Monday, February 21, 2011
It’s snowing again. Again! Sadly it’s too soon for another cassoulet, so I chose a different tack and decided to prepare some Moroccan food, which never fails to bring sun and warmth to mind.
Vegetables haven’t traditionally been a major part of the southern Berber diet, but in Fez and Meknes, and along the coast, they have a rich history. Salads there are usually served at the start of the meal, and, as Paula Wolfert observed, they tend to more closely resemble Italian antipasti platters both in form and in function than the dressed green salads we serve in the States. Moroccan salads can be savory or sweet and feature meat as well as fruits and vegetables. It is common to see several served at a time, and I especially like when they are left on the table throughout the meal as a refreshing, sometimes spicy counterpoint to a tagine.
I imagine this particular salad might have originated around the famous citrus groves of Fez or Agadir. It’s a favorite of mine – I can’t resist the colors. Plus there’s something comforting about slices of orange arranged on a platter that reminds me of my mother’s dinner parties in the eighties (when they were usually drizzled with raspberry purée for dessert).
Citrus and olives are a classic flavor combination throughout the Mediterranean, and I love them here with the added earthiness and heat of the spices. The whole is balanced in a lightly garlic-flecked dressing that brings out the best in the herbal parsley. You can add a small amount of cinnamon to the dressing, but there’s so often cinnamon in tagine that I like this vinaigrette “clean.” You can also mix up the citrus, maybe blending sour oranges like bergamots or Sevilles with the sweet, or adding fresh or preserved lemons. And when blood oranges are in season – they seem to be everywhere in New York right now – I relish the chance to use them.
Whichever version you prefer, it works nicely as part of a salad course alongside a twangy cucumber salad and maybe some slivered radishes in orange blossom water or spiced fava beans. The spiced oranges pair well with many tagines, including my kdra style Chicken, Carrot & Chickpea Tagine and my Beef Tagine with Olives & Dates. But even enjoyed alone as a simple lunch, along with perhaps some grilled flatbread and a nice piece of sheep’s milk cheese, this dish packs a punch against the gray endlessness of February.
Serves 6 - 8 as part of a larger meal or 2 - 3 as a light lunch with flatbread and cheese
3 lbs blood oranges, navel oranges, or other mixed citrus
1 cup black oil-cured olives, pitted
Juice of 1 lemon
1 small garlic clove, peeled and minced
½ tsp paprika
pinch of cumin
pinch of cayenne pepper (or to taste)
pinch of granulated sugar
Extra virgin olive oil
Small handful of flat leaf parsley (or more if preferred), torn or roughly chopped
Slice the ends off of the oranges and then use a knife to cut off the rest of the skin from top to bottom in sections. Turn the oranges on their sides and gently slice into disks across their equators. Arrange on a platter with the olives.
In a small bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, garlic, paprika, cumin, cayenne, and sugar. Season with salt to taste and then whisk in about twice as much olive oil as there is lemon juice. Check the seasoning with a little more salt if necessary and then drizzle as much over the oranges and olives as you like. Sprinkle over the parsley and serve immediately.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Prosper Montagné, the Carcassonian chef, author, and creator of the "Larousse Gastronomique", used to introduce cassoulet with a story about going to the local shoemaker’s in his native Castelnaudry only to find the place locked and shuttered. For a moment he feared tragedy until he saw the note pinned to the door: "Fermé pour cause de cassoulet.”
Cassoulet is indeed an event, a holiday unto itself, and I’ve long felt it was almost worth having February exist in the calendar year just to provide an opportunity for a proper cassoulet party. In fact cassoulet calls precisely for just what we tend to detest most about February: arctic winds, freezing rain, snowstorms. Ok our wind’s not the mistral, but have any of my fellow New Yorkers felt what’s been blowing in off the Hudson this past week? It’s certainly made me wish I had several feet of Languedocian stone farmhouse wall between me and the elements rather than the measly window panes of a New York City apartment. But a cassoulet? Well it was designed for this weather. It fortifies against the gloom, stokes the proverbial kitchen fires, enables, nay, necessitates a long winter’s nap, and generally laughs in the face of February.
There is a sense of occasion and deep conviviality to the whole thing, and there are certain steps that you follow, both in the cooking and in the eating of it. Begin hungry. I suppose that goes without saying, but you really should be quite hungry, because this is a true feast.
The wisest way to start is with a palate opening aperitif – champagne or kir royals work well – and possibly some very light hors d’oeuvres – radishes with cold little curls of fresh butter and some fleur de sel for example, or even some tapenade and winter vegetables.
Next comes the solitary cassoulet with its gratin crust, herb infused and fragrant, beneath which lie some of the greatest treasures of French farmhouse life: rich duck leg confit, simply seasoned pork sausage, and fresh lamb shoulder, all braised for hours and enrobed in creamy, garlicky, thyme and pancetta-infused haricot beans.
A mâche salad vinaigrette is lovely right afterwards, along with some little cheeses to sample if you think you can manage them. And to follow, I personally think anything with apple is hard to beat. Apple tart, tarte tatin, even simply roasted apples – you get the picture. This weekend a gift of homemade chocolate covered strawberries actually made the perfect end to the meal. Or at least the perfect pause before we brought out the calvados. Whatever you choose to serve before and after your cassoulet, I don’t think it’s possible for any other dish to impart such warmth. And yes, rabble at the back, I said pancetta. More on that later though – I’ve gotten ahead of myself.
Named for the cassole, an earthenware pot glazed on the inside and traditionally used for the dish, cassoulet is said by some to have been invented out of pure necessity during the siege of Castelnaudary in 1355, when the townspeople pooled together their remaining food to create a communal stew. Regardless of provenance, back then a cassoulet would have most likely closely resembled the Arabian fava bean and mutton stews. Haricots didn’t arrive from Spain until the 19th century.
As for the cassoulet we know, the Languedocian towns of Castelnaudry, Carcassone, and Toulouse all claim credit for having created le cassoulet officiel. There are certain parameters that are agreed upon though: a cassoulet must be at least 30% pork, mutton or preserved goose, with the rest comprised of haricot beans and stock, fresh pork rinds, herbs, and flavorings. Remember my summer version, designed specifically to placate a yen for colder, cozier months? At the time I mentioned that, within these restrictions, cassoulet is still a recipe whose ingredients vary spectacularly from town to town, and of course from house to house too. In short it is a dish that inspires rivalry and pride in equal measure.
In fact Chef Montagné, clearly taking as fact that cassoulet comprises a religious experience (and I hope you’ll understand that stance after trying it), defined the three major versions of the dish as a holy Trinity:
1. The “Father,” and by many approximations the oldest of the 3, is the version from Castelnaudry, comprised of pork (loin, ham, leg, sausages, fresh rinds) & often preserved goose.
2. The “Son” is from Carcassone and uses leg of mutton and, during the hunting season, partridge.
3. The “Holy Ghost” is the cassoulet prepared in Toulouse, and this past weekend in rough approximation at a certain Manhattan address not too far from one of the city’s main greenmarkets. The Toulousain recipe incorporates the same ingredients as Castelnaudry’s only in smaller amounts, the difference being made up with fresh lard, saucisse de Toulouse or Toulouse sausage, mutton and duck or goose.
As you might expect, there are a couple of limitations to cooking cassoulet Toulousain in New York rather than Toulouse. Certain items have to be streamlined. In absence of petit salé, a lean salt pork, I use pancetta, which I’ve always felt slightly sacrilegious doing until I saw that Clifford Wright does the same thing. You know what? It works. And it tastes divine. He also sometimes substitutes mild Italian pork sausage for the saucisse de Toulouse, a straightforward, robust, coarsely ground, fairly fatty, pure pork sausage. Again, I’ve never seen the Toulousain saucisse in New York, but Julia Child came up with a few extra seasonings to make up the difference. I’m assuming you don’t have access to the Toulousain version either, but if you do, then you can omit the cognac, allspice, one of the bay leaves, and two of the garlic cloves.
Here then is my New Yorker’s locavore version of cassoulet Toulousain, something that’s been researched and tinkered with for years. The recipe below includes many meats sourced from the greenmarket: duck confit from Hudson Valley Duck Farm, sweet Italian sausage, ham hocks, and spare ribs from Flying Pigs Farm, and lamb shoulder from Catskill Merino Lamb. In case you would like to play around a bit but still stay true to tradition, you can boil (and then discard) a pound of fresh pork skin with the beans (a step considered by many to be of the utmost importance, though I’ve skipped it the past few years to no great loss), or add a little pork lard or swap out some of the lamb for pork shoulder when you braise the meats. Also feel free to substitute goose confit for the duck if you’d rather.
I suppose it might theoretically be possible to prepare this dish in one day, as long as you salt the ham hocks two nights before that is, but I like to stretch it out more leisurely over two or three days and really enjoy layering all the flavors. It makes it feel more like a celebration and less like going into battle. Plus don’t forget that all meat braises develop better flavor over a couple of days. I often soak and boil my beans on day one, brown and braise my meat on day two, and then assemble and cook my cassoulet on day three.
Oh and purists insist on breaking the gratin crust a certain number of times during the cooking process (seven in Castelnaudry and eight in Toulouse), which is something most locals would rarely get hung up on. The breadcrumbs do help all that pork and duck fat to thicken the sauce – just try to crack the crust several times during the cooking process before allowing a final crust to form.
Serves 10 – 12
2lbs ham hocks, I prefer unsmoked
2 lbs dried haricot beans or medium sized navy beans
2 lbs mild, fresh Italian pork sausage
1 lb well-trimmed lamb shoulder, cut into large cubes
6 pork spare ribs, separated
½ lb pancetta, sliced as thinly as possible
2 ½ lbs duck leg confit (about 6 legs)
2 medium onions, peeled and diced
1 bunch of carrots, ends trimmed (roughly half a pound)
14 cloves of garlic, crushed and peeled
1/3 cup cognac or armagnac
1 bottle dry white wine
2 cups or 1 lb canned crushed tomatoes
3 tbsp tomato paste
3 bay leaves
large pinch allspice
large pinch granulated sugar
freshly ground black pepper
10 stems of thyme
1 large bunch flat leaf parsley
good quality veal or chicken stock, preferably homemade
4 cups very coarse fresh breadcrumbs
Two nights before you begin, salt your ham hocks:
Two nights before you want to cook your beans, roll the ham hocks in kosher or other coarse salt and place in a bowl in the fridge.
Soak and boil your beans:
Pour your beans onto a baking sheet or table and rake through to pick out any stones or discolored beans. Place the beans in a colander and rinse thoroughly under cold, running water. Place the beans in a very large, heavy-bottomed casserole and cover with lots of cold water. Place over medium heat and bring to a boil, stirring often and skimming off any foam with a large spoon. Boil for 2 minutes and then drain, rinsing the beans again thoroughly under cold, running water. Give the large casserole a quick rinse too. Pour the beans back into the pot and cover with cold water. Soak off the heat for 1 hour, then drain and rinse the beans and pot again.
(As an aside, I love that Elizabeth David notes in her discussion of cassoulet that the water from the first boil of the beans was traditionally saved by housewives from the Languedoc to remove difficult stains from linens.)
Rinse your ham hocks well and pat dry. Heat a large heavy pot over medium heat and add some olive oil. Brown your ham hocks, turning occasionally. Add your beans and cover generously with hot water. Bring to a boil, reduce to a very gentle simmer, and cook partially covered for 2 hours, skimming off any foam or scum that rises to the surface and topping up with boiling water whenever necessary to keep the beans well covered.
Towards the end of the cooking, check the seasoning of the cooking liquid with salt and pepper. Store the beans in this cooking liquid (which will be reserved for later) until you’re ready to assemble the cassoulet. Remove the ham hocks and remove the meat from the bones. Reserve the meat for later.
Brown and braise the meats:
You may do this at the same time that you boil your beans if you wish. This browning and braising step though should not be divided into different days or else you’ll lose your lovely pan juices and fond, both of which are key to building the flavor of the dish. The trick to successful searing is to start with dry meat and to never overcrowd the pan – it’s best to work in batches, removing browned pieces to a large bowl to catch all the drippings. Also it’s important not to burn the fond that will accumulate on the bottom of the pan, so watch carefully and be ready to lower the heat, add more oil, and take more time to brown your meat.
Heat a large cast iron casserole over medium heat. Add a glug of olive oil. Prick the sausages all over and when the oil is hot, place some of them into the pot. You want the sausages very brown. Flip them once the first side is deeply caramelized and brown the other side. Remove to a bowl.
Brown the lamb shoulder pieces in the same way and then the pork spareribs, removing them to the bowl as they finish. Your pot will likely be quite full of fat now, mostly from the sausages. You should feel free to pour off some or most of it if you wish and replenish with more olive oil. Do it now though because you won’t want to lose the pancetta fat or any duck fat that renders out of the confit.
Once the oil in the pot is hot again, lay pancetta slices out across the pan. You want these to be very crisp with all the fat rendered out. Once they’re cooked on both sides, like well-done bacon, remove them to a paper towel to cool and crisp up.
Next add a few of the duck legs at a time. Brown well on both sides and remove to the bowl.
Add more oil if necessary and then add the whole onions and carrots to the pot, cooking until the onion is well browned on a few sides and being very careful that the fond on the bottom of the pan isn’t burning. Add 12 of the garlic cloves and sizzle for one minute more.
Remove from the heat and immediately add the cognac. Return to medium high heat and allow the cognac to reduce for a minute or two, scraping the bottom of the pan with a spatula to help lift up that beautiful fond you’ve been building. Next add the bottle of white wine, the crushed tomatoes, tomato paste, and bay leaves. Add the allspice and sugar. Season with a little salt and more black pepper. Stir well. Tie some butcher’s twine around the 10 thyme stems and 10 of the parsley stems to create a bouquet garni and throw that into the pot.
Use your hands to crumble the pancetta into very small pieces, almost into a powder, and mix into the cooking liquid. (The texture will much nicer this way than having cubes of softened pancetta fat in your finished cassoulet). Now add the sausages, lamb, spareribs and duck legs back into the pot and try to have as much of the meat covered with the cooking liquid as possible. You can top up with cooking liquid from the beans or stock if necessary.
Bring the cooking liquid to a simmer over medium heat and then stir down to the bottom once to prevent sticking before reducing the heat to very low and covering. Braise the meat for 2 hours or until very tender, stirring down to the bottom occasionally and adding more cooking liquid (or stock if you run out) if necessary. Once the meat is done, remove from the heat. If you aren’t trying to finish in one day, you can let the whole thing cool and then stick it in the fridge overnight at this point, or you can go ahead and remove the meat from the bones and chill it and the cooking liquid separately overnight too.
When you are ready to proceed, and when the meat is cool enough to handle, remove the meat from the cooking liquid and vegetables (which you reserve). Remove the sparerib meat from the bones, discarding the sinew, and the duck meat from the bones, discarding all skin and allowing the meat to fall into very large pieces – it will break up more as it cooks, and I like my meats vaguely identifiable in cassoulet. Slice the sausages into large rounds (it looks nicer if you do this on the bias. I get 3 – 4 slices per sausage). Make sure you transfer out and reserve all of the pieces of lamb too. Discard the bay leaves and the bouquet garni. Discard the onions and use your hands to break up the carrots and put them with the meat. Check to make sure there are no pieces of bone or duck skin in the cooking liquid and reserve.
Assemble and cook the cassoulet:
Preheat the oven to 375 F
You will really need an extremely large cast iron or earthenware pot for this. 8 to 12 quarts is ideal.
Grate or mince the remaining 2 garlic cloves and mix them into the beans. Arrange half the beans on the bottom of the pot. Now arrange your meat on top of that, including the ham hock meat and finishing with the sausage rounds. Now cover the meat with the rest of the beans. Pour over the meat braising liquid and then any remaining beans’ cooking liquid (or stock if you’re out) until the top layer of beans is just covered.
In a large bowl mix your breadcrumbs with a large handful of chopped parsley. Season generously with salt and pepper. Sprinkle the breadcrumb mixture over the top layer of beans and drizzle with olive oil.
Place the cassoulet in the middle of the oven. After 20 minutes reduce the heat to 350 F. Bake for 2 more hours, topping up the cooking liquid if the pot becomes too dry with more of the beans’ cooking liquid or, if you run out of that, good homemade stock. Use the back of a cooking spoon or ladle to gently crack the breadcrumb crust several times during the cooking process and then allow it to form one last final time before serving.
When the cassoulet is finished, let it sit for 20 minutes before serving.
Monday, February 7, 2011
The kale in the greenmarket, when there’s any to be found at all that is, has gone pale at the edges, almost like it’s been dipped a scant millimeter or two into something white. Not the Tuscan kale above, which is magnificent. This lightening was quite distinct, and when I saw it on Friday, I thought there must be some new heirloom variety making the rounds. A quick discussion with the farmers though revealed the truth: that discoloration is from the heat of the greenhouses the kale’s grown in this time of year.
Perhaps you remember the kale I was so excited about back in January? They’d just dug it out from under the snow.
Kale is resistant to frost, and it actually has a higher sugar content, and therefore a finer, sweeter flavor, the colder the climate is in which it’s grown. I knew that day in January at the Rogowski Farm stand that I had the makings of one of my favorite salads, and we’ve been eating it regularly ever since. The nutty warmth and slight sweetness of beurre noisette (literally “hazelnut butter,” but really browned butter) is wonderful here with the dark, mineral leaves, the earthy edge of dry sherry vinegar, and the creamy, cool ricotta salata. It makes for a satisfying, winter lunch whenever you have a craving for savor, twang, and crunch.
I’ll confess though, this morning in the market I was struck with just such a craving, and there was nary a kale leaf in sight, white-tipped or otherwise. That's when I hightailed it to the supermarket for some organic Lacinato or Tuscan kale, and the flavor has been quite satisfactory. But I will try that greenhouse stuff, I will.
The trick to using beurre noisette in salads is that you don’t actually want the full hit of fat that comes with drenching your food in melted butter. Fortunately the answer is simple. After browning the butter, pour off most of the clarified portion and reserve for future use – it freezes well if you want to save it for the next time you make pommes anna or lobster or some such. Then deglaze the fond from the bottom of the pan with the sherry vinegar and use good olive oil to finish. You’ll have all of that rich, nutty flavor without any of the grease.
Toasted hazelnuts make a great addition to this salad, but my daughter’s so allergic that we can’t even have them in the house. That’s why I came up with the idea of adding some pangrattato, which lends a welcome toasted, garlicky note to the mix. But if you want to use the nuts too, they really are delicious.
And one last tip: get the vinaigrette onto the salad before tossing in the pangrattato. You want to coat the leaves thoroughly before the breadcrumbs have a chance to soak up all those savory, sherry vinegar-redolent juices.
Serves 2 - 3 for lunch or 4 – 6 as part of a larger meal
Extra virgin olive oil
1 garlic clove, crushed and peeled
1 ½ cups cups very coarse fresh bread crumbs
freshly ground black pepper
2 large bunches Tuscan (Lacinato) or other kale, large stems removed and leaves torn into bite sized pieces
6 oz ricotta salata cheese
a couple of small handfuls of toasted hazelnuts (optional, peeled if desired)
6 tbsp unsalted butter, cubed so it melts and browns evenly
3 tbsp dry sherry vinegar
4 – 5 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
freshly squeezed lemon juice to taste
Heat a large sauté pan over low heat. Add a couple of glugs of olive oil to the pan and then the crushed garlic clove. Allow the garlic to sizzle for 30 seconds or so, and then add the breadcrumbs and season well with kosher salt and black pepper. Sauté, stirring constantly, until the breadcrumbs are lightly golden and fragrant – you may need to add more olive oil if they absorb it all along the way. Remove from the heat before they're completely done - the carry over will continue to brown them for a while once they're off the heat, and they crisp up as they cool. Remove the garlic clove and reserve the bread crumbs.
Put your kale leaves in a large serving bowl. Shave your ricotta salata cheese with a “Y” or speed peeler and set aside separately. Give your hazelnuts a rough chop if using and set aside.
When you’re ready to serve the salad, place the butter in a small saucepan over medium low heat. The butter will melt, and then foam, and then the foam will subside. When light brown specks begin to form in the butter, test it for a nutty aroma. Remove from the heat as soon as this develops and place the pan on a cold surface to help stop the cooking. The difference between browned butter and burnt is just a few moments, so don’t walk away, and resist any urge to put your laptop on the kitchen counter and check who’s commented on that hilarious grade school photo you just posted to Facebook.
Tip the pan gently, wait a few moments for the sediment to settle, and use a spoon to lift away as much of the clarified butter as you can without losing the grainy, browned portion. A little clarified butter will remain, and that's a good thing. Put the pan back over low heat and add the sherry vinegar. Allow to bubble over the heat for a scant 20 seconds, scraping the toasted milk solids from the bottom of the pan with a spatula. Remove from the heat and whisk in the olive oil. Season generously with salt and pepper and check the flavor with a little spritz of lemon if desired.
Pour the warm dressing over the kale leaves and toss well. Add the ricotta salata, hazelnuts, and half the bread crumbs, and toss again. Check the seasoning with more salt and pepper if necessary, garnish with the remaining breadcrumbs, and serve immediately.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Thank you so much for all your lovely messages welcoming me back to the blogosphere. I've been overwhelmed by your kindness. As some of you know, I've been peeking in from time to time, but now I'm relishing a real catch up on all that I've missed over the past months. Actually years. That was quite a baby break! But having a baby is a big deal, there's just no way around it. And I can't tell you how cheering it's been to hear from you all and to read up on your beautiful sites as I ease back in.
It's been cold here. Lots of snow too. But I'm not complaining. I love the snow. The farmers at the market though, they're looking pretty frozen.
Though those girls from Hudson Valley Duck Farm put a good face on it. They have some nice looking duck sausage with cherries and some confit I've been eyeing for a proper cassoulet. Only 7 weeks until spring after all, so I'd better make the most of what's left of winter.
The market's quiet now, especially on Mondays, which are always the slowest day.
Of course there are some vegetables from the farmers who have hydro tents, but there haven't been any open field harvests for quite some time. I do love the great tangles of mushrooms from John D. Madura Farms.
What's left from storage - think beets, parsley root, celeriac, and carrots - is starting to look almost as though it came from some alien world.
There’s still good flavor there though.
Plus, if you look carefully, there's some color to be found. Intense, wintery jewel tones like jarred homemade tomato soup, gleaming red onions and cipollini, and of course all those glorious preserves to perk up pan sauces, cheese boards, or even just your morning toast.
After this month there will be no beets until June, pears will practically disappear until September, and we won't be seeing winter squash or turnips until November, so take advantage while you can.
As always, crop information is available in the sidebar harvest calendar over there on the right all month. The information comes from a guide published by the CENYC, which runs the Greenmarket & New Farmer Development Project. Of course, the best way to familiarize yourself with what's in season where you live is to visit farmer's markets in your area at least every couple of weeks. I truly learn the most of all from the farmers themselves. So ask questions at the market – it’s the best way to find out which crops are not only available, but at their peak. To locate markets near you in the US, check the Zip or City Quick Search at Local Harvest.
Happy winter, and happy February!