, watermelon) that has been vacuum-sealed in plastic into a container of water that's been raised to a specific temperature, using an "immersion circulator." What can sous vide do for you? It gives the "perfect" medium-rare in a squab breast. The same temperature throughout an entire cut of meat, not just at the center. A voluptuous texture in salmon. Potatoes cooked perfectly, without their exterior overcooking. And so on. For a super-high-end kitchen like Per Se's, this is a no-brainer. For a home cook, not so much; the equipment is really only available to professionals right now, although Mr. Keller said Kenmore and Viking are working on building products that will allow home cooks to use sous vide someday. After listening to the dreamy Mr. Keller expound on the virtues of sous vide, we sat down to lunch so we could judge for ourselves. Indeed, the Salad of Compressed Summer Melons was vivid and intense. The Nova Scotia Lobster Roll poached in butter was sublime. We ate, oohed and aahed, and then I had to go. Nobu 57 was calling.

On my way out of Per Se, a waiter handed me an insulated bag. Inside: a piece of vacuum-sealed lamb; packets of garlic, herbs, salt and sauce; and a recipe. I haven't tried it yet, but I have to say this was the coolest goodie bag from a luncheon I've ever received.

A 10 minute walk across 57th Street and I was at Nobu, where I bumped into Uncle Carl. He loves the place and eats there regularly. We hugged and I ran upstairs to the private dining room, where another group of journalists was just sitting down to lunch. This event was for Nobu Miami: The Party Cookbook, and apparently everyone had just spent the past hour downing sea urchin mojitos and other strange and potent cocktails. They were pretty tipsy, and when the waiter presented our table with a platter of Branzino with Florida Orange Ponzu, they lunged at it. I managed to snag a piece, and while under ordinary circumstances I'd say this was an absolutely delicious piece of fish, its tempura coating sticking perfectly thanks to its sake base, the meat melting in my mouth... after Per Se it felt a little bit like a let-down. Still, the Flounder Sashimi Salad with Yuzu, Honey and aji Limo Dressing was quite tasty, too, and with Dom Perignon 2000 flowing, could I really complain?

I crawled into a taxi around 2:30. In the span of three hours I had listened to some of the world's best chefs talk about their craft. I'd eaten their amazing, wonderful food. I shmoozed with the hoi polloi of the food writing world. And it was a total New York experience.--S

You Had to Have the Big Salad

When I spotted an article in July's Food & Wine about Laurent Gras, an athletic chef who goes on 100-mile bike rides and won the magazine's prestigious Best New Chef award in 2002, I was psyched. Runner's World regularly profiles chefs who run, but their recipes sometimes let me down: too much emphasis on carbs and protein, and not enough emphasis on taste. So I was keen to try one of Gras's dishes. I'd picked up some fresh shelled peas and radishes at the greenmarket, so I was already well on my way to building the Crunchy Vegetable Salad with Sautéed Peas and Radishes.

Warning: this is no get-home-and-you're-eating-10-minutes-later salad. The recipe's head notes suggest 50 minutes. I'd say give yourself a good hour and 15--if you're going to follow the instructions to a T. Yes, blanching and peeling cherry tomatoes (or worse, as I did, tinier grape tomatoes) is not the easiest task. Nor is cooking and peeling fava beans (an ingredient I skipped entirely). The peas take a two-minute bath in boiling water, too; then they go into a sauté pan with radishes, olive oil and salt. And I used jarred artichokes instead of fresh baby ones, since I couldn't find them at the market or the two grocers I went to.

Extra labor notwithstanding, this is a great salad. Its combination of cooked and raw ingredients is quite satisfying, with a zing from lemon zest and a lemon vinaigrette. We didn't even miss the favas, and while I know jarred artichokes pale in comparison to fresh baby ones, they really did the job just fine. We ate this salad for supper along with a zucchini frittata and some country wheat bread. Big salad, big(ger than usual) effort, big payoff.--S

Crunchy Vegetable Salad with Sautéed Peas and Radishes


1 c cherry tomatoes
1 lb fava beans, shelled
1/2 lb fresh peas, shelled
1/4 c extra-virgin olive oil
2 T fresh lemon juice
Kosher salt
4 baby artichokes (I used one small jar of marinated artichokes)
4 medium radishes, quartered
1 bunch watercress (6 ounces), tough stems discarded
1 t finely grated lemon zest

1. Bring a saucepan of water to a boil. Fill a bowl with ice water. Cut a slit into the base of each tomato and blanch them in the boiling water until their skins start to split, about 15 seconds. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the tomatoes to the ice water to cool, then drain and peel.
2. In the same water, cook the fava beans until just tender, 2 minutes. Remove and let cool slightly, then peel. Blanch the peas until just tender, 2 minutes. Drain well.
3. In a medium bowl, whisk 3 tablespoons of the olive oil with the lemon juice and season with salt. With a paring knife, trim the artichoke stems and snap off the tough outer leaves until you reach the light green inner leaves. Using a serrated knife, cut off the top third of the artichokes. Trim the bottoms and stems. Cut the artichokes in half lengthwise. Using a teaspoon, remove the chokes, if any. Thinly slice the artichokes lengthwise, add them to the dressing and toss to coat. Add the peeled tomatoes and the fava beans and toss again.
4. In a medium skillet, heat 1 1/2 teaspoons of the olive oil. Add the radishes and cook over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until tender, about 2 minutes. Add the blanched peas and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Season with salt.
5. In a medium bowl, toss the watercress with the remaining 1 1/2 teaspoons of olive oil and the lemon zest and transfer to plates. Top with the artichoke salad and the radishes and peas; serve.

Recipe courtesy of Food & Wine

Grilled, Cheesy Comfort

For a bunch of Jersey Italians, my family eats a lot of quesadillas. My sister and I would eat them as after-school snacks, cheddar cheese microwaved to greasy perfection between two rubbery tortillas. My mom still makes them for Saturday lunches sometimes, on a grill pan on the stove, topped with chunky salsa (a step up from the watery Old El Paso stuff we ate as kids). Quesadillas are comfort food to me, a sort of grilled cheese "lite," without so much bread and with the tomatoes on top, instead of inside.

So it's not surprising that I am a huge fan of Peter Berley's Black Bean and Zucchini Quesadillas. I've been making them ever since they appeared in his 2004 book, Fresh Food Fast. They make a fabulous meal, encompassing all the food groups in one dish and fulfilling all the requirements for a tasty dinner: gooey, salty, spicy and--something my childhood quesadillas did not offer--crunchy.

Here's the drill: you toss grated zucchini (water squeezed out) with black beans, grated Monterey Jack, chopped scallions and some jalapeno. You spread that mixture onto a flour tortilla, top it with another tortilla, and heat the quesadilla on a skillet, flipping so both sides get toasty. Top with salsa, sour cream, avocado slices, what have you. Tonight I threw together a quick plum tomato, cilantro, jalapeno and scallion salsa.

This is an ideal summer meal for when you've got more zucchini than you can handle and are sick of zucchini bread. It leaves you full but not stuffed, making it a perfect meal for the night before a long run, I've found. Whatever filling remains makes excellent leftovers. Make another quesadilla, eat it with tortilla chips, or just nosh straight out of the Tupperware. Comfort, indeed.--S

Black Bean & Zucchini Quesadillas

This recipe supposedly serves 4; I think you'll get at least 6 servings.

2 lbs zucchini, coarsely grated
1 1/2 t coarse salt, plus add'l to taste
2 (15-oz) cans black beans, drained
12 oz grated Monterey Jack cheese, coarsely grated
2 scallions, chopped
1 jalapeno pepper, w/seeds, finely chopped
8 flour tortillas (8 in. in diameter)
Evoo for brushing the tortillas
Salsa

1. In a colander, toss together the grated zucchini and salt with your hands. Squeeze the zucchini to remove a lot of its liquid.
2. In a large bowl, combine the zucchini, beans, cheese, scallions & jalapeno.
3. Brush 4 of the tortillas w/oil on one side. Turn over the tortillas so the oiled side is on the bottom. Divide the bean mixture between the tortillas, spreading it to the edges. Top each w/a plain tortilla and brush the top w/oil.
4. Warm a large skillet over medium heat. Place a quesadilla in the pan and cook until the cheese melts and the tortillas are golden brown, about 3 min. per side. Repeat w/the remaining quesadillas. (Better to have two skillets going at once). Serve w/salsa.

Recipe courtesy of Fresh Food Fast

Three to Cool You

I promise to make other things this summer besides ice cream. But until it cools down, there's going to be a lot of frozen dessert making going on in my kitchen. The latest: Three Fruit Ice Cream, courtesy of none other than the great Aunt Betty.

The three fruits here are orange, banana and lemon. Juice from the citrus fruits and a pureed banana join a sumptuous egg-based custard, and the result is a Creamsicle-esque dessert that is indeed quite cool. As a thunderstorm raged outside, bringing the temperature back to a reasonable range, I dug in to the Three Fruit Ice Cream and cooled down myself.

This ice cream is terrific on its own; thick and creamy thanks to six egg yolks, and subtly fruity. If you're feeling ambitious, it'd pair nicely with some chopped pineapple, or slivered or candied almonds, on top.--S

Three Fruit Ice Cream

2 c half and half
2/3 c sugar
6 egg yolks, beaten
1 c heavy cream
1 banana
3/4 c orange juice
3 T fresh lemon juice
1 T grated orange zest (optional)

1. In a double boiler, heat the half and half over barely simmering water until scalded.
2. Whisk the sugar into the egg yolks.
3. Whisk in some of the hot half and half, and then slowly add the egg/half and half mixture to the remaining half and half.
4. Pour the mixture into a medium saucepan continue to cook, stirring constantly until the custard coats the back of a wooden spoon.
5. Immediately place the pot in a pan of ice water and stir to cool to room temperature.
6. Blend in cream. Cover and refrigerate the mixture for 2-3 hours or until thoroughly chilled.
7. When you are ready to freeze the ice cream mixture, purree the banana, OJ and lemon juice in a food processor until smooth. Stir into the custard base with the orange zest, if using.
8. Freeze in an ice cream machine according to the instructions.

The New Fro Yo

I consider myself pretty good at making ice cream. Homemade frozen yogurt, on the other hand, has thus far eluded me. I tried it a few times last year and it was watery, icy and too sweet, consisting of lowfat plain yogurt, sugar and not much else. Thanks to a great article in June's Food & Wine, I now know better.

The article features recipes from artisanal ice cream maker Jeni Britton, who runs three ice cream parlors in Columbus, Ohio. Refreshingly, Jeni does not view frozen yogurt as a "healthy" alternative to ice cream. Use whole milk yogurt, she says (I went with Fage's "Total Classic" Greek yogurt). Jeni also adds a touch of unflavored gelatin to the yogurt, which gives the finished product an airy, whipped texture. (Although some purists take issue with her use of "unnecessary ingredients.") And a half-cup of heavy cream doesn't hurt things, either.

I made Jeni's Strawberry Frozen Yogurt last week, and it was a hit: sour, tangy, gorgeously pink. We were so anxious to eat it that we didn't even let it freeze completely (hence the lumpy photo). Fork, God love him, said it was "better than Pinkberry." Granted, he is not such a Pinkberry fan, but I get his point: this fro yo is GOOD, yo.--S

Strawberry Frozen Yogurt
MAKES 5 CUPS

2 T fresh lemon juice plus 1 t finely grated lemon zest
One 1/4-ounce package unflavored powdered gelatin
12 ounces strawberries, hulled
3/4 c sugar
1/4 c light corn syrup
2 c plain whole-milk yogurt
1/2 c heavy cream

1. Fill a large bowl with ice water. Pour the lemon juice into a small bowl. Sprinkle the gelatin on top; let stand for 5 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, in a blender, puree the strawberries until smooth; you should have about 1 cup of strawberry puree.
3. In a small saucepan, combine the strawberry puree with the sugar and corn syrup and bring to a boil. Cook over moderately high heat until the sugar dissolves completely, about 1 minute. Remove the strawberry mixture from the heat and stir in the lemon gelatin until it melts.
4. In a medium bowl, mix the yogurt with the lemon zest and the hot strawberry puree. Stir in the heavy cream. Set the bowl in the ice water bath and let stand, stirring occasionally, until the strawberry yogurt is cold, about 20 minutes.
Pour the strawberry yogurt into an ice cream maker and freeze according to the manufacturer’s instructions.
5. Pack the frozen yogurt into a plastic container. Press a sheet of plastic wrap directly onto the surface of the frozen yogurt and close with an airtight lid. Freeze until firm, about 4 hours.

Recipe courtesy of Food & Wine

Duck Fat: It's What's for Dinner

Fork is such a good sport, I'm telling you. When I told him I was going to make Duck Rillettes, he went right along with it. It's not for nothing that I've decided to marry this guy. He's okay with eating duck cooked in wine and its own fat spread on toast for dinner! (With a salade nicoise on the side just for the illusion of healthfulness.)

Here's a dish you want to whip out for your friends who used to live in France and are nostalgic for some fabulous French country fare. The rillettes are creamy and delicious, just perfect with a glass of wine or Champagne.

If you are making duck rillettes, you need to do a little planning: there's a 24-hour curing period, and then the braising takes about 3 hours. And definitely do some research on where to buy the ingredients. I wound up on a wild duck chase (ha!) for duck legs that weren't confit. I eventually found fresh Long Island duck legs at Todaro Bros. on 2nd Ave. & 30th St. And the man at the meat counter at Garden of Eden on 23rd St. went in the back of the store and filled up a container of duck fat for me. All the other ingredients were typical--for the wine, I used a Sauvignon Blanc.

My only complaint with this recipe is that the Dijon mustard flavor is fairly strong. Fork and I didn't taste as much of the duck as we'd like. Next time I might tone that down a bit. Because there will definitely be a next time.--S

Duck Rillettes

Total time: About 4 hours, 30 minutes, plus 24 hours curing time
Servings: Makes about 2 cups

2 duck legs
2 T kosher salt
1 small bay leaf, broken
1 1/2 t chopped fresh thyme
1/4 c parsley leaves [I left them as whole leaves]
1/4 t peppercorns
1/4 t coriander
1/4 t dried mint
1/4 c sugar
1 T canola oil
1 white onion, chopped
1 carrot, chopped
2 c white wine
2 c chicken stock
1 c duck fat
1/4 c Dijon mustard

1. Place the duck legs on a rack on a baking sheet and rub them with the salt, bay leaf, thyme, parsley, peppercorns, coriander, mint and sugar. Cover loosely with a sheet of parchment paper and allow to cure for 24 hours in the refrigerator.
2. Heat the oven to 250 degrees. In a large heavy-bottomed Dutch oven, sear the duck legs in one tablespoon of canola oil over medium-high heat until you get a bit of color, about 2 minutes. Add the onion and carrot and sauté until softened, 7 to 8 minutes. Add the white wine and reduce by half, about half an hour.
3. Add the chicken stock and braise the duck legs in the oven, covered, until the meat is tender and falling off the bone, about 3 1/2 to 4 hours. (If it begins to bubble, turn down the heat.) Allow the meat to cool, then remove from the braising liquid; the braising liquid can be reserved for another use such as for a soup base.
4. Remove the meat from the bone and place it in a bowl. Place the bowl of duck meat on top of a bowl of ice.
5. In a small pan, heat the duck fat over medium-low heat until it's melted. Slowly pour the duck fat over the duck meat, using a fork to emulsify the duck meat with the duck fat until fluffy and smooth. Add the Dijon mustard and adjust seasoning to taste. Transfer to a serving dish or container; Sara Levine's restaurant serves rillettes in a French canning jar.

Recipe courtesy of chef Sara Levine in the Los Angeles Times

Sweet, Pete!

My good friend Pete Bakel the handsome, home-run hitting former Oxford Don centerfielder, won top honors on Rachael Ray's contest "Hey, Can You Cook?" a four-week elimination challenge a la Top Chef. For a kicker, Pete was judged the winner by none other than celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay. And unlike Ramsay's angry-if-cultivated Hell's Kitchen persona (he's really a softie who loves puppies and children) Pete's a true sweetheart of guy and can't hide it. Hence his nickname on the show: Sweet Pete.

In the end, that sweetness won him the competition. The secret ingredient for the last round of competition was hot dogs, and his challenger, Angie, winner of that day's "quickfire," had won the the advantage of sticking Pete with low-fat turkey franks. She demurred, however, saying Pete had been sweet to her throughout the competition. She gave Pete the far superior Angus hot dogs, brimming with delicious salt, lips, assholes and nitrates. Of course, Pete prepared the dogs with scallop, caviar and creme fraiche.

I'm not at all surprised by Pete's win. I have eaten his food on many occasions and he is indeed a top-notch cook, with both imagination and a perfect palate. One memorable meal: my 33rd birthday. I was planning to stay in that night, just me and a six-pack or two, when Pete dropped in with a big bag of groceries. He whipped up four courses, including an amazing quail and a spicy shrimp pasta with red pepper and orange zest. Another memory, a pheasant hunting trip to my family's home in upstate New York. We bagged quite a few birds that day, minus one that Pete obliterated. He later whipped up a pheasant feast in my mother's kitchen.

Pete left New York for Washington DC some years ago to start a family. We all dearly miss him, so seeing him on TV looking every bit the star chef was fun for all of us. The best part of the show, by the way, was seeing Pete's lovely wife Beth and his adorable kids on set after he won. Oh, and here's some fun Pete Trivia: if not for Beth, Pete would only have 9 full fingers. He sliced off a fingertip one night in the kitchen, but amazingly, Beth, unflappable as always, was able to grab her husband, and his lopped-off finger chunk, and got them both to the hospital, where doctors made him whole again.

You could say Pete's already a winner. But for winning this competition, Pete will go to Paris for training at the Le Cordon Bleu, will have an original recipe published in Rachael Ray magazine (Pete can we be tasters?) and he gets a brand new kitchen with Viking appliances. Congratulations, Pete!--F

Mama's Little Baby Loves Rhubarb

My future mother-in-law has a serious vegetable garden. And while it's still too early for most of her crops to even start growing, one springtime fixture is already here: rhubarb. When Fork's parents came to visit last weekend, they brought a bag full of the stuff, grown from a bush that once belonged to Fork's grandfather. I was pretty excited to have such legendary produce and wanted to make sure I did right by it. I am proud to say I succeeded: this week I made Strawberry-Rhubarb Sorbet and Cinnamon Rhubarb Muffins, and both were superb.

The sorbet recipe, from The Perfect Scoop, was so simple. You stew some rhubarb in water and sugar until it's soft, let it cool, then puree it with strawberries and lemon juice. Chill it in the fridge, give it a spin in your ice cream maker, and you've got an icy, tangy, sweet and perfectly pink sorbet. I think I could've cooked the rhubarb for slightly less time, since its flavor was mellow, but the sorbet is still delicious. The muffins, too, were quite tasty. Here's the recipe, from last year's rhubarb season.

I can't wait for more ingredients from the Fork Family Farm to make their way down to the big city.--S

Strawberry-Rhubarb Sorbet

12 ounces rhubarb
2/3 c water
3/4 c sugar
10 ounces fresh strawberries, rinsed and hulled
1/2 t freshly squeezed lemon juice

1. Wash the rhubarb stalks and trim the stem and leaf ends. Cut the rhubarb into 1/2-in. pieces.
2. Place the rhubarb, water and sugar in a medium, nonreactive saucepan and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat, cover and simmer for 5 min., or until the rhubarb is tender and cooked through. Remove from the heat and let cool to room temperature.
3. Slice the strawberries and puree them with the cooked rhubarb mixture and lemon juice in a blender or food processor until smooth.
4. Chill the mixture thoroughly, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Recipe courtesy of The Perfect Scoop

Street Meat for the Rest of Us

There's a popular food truck in my neighborhood called Rafiqi's. It sells gyros and meat-and-rice combo platters that smell very good and have a come-hither sizzle, though I'm too skeeved out by the street meat stigma to actually buy it for lunch. But many of my friends are big Rafiqi fans. I should note they're all men and none of them is particularly health-conscious.

I think I may have come upon a healthy version of Rafiqi's: Indian-Spiced Chicken Burgers. The recipe, from the Everyday Food cookbook, combines dried spices (paprika, cumin, cardamom and cayenne) with fresh seasonings (ginger, lemon, scallion, cilantro), resulting in a snappy dish that is deeply and richly flavored, and not heavy at all. It's healthy, too: you grill boneless, skinless chicken thighs that you've ground up in the food processor along with the spices, using just a little bit of oil on the grill. Once the mini-burgers are cooked, you stuff them into a whole-wheat pita, slide in some cucumber slices, and top it with cilantro sprigs and a dollop of creamy cumin yogurt sauce.

I know I can't knock it 'till I've tried it, but I'll still take Indian-Spiced Chicken Burgers over Rafiqi's any day.--S

Indian-Spiced Chicken Burgers

1 1/2 lbs (4 to 5) boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into rough chunks
4 scallions, thinly sliced
3 T chopped fresh ginger (from a peeled 2-inch piece)
2 T freshly squeezed lemon juice (from 1 lemon)
1 T paprika
2 t ground cumin
1/2 t ground cardamom
1/4 t cayenne pepper
Coarse salt and ground pepper
Vegetable oil, for grates
4 (6-inch) whole-wheat pitas
1 cucumber (8 ounces), halved lengthwise and thinly sliced on the diagonal
1/2 c fresh cilantro sprigs
Cumin Yogurt Sauce: In a small bowl, combine 1/2 c plain low-fat yogurt with 1/2 t ground cumin; season with coarse salt and ground pepper.

1. Heat grill to medium-high. In a medium bowl, place chicken, scallions, ginger, lemon juice, paprika, cumin, cardamom, cayenne, 1 1/2 t coarse salt, and 1/2 t pepper; toss to combine. Set aside to marinate, at least 10 and up to 30 minutes.
2. Transfer chicken mixture to a food processor; pulse until roughly chopped, but not pasty, 10 to 12 times. Gently form mixture into sixteen 3/4-inch-thick patties (about 3 T each).
3. Moisten a folded paper towel with oil; grasp with tongs and rub over grates. Season patties with salt and pepper; grill until opaque throughout, 2 to 3 minutes per side.
4. Halve pitas crosswise (toast on grill, if you like). Into each pocket, place 2 chicken patties, cucumber slices, and cilantro sprigs. Serve with Cumin Yogurt Sauce.

Recipe courtesy of Everyday Food: Great Food Fast

Remember This One in July

My ardent interest in Super Natural Cooking continues, this time with a buckwheat noodle salad called Otsu. In Japanese, otsu means something "strange, quaint, stylish, chic, spicy, witty, tasty or romantic." Although that's hardly a specific definition, it actually does a pretty good job of summing up this dish. There's a nice interplay of hot and cool, with a fiery dressing (made from lemon zest, lemon juice, ginger, honey, cayenne, rice vinegar and soy sauce) tempered by refreshing cucumbers, scallions and pan-seared tofu. And, as author Heidi Swanson writes, "Unlike many pasta recipes that leave you feeling weighed down and sluggish, this one makes for a healthy, invigorating, and energizing meal that will quickly become a favorite." I agree: as the recipe makes a substantial amount of food, I wound up eating this for lunch a few days, and can report that eating a portion of it sitting on a bench in the park at 1:00 did not result in me slumped over my desk back at the office at 3:00.

A few notes on the recipe: cooking the tofu until it is browned takes some time. Be patient, because it's worth the extra minutes to get the tofu a slightly crispy crust. Also, the recipe calls for shoyu sauce in the dressing. I substituted soy sauce, and while I know it's not the same (shoyo is apparently more complex), it turned out fine. I also used regular rice vinegar (my bottle doesn't say if it's made with white or brown rice). Again, things tasted great.

I'm keeping this recipe in my file, for sure. I have a feeling it'll come in very handy on steamy summer days, when I want something "strange, quaint, stylish, chic, spicy, witty, tasty or romantic" but just don't feel like eating a hot dog.--S

Otsu

Dressing
Grated zest of 1 lemon
Fresh ginger, cut into a 1-inch cube, peeled, and grated
1 T honey
3/4 t cayenne
3/4 t fine-grain sea salt
1 T freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 c unseasoned brown-rice vinegar
1/3 c shoyu sauce
2 T extra-virgin olive oil
2 T toasted sesame oil

Salad
12 oz. dried soba noodles
12 oz. extra-firm nigari tofu
1/4 c chopped fresh cilantro
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1/2 cucumber, peeled, cut in half lengthwise, seeded, and thinly sliced
1 small handful of cilantro sprigs, for garnish
1/4 c toasted sesame seeds, for garnish

1. Make the dressing by combining the zest, ginger, honey, cayenne, and salt in a food processor (or use a hand blender) and process until smooth. Add the lemon juice, rice vinegar, and shoyu, and pulse to combine. With the machine running, drizzle in the oils.
2. Cook the soba in plenty of rapidly boiling salted water just until tender, then drain and rinse under cold running water.
3. While the pasta is cooking, drain the tofu, pat it dry, and cut it into rectangles roughly the size of your thumb (½ inch thick and 1 inch long). Cook the tofu in a dry nonstick (or well-seasoned) skillet over medium-high heat for a few minutes, until the pieces are browned on one side. Toss gently once or twice, then continue cooking for another minute or so, until the tofu is firm, golden, and bouncy.
4. In a large mixing bowl, combine the soba, the ¼ cup cilantro, the green onions, cucumber, and about ⅔ cup of the dressing. Toss until well combined. Add the tofu and toss again gently. Serve on a platter, garnished with the cilantro sprigs and the toasted sesame seeds.

Recipe courtesy of Super Natural Cooking

Fish Cakes a la Bittman

My friend Kate sent me a recipe a few weeks ago for Broiled Fish Cakes with Ginger and Cilantro, with a glowing recommendation. Apparently her dad had written about them on his blog, and Kate made them and thought they were swell. With a double Bittman two thumbs up, I figured this was something I had to try.

I'd never made fish cakes, but had recently enjoyed some very delicious ones at Arbutus in London, made with mackerel and squid (they called it a burger, but it was essentially a fish cake with a more hip name). This recipe suggested using cod or another mild, delicate white fish, and I went with tilapia. As Mark writes, a mild fish lets you go crazy with the seasonings. In this case, he uses ginger, cilantro and hot pepper, which results in a nice and "zingy" burger that needs only a squirt of lime juice. It's a perfectly tasty preparation that would also probably work with mint and oregano, and maybe a little feta-cucumber mixture on top; or basil and parsley, with a chopped tomato salad on the side. The possibilities are, um... endless!

Anyway. The important thing to note when preparing this dish is to really mash the potatoes. They're the binder--there's not much else holding the fish together--so a starchy mash is key. I left my potatoes a little lumpy, and some of the cakes fell apart (which made them no less delicious, just a little messy). Mark likes to broil his fish cakes instead of frying them (less mess! my dad will love this recipe!) which gives you the added bonus of less fat.

This recipe is definitely going into the regular rotation. Thank you Bittmans!--S

Broiled Fish Cakes With Ginger and Cilantro

Yield 4 servings

1 baking potato weighing about 1/2 lb.
Salt to taste
1 1/2 lbs. fillet of cod or other mild, delicate white fish
1 T peeled and minced ginger
1/2 c minced cilantro leaves, plus more for garnish
1 fresh or dried hot red chile, minced, or 1/4 t cayenne, or to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 T peanut or other oil [I used grapeseed]
Lime wedges

1. Boil potato in salted water to cover until it is tender but not mushy, 30 to 40 min.
2. Meanwhile, place the fish in a skillet that can later be covered. Add water to cover, salt the water, and bring to a boil over high heat. Cover, turn off heat, and set a timer for 10 min. After that time, use a slotted spoon to remove the fish to a bowl.
3. When potato is done, peel it and mash it with the fish. Add the seasonings along with some salt and pepper, and work the mixture with your hands until it is well blended. Shape into 8 equal burger-shaped patties.
4. Preheat the broiler, and set the rack about 4 in. from heat source. Brush the patties on both sides with oil, then place on a non-stick baking sheet. Broil carefully, until nicely browned on top, then turn and brown on the other side. Sprinkle with more cilantro, and serve hot, with lime wedges.

Recipe courtesy of Bitten