Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

I had a cooking breakthrough this past week that I want to share with you. Because Jill is eating more and more veganly and handling a lot of her own shopping and preparation, I end up cooking a lot of dishes for myself. And I’m finding this has liberated me in a number of ways.

Instead of measuring or checking the recipe for amounts, I just say to myself, “How much of that do I feel like today?” And I throw in just that much.

Without having to worry about this person’s salt problem, that person’s meat problem, this person’s wheat allergy, that person’s fat phobia – my dishes are turning out just the way I like them.

A recent carbonara is a perfect example: Carbonara is an emotional dish – it’s bacon and eggs, on pasta, with cheese, with lots of black pepper.

One theory is that the name “carbonara,” which means, “in the style of the coal-workers” really comes from the fact that the black pepper scattered on top looks like coal dust. I’m going with that theory. I think a lot of pepper makes this dish.

Allora.

“We would have salmon croquettes and biscuits for lunch or finely-chopped roast, drizzled in au jus gravy and bourbon colored syrup and eat the meals with delight. As domestic deity, Mary was unrivaled.” – From my memoirs...

Mrs. Mary made salmon croquettes for lunch for us many times during my childhood. Often during the summer when we were out of school and in her hair, she’d send us to the garden to pick vegetables and then we’d “help” her make lunch.

Her croquettes were more so of a crispy salmon patty, not greasy, and wonderfully delicious. Many times we would have sliced cucumbers and Vidalia’s in vinegar with them or some other fresh veggie medley...okra and tomatoes, skillet corn, or browned squash.

I’ve often tried to recreate hers, and, as with her biscuits, I just don’t hit the mark. I have discovered, though, a modern twist on this classic that is quite divine. My Mimi, a fantastic cook herself, had a hankering for salmon croquettes and I was glad to oblige – wanting to try a twist on croquettes, we began thinking...a dangerous kitchen pastime!

Tuscans have a very simple and rustic cuisine, characterized by hearty stews, soups, baked goods, and beans. Tuscan bread is the one that's famous for being made without salt. Outside of Tuscany, many people are unfamiliar with the traditional foods, namely sweets. But there's one dessert that's particularly popular around this time of year in Tuscany.

Castagnaccio is traditionally made in the fall and winter months, and is often served during the holidays. It's like a cake but it doesn't rise. It's made from chestnut flour since chestnuts (castagna) are abundant in Tuscany. The cake is not so much sweet as it is earthy. The only ingredients it needs are water and oil. The toppings are what make it special—wine-soaked raisins, pine nuts, orange zest, and rosemary. It's really a cake that's meant to be paired with a glass of Vin Santo and slowly savored at the end of an evening.

The texture of the cake is unique, maybe a little thick and even fudge like, but only in appearance. You'll need a large shallow pan, like a paella, to make it. The chestnut flour can easily be sourced in Italian markets. If you prefer, you could substitute the pine nuts with chopped walnuts and the raisins with other chopped dried fruit. The rosemary adds a nice aromatic touch, but if you don't like herbs on your dessert, you can omit it. You'll really like castagnaccio this Christmas!

From the LA Times

I've spent a good chunk of the last two weeks surrounded by spreadsheets, crumpled paper packets, cartons of dairy products and dirty ramekins. Josef Centeno has a lot to answer for.

A couple of weeks ago I stopped in at his Bäco Mercat restaurant downtown for a lunch that ended with one of the best panna cottas I've ever had. You know what I mean: Delicately sweet, it was like a dream of cream held together by faith and just a little bit of gelatin.

It struck me — how long had it been since I'd had panna cotta? A few years ago you couldn't go anywhere without seeing it. Then just as suddenly it went away. It makes no sense. A good panna cotta is as good as dessert gets. Vowing I would never again leave my panna cotta cravings to the whims of restaurant fashion, I determined to master the dish.

How hard could that be? There's not a lot to a panna cotta recipe. It's just dairy, sweetened and bound with gelatin. A bit of vanilla for flavor. That's basically it. Why, then, are some of them so wonderful and others so blah?

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