Mallmann on Fire
Page 5
Break the eggs into a large bowl and beat lightly with a fork. Season to taste with salt and pepper, then whisk in the chopped parsley and minced garlic.
Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in a well-seasoned 9-inch cast-iron skillet or a 9-inch nonstick skillet over medium heat. Sauté the sliced onion for about 7 minutes, until soft and translucent. Remove with a slotted spoon and fold into the egg mixture. Add the grilled potatoes, mixing them thoroughly into the eggs.
Add another tablespoon or so of olive oil to the skillet and, working quickly, arrange the shrimp, uncooked side down, in a circular pattern. Carefully pour the egg and potato mixture over the shrimp, taking care to disturb the arrangement as little as possible. Lower the heat a bit and cook gently for several minutes, lowering the heat again a bit if necessary, until the eggs are set and golden brown on the bottom; tilt the pan and lift the set eggs occasionally to allow the uncooked egg to flow to the bottom. When the eggs are almost set but still wet on top, cover the skillet with a large plate and, with your hand on the plate, in one quick motion, turn the skillet upside down to invert the tortilla onto the plate. Return the skillet to the heat, coat the bottom with more oil, and slide the tortilla back in to cook the other side for several minutes, until set on the bottom but still moist inside.
Slide the tortilla onto a clean platter and serve immediately, with the salsa on the side.
Asparagus Bundles Wrapped in Bacon with Fried Eggs
Bacon and eggs are a favorite breakfast, but these eggs fried with bundles of bacon-wrapped asparagus are also a superb lunch or supper. Serve with a green salad and country bread, washed down with a glass of rosé champagne. The thought would have horrified my grandmother, who believed, as many Europeans do, that eggs are not to be eaten in the evening. But a light supper like this is quick and easy and often hits just the right note.
This is best made with thin asparagus spears. If you use two griddles, make sure to cook some of the bacon-wrapped asparagus on each one, to flavor the eggs. SERVES 4
1 pound thin asparagus (16 to 20 spears)
4 slices best bacon
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
8 large eggs
Lemon wedges
Crusty bread
Cut off the tough ends of the asparagus and trim them to an even length. Divide into 4 bundles. Wrap a slice of bacon around the center of each bundle and set aside, seam side down.
Heat a chapa or two large cast-iron griddles over medium heat. Brush with the oil. When it shimmers, arrange the bundles seam side down on the hot surface and cook for about 7 minutes. The bacon seams will close and some of the fat will render onto the griddle. If there is too much, mop some of it up with paper towels.
Turn the bundles, moving them to one side to make room for the eggs. Dot the hot surface with the butter, then lower the heat. When the butter melts, carefully break the eggs onto it and cook for about 5 minutes, until the whites have set but the yolks are still soft. The asparagus should be crunchy outside and tender within.
Divide the asparagus and eggs among four plates and serve with lemon wedges and sliced crusty bread.
Crisp Chicken Skin, Lettuce, and Heirloom Tomato Sandwich
In the 1980s, I came to New York to film a television show. One night we went to Chinatown, where I tasted Peking duck for the first time. The chef told me that the key to a great Peking duck is the crispy skin. As I thought about it, I realized that most people everywhere have the same affection for crispy chicken skin. Combining it as I do here with lettuce and tomato in a sandwich offers all the crispy, salty deliciousness of a BLT. So here, from China, by way of Manhattan and my Patagonian chapa, is a “CLT.”
Ideally, the skin should be from a fresh-killed farm chicken, and preferably from the thighs. Cook it slowly over a medium-low fire, mopping up the fat as it renders, or it will get chewy instead of crisp.
SERVES 2
2 Chapa Breads (page 268) or other sandwich rolls, split
Skin from 2 large chicken thighs
Extra virgin olive oil
Coarse sea salt
2 small heirloom tomatoes, cut in half
¼ cup Basil Aioli (recipe follows)
2 crisp lettuce leaves
Heat a chapa or a large cast-iron skillet over medium-low heat. Set the buns cut side down on the hot surface for a minute or so to toast. Transfer to serving plates.
Pat the chicken skin dry with paper towels and cut it into rough 2-inch pieces. Brush the chapa with olive oil. When the oil shimmers, add the chicken skin, fatty side down, season with salt, and cook slowly for several minutes, until the fat renders out and the skin is crisp and golden brown. Turn and repeat on the other side.
While the chicken skin is cooking, brush the cut sides of the tomatoes with olive oil and add them to the chapa. Cook, without moving them, for about 4 minutes, until the bottom is nicely charred.
Spread each cut side of the toasted buns with a tablespoon of aioli. Arrange the lettuce and charred tomatoes on the bottom halves, top with the chicken skin, and close the sandwiches. Serve immediately.
Basil Aioli
Serve with grilled fish or use in other sandwiches. The basic aioli can be made a few hours ahead and refrigerated, but to preserve its bright color, slice the basil and stir it in just before serving.
MAKES ABOUT 1 CUP
2 large egg yolks, at room temperature
1 garlic clove, peeled
Coarse salt
¾ cup extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 cup fresh basil leaves
Place the egg yolks in a bowl and grate the garlic over them with a Microplane. Season with a pinch of salt. Add about ¼ cup of the olive oil to the egg yolks a few drops at a time, whisking constantly until the mixture emulsifies. Then add the remaining olive oil in a slow, steady stream, whisking constantly, until the aioli is a thick and shiny mass. Whisk in the lemon juice. Cover and refrigerate until ready to use.
Just before using, slice the basil into a fine chiffonade and stir into the aioli.
Grilled Skirt Steak Sandwich with Watercress, Onion, Tomato, and Mustard
Cooking in the morning under the Brooklyn Bridge.
Skirt steak is very much a gaucho favorite. Our roughneck Argentinean cowboys often stand around a fire while the meat cooks, and then they will cut off a piece of bread and a slice of meat with their knives to eat while standing up. This particular sandwich, which I first made under the Brooklyn Bridge, is as close as most people will get to a fireside meal on the pampas. Strong English mustard livens up the palate and the sourdough and tomatoes add some acidity that cuts through the fat, although a gaucho would have no time for such fanciness as mustard and vegetables. SERVES 4
4 crusty sourdough sandwich rolls, split
Colman’s English mustard or other strong mustard
1½ pounds skirt steak
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 ripe tomatoes, sliced
1 bunch watercress, trimmed, rinsed, and dried
1 red onion, thinly sliced
Extra virgin olive oil for drizzling
Heat a charcoal grill or a large ridged cast-iron grill pan over high heat. Set the sourdough rolls cut side down on the hot surface for a minute or so to toast. When they are nicely marked, remove and spread both cut sides generously with mustard. Set aside.
Pat the steak dry with paper towels. (If the steak is too long for your grill pan, cut it in half.) Sprinkle one side of the meat with salt, set salted side down on the grill or pan, and cook for about 2 minutes, until nicely marked but still rare. Season with salt and pepper, turn the meat, and grill for 1 to 2 minutes more—it should still be quite rare when you cut into it. Transfer to a cutting board and slice across the grain.
Layer the steak, tomatoes, watercress, and onions in the rolls. Season with salt and pepper, drizzle with olive oil, and serve immediately.
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br /> Tuna Churrasco and Avocado Sandwich
In Argentina, a churrasco is a thin steak cooked quickly. Here I use tuna instead of beef. The avocado adds richness and creaminess and makes it taste like a tuna-avocado roll in a sushi restaurant. I toss the sliced avocado with fresh lemon juice, and the result is a bright accompaniment to the barely cooked tuna.
Many people have strong negative opinions about cilantro—and usually I am one of them. Like many chefs trained in the French tradition, I don’t love it. But I am also open to trying new things, and I discovered it works beautifully here. SERVES 4
1 large ripe avocado
Juice of 1 large lemon
One 1-pound fresh yellowfin tuna steak, sliced ½ inch thick
Extra virgin olive oil
4 Chapa Breads (page 268) or other sandwich rolls, split
20 fresh cilantro leaves
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
Heat a chapa or a large cast-iron griddle over very high heat. Meanwhile, cut the avocado in half and remove the pit. Scoop out the flesh neatly and slice ½ inch thick. Toss with the lemon juice and set aside.
Pat the tuna dry with paper towels. Brush the hot surface of the chapa with olive oil, and when it shimmers, add the tuna. Cook on one side only for about 1 minute, until the bottom begins to brown but the tuna is still raw on top.
Cover the bottom of each bun with some tuna and then add 5 cilantro leaves. Season with salt and pepper, drizzle with olive oil, and top with the sliced avocado. Add the tops of the buns and serve immediately.
Open-Faced Pomegranate Jelly and Lardo Sandwich
When I was a young boy, we lived outside Chicago for a few years in the town of Naperville (my dad was working as a physicist with the Atomic Energy Commission). Like all kids, I loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The combination of the nutty creaminess of peanut butter and the sweetness of jelly is what led me to conceive of this “grown-up” idea. Lardo is supercreamy, and pomegranate jelly is sweet; however, the fresh pomegranate seeds are quite tangy, cutting through both the fat and the sweetness. The burnt crust of the country bread does the same. MAKES 4 OPEN-FACED SANDWICHES
1 pomegranate
8 thin slices lardo
4 pieces Ember-Toasted Bread (page 290), still warm
Pomegranate jelly
Cut the pomegranate in half and shake the seeds out into a bowl.
Arrange 2 lardo slices on each piece of bread; it should begin to melt. Spoon a teaspoonful or two of pomegranate jelly down the center of the lardo on each piece. Sprinkle with some pomegranate seeds, and serve immediately.
TRAVELS WITH FIRE
LA RUTA AZUL, PATAGONIA
La Ruta Azul—the Blue Highway—hugs the windswept Atlantic Coast of Patagonia. It runs through the provinces of Chubut and Santa Cruz, which end their long descent here, one that begins in the glaciers of the Andean highlands and traverses the grassy pampas to this desolate yet beautiful shore.
It has always been far from everywhere. Only the heartiest people have settled here and stayed. Many more moved on to richer, more fertile lands to the west. In olden times, people made a living harvesting seaweed or melting the fat derived from sea lions and seals. It is a harsh land, with many shipwrecks offshore. The people here remind me of those hearty folk along the coast of Ireland, or on the islands off Scotland, somehow wresting a livelihood from cold waters and barren land. The creatures of the sea, however, don’t know that it is such a brutal place. For them it is rich, teeming with life. All kinds of fish, shellfish, and sea mammals inhabit its waters and shorelines. This is the only place on earth where right whales come to mate. Do you know why the American seafarers who hunted them to the brink of extinction called them right whales? Because they were just right for getting the most whale oil. How unfortunate for the whales.
Years ago, if I drove through this land at all, I followed the main road ten miles inland, giving little thought to the magic of the sea. But then one winter, I made a pilgrimage along the coast to visit all the abandoned lighthouses that once stood as sentinels, warning mariners to steer clear of the treacherous, fog-bound coast. We slept outside in sleeping bags even though it was 10 degrees Celsius (low 40s Fahrenheit). When you are young, the romance of such journeys keeps you warm, or at least unmindful of the chill.
I had always wanted to return to this land of desolate beauty, and so one summer (even then not all that warm), I built myself a cook’s cabin by the shore. I went each day to the harbor of Bahía Bustamente and befriended the fishermen there. Every day they returned with fish in many different varieties, and every evening I would build a fire. When it spoke to me, I cooked something new.
BEEF, LAMB, AND PORK
Veal Rib Chops and French Green Beans a la Plancha with Romaine-Watercress Salad
This is not a Patagonian dish—we don’t have white milk-fed veal in Argentina, where all our cattle graze on wild grasses. So it is always tempting for me when I am in a country where veal is prized to prepare some. Veal chops need plenty of space around them to brown well. Make sure to leave at least a good inch all around each chop. If you crowd them together, they will steam instead of developing a beautiful caramelized crust on the outside. Once they are browned, the green beans are added to the chapa to pick up some of the garlicky juices. Prepare the salad before you start cooking, but do not dress it until just before serving.
I sometimes wonder why people don’t use salsify more. Eaten raw, it has refreshing crunch and a hint of pungency. Watercress is bracingly peppery, and romaine, the most-full-bodied lettuce, doesn’t get lost among the other strong flavors and textures. With a red wine vinaigrette, this is a side salad that works well with many grilled meats. I’ll just note here that all the great French chefs of the nineteenth century served watercress alongside meat, so this is a bit of an homage to them. SERVES 4
FOR THE SALAD
1 large garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 large salsify root
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 head romaine
1 bunch watercress, tough stems removed, rinsed, and dried
FOR THE VEAL
6 garlic cloves, smashed and chopped
4 thick veal rib chops, about 12 ounces each, preferably bone-in
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
About 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
12 ounces French green beans (haricots verts), topped and tailed
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
Grated zest of 1 lemon
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
To make the salad, whisk the garlic and vinegar together in a small bowl. Gradually whisk in the olive oil until emulsified. Peel the salsify and cut into rough julienne strips. Immediately add it to the vinaigrette, tossing to coat well to prevent darkening. Season with salt and pepper.
Tear the romaine and watercress into bite-size pieces and place in a wide serving bowl.
To make the chops, heat a chapa or two large cast-iron griddles over medium heat. Scatter the chopped garlic over both sides of the veal chops and rub it into the meat, tucking it into any crevices. Season with salt and pepper.
Brush the hot surface of the chapa generously with oil. When the oil shimmers, add the veal chops (if you are using two griddles, put 2 chops on each) and cook, without moving them, for 6 minutes, or until seared and browned on the bottom. When the chops are almost ready to turn, arrange the green beans around them and dot them with the butter; turn the beans too as they soften and brown. Turn the chops and cook for 4 minutes, or until browned on the second side but still slightly pink inside when cut into. Transfer the chops to a platter, sprinkle with the lemon zest, and let rest for 3 minutes.
Meanwhile, when the beans are cooked, season with salt, pepper, and the nutmeg and turn them around in the juices. Transfer to the platter w
ith the chops. Just before serving, add the salsify vinaigrette to the greens and toss to combine. Adjust the seasoning and serve.
Albondigas with Lentils
During my boyhood in Bariloche, when the snow piled up and the wind whipped down off the high Andes, these meatballs were the delight of the Mallmann boys. You needed something hearty to fuel you for skiing, sledding, and making snowmen. The Spanish word for meatballs is albondigas. It’s such a fun word to say; when we were little, we would drive our mom a bit crazy as we chanted it over and over. No matter what you call them, kids everywhere love meatballs. Getting a good crust on them is important. And make sure the meat is not too lean—70% lean, 30% fat makes juicy meatballs. SERVES 4
FOR THE LENTILS
About 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
3 ounces pancetta, chopped
2 medium onions, chopped
3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 large portobello cap, quartered (if large) and sliced ⅓ inch thick
1 cup dry red wine
1 pound ripe plum tomatoes, chopped
8 ounces du Puy lentils
8 fresh thyme sprigs, tied together with kitchen string
3 cups Rich Vegetable Stock (page 288)
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
FOR THE MEATBALLS
8 ounces ground pork (70% lean)
8 ounces ground beef (70% lean)
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1½ tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 garlic cloves, grated or finely minced
¼ cup packed fresh basil leaves, sliced
¼ cup minced fresh chives
3 tablespoons minced fresh flat-leaf parsley
¾ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 large egg, lightly beaten