Comfort Foods and Indulgences

I bake and make desserts all winter. It might be something to do with cocooning or comfort or simply loving desserts, but this winter especially I have been baking up a storm. To change it up a bit, I made a pillowy-soft cloud of star anise scented espresso custard and piled it on top of crisp Italian lady fingers. A spoonful alone transported me to Italy…….to a little cafe where I stood at the bar and spooned anise froth into my mouth from an espresso cappuccino.

So simple. So wonderful.

It starts with steeping anise seeds and star anise in milk. You add egg yolks and sugar to begin making the custard. Whip cream till stiff, fold it in, and there you have it.

It was luscious. Light. Frothy. And less expensive than a plane ticket to Milan, a car drive to Turin, and a memory to remember where that wonderful little cafe actually was.

"The BBQ oysters were inspired by cookouts I’d have down in New Orleans. My friends and I would pull oysters out of the Gulf, crack them open and throw them on beach fires, and add all kinds of different sauces. Then, when I brought the recipe up to New York, I also was making this BBQ bacon sandwich. I thought, these two would be great together, so I combined the BBQ with the bacon and with the oysters." - Chef Paul Gerard, Exchange Alley, NYC

Oyster Barbecue Sauce:

1 bunch fresh thyme
Extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1/4 cup fresh chilies
2 cups ketchup
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup molasses
1/8 cup tablespoons white vinegar
1 tablespoon dry mustard
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon pimenton…smoked paprika
Freshly ground black pepper

Sometimes I think I should just throw caution to the wind and write a book called “The Blue Cheese Diet: Eating Your Way To Happiness Through Gorgonzola And Roquefort”. I’d take all the photos, test each recipe personally, get it published, then do the TV show talk circuit, answering questions like “How did you come to invent the Blue Cheese Diet?” and “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but you went from 186 lbs to well over 350 lbs over the last 15 months, right?” The audience would snicker and laugh and point, I’d wipe the sweat from my face, and then they’d wheel me out on some gurney and my cookbook would be on the clearance rack at some B. Dalton close out sale a few months later, or worse, a bogo.

On second thought, I think I’ll stick with the day job.

But seriously, if I knew I could live on blue cheese I’d probably do it. I always seem to crave the full flavors of blue and when the craving starts no amount of cheddar or aged anything will suffice. I realize eating so much blue cheese is the taste equivalent to listening to my iPod at full blast, but that’s not to say I don’t appreciate the subtle flavors of shyer cheeses – I most certainly do!

Tortellini has been a part of our family’s Christmas day repast since our kids were … well, since they were kids. We used to make tortellini in brodo, a Northern Italian Christmas tradition. I would make a chicken, beef-bone and vegetable broth on Christmas Eve and then on the day we’d all pitch in to make sheets of fresh pasta and a meaty, cheesy, herby filling out of which we’d fashion hundreds of little belly-button-shaped beauties to float in the rich steaming broth. At the table we’d grate Parmigiano over the top and count our holiday blessings.

One year instead of broth I served the tortellini in a bolognese sauce and it was such a hit we haven’t been back to broth since. I use Marcella Hazan’s classic recipe for the meat sauce and I follow it to the letter because it’s quite perfect. Well, in truth, I add a bit more onion than she calls for. I’m a whore for onions. I tripled the recipe this year because I knew once I tasted it I would want to have more in the fridge for later. This is where the trouble started.

There’s something supremely satisfying about Marcella’s bolognese. Bubbling a cup or two of milk through the meat before adding the tomatoes creams up the sauce and sweetens it. And the five-hour simmer patiently breaks down the components and gives them time to take advantage of each other. It’s a meat sauce to dream about and this year’s version was no exception. The kids and I scarfed down our beefily-sauced tortellini while Jill tucked into her lentils with vegan gusto. Ah, chacon à son goût.