VittlesVamp

Ugly Beautiful

With a mandate to stay-the-fuck-at-home and the prospect of quarantine looming large, it's time to start cooking.

We're not talking doomsday prep, people! No need to start hoarding!

What we need are "think ahead" food strategies to keep culinary delight well within grasp - with limited resources. One of my favorite flavor-bombs to have on-hand? Slow-roasted tomatoes. A snap of the ugly beauties is above. (They kind of look like some sort of modern piece of art, don't they?)

The whole process is relatively simple: Grab a bunch of plum tomatoes, cut them in half, and scoop out the innards. Toss with a little olive oil and salt. Place skin-side up on parchment paper or tin foil on a large sheet pan. Bake for a half-hour at 350 degrees. Take them out of the oven and let them cool a bit before removing the skins. Lower the oven to 250 degrees and put the tomatoes back in for another hour and a half.

Voila. That's it. Toss them in with pasta. Put them on a sandwich. Saute with seafood. Can't see them on top of an ice cream sundae, but then again...

My Scallop Crudo

There are recipes I return to time and time again when I am hosting one of my many multi-course dinner parties. Scallop Crudo is definitely high on my list of go-to's - and with good reason. It is incredibly easy to make and it's always a crowd pleaser.

There are caveats though: Buy the freshest scallops you can find and don't cheap out on the olive oil. Great olive oil isn't optional here. It is a must. If you don't enjoy tasting a spoonful of the stuff that you have in your pantry, you need to up your olive oil game before attempting this dish. Trust me. Totally worth it!

Scallop Crudo
(Serves 6 as a first course)

1 lb fresh sea scallops
1/2 lemon
1/4 cup exceptionally good olive oil
3/4 tsp Maldon sea salt
1/4 cup pine nuts, toasted
Fresh chives

Slice raw scallops into two or three thin coins each. Place them on a big platter or individual plates. Squeeze a little lemon juice over and then drizzle olive oil. Sprinkle the crunchy sea salt granules and the nuts on top. Snip a few bits of fresh chive over it all to finish it off.

Rice Scares The Heck Out Of Me

I can make homemade Ricotta Sorbet. I can sous vide Shrimp Cocktail. I can stir up a mean Martini. But rice. It scares the heck out of me. (My stash of Jasmine Rice is pictured above. A frightening sight!)

Seriously.

I have burned more pots of rice than I care to count. Let's not forget the pots of still crunchy, never cooked-through rice. And, then there are the pots of soupy unGodly rice porridge that I brought into the world.

A sad state of affairs.

Then I finally bought a rice cooker. This device was a miracle. Jasmine rice turned out perfectly every time!

Then I was stupid. i decided I wanted to make basmati rice. This is not ideal for a rice cooker. What was I thinking?!? I went down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos about making basmati rice. It was painful. There are so many different techniques. I finally settled on one though. In addition, I decided to take a recipe and tweak it to my taste. And, what happened? A delicious basmati pilaf was born!

Basmati Pilaf with Caramelized Onion, Cherries & Pistachios
(Serves 6 - 8)

2 cups of basmati rice
2 TBSP canola oil
3 yellow onions, sliced thin
1/2 cup dried cherries (reconstituted with hot water and drained)
1/3 cup shelled pistachios (toasted and chopped)
Zest from 1 orange
2 TBSP Kosher salt

Soak basmati rice 3 - 4 times in cool water, swishing around and draining to remove excess starch. Then soak rice for 30 - 45 minutes before draining. Put drained rice in a big pot and add 1 TBSP of canola oil. Put over moderate heat and saute for 3 minutes, making sure all grains are coated. Add 3 cups of boiling water and 1 TBSP Kosher salt. Bring to a rolling boil and then lower the stove temperature to a simmer and place a lid on top, leaving it alone for 10 minutes. Take pot off of the heat for 10 minutes and then fluff rice with a fork.

In a separate pot or Dutch oven, melt butter with 1 TBSP canola oil. Add onions and 1 TBSP Kosher salt. Saute until brown and caramelized, about 45 minutes.

Add rice into caramelized onions and mix with a fork. Add cherries, pistachios, and orange zest. Mix further and gently heat through on stove top before serving.

This Dessert Is Everything

I love going down recipe rabbit holes that introduce me to a new culture and cuisine. When "Salt Fat Acid Heat" author/chef Samin Nosrat shared 10 of her favorite Persian recipes in the New York Times, I took it as a personal challenge to cook Persian. Friends encouraged me -- and two even offered to cook alongside.

The dinner was filled with flavor and a magical alchemy provided by the sheer number of fragrant spices and herbs taking a starring role in the meal.

There was a platter overflowing with bright greenery -- delicate lettuces, peppery baby watercress, feathery fronds of dill, fresh parsley, and slivers of baby cucumber, all with a crumbly slab of soft, rich feta and a bowl of honeyed, minty vinegar syrup called Sekanjabin.

Another plate was slathered with a roasted eggplant and labne spread dotted with toasted nuts and drizzled with a saffron tea.

There was a Kuku, a hot-from-the-over Persian frittata, packed with herbs.

The entree was Nosrat's Persian Chicken with Walnuts and Pomegranate, seared chicken thighs stewed in a beautiful thick mole sauce made of cups and cups of ground, toasted walnuts with hints of sweet pomegranate molasses, saffron, and tumeric. It was accompanied by my attempt at making a Persian rice stalwart -- a crispy cake of saffron-infused basmati rice, called Tahdig.

It was a marvelous feast. But, it was dessert that made the meal transcendent.

There was a Saffron Ice Cream, icy, aromatic, and lush. Scoops of it were topped with pieces of candied brittle.

This wasn't any old brittle, mind you. This was Saffron-Rose Water Brittle with Pistachio and Almonds, sprinkled with bits of dried rose petals and crunchy flakes of Maldon sea salt. Pictured above, this was a eyes-roll-back-into-your-head-type of treat. It required me to buy a candy thermometer and I burned myself while making it -- but no matter. It was worth the fuss. More than worth it. This is candy of the Gods.

Now, I need another excuse to make some.

Maybe I should take a queue from the Wall Street Journal next. They have, after all, run a series of Persian recipes from Sofreh owner/chef chef Nasim Alikhani.

Then again, this gorgeous goodie doesn't require an excuse. Just need to have Persian saffron, rose water, dried rose petals, and plenty of nuts on hand. This time though, I will wear protective gloves. Want my digits in tip-top shape, so I can grab a shard of the heavenly stuff as soon as it is cooled.

Great Balls of Matzo!

Passover may be over, but seder memories live on. One of the best memories I can conjure up for my guests is the enjoyment of a fine bowl of Matzo Ball Soup. What makes for a fine bowl? Three things. Great chicken broth made from scratch, delicious matzo balls, and the soup-to-balls ratio.

The latter one has long been disputed. Sometimes I have seen matzo balls the size of an infant's head served with a half-ladle of broth. That is unacceptable in my home. I believe in small balls, maybe a bite or two each. They need a bit of sturdiness to them. No flimsy, mushy balls served at my table!

In addition, deliciousness of the balls is an important factor. Therefore, I don't let the matzo meal and salt do all the work. I mince shallots and caramelize them to a burnished brown, stirring them into the mixture. I also include a great deal of chopped thyme and dill for an herbaceous hit.

All in all petite, flavor-packed balls are the way to go IMHO. That said, open to debating the topic with those that are so inclined. Let the ball-busting discussion begin!

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!)