Agrodolce Onions

View fullsize

Paté begs for a tart accompaniment, something pickled, something sour, something crisp. You must offset the rich fattiness of the livers, gizzards, or whatever other organ meats you’ve chosen to press into delicious service atop a piece of toast. A snap of pickled cucumber, a gentle purple curl of cured red onion, a swipe of grainy mustard, these all carry weighty significance in our minds as we polish off a ramekin of potentially artery clogging delights. The vegetables call out, “Another bite!” You obey, after all, it can’t be that unhealthy to finish the pot if you’re eating veggies. You can’t reasonably leave one slice of pickle on the charcuterie board, and if you’re going to nibble the pickle, you might as well use it to pick up that bit of paté waiting at the bottom of the ramekin. And while you’re at it, why not throw the fat covered vegetable on the last remaining crostini? A perfect final bite, crisp, tart, sweet, fatty, and peppery.

I’ve been reading David Lebovitz’s The Sweet Life in Paris and reveling in his storytelling. His view on Parisian life through the eyes of a hungry transplant is both funny and astute. The narrative is spotted with recipes here and there, one of my favorites is Lebovitz’s adaptation/appropriation of Judy Witts Francini’s Agrodolce Onions. A jar of these onions provided the perfect accompaniment to my recent tryst with 3 pounds of chicken livers.

Find the book, laugh in public, cook tonight.

Dinnergeddon 7

Dinnergeddon, I shall miss you. This was the seventh incarnation and by far our largest gathering. As usual the menu was Paleo friendly: tamarind-citrus chicken, poblano plantains and cilantro-jicama slaw. With the new TechStars teams in attendance we reached full capacity and spilled out onto the patio. Thankfully Boulder held back her Springtime tears and rained down only perfect sunshine and clear skies.

This will be my last dinnergeddon for a while; I’m moving back to New York in a few days. I want to send hearty thanks to Andrew Hyde for letting me cook and bringing me into his fold. Dinnergeddon will always be one of my favorite memories of this past year in Boulder. I am lucky to have met so many people through these parties, and I’ll miss the laughs.

Cheers to all!

Dinnergeddon, Western Style

First thing Andrew Hyde said to me last night?

“Hold on, I’m shaving a dirty ‘stache.”
And thus began Dinnergeddon 4.

This time the dinner party had a theme, inspired by the anonymous delivery of a life sized John Wayne cutout to Casa Hyde. Andrew requested a Western motif, which was music to my ears. This boy loves a good theme party.

So. Let’s get down to it.

The menu:
Braised Chipotle Chili
Vegetarian Chipotle Bean Chili
Salt and Pepper Cornbread
Raspberry Peach Cobbler

As usual, everything was gluten free and dairy free. Because this is how rockstars eat.

This may have been my favorite Dinnergeddon menu to date. Smokey, meaty, sweet and salty-this food filled all my cravings. By Andrew’s calculations we served 30-35 people, a new record for Dinnergeddon!

Thanks to all who came, conquered and dressed in their western best.

I cannot wait for the next one.

Enjoy some pics of the food being cooked. And some pictures of some special guests. Extra special.

Cheers,
Dan

Matzoh Diaries #2

You’ve read the prequel,
now onto the main event.

Matzoh Making!

After I cleared the flour hurdles, I had one more rule to consider:
Matzoh must be made in under 18 minutes. According to the Talmud, the leavening process begins after water and flour have been in contact for 18 minutes, and leavened bread is exactly what we’re trying to avoid on Passover.

I knew that my mix would have to include some oat flour, much to my chagrin. In order to fulfill the commandment in the Torah, matzoh must be made from one of these five grains: wheat, spelt, rye, barley or oat. Knowing oat flour’s penchant for dusty textures and its preference for the crumbly over the crisp, I decided to use it for only half of my flour blend. I had hoped this would mitigate its more unfortunate character flaws.

I was wrong. The first batch was 50% oat flour and 50% quinoa flour-it had an irritatingly sour taste. I obviously poured scorn onto the oat flour, blaming it for the poor taste and thoroughly un-crisp texture, but I was mistaken. Well, partially mistaken. There were, in fact, two villains in this culinary caper. As a firm believer in tasting all ingredients, I pinched some quinoa flour into my mouth and discovered the source of the unfortunate bitterness.

I apologized to the oat flour for my quick condemnation and scurried the quinoa flour away for another day (perhaps it would lend a good flavor to my sourdough…).

After round one, the flour blends became distinctly more complex. I found that there were several features of matzoh I was trying to mimic, and each time I conquered one, I lost another to the abyss. I wanted my matzoh to be easily rolled out, crisp, and relatively neutral in taste. I also knew that what I’d be producing would have much more in common with shmura matzo than with its angular, commercially produced brother we see on most grocery store shelves. It would, of course, not be white.

The amount of oat flour in my blend began to drop as I realized its only redeeming quality was a name drop in the bible. Buckwheat stepped in when I wanted to use sorghum, providing some backbone and crunch to the cracker. Then, as I rounded the bend of blend #5, things got sticky. Literally. The dough was incredibly difficult to roll out, partially due to excess water, but mostly the fault of tapioca flour. I was getting nostalgic (a potential kitchen chemistry killer) and tried to lighten the color of the matzoh by adding in more tapioca flour.

And it was a mistake.

I liked the taste of the un-rollable cracker #5, but knew it was terribly impractical to release a recipe that was more mess than success. On a whim I began using potato flour, a staple in the “kosher for Passover” kitchen. What a joy it was to roll batch #6! It was springy and didn’t stick to the table or the rolling pin. I could roll it so very thinly without much trouble and then slide it into the oven without it splitting and tearing. A true joy.

And then it came out of the oven. Ugh.

I had certainly solved the rolling issue, but in the course of tackling that beast, I lost control of the flavor wagon. This new batch tasted distinctly of potato flour, not terribly unpleasant in and of itself, but far to un-neutral. It would simply stand out too much, everyone invited to dinner would wonder about its ingredients. To get the flavor under control without losing the supreme rollability of batch #6 I began incrementally cutting back the potato flour.

And then another thought struck me (bluntly as they usually do)-what about using an additional potato product to improve the texture? My love affair with tapioca dashed to pieces, I felt no hesitation adding another starch into the blend (tapioca is a jealous lover, very absorbent in baking). I tossed some potato starch into my mix and rolled out batch #8. When it came out of the oven I knew I was on the right track. One more batch to finalize the proportions and I was finished!

Now, as you look through the recipe you will notice there are five different flours in this final blend. Do not distress! If you don’t already have them on hand, these are all ingredients you will use for other gluten free baking adventures. And trust me-I would not have needlessly made a complicated blend. If I could make matzoh that was easy to roll out, crisp and distinctly flavor neutral with only two flours I would have. But I am chasing perfection (more dangerous than Chasing Amy), and that has led me to this point.

As for the baking, do it on a pizza stone and you are guaranteed the scorched flavor of traditionalshmura matzoh. Spending only 4-5 minutes in the oven, the baking is the easiest part of this journey.

Stick around for the next installation of The Matzoh Diaries: Matzoh Balls!

No joke. 
I really make them.
And so will you.

Dinnergeddon 3

Raindrops on Roses and Mittons on Kittens,
Sparkles and Ice Skates and Pants I can fit in,
Carnivores, Dinosaurs, show-tunes to sing,
These are a few of my favourite things

and-
DINNERGEDDON.

Last night was another wonderful rendition of Senor Hyde’s magical mystery evening. In preparation for the party I asked Andrew if he had any requests for food. His response?

“Would love to do something with bacon.
Yep. Went there.”

Of course, in addition to this request, the dinner would have to stick to the Paleo Diet for our CrossFit members. Here are the rules:
-The first rule of CrossFit is: You do not talk about CrossFit. Except when other CrossFitters are around. Then talk about it a lot. Seriously.
-Meat, Veggies and Fruit are in.
-Sweeteners, Dairy and any foods that cannot be consumed raw are out.

The real goal for the evening? Make a meal for all the guests (of the paleo persuasion and otherwise) that wouldn’t feel like “special-diet food.” No one likes that. Especially not Kirstie Alley, to whom I dedicate all meals.

In my mind.
(side note, I know we talked about getting Johnny Weir as our guest of honor next time, can we maybe find a seat for Madame Alley as well?)

So, the menu:
Chicken Legs braised in White Wine, Pancetta and Leeks
Mashed Delicata Squash with Sage Oil
Parsley and Garlic Roasted Mushrooms

The braising of the legs left me with mucho extra chicken skin. I normally take it off the legs if I’ll be braising, otherwise it turns into a rubber flap in the stew. Gross. Do not, however, mistake me for the type of person to remove skin from chicken and other meaty things for the sake of calories. I would not discard this extra skin, but rather, give it the royal treatment it deserves.

Warning-this gets slightly Hannibal Lecterish:
I stripped the legs of their skin, sliced each piece so it could lay flat and then stretched all the skin over a rack. I put the rack inside a roasting tray, sprinkled everything with salt and pepper and then placed another rack on top-chicken skins have a mind of their own and I wanted neither curls nor shrivels, I wanted thin, delicate, flat crisps. Throw that in the oven at 500 degrees for 10 minutes (or until golden) and you’ll never regret it.
The skins would be the garnish, a salty/crispy bite atop each bowl.

The meal was lovely, the company-divine and the evening a success. Thanks to all who came!

DinnergeddoNYC

Testing recipes leaves me with an abundance of food. I eat a lot of it. Really. But sometimes, there’s one too many cakes in the freezer, and/or I have to make two batches of dinner back to back to unwind a kink in the works My fridge can only take so much. I could buy another refrigerator but they really have shown very little capacity to digest the food I feed them. They’re horrible pets. My food just sits there, deep in a cold belly taking a slow nap to decomposition.

And so, instead of investing in an icebox companion for my current GE monolith, I invite friends. They have shown propensity not only in eating my food but also in regurgitating compliments to the chef, something, I assure you, that soothes the belly better than the finest digestif.

I’ve been back in New York for almost two months now and the dinner party craving has taken strong hold. I owe much to Andrew Hyde but chiefly among my debts lays a passion for opening my door to friends and sharing whatever food I have. We had a wonderful habit in Boulder called Dinnergeddon. The premise? Food for an army, wine supplied by the soldiers, laughs, hugs, chatter, challenges and smiles the explosions of our war. The measure of the night taken not in warrants and arrests but in the negative space withing out pots and pans, the line of empty bottles standing guard on Andrew’s sill. 

I couldn’t imagine doing this without him.

And yet, it was time.
This is DinnergeddoNYC

The kitchen is challenging, the humidity oppressive and the gathering smaller. But-the laughs are still here, the chatter infectious and the hugs at the end of the night just as strong. It was my first dinner party in NYC.

Everything tastes better with company.

Thanksgiving 2009 Part 2

View fullsize

The table was full.

With Family, Friends and Food.
(the most important “F’s” in the world)

OK-You’ve no doubt read all about the dangers of baking in an unfamiliar oven from my last post. If you haven’t, click here.
The desserts emerged beautifully, despite the early trouble with a flaming oven, and knowing that the oven was going to be difficult, I approached my next task with wisdom and patience.

Well, I tried.

Once dessert was prepped, the tarts were set aside to cool so I could wrap them and slide their lovely buns in the freezer to hang out for a few days. This meant I could get to work on my Holiday Spiced Nuts. If you haven’t checked out the Renegade Spiced Nuts yet, you should, they are delicious.  But I wanted to make something different for the holiday so I started to brainstorm.

The storm was barely a drizzle until I was shopping with my sister (at the Park Slope Food Co-op) and happened to find whole candied oranges and lemons from Spain.  I know I should have shunned something flown in across the ocean in favor of a locally produced delicacy BUT I AM LIKE A RACCOON AND INEFFABLY DRAWN TO SHINY PRETTY THINGS.

Wow.
Really though, as soon as I saw the candied citrus, my brain drizzle upgraded to a full blown brain tropical storm and I knew how I’d update my Spiced Nuts for Thanksgiving.  To balance the sweetness of the oranges I punched up my usual spice mixture with extra paprika, loads of cumin, fresh shallots and sesame seeds.  And then, just to beat a dead horse and proclaim yet again that it was Thanksgiving, I added dried cranberries and pepitas to the mix.

Alright, table snack done, time to move onto my experimental relish.  This is the dish I know my sister was least interested in seeing on the final table, and the dish I was most unabashedly looking forward to trying.

I vaguely like cranberry sauce.  I refuse to eat it from a can, but as long as it’s homemade, I generally like it.
I also generally want to alter it in some way that is blasphemous to traditionalists like my sister.  Which is why I promised her that the cranberry relish I would be making was not a replacement to her sauce, but rather, an addition to the condiment table for then night.
I toyed with various spiced cranberry sauces in my head, and then realized that what I really wanted was something cold. Yes, I did not want warm jam-like sauce on my turkey, I wanted something crisp, cold and biting.

I wanted a pickle.

I pickled red onions and cranberries in cider vinegar and spiced it with cumin, cinnamon, clove and celery seed.

And I love it.  The relish is certainly not for the feint of heart.  But it is the most beautiful color and cuts through Turkey like a chainsaw in butter.

After that I moved to my sister’s place (everything above was prepared at my parent’s apartment).  I loaded up two mega shopping bags (the kind you really only find in New York) and trekked my gear over to Terri’s place in Park Slope. At her place I really only had one task-make stuffing.

Yes, this year would mark a first for our family, we’d have our stuffing and eat it too.  I had super bizarro plans for my stuffing, which I gladly put aside to make a traditional stuffing my sister would love. In fact, that was the main goal. I like stuffing and was looking forward to eating it, but it would mean nothing if my sister did not enjoy it.

I will preface the rest of the story with the fact that she did indeed enjoy the stuffing.

I had made two loaves of bread back in Colorado which I froze and flew with me to New York.  Yes, I flew with two loaves of bread.  I wasn’t going to make this with boring GF bread from the market. I wanted to use my lovely egg bread.  Recipe coming.  Duh.

The stuffing was uber traditional, celery, onion, mushroom, bread and a ton of carmelized onions, which I must say, were my favorite part.

Ah, I almost forgot-

There were potatoes.
My sister made whipped sweet potatoes with maple and I worked on the white potato for the evening.
Now, I’m sure you will agree with me that there is no better white potato than the Yukon Gold.  I decided to smash them with an herb infused oil and gobs of roasted garlic. The result was a bowl full of pale green potatoes spiked with caramelly garlic.  I loved it.
(side note, the potatoes were amazing fried the next morning underneath some eggs over easy)

From here I turned the stage over to my sister, who prepares a most beautiful bird, if I do say so myself.  She seasoned it with garlic and sage, stuffed with an orange, roasted and basted over carrots and parsnips.  My sister’s turkey was everything I look forward to on Thanksgiving.

We rounded out the meal with some roasted brussels sprouts and some sauteed green beans with lemon and pinenuts, set everything on the table and prepared to give thanks.

I hope your Thanksgiving left you full to the brim with Family, Friends and Food, thanks for reading!

Thanksgiving 2009 Part 1

View fullsize

Thanksgiving.

The biggest American gustatory holiday.

Right?

So what happens when we take Renegade Kitchen out of Colorado and drop it in New York?

This is what happens.

Now in addition to making everything free of gluten, dairy and processed sugar, this meal had to be prepped between two different kitchens. Yeah. And we’re not talking large, modern, crisp kitchens.

These are New York kitchens.

Small, cramped, old appliances, older smells.

But that’s what makes this a Renegade Thanksgiving, right?

The prep. began in Manhattan, where my parents have a place. I tried to get as much done there as possible, because the final destination (my sister’s apt.) is even smaller in the kitchen. Working in a different kitchen was like wearing someone else’s dress to prom. Everything turned out fine, but “getting dressed” was a trip.

With the prep. list split between two kitchens (one in Brooklyn, one in Manhattan), my sister and I had the Herculean task of synchronizing shopping lists.

Which mostly worked.

And also made for days of two and three trips to Fairway.

[img:DSC_0098.jpg,width=|400|,height=|400|,alt=|DSC_0098.jpg|]

Plan of action?

Anything that can be made ahead of time MUST be made ahead of time.

I started with dessert (it should always come first). Our menu planning had determined we’d definitely be needing multiples of everything. 13 people were coming to this feast. With that in mind I knew one tart would never be enough (is it ever?). The Caramelized Apple Tart would be lovely and seasonal and someone was bringing a pumpkin pie, which really just left a gaping hole in the dessert train that could only be plugged with chocolate.

Thinking it would be easiest to double the tart crust recipe and figure out another fruit filling, I set to work.

And this is what happens when you work in a tiny kitchen with ovens made in 1965.

Everything started out perfectly.

And then the crusts went in the oven.

It seems that the oven in my parent’s apartment is fueled by neither electricity nor gas, but rather, the raging fires of Hades. The tart shells burned from raw to ash in about 7 minutes (they normally cook for 15-20).

Obviously there was no way I could serve tart crusts forged in the Inferno, so I started over, scrapping the ash and moving forward with a wary eye on my new friend, the ancient, uncalibrated oven. Next up? Duh. Filling. The apple tart was set, frangipane, caramelized apples, beautiful.

But what to do with the other tart shell?

Obviously it needed chocolate, but what else?

I pretended I’d be seasonal for a hot second and then, after debates with my mother, realized that I wanted little more than chocolate and bananas (dressed up of course, this is a holiday). So, I took my regular frangipane recipe and replaced the almonds with hazelnuts, and added dark chocolate to the mix, blending together a heavenly spread to fill the other tart shell.

I topped the chocolate hazelnut tart with sauteed bananas. It was spectacular. You’ll get the recipe soon enough.

Want to see more? Check back for the next installation of our Thanksgiving Special. I’m hungry now. So I’m turning off the computer and turning on the stove.

I’ll try not to burn anything.