VittlesVamp

Sri Lankan Feast

Back to the whole topic of "not trying this at home," led me to cooking at the home of two friends - a couple who do not know the meaning of "do not try this at home."

And, so we make a Sri Lankan feast. More exactly, they made a Sri Lankan feast.

I may have made the dish above, a Chicken Kottu Roti, which I think of as a cross between stuffing and fried rice, with strong dashes of curry and pandan tossed in the mix. I also whipped up some Ginger Snaps laced with Sri Lanka's answer to maple syrup - Kithul Treacle. But, my friends most definitely whipped up the lion's share of the evening's repast, including two Cashew Curries...

...as well as curries showcasing fish, beef, and plantain.

They prepared sombals for days. Pol Sombal, fragrant with coconut, chili peppers, and dried fish flakes, was an all-around favorite. A bright Mint Sombal was another winner. Then there was the refreshing Pathola salad with snake gourd...

And, did I mention that my friends got up at the wee hours of the morning to make their own coconut milk from scratch? They woke up at dawn and started cracking coconuts. Seriously. COCONUT MILK FROM SCRATCH.

I am officially put to shame. And, yet, just glad that I have friends that are willing to go to that much trouble - delicious trouble.

The Melon Trick

Can't take credit for this incredibly simple trick that takes melon to a new level.

Chef/owner Tony Migliaccio at my beloved neighborhood Italian hang Noodle Pudding served me up a beautiful slab of melon for dessert one night. But it wasn't just melon. He zested an orange on top for a bit of bite and citrus.

I don't think I can eat melon again without a sprinkling of orange zest to take it up a notch.

This trick paid off big time when I decided to make melon and prosciutto. SO. DAMN. DELICIOUS.

I implore you to try this at home. You'll develop a whole new appreciation for a slice of melon at any time of day.

Cooking in California: The Spanakopita Edition

My pals Amelia and Shyam just moved to Oakland and their new apartment has a great kitchen - a baller kitchen. How could I resist playing in said baller kitchen when I was lucky enough to be their houseguest this past week?

My dinner dish of choice? Spanakopita. Had I made it before? Nope. Did I consult several recipes and then toss them in a jumble to create my own take on the Greek classic? Yup. Was it delicious? Hell to the yup! Is the recipe below? Um, yeah...

Spanakopita

1 box frozen phyllo dough (defrosted)
3 10oz. boxes frozen chopped spinach (defrosted)
8 oz. good feta (diced or crumbled)
5 scallions (thinly sliced, whites and greens)
1 shallot (minced)
1 lg. garlic clove (minced)
1 cup fresh dill (chopped)
1 TBSP salt
1 tsp ground black pepper
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
3 eggs
3/4 cups ghee (melted)
1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly grease an 8X8 pan with a bit of the ghee. Strain the spinach using cheesecloth or a dishtowel to squeeze out all of the liquid. Saute the scallions, shallot, and garlic in two tablespoons of the melted ghee in a small pan until just starting to brown - about 4 - 5 minutes. Add to the spinach. Mix in the feta, dill, salt, pepper, and nutmeg into the spinach as well. Lightly whisk the eggs and then incorporate in to the spinach mixture. Layer the phyllo at the bottom of the pan (neatness is not necessarily) and brush with melted ghee and sprinkle with breadcrumbs in between each layer. After 6 - 8 layers, place the spinach mixture in the pan and spread evenly before layering on another 6 - 8 sheets of phyllo with ghee and breadcrumbs on top. Finish with a layer of phyllo brushed with ghee. Bake for 1 hour. Allow to cool for 10 minutes before cutting into squares and serving,

Garden & Gun & Good Eating

Visitors to my Brooklyn apartment are typically treated to a healthy dose of hospitality. Often that comes with a shaken or stirred cocktail, nibbles aplenty, and once in a while it arrives with a flurry of coursed out dishes meant to tempt, soothe, and delight.

And, typically, new visitors to my home are not only struck by the hospitality at Chez Vamp, but are also taken by a collection of magazines on my coffee table -- a pile of Garden & Gun issues that sport cover photos of hunting dogs, Southern beach scenes, and mouthwatering food and drink from below the Mason-Dixon line.

What is a nice gal in New York City doing with a subscription to a magazine called -- of all things -- Garden & Gun?

Did you not just read the earlier sentence about the dogs, beaches, and food?!?

This is a magazine about the modern South -- but a bit mythologized and curated by design. From tales of roadtriping and partying from New Orleans-based author Julia Reed to an essay of a bad dog gone good by non-fiction writer S. C. Gwynne to thoughts on Mardi Gras and the importance of bees from literary legend and humorist Roy Blount Jr, the writing is top-notch.

Plus, a wealth of insights on Southern travel, books, music, and more.

And, then there are the photos. Lush. Sly. Transporting.

Oh, and did I mention the recipes?

More than once, the magazine has inspired me to whip up a bit of Dixie. Most recently, I tried my hand at making James Beard Award winning cookbook author Virginia Willis' cast-iron skillet Blueberry Cobbler (pictured above).

It was divine. Are you surprised?

I anticipate that my kitchen will be taking many a "trip down South" this summer, compliments of recipes and inspiration from Garden & Gun. If you're lucky, you'll get an invite to my table.

Word to the wise though: don't mock the mag. It might not be the hand that feeds you, but it's certainly feeding this home cook's imagination.

Toasting in Sonoma

I went to Sonoma. I had wine. I had a lot of wine. Yet, my most memorable toast didn't include the clinking of glasses. It was literally just, well, toast.

I was on kitchen duty at the elegant farmhouse we rented. What was I to make for breakfast among the vines and olive groves? Toast was on the morning menu.

Of course, Avocado Toast was a must-do, dusted with cumin and topped with a sunny-side egg, oozing bright sunshine yellow across the plate. But, I think the Ricotta Toast was my fave. Pictured above, I slathered the grilled sourdough slices with fresh, soft ricotta cheese, sprinkled on some fleur de sel, black pepper, and orange zest, and then finished it off with a drizzle of honey.

Come to think of it, maybe we should have raised our mugs of coffee to toast the toast.

Will have to remember to do that the next time I'm whipping up Ricotta Toast in Sonoma. (And you know there will be a next time!)

Hot Culinary Couple

Upset about the demise of Brangelina? I hear you. But, get over it! I have a much more spectacular twosome to talk about.

That's right. You guessed it:

Strawberries and Balsamic vinegar.

This is a power couple, if ever there was. Their marriage may not make headlines, but I know it's elicited many a sweet smile and moan of delight.

The way the vinegar lends a tart edge to the fruit, it is clear that these two simply belong together.

And, frankly, I'm happy to join in and make it a thruple.

No Sleep Till Barcelona

Time to break out the tapas! Planning a trip to Spain for May and decided to get a head start with a little help from my friends.

Sangria was poured. Asturian cider was gulped. Pinxtos were eaten. We're talking about toasts piled with sweet piquillo peppers and rich bits of glistening sardine, skewers of baby tomato, manzanilla olives and mouthpuckering white anchovies, and more toasts with even more piquillo peppers, this time stuffed with buttery blue cheese and hot peppers for good measure.

Platters of Serrano ham and lomo, alongside Manchengo and Idiazabal cheese were nibbled. Chorizo was stewed in wine and shrimp was sauteed with good olive oil and slivers of garlic. All was consumed with gusto.

Then the Spanish Tortilla was served toasty warm from its oil slick pan, dotted with red pepper, onion, and eggplant, slathered with homemade, garlicky good aiolli.

Dessert was densely perfumed Olive Oil Cake infused with orange zest and topped with a flurry of sliced almonds.

While I'm hoping that culinary stops in Seville, Madrid, and Barcelona kick it out of the parque, it's nice to know that I can get my Español on closer to home -- or at home as it were.

Crust Is Hard

Just took this one out of the oven. I've most certainly made this Pecan Pie before, recipe compliments of Camellia Grill in New Orleans. But, today, I'm trying out a new crust. I'm putting my pie crust baking technique in the expert hands of the folks at Four & Twenty Blackbirds.

Hoping it is as delicious as it's aroma - cause it sure as heck doesn't look very pretty. Mind you, that's not the recipe's fault. I'm just not a pastry-making maven. My go-to for pies is to use a fork, letting its tines press into the dough for a bit of a crust design.

As you can see, that tine handiwork didn't do the trick this time around.

Beauty aside, I've yet to find a pie crust recipe that I return to time and time again. Maybe this one will prove a winner. And, if so, maybe I'll develop the skill set to lovingly mold and crimp crust dough into breathtaking design.

Nah. I'll just have to press harder with those fork tines.

Barcelona By Way Of Brooklyn

There is nothing like a trip to Europe without a passport and jet lag. Not that I wouldn't want to hop aboard a plane bound for Barcelona or Madrid right now, but I was lucky enough to get a taste of el estilo de vida Español when a bevy of foodie friends descended upon Chez Vamp for a Spanish feast that was nothing short of exquisite.

There was Paella, of course -- in this case, graced with wild Patagonia Shrimp, Monkfish Cheeks and Littleneck Oysters. Admittedly, that was the low point of the Spanish groaning board. (What can I say? It may look beautiful above, but my socarrat skills are sorely lacking.)

My pals were really the ones that made this dinner sing, with an array of tapas and pinxtos that would make a Catalan proud. Heck, we even indulged in a jar of Banderillas -- little plastic swords balancing tiny sour pickles, slivers of sweet red pepper, olives and pickled onions. Downed in one briny, mouthpuckering bite, we moved on to attack the rest of the Barcelonean banquet.

A major highlight: a platter laden with wafer-thin ruby red slices of Jamon Iberico Bellota, Jamon Serrano and Serrano de Lomo. It was all gobbled up within minutes of being laid on the table.

Thankfully, there was more to come. Much more.

Vegetables took centerstage long enough for us to pretend that maybe we were eating healthy. (Didn't I hear something about the Mediterranean Diet being great for your waistline?) There were Grilled Artichoke Hearts with brightening splash of fresh lemon juice, a hearty Tortilla Espanol and Steamed Broccoli with the traditional red pepper Romesco Sauce, warmed with toasted hazelnuts.

Then, bringing us back to the sea, we oohed and ahhed over a gorgeous plate of Razor Clam shells stuffed with diced clam meat along with chopped eggs, a garlic aioli and fennel fronds...

And, yes, there was dessert too. Pears poached in Sherry, served with Turron Ice Cream and topped with toasted almonds and dried cherries.

It was all quite splendid. The recipe most requested at the evening's end? No surprise: my Sangria.

Didn't I mention that I stirred up a pitcher at the night's onset? No? Well, perhaps that's because it was gone even quicker than the platter of Spanish ham.

So, here it is. May it quench your thirst and put a bit of Flamenco in your footstep all summer long...

Sangria

1 bottle Spanish red wine
1/2 cup brandy
3/4 cup triple sec
1 cup orange juice
1/2 Granny Smith apple
1/2 orange
6 strawberries

Pour wine, brandy, triple sec and orange juice into a larger pitcher. Stir. Add a cup of ice and the fruit cut into bite-sized chunks. Allow to chill the fridge for at least an hour, so the fruit gets soaked through with the Sangria mixture. Serve in glassed filled with ice.

Why Isn't Chicken Paprikash The Must-Have Dish On Every Menu In NYC?

I'm serious here. When is the last time you had Chicken Paprikash? Done correctly, made with real Hungarian Paprika and a lot of love (not to mention sour cream), it is a killer dish.

Made it recently for an Austrian-German-Hungarian feast at Chez Vamp with kudos all around. Served it with piping hot Spaetzle and a cool German Cucumber Salad. Perfect Tyrolean winter fare. (And lederhosen aside, I have to say that the mountains of dirty frozen snow in Brooklyn as of late have required Alpine hiking rigor.)

Need proof that Chicken Paprikash can take on the likes of NYC menu standards like Chicken Pot Pie or Shrimp and Grits? Try my recipe below and taste for yourself.

Chicken Paprikash

1 chicken (3 - 4 lbs) cut into ten pieces (I cut the breasts in half)
1/2 cup plus 2 TBSP flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/4 cup canola oil
1 lg onion minced
1 1/2 cloves garlic minced
1 TBSP Sweet Hungarian Paprika
2 plum tomatoes, peeled, seeded and diced
1/2 Italian frying pepper (aka cubanelle pepper), diced
1 TBSP tomato paste
1 1/2 cup chicken broth
3/4 cup sour cream
1/4 cup Italian parsley, finely chopped

Mix 1/2 cup flour with salt and pepper, and dredge chicken pieces in the mixture, shaking off excess flour. Heat oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat, adding chicken a few pieces at a time, turning once to allow for browning on each side. Put chicken aside. Add onion, garlic, paprika, peppers and tomatoes, stirring until soft, about 5 minutes. Add tomato paste, stirring for another minute until incorporated. Pour in chicken broth and stir before placing chicken pieces back into the Dutch oven. Cover and allow to cook on medium heat for 20 minutes, adding more time if necessary, until chicken is tender and cooked through. Meanwhile, mix together sour cream with remaining 2 TBSP flour. Mix into the chicken and sauce. Allow to cook for another 3 -4 minutes. Sprinkle parsley on top before serving.