Top Chef Tasting Menu

Despite our love of good food, Serena and I rarely spend the big bucks on fancy restaurants. Instead we prefer the more humble fare like that of The Cuban Lunch Counter at the back of La Unica (try the fried yuca) or perhaps Hai Yen famous for the 1A. But this week, we splurged. Already we had deep regrets about the two great food events we missed this last year. First the Mulefoot Pig dinner at Blackbird. It just seemed so expensive. Now, of course, I would pay anything to have been there. And then there was the the Green City Market BBQ, which we just didn't get it together to attend. Luckily that happens every summer, so we get another chance. But when Serena read about the Rick Bayless winning Top Chef Tasting Menu at his tony restaurant Topolobampo, man we had to go.

Our friend Stephanie had a birthday a quite a while back, but sadly we lost her gift somewhere inside our apartment. So after months of looking we called it a loss and thought, we should make the night into a belated birthday for our friend. Serena is the one who secured the reservations. She went on Opentable and said she "watched as the reservations disappeared." Finally, she secured us a 5:30 reservation on a Wednesday. Good thing. I checked Opentable again and they showed no reservations available.

The whole experience was amazing and the service fantastic. Friendly, but not intrusive. The Top Chef menu was great--even better than I expected. Although the server described each dish as it was presented, I still wish I had brought along a crib sheet. Some things I liked better than others. For example the smoked quail in barbecue sauce with cole slaw and chilies rocked. The crispy pig's foot, kicked the sucklin' pig's ass. The fresh and tasty seafood offerings, though good, were not startling (like the pig's foot), but maybe that's just because I'm from the Pacific Northwest and am used to seafood so good that sometimes you cry.

Here's the menu I copied from RickBayless.com. Follow the links and it will take you to very lovely pictures. It was dark in the restaurant so really only the picture below (of said suckling pig and pig's foot) turned out. I checked this published menu against my memory to see if there were any substitutions. There weren't:

Codorniz estilo Oklahoma Barbeque: hickory-smoked quail with Hickory House barbeque sauce, Iroquois cornbread croutons, spicy watermelon salad, roasted garlic slaw, chile threads.

Atun de Mole Negro: seared Hawaiian ahi tuna in Oaxacan black mole with plantain-filled tamal, grilled nopal salad, roasted knob onions, three nut crunch.

Arroz Negro a la Tumbada: black rice "a la tumbada" with Maine lobster, tender squid, PEI mussels, grilled octopus and homemade chorizo in fresh tomato-jalapeno broth. Pickled vegetables, prosciutto pearls.

Cochinita Pibil': overnight-braised Maple Creek Farm suckling pig "pibil" with crispy pig's foot, sour orange jellies, habanero-pickled onions, sunchoke pudding.

Tartaleta de Durazno: tart of Mick's height-of-season peaches, Prairie Fruits Farm goat cheese (infused with Earl Grey) and toasted pumpkinseed frangipane.

Next time Serena, Stephanie and I plan on going to Bayless's new place, XOCO for churros and hot chocolate! Both of which can be had for something around the price of train fair.

Change of Plans

It must be pretty obvious by now that I shot my wad on the Culinary Arts Institute dinner party. When I started this blog, my intentions where quite narrow: Make some food and blog about it. But the project itself was larger--I was researching for a book. Of course I'll still post the awesome treats from the cookbooklets, but I will also share some of the other interesting things that I've run across in my studies.

I just finished reading Many Meals and Mom's Home Cooking: Cookbooks and Gender in Modern America (2003) by Jessamyn Neuhaus. This book addresses gender roles and how they are reflected/reinforced by cookbooks, but really it is an examination of the role of media in the formation of gender identity, specifically national gender identity. Manly Meals is one of the best books I've read this year. Every single chapter was interesting. I was particularly fascinated by the chapter that dealt with the early part of the century and the introduction of recipes by food processors, companies we would know today--General Mills, Knox, Swans Down. What I found interesting is that I have products by these companies on pantry shelves right now. I would reccomend this book to anyone with an interest in food and culture.

Currenltly, I'm working on a series of essays about food and nostalgia. Wish me luck!!!

Cook Now, Serve Later

My friend Andrew with the eagle eye spotted the dreaded "carrot ring with peas" lurking in the corner of another cookbook called Cook Now, Serve Later (1990). The book is filled with LOTS of lovely color pictures and despite the obvious mid-centuryness of the recipes, the photos clearly have an early 80s healthy food vibe. That's why this carrot ring is such a mystery.

There are many mysterious things about this book. First of all despite the fresh photos, the recipes seem REALLY old. Take "Gazpacho Aspic" and the notorious "Carrot Ring with Peas" for example. But this book is from the editor's of Reader's Digest a magazine actually predicated on the notion of reprinting--an early re-blog, if you will. Right this minute I even have a stack of Reader's Digest Condensed books from 1963 and 1964. As far as I can tell the last reprint of the Culinary Arts Institute Encyclopedic Cookbook was released in 1989 (which still contained the recipe for "Picaninny Creole" by the way) and this book came out in 1990. Hard to believe anyone thought this kind of food would go over well in the 90s.

Dessert: Dominic Molon and Lara Hayes

La and Dom's Ball Blog (with Tomato Soup Cake rising)

We began the morning with the Tomato Soup Cake, chosen, naturally, because it sounded so exotic, so strange, and, well, so positively sketchy. Chef Dominic sifted the dry ingredients (nutmeg, cinnamon, flour, baking soda and powder, and ground cloves.) Chef La creamed the sugar and butter (rather than shortening) to the melodic sounds of the '70s (Vicki Lawrence, Harry Chapin, The Hollies ...) Butter was chosen over shortening. Why? We didn't have shortening and who doesn't love butter? Midway through, we stopped to assess and photographically document the proceedings. The mix at this point (with Tomato Soup yet unblended in) looked disturbingly similar to refried beans and bland salsa (Chi Chi's anyone?) Chef La then mixed the walnuts and raisins in to the tune of Rufus with Chaka Khan's "Tell Me Something Good." Alas, the report was not good from the kitchen island as the cake's current status was described as "something you'd totally make in pre-school." 10 AM saw the cake go into the oven, the feeling of expectation palpable and heightened somewhat by the eruption of Styx's "Lady" from the Ipod. The necessity of the cake being left to rest for 24 hours be-damned, we thought, as the loaf pan was quickly chucked in. Linda Ronstadt seemed to echo our olafactory senses' response to the odor emanating from the oven as she repeatedly bleated "you're no good, you're no good. you're no good, baby, you're no good."

Chef Dominic had the Manchester United v Spurs match to attend (and organic produce to secure), which meant that Rum Truffle Ball preparation would have to wait until the afternoon. Presentational strategy was discussed and agreed upon, while hope was held for the cream cheese frosting intended to adorn the cake.

Hours later, after a nap necessitated by United's thrilling come-from-behind 5-2 victory over Spurs, Rum Truffle Ball production began. The dessert, incidentally, was chosen because ... they are balls and we felt it necessary to ensure that the evening's menu had balls. Milk chocolate was melted and shaved and rum added. Into the freezer it went as conversation turned to the proper dress code for both Culinary Arts Institute dinner party and witnessing the return of industrial sonic transgressors, Throbbing Gristle. Chef La then formed the balls, dipping them into the shaved chocolate, then marveled at her chocolate smeared hands and, upon tasting one, declared "these are quite good!" The delectables were then packed and plans were made to depart.

(editor's note: Dom and Lara used 250 Classic Cake Recipes (1940) for their "Tomato Soup Cake" recipe. Interestingly, this cake was left out of the final 1975 edition called 200 Cakes. )

Meat: Terri Griffith

I knew there was going to be a hungry crowd for this party and I wanted to fix something that was both out-of-the-ordinary yet still edible. 250 Ways to Prepare Meat (1940) was there for me with “Pot Roast with Prunes.” My first reaction to this was, Yuck! But the more I thought about it, the better it sounded.

I followed the recipe pretty precisely. The only real difference is that I used my new bible, The America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook. It gives lots of pointers for pot roast, things none of the CAI cookbooklets do. My guess is that in 1940 when this book was published women knew the basics of preparing a pot roast. Well, it’s not 1940 anymore and we have other skills now. Which is precisely why I rely on The Test Kitchen to let me in on the details. I patted it dry and tied it up before browning, then let it rest twenty minutes before serving. I really believe that all these little things really make a difference.

The pot roast itself was extraordinary. It was moist, flavorful, a lovely color. I’m not sure you’re supposed to say this sort of thing, but it was the best pot roast I’ve ever had. I highly recommend this recipe to anyone inclined. (I scanned it high resolution so you can follow the recipe and see the delightful photo.) Next time, I would turn that beefy prune sauce into a gravy and serve it with mashed potatoes. This recipe is super good. Trust me.

("Prunes and apricots with pot roast add glamour to the meat and flavor to the gravy.")

Potatoes: Steaphanie Crain

EASY BREEZY BACON…AND POTATO. That didn’t suck.

I chose the 250 Ways of Serving Potatoes (1940) cookbook because I love potatoes, I love that there was an entire cookbook devoted to it, and I thought this book held my best chance to quickly find a recipe that was easy and goof-proof. I was wrong.

Housewives in the 1950’s took their potatoes seriously. The booklet is divided into more categories (with sufficient recipes for each category to warrant their own category) than I consciously knew existed for potatoes. Baked, boiled, soups/chowders, creamed and scalloped, mashed, fried, salads, sweet potatoes listed separately…these ladies knew their potatoes. And now I know how American families could have potatoes with every meal.

I quickly dismissed all potatoes sweet and anything that involved multiple steps, such as fried potato cups filled with hotdogs. And then I landed on the Potato with Bacon recipe and looked no further. How can you possibly make a potato better? Bacon.

The ingredient list was very common:

1 lb. of bacon
6 medium potatoes
2 tbs. flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. pepper
2 cups milk

I assumed that the bacon measurements were for cooked weight. Since I don’t have a kitchen scale, and am a firm believer that more bacon always makes things more better, I cooked an entire one pound package, after trimming the most visible fat and dicing the remaining bacon (which was kind of difficult but made me feel chef-y).

I also assumed that they didn’t mean skim or soy milk, so I used full-fat milk, and I tripled the pepper amount.

I layered the sliced potatoes, topped with the flour, salt and pepper and the bacon, repeated the layers, and poured milk over the whole thing.

It looked disgusting:
My greatest fear was that it would come out of the oven as nothing more than clumps of raw flour with bits of greasy bacon gristle-studded potatoes floating in curdled milk.

I popped it into a moderate oven (thankfully, they defined “moderate” as 350º), covered, for 45 minutes. When I took the pan out to uncover for the remaining 15 minutes in a desperate attempt to brown the top and make it look a little less like something they serve at Shady Pines retirement home on Wednesday nights, I was saddened to see that a milky skin had formed on the top of the potatoes, and there was a LOT of milk still swishing around. Happily, though, it looked like the flour islands had melted and incorporated themselves into the dish. Things were looking up for this dish!

And then down. The top didn’t brown, but the potatoes were soft, and I didn’t want to add insult to injury and overcook them. So I took them to the party with the attitude that this was an exercise in culinary experimentation, and not all experiments succeed. Clearly.

The potatoes were served about an hour into the party, and I am thrilled to report that they didn’t suck! They had been warming in the oven, and I’m not sure if it was the extra heat that thickened the milk into a sauce, or if it was just the resting period. The potatoes were tender, the bacon was semi-crunchy, and the milk sauce was a nice consistency. I was surprised that the dish was more sweet than savory, and if I made it again, I would up the salt and pepper. And maybe add some cheese.

I was told the potatoes were great the next day for breakfast, which made me very happy. And validated my earlier hypothesis that 1950’s housewives really knew their potatoes.

(editor's note: This was so fantastic the next morning, you can't even know. A big ole' platefull and a cup 0' joe. Awsome.)

Vegetable: Terri Griffith

When trying any new recipe a cook can expect a failure or two. So throwing a potluck where every single person was trying a new recipe, I figured I'd better err on the side of caution an make an extra dish just so that no one went away hungry. Well imagine my embarrassment that my dish was the one that tanked. It looked pretty cute, but was a total failure—or should I say gross.

I selected “Carrot Ring” from the Culinary Arts Institute Encyclopedic Cookbook (1965). It looked simple enough (it was) and appealing. The recipe was really straightforward calling for 2 cups cooked carrots, onion, salt pepper, 3 eggs and 1 cup milk. Bake all this together and fill with peas. How great is that? Two vegetables in one dish. But it was gross. It came out like scrambled eggs with carrots in it. Yuck! The picture that accompanied the recipe looked kind of good. After considering each ingredient and step, I think I know what went wrong. Perhaps it was the interpretation of the phrase “cooked carrots.” The carrots in the picture look WAY mushier. I even cooked my carrot ring and extra 20 minutes and they still were too firm.

If I had to reinterpret this recipe I would write, Cook carrots to a paste. That should do it.

Rolls: Serena Worthington

(editor's note: Serena used Dishes Mother Used to Make (1942). This was from a series of thematically linked cookbooklets published in the 40s.)

For the dinner, I was assigned bread. My girlfriend says it because I’m a baker but I really don’t feel like one. I can’t even say that I enjoy baking because usually it stresses me out. I think I just like foods that fall under the category, baking.

So with my limited baking skills, I embarked on Parker House Rolls from Dishes Mother Used to Make. I picked them because no one I asked had made them and I thought it would be funny.

I ran into trouble right away when the recipe asked me to stir the yeast, salt, sugar and shortening in warm water until the shortening melted. I don’t know a ton about baking but I do know that water the called for lukewarm would not melt the shortening and water hot enough to melt shortening would certainly kill the yeast. Perhaps this would have worked with cake yeast but I was using packaged yeast. I doubt it though. So I melted the shortening in the microwave on low and set it aside to cool a bit. I rebelled a bit here and mixed up the water, sugar and yeast and waited for the yeast to bloom. Them I added the shortening and salt and finally the flour. I viewed the result with great skepticism. It was really, really wet and didn’t resemble anything I would call dough. With a shrug I covered it and waited for it to double in bulk. This brings me to the weirdest part of this recipe; I was to add an egg after this first rise. So, I have a big, wet yeasty mass and I am supposed to stir an egg in? Whatever. I stirred in the egg, complained to Terri and left the thing to double again.

I spent the rising time wondering what I was going to make when the rolls inevitably failed. After the second rise, the mixture was only slightly less wet and I had to shrug both shoulders when I dumped this soupy mixture on the counter to “knead” it. By “knead” they must have meant, “add tons and tons of flour until soupy mixture become something resembling dough.” So “knead” I did. With lots of swearing and expressing of disgust and indignation. WTF, was, I believe, heavily featured as in, “WTF is this?” “WTF am I supposed to do with this mess?” Purely rhetorical questions since Terri was no longer answering me at this point.

Here was my second bit of trouble. The instructions were not clear about how to turn the dough into a “pocketbook.” What did this mean exactly? After parsing each word of the recipe and staring at the picture I decided to cut the dough into squares and fold it to form a pocketbook. No way was I going to try a biscuit cutter on that mess. I went ahead with pressing a dull knife into the middle of each one although I was really just going through the motions. The knife depression disappeared almost as soon as I made it. I brushed the dough with butter (the saving grace as it turns out) and folded them in half onto their sides and then I “pinched” the sides. By “pinched” they must have meant, “push the sloppy wet sides of the roll together until the melted butter nearly stops leaking out.” Then I put some more butter on them as instructed. Here again there was not actually quantity of butter listed so I used my judgment.

I let them rise again. I really wish I had some guidance from the recipe about how long to let them rise. Without this information, I just called them good when they had puffed up a bit.

I put them in a preheated 400 degree oven and baked them until they had some color, about 20 minutes. I was enormously relieved when I took them out and they resembled a bread product. I served them at room temperature. They got good reviews at the dinner, which was a surprise. I have to say it must have been the butter.

Salad: Nicholas Alexander Hayes and Andrew Breen

PEAR-GINGER JELLO SALAD
1. After browsing through several, CAI booklets, we settled on the Pear-Ginger Jello Salad because of the yummy flavor combination (Actually, it was an excuse to finally buy little Jello molds and create beautifully suspended fruit in a vibrant yellow membrane).

2. Prep: We sprayed the copper molds with cooking oil to help with the mold release. We also put the plates in the fridge so the 8 Jello molds would hold up during transportation.

3. Changing the Ratio: Based on “Breen/Hayes Test Kitchen,” Jello seems to conform better to the mold when you use less water. So, we didn’t go by the water/jello ratio that the recipe called for. The box says 1 pk to 1 cup of boiling water, but we halved the water to ½ cup (3 pkts + 1½ water). We brought the Jello to room temperature before adding the 1½ cups of ginger ale. We ladled the tepid Jello into the molds, leaving about ½ cm from the top for the fruit. Because our molds were smaller, we diced the canned pears instead of using pear halves.

4. We left the molds in the fridge for 5 hours and released the Jello by pouring hot water on the back of the mold, and placed them on iceberg lettuce. If we could change anything, we would let the Jello cool longer before pouring in the ginger ale (to maintain the bubbliness).

(editor's note: Andrew and Nicholas used the special Shop-Rite edition of Entertaining Six or Eight. Oddly, there was no publication date, but based on the other books this appears to be from the early to mid 1950s. This was a special series with lovely illustrations by Paul Hamlin and the Shop-Rite logo right on the cover. Also, Ruth Berlozheimer is not credited. Instead, Melanie De Proft is listed as director.)

Soup: Martha Bayne

Picking one soup from 250 Delicious Soup Recipes (1950) was thoroughly overwhelming. So I went about it scientifically. Too expensive? Cut. Sorry, Creole Bouillabaise, which needed not only a pound of fresh shrimp but also two pounds of snapper.

I was also feeling tired and lazy so anything too complicated was out as well. This eliminated intriguing contenders like Mock Turtle Soup (“Cover calf’s head with cold water …”).

But, despite my sloth, I felt duty bound to at least try to cook something. This inconvenient surge of work ethic knocked out the entire section on Jiffy Soups, which offers a conceptual framework for proportionally blending various cans of condensed soups to create new and exciting taste sensations such as Cream of Corn and Mushroom, and the discreetly named Triangle (“1 can condensed tomato soup, 1 can condensed bean-with-bacon soup, 3 cans water”).*

Lastly, I wanted it to have a shot at being vaguely edible. I remain to this day strangely drawn to Ripe Olive Soup but I didn’t think it would be very hospitable to inflict it on a bunch of strangers. So, after a brief flirtation with something jelled and chilled – which just seemed like it would be classy – I settled on Tuna and Tomato Bisque.

I like tuna, I like tomatoes. They go together well in a nice nicoise salad. Why not a soup? Also: they both come in cans, and see above in re. laziness.

Here is the recipe:

Tuna and Tomato Bisque

1 (7-ounce) can tuna
2 tablespoons minced parsely
1/4 cup diced onion
1 cup cooked tomatoes
2 cups water
4 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons flour
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
dash cayenne
3 cups milk

Shred tuna, add oil from tuna, parsley, onion, tomatoes and water. Heat to boiling and simmer 20 minutes. Strain. Blend butter, flour, salt and cayenne’ add milk, gradually stirring constantly and cook until smooth and thickened. Add tuna mixture, blend and serve at once. Serves 4.

I doubled the recipe and ballparked the quantities, with two 5-ounce cans of Bumblebee Solid White Albacore Tuna in Oil and one 28-ounce can of Dominick’s-brand Organic Whole Peeled Tomatoes.

I drained off the oil from the fish and ran into trouble right off the bat. Am I supposed to add the fish to the soup base? What is this “tuna mixture” mentioned at the end of the recipe? The tuna? ” Mixed with … other tuna?

Anyway. I wound up just throwing the oil in with the tomatoes, onion, and parsley and alliteratively decanting the tuna into a Tupperware to take up to Terri’s. Then I gave the cans to the cat. He was psyched.

Simmered oil, tomatoes, onion, and parsley for 20 minutes – it actually smelled pretty good – and then strained it. I don’t have a chinois so I just pushed it through a colander.

This resulted in a lovely clear tomato bouillon.








And some tomato/onion/parsley mash.








Whisked in the butter, flour, salt, and cayenne, and then the milk. After blending in six cups of a possible eight it was a very pale pink, so I just stopped there. Which was probably good because it wound up having a very “subtle” flavor. Any more dairy and it would have been just Milk Soup With Tomato Essence.

Anyhow. That was basically it. Once I got to Terri and Serena’s I heated it back up and then mixed in the reserved tuna “mixture, “garnished the bowls with parsley, and served.

I also made some cayenne croutons to accompany the soup. Actually, they were supposed to be these elaborate bits of toasted bread sculpture involving cutting bread into doughnut sized rings, and cutting some more bread into long fingers and then threading the whole ring-and-spear unit together and garnishing each bowl with one. But that quickly proved too much work, not to mention a massive waste of perfectly good bread. So I just cut the bread into toast points, dipped them in butter, dusted them with salt and cayenne, and then promptly burned them in the oven.

Whoops.

I brought them along anyway and everyone seemed to think the charred, peppery bread added a certain textural something, but maybe they were just being nice.

Would I make Tuna and Tomato Bisque again? Probably not. It wasn’t bad but it was, as I said, quite milky. By which I mean, “bland.”

But now, at least, I can say that I’ve tried tuna soup.


*Why “Triangle”? Is this meant to evoke some illicit three-way between the tomato, the bean, and the bacon?

Crudités: Serena Worthington and Terri Griffith

What would a dinner party be without crudités? The Culinary Arts Institute, although doesn't give a recipe, does suggest providing a simple relish tray for guests. I didn't expect with all that fun, elaborate food anyone would eat this plain tray of celery and olives. Sure enough, they didn't.

Our second crudités was Radish Mice. This is really the only place that we strayed from the cookbooks. After all, they're period and I just LOVE radish mice so Serena made me two plates and served them on a bed of Kosher salt. Needless to say by the end of the evening there was nothing left but tails.

Canapés: Andrew Breen and Nicholas Alexander Hayes

(editor's note: Nicholas and Andrew used 500 Tasty Snacks (1941) for this recipe)

SHRIMP CANAPÉ
1. We followed most of the recipe, except we used lumpfish roe in lieu of caviar. The recipe called for lemon mayo, so we mixed fresh lemon juice with store bought mayo to taste. We cut the white bread with a small wine glass, and used the bread scraps for croutons.

2. This recipe was pretty easy, although we had to handle every little piece carefully. We finished several hours before the party, but the canapés held up well – the toast was still toasty and the shrimp was still glistening. When we try this recipe again, we may experiment with using limejuice, and perhaps trying a different marinade for the shrimp.

Culinary Arts Institute Dinner

On Saturday, Serena and I hosted an entire dinner party cooked from the Culinary Arts Institute cook books. Each of our guests selected a recipe for this prescriptive potluck and will blog about their experiences. Over the course of the next week or so, I will post the entries for each course.

MENU:
Canapés—Andrew Breen and Nicholas Hayes
Crudités—Serena Worthington and Terri Griffith
Soup—Martha Bayne
Salad—Andrew Breen and Nicholas Hayes
Rolls—Serena Worthington
Vegetable—Terri Griffith
Potato—Stephanie Crain
Meat—Terri Griffith
Desserts—Dominic Molon and Lara Hayes

Some of the recipes were a great success, some not so successful. But it was a fun night all around. I hope you enjoy the forthcoming posts and perhaps try some recipes yourself.

Eggs Florentine

After a beautiful, practically summer day on Saturday, I woke this morning to find rain, rain, rain. So I thought it would be fun to make a nice brunch. I started with The Encyclopedic Cookbook (1965) and made “Buttermilk Muffins.” They would have turned out much better if I hadn’t turned the oven off half-way through. I think that pretty much sums up that recipe.

“Eggs Florentine” was also on the menu. Now I’ve heard of Eggs Florentine, but have never actually had it. The recipe seemed really easy. I had a bag of spinach in the freezer and some leftover collard greens from my weekly produce box and it seemed like a fortuitous intersection of weird ingredients at the ready. (Please note the photo in the book. This is the Eggs Florentine before it is cooked. Funny, I wouldn't have made that choice.)

I made a few changes. I used white cheddar instead of American cheese. And I also had a bunch of collards that I had cooked in left over Bagna Cauda. I was introduced to this sauce in the book Twist of the Wrist (2007), by Nancy Silverton. It’s a fantastic cookbook that uses tinned, jarred, and frozen items. Many of the recipes require a high degree of skill. Amazon has it listed under the heading Convenience Cooking. Man, are people pissed when it arrives. By “convenience” most people are thinking quick and easy. A better way to think about this cookbook is: I just got home from my restaurant and brought a few friends with me. It’s two o’clock in the morning. What can I make with ingredients from my pantry that will go with this excellent bottle of wine? Anyway, there is a recipe for Bagna Cauda which she says is sauce. Really, it’s just adulterated butter. It is unbelievably great and keeps really well in the refrigerator.

Bagna Cauda
from Nancy Silverton’s Twist of the Wrist

1/2 cup unsalted butter
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
20 anchovy fillets, finely chopped (about 1/4 cup of 1 2.8-ounce jar)
8 large garlic cloves, minced (about 2 Tablespoons)
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh Italian parsley leaves
Grated zest and juice of 1/2 a lemon
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat the butter, olive oil, anchovies, and garlic in a large skillet over medium-high heat until the anchovies dissolve and the garlic is soft and fragrant, about 2 minutes, breaking up anchovies while they cook and stirring constantly so the garlic doesn’t brown. Reduce the heat to low and cook the sauce another 2 minutes to meld the flavors. Turn off the heat, stir in the parsley and lemon zest and juice, and season with Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper.

I was surprised by how well this turned out. It had to cook a little longer than stated, but it was really great. Before I started cooking from Culinary Arts Institute cookbooks, I never ever had a need for bread-crumbs. These books are really bread-crumb heavy and I have learned that finishing everything with bread-crumbs tends to make dishes look mighty alike.

guest blogger:Daniel Baudanza

I am the kind of cook who is not afraid to invite five or six people over for dinner and have the main course be something I have never cooked before. I am also not afraid of recipes that come from cook books where green mashed potatoes are at home with rings of peas and deviled eggs in aspic are a matter of course.

This recipe is a lot of work for little payoff. First of all there is a long long marinade of dubious flavor and second the whole puff pastry thing just tends to fall to crumbs as you slice the delicate pork inside. Most of this went to the dogs who by the way love puff pastry flavored with pork. I also took the suggestion of making a kicky little decoration with left over pastry dough in the form of a palm frond it being easter and all.

My biggest problem with this recipe are the cooking instructions. Mostly this is my fault, I doubted my own instincts as a cook. The recipe calls for two eight-inch long pork loins to be cooked at 350deg for one hour and forty five minutes!!

I read it twice but gave the book the benefit of the doubt.

My brain did not calculate that this book was written sometime in the late sixties where the difference between eating roast pork and eating a hand full of white sand was salt content. Needless to say the pork turned out very very dry.

Luckily I saved some juice and made a gravy, the time honored tradition of all failed cooks.

Guest Blogger:Daniel Baudanza

My mom gave me this great cook book.

Creative Cooking Course edited by Charlotte Turgeon.

I can't tell you when it was published because I don't read roman nvmerals but I can tell you that my mom gave it to me because she would never cook anything wrapped in pastry dough.

Luckily, I would love to go to bed wrapped in pasty dough. Add the words ham or pork and I won't ever wake up!

As fancy as this book gets and it does get fancy (there is a page devoted to butter sculpting) this recipe is no more than a humble ham and cheese quiche with a giant cheese flower on top.

I made my own pastry dough but used a different recipe than the one in the book. It called for 4cups of flour for a 9" pie crust and I just didn't understand why I would need that much dough.

I also changed the cheese flower to petals of cheese sandwiched in between some pastry dough like mini cheese puffs.

Otherwise, I stuck to the recipe which was simple ham eggs parmesan and onions. Although for a ham and herb pie there was only a half a teaspoon of tarragon and some salt. I only use teaspoon measures for baking soda and yeast.

All in all it turned out well and very tasty. New secret ingredient--onion water. I will admit that my cheese flower was not anywhere near as impressive as the one in the book.

Blueberry Muffins

A lazy Sunday morning. I have a pile of papers to grade and it's supposed to snow. Sounds like a job for Blueberry Muffins. Since blueberry muffins are an American staple, I knew The Culinary Arts Institute would be able to help me out. I found a great recipe on page 37 of 250 Breads, Biscuits and Roll (1953), though the title page reads The Breads, Biscuits and Rolls Cookbook.

The recipe was simple:

MUFFINS
2 cups sifted, enriched flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup sugar
1 egg, beaten
1/4 cup melted shortening
1 cup milk

Sift dry ingredients together. Mix egg, shortening and milk together thoroughly. Combine mixtures, stirring just enough to dampen flour. Fill greased muffin pans 2/3 full. Bake in hot oven (400 F.) 25 minutes. Makes 12 to 15.

Under "Variations" it has you mix blueberries with the dry ingredients. I also assumed that they meant for me to use fresh blueberries, but all I had was frozen. When I used to work at The Sisters it was my job to make the blueberry muffins. We also used frozen. The deal with frozen berries is that you can't just toss them into the dry ingredients, you have to lovingly place them in layers. It doesn't take long and it makes the muffins much more lovely. Besides, layering keeps the blueberries evenly distributed.

Milk is a problem that plagues our household. We don't ever have milk on hand. Sometimes half and half, today just soy creamer. But The America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook, revised edition (2006) suggests keeping dry buttermilk on hand. We bought a tub of it just for emergencies like this.

The recipe turned out fantastic. Serena said they tasted "old fashioned," meaning they weren't very sweet. They are quite good and I will certainly use this recipe again.

250 Fish and SeaFood Recipes

Last time I was at La Frescasita they were having a big sale on tilapia fillets. I bought a bunch and popped them in the freezer figuring that there was always something to do with white fish. When I first received 250 Fish and SeaFood Recipes (1940) I thought I would never end up cooking from it. (note: The 1970s edition is called 200 Ways to Serve Fish and Sea Food, but the title page reads 200 Different Fish and Sea Food Recipes. I think it's funny how they played loosey goosey with the titles.) First of all the recipes are all things like "take 24 fresh oysters," then it has you shuck them and bake into some kind of crazy casserole. Hailing from the Pacific Northwest, this kind of seafood adulteration is really a sin. I think no matter how long I live in the Midwest I will never abandon this basic tenet of preparing seafood. But for the sake of this project and the uninspiring frozen tilapia, I turned to The Culinary Arts Institute.

Right off the bat there were a couple of acceptable fish recipes. I chose "Baked Fish Fillets." The recipe was simple and I had all that was needed.

Baked Fish Fillets

1 pound fish fillets
1 cup milk
1 teaspoon salt
Fine dry bread crumbs
1 tablespoon oil or melted butter

Cut fillets into serving pieces. Combine milk and salt. Dip fish into milk, then into crumbs being sure fish is completely covered with crumbs. Place in greased baking dish or on oven proof platter, sprinkle with oil and brown quickly in very hot oven (500F.) 10 to 20 minutes. Do not add water. Serve with Almond Butter Sauce, melted butter, Maitre d'Hotel Butter or Lemon Butter. Serves 2

I followed the recipe closely and it turned out well. Since I didn't have any bread crumbs, I made some from pita that I had in the freezer and topped it with butter. If I were to make this recipe again, which I will, I would definitely season the bread crumbs. I am unsure whether or not packaged bread crumbs were popular in 1940. Maybe they were expecting my bread crumbs to already be seasoned. Anyway, it was good. I made "Tartare Sauce" from the final page. It was good as well. I served the fish and tartare sauce with a packaged mushroom risotto with peas and a green salad.

Scalloped Sweet Potatoes and Corn

One of the things that I love about my weekly produce box from Newleaf Grocery (www.newleafnatural.net) is that it forces me to work with unfamiliar ingredients and since much of the produce is local, at certain times of the year I have an abundance of a particular vegetable. Now for example, it’s sweet potatoes. Last week I had some great sweet potato fries, processed and froze some uncooked fries for a future date, and I also fed some to my dog who loves them. But that still leaves me with about a half a dozen more. I turned to 250 Ways of Serving Potatoes (1941) for help.

There were MANY more recipes for sweet potatoes than I expected in this book. I don’t really think of sweet potatoes as a potato. I mean, if I’m in the mood for mashed potatoes or tater tots, then sweet potatoes don’t really do the trick. But I guess in this case they count. There was terrifying similarity in the recipes. Mostly it was all sweet potatoes, butter, and brown sugar in some combination. They’d change it out a little with honey instead of sugar, or marmalade instead of sugar. You get the idea. The single recipe I use as an example of my grandmother’s horrible cooking is in this book: “Sweet Potatoes with Cheese and Mushroom Sauce.” And by mushroom sauce they mean canned cream of mushroom soup. The recipe is right next to the one I made. I also wanted to mention that there is also a recipe for "Pickaninny Creole" on page 41. Though it shouldn't have, this surprised me. Immediately I ran to The Culinary Arts Institute Encyclopedic Cookbook. This is really just another repackage of the previous booklets. I just had to know if "Pickaninny Creole" made the cut to this 1964 edition. It did. Really, did no one ever look at these recipes again?

The "Scalloped Sweet Potatoes and Corn" recipe was pretty good. There were a couple of small problems--my fault, mostly lack of planning. The recipe says to boil the potatoes, but I always prefer my vegetables roasted and since the sweet potatoes I had were so small, it didn't really take long. The thing is, I was then left to peel them hot if I wanted dinner to be ready by the time Serena got home. It also calls for white sauce, which I made from the Encyclopedic Cookbook. Here's the dumbass part, I didn't check how much the recipe called for. So after I made the white sauce, I dumped it on my casserole only to find I didn't have enough. But since my potatoes were so small I just poured a little extra milk in and called it good. It was supposed to cook for 45 minutes, but when I pulled it out the whole thing still looked pale and dry. I added a bit more milk and some butter dollops on top. I mean, what doesn't taste better with butter? I served this with a green salad and kale sauteed in butter. I would definitely make this again.