Mallmann on Fire

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Mallmann on Fire Page 13

by Francis Mallmann


  Pour an inch or so of water into a large skillet and add the bay leaves. Bring to a boil, add the eggplant shells, cut side down, cover, and cook over medium heat for about 8 minutes, or until tender enough to pierce with a sharp knife. Drain, pat dry with paper towels, and transfer to an oiled shallow baking dish that will hold them in one layer. Set aside.

  Cut the crusts from the bread and tear the bread roughly into small pieces, about ⅓ inch across. Toss with 3 tablespoons of the olive oil in a bowl and season with salt and pepper. Set a cast-iron skillet over medium heat and, working in batches, toast the bread crumbs for about 2 minutes, until golden and crunchy, turning them as necessary and transferring to a bowl as they are done.

  Wipe out the skillet, set it over medium heat, and add 2 tablespoons more oil, the garlic, and the chopped eggplant. Sauté, stirring, for about 5 minutes, until the eggplant is golden and softened. Stir in the chopped tomatoes and cook for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes have released their juice and broken down into a thick, chunky sauce. Remove from the heat.

  Fill the eggplant halves with the eggplant-tomato mixture. Divide the cheese into 4 portions and nestle into the eggplant filling. Cover with the toasted bread crumbs and drizzle with the remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil.

  Bake for about 20 minutes, until the cheese is completely melted and the bread crumbs are crunchy. Serve hot.

  Braised Beans with Red Wine and Tomato

  I devoted myself to beans when I opened a restaurant in the Brazilian beach town of Trancoso, where they are a fundamental part of the local diet. Instead of the traditional ham or bacon, I fortify these beans with a rich brown pork stock and plenty of red wine. Brazilians like to overcook their beans, until at least half of them have fallen apart. So the answer to the question “How long do I cook the beans?” is, “Way long.”

  You can use any type of dried beans, such as borlotti (cranberry), cannellini, or small limas. Or experiment with some of the many intriguing heirloom beans available in specialty stores or online, such as Tongues of Fire, a type of borlotti that originated in Tierra del Fuego. The cooking time will depend on the freshness of the batch, and sometimes it’s fun to mix different types. They cook into an appealing blend, some broken, some not, in a rich elixir that we also drink as a broth. Once braised, they will keep in the fridge for several days and get even better as the flavors deepen. SERVES 12

  1½ pounds dried beans, soaked in water overnight and drained

  ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

  1½ cups chopped onions

  1 cup chopped celery

  8 garlic cloves, chopped

  4 fresh rosemary sprigs

  8 fresh thyme sprigs

  3 bay leaves

  Two 28-ounce cans San Marzano tomatoes, roughly chopped, with their juice

  4 cups Rich Brown Pork Stock (page 289), or as needed

  2 cups medium-bodied red wine, such as Uruguayan Tannat

  Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

  Put the beans in a large pot, cover with water, and bring to a boil.

  Meanwhile, in a large skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat and sauté the onions and celery for about 5 minutes, until softened and translucent. Add the garlic and cook for a minute or two more. Remove from the heat.

  Tie the rosemary, thyme, and bay leaves together with a piece of kitchen string.

  When the beans have started to boil, skim off any foam that has risen to the top, then stir in the sautéed onion, celery, and garlic, the tomatoes, with their juice, the stock, red wine, and herbs. The beans should be covered by at least 2 inches of liquid; add more stock or hot water if needed. Bring to a boil over medium heat, skimming off any foam that rises to the surface. Once foam ceases to appear, reduce the heat to a gentle simmer and let the beans bubble slowly for anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours, depending on the type and freshness of the beans, until they are tender and somewhat broken. Stir the pot occasionally to make sure the beans are not drying out or sticking to the bottom, and add more stock or water if necessary.

  When the beans are done, season with salt and pepper and serve.

  Braised Black Beans

  Whenever I cook beans outdoors, I am comforted by the sound of them bubbling in a clay pot set over the campfire. Beans are hearty and restorative, and much appreciated on a windswept day out of doors. Grilled fish, cold beer, and a plate of these beans made a complete meal one day on Bahía Bustamente, where we camped in sight of a pride of sea lions on the shore. In the distance, the first right whales of the season finished their migration of thousands of miles to their summer playground in Patagonia. A magical scene. SERVES 4

  2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

  1 medium onion, finely chopped

  3 garlic cloves, finely chopped

  5 ounces mildly smoky, slab bacon, roughly chopped

  12 ounces dried black beans, soaked in water overnight and drained

  1 medium carrot, quartered

  2 bay leaves

  6 cups Rich Vegetable Stock (page 288)

  Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

  Heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and sauté for about 3 minutes, until they soften. Add the bacon and sauté, stirring occasionally, until it is nicely browned.

  Add the beans, carrot, bay leaves, and vegetable stock, raise the heat, and bring to a boil, skimming off any foam that rises to the top. Lower the heat, partially cover the pot, and simmer for 45 minutes to 2 hours, depending on the freshness of the beans, adding more stock or hot water as needed, until the beans are tender and just beginning to break apart. The cooking liquid should be reduced and slightly thickened.

  Season carefully with salt and pepper and serve hot.

  Crusty Rice

  Think of this as a “painless paella.” By that I mean it gives you that wonderful crispy crust that is known as soccarat but doesn’t involve having to cook lots of seafood, chicken, sausage, and the other ingredients of a classic paella, just top-quality Calasparra rice flavored with butter instead of olive oil and redolent of wine and rosemary. Trust your nose to tell you when the crust is toasted—don’t allow it to overbrown or burn. SERVES 6

  8 tablespoons (1 stick) salted butter

  1 onion, finely chopped

  6 garlic cloves, finely chopped

  2 cups Bomba or other Calasparra rice

  3½ cups Rich Vegetable Stock (page 288), or as needed

  1 cup dry white wine

  4 large fresh rosemary branches

  Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

  Melt the butter in a 15-inch paella pan or a wide skillet over medium-low heat. Add the onion and sauté for about 5 minutes, until softened and translucent. Add the garlic and sauté for a minute more. Sprinkle the rice evenly over the bottom of the pan and sauté for 5 minutes, turning to coat the grains.

  Meanwhile, pour the stock and white wine into a saucepan and bring just to a boil. Cover and reduce to a gentle simmer.

  Carefully ladle the hot liquid over the rice, arrange the rosemary branches on top, and adjust the heat so that the liquid bubbles gently. Cook for 10 to 15 minutes—do not stir the rice again, but gently shake the pan occasionally to distribute the liquid, and rotate the pan on the burner so the rice cooks evenly. When the rice has absorbed most of the liquid, taste for seasoning and adjust with salt and pepper. Turn down the heat and gently simmer for about 10 minutes more, until all the liquid is absorbed and the rice tastes almost but not quite done; add a little more hot stock or water if necessary. The grains should be separate and each grain should still have a “bite” to it.

  Dunk a clean kitchen towel in hot water, wring it out, and drape it over the rice, gathering the ends of the towel up into the pan. Remove from the heat and let the rice steam for about 10 minutes.

  To form the soccarat, return the pan to medium heat, raise the heat slightly, and cook for several minutes. Pay close attentio
n to the aroma of the toasted rice, so as not to overbrown it. When you lift a bit of rice from the bottom, it should have a golden brown crust. Remove from the heat and serve immediately.

  Creamy Polenta with Fresh Favas and Peas

  The spring season on a plate! I am a lifelong polenta lover. In 1983, I was asked to give a cooking class in Buenos Aires. We sold 150 tickets, but no one knew what I was going to teach. We handed out the recipes, which included polenta, as people filed in. And, lo and behold, they all left! Polenta was considered—by snobs and fools—a dish only for poor Italians. It is my belief that food doesn’t have a class system. There is no such thing as “poor” food—the thing to avoid is poorly made food. Always bear in mind that even after you remove polenta from the heat, it will continue to absorb liquid, so if you want it to stay creamy longer, it should be very moist when you take it from the stove. It’s best served immediately, piping hot. SERVES 6

  5 to 6 cups Rich Vegetable Stock (page 288)

  ½ cup extra virgin olive oil

  9 ounces (about 1½ cups) medium polenta

  1½ cups freshly grated Parmesan, plus 2 ounces, shaved thin on a mandoline

  1 shallot, minced

  1 cup shelled, blanched, and peeled young fava beans

  1 cup shelled baby peas

  ½ cup fresh mint leaves, chopped

  Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

  Combine 5 cups of the vegetable stock and 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large saucepan and bring to a boil. Gradually stir in the polenta and continue stirring as it thickens, breaking up any lumps. Lower the heat to a simmer and cook, stirring every few minutes and adding up to 1 cup more stock as needed, until the polenta is thick and creamy but still quite moist, 15 to 20 minutes. Beat in ¼ cup more olive oil and the grated Parmesan.

  Meanwhile, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the shallot and sauté for several minutes, or until softened. Add the favas, peas, and mint and stir to combine. When the peas and favas are tender, just a few minutes, remove them from the heat.

  When the polenta is done, briefly reheat the peas and favas and stir half into the polenta. Season carefully with salt and pepper and spoon into a warmed wide serving bowl or earthenware dish. Make a well in the center and pour the remaining peas and favas into the well and over the top. Scatter the shaved Parmesan over all and serve immediately.

  Red Cabbage and Carrot Slaw

  Inspired by the use of soy sauce and Napa cabbage in Asian recipes, I thought soy would work well in this brilliantly colored slaw. The lemon juice keeps the color and flavor bright. Don’t grate the cabbage too fine—you want it to crunch in your mouth. Serve with Red-Wine-Braised Spareribs (page 133) for a winter meal. SERVES 8

  FOR THE VINAIGRETTE

  1 tablespoon red wine vinegar

  1 tablespoon soy sauce

  1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

  ¼ cup olive oil

  Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

  1 pound carrots, peeled

  1 pound red cabbage, cut into large wedges and cored

  Whisk together the vinegar, soy sauce, and lemon juice in a small bowl. Whisking constantly, drizzle in the olive oil in a slow, steady stream. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

  Grate the carrots and then the cabbage on the coarse side of an old-fashioned box grater into a bowl. Add the vinaigrette and toss well to combine. Check the seasoning and serve.

  Coal-Roasted Zucchini and Swiss Chard

  Coal-Roasted Zucchini and Swiss Chard.

  People are often afraid to put food directly on the coals. Never fear! Coals are actually super-clean, and the taste you pick up is beautiful. This technique works best when you have a bed of mature coals, nice and red. Before starting to cook the chard, throw one leaf on the coals so you can see how it responds to the fire before you commit. It is important that the zucchini cook all the way through. You want char on the outside and soft and creamy flesh within. Use long tongs and a grill glove. SERVES 4

  3 young slender zucchini, trimmed

  6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling

  3 tablespoons red wine vinegar

  2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves

  3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

  12 to 16 large Swiss chard leaves

  Fleur de sel

  Freshly ground black pepper

  Prepare a bed of mature coals.

  Set the zucchini directly on the coals and cook for several minutes, until charred on the bottom. Using tongs, turn to cook on another side, then continue to turn and cook on all sides until you can pierce through them with a grilling fork. Transfer to a serving platter. Cover loosely to keep warm.

  Meanwhile, whisk the olive oil and vinegar in a bowl. Add the thyme and sliced garlic, then dress the leaves, as you would a salad. Pick up 3 or 4 chard leaves by the stems and set them on the coals for a minute or two, until they are half charred and half green. Cut off and discard the stems and place the chard on the platter with the zucchini. Repeat with the remaining chard in batches, arranging the leaves on the platter.

  To serve, thickly slice the zucchini on the diagonal. Season the vegetables to taste with fleur de sel, pepper, and the remaining garlic-thyme vinaigrette. Serve with additional olive oil on the side for drizzling.

  Gratin of Potatoes with Emmental Wrapped in Bayonne Ham

  This classic combination of favorite French ingredients is prepared in the most Argentine of cooking vessels, the olla de barro, a clay pot. These are made in the far north of Argentina. The trick is to make sure they are made for this purpose; not all clay pots are. Heat them very slowly and gradually, so as not to shock them or they will crack. A cast-iron pot will work if you don’t have an earthenware vessel.

  In France, I set up my traveling grill outside the Palais Royal in Paris and, using a clay pot, prepared my gratin with ham and truffles. You don’t have to use truffles, but once a year, why not splurge on a truly sensual delicacy? As we say, “A gozar la vida,” which I loosely translate as, “Grab life with both hands and enjoy it!” SERVES 6

  4 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature

  8 ounces thinly sliced Bayonne ham (or prosciutto)

  4 large Idaho (baking) potatoes

  Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

  Freshly grated nutmeg

  2 garlic cloves, minced

  2 cups crème fraîche

  3½ ounces Emmental cheese, grated

  2 black truffles, thinly sliced (optional)

  Heat an horno or the oven to 350°F. Heavily butter a 2½- to 3-quart ovenproof casserole, including the underside of the lid, with the softened butter.

  Starting in the center, line the casserole with overlapping slices of ham, allowing the excess to drape over the edges of the casserole. (You will fold these back over the potato filling before baking.)

  Peel the potatoes and slice paper-thin on a mandoline. Do not wipe them or hold them in water—you want to retain the starch. Arrange one-third of the potatoes in an even layer in the bottom of the casserole. Season with salt, pepper, a light grating of nutmeg, and one-third of the minced garlic. Spread ⅔ cup of the crème fraîche over the potatoes and top with one-third of the grated cheese and, if using, one-third of the truffles. Continue making layers with the remaining ingredients in the same order. Fold the ham over the top to enclose the potatoes, and cover with the buttered lid.

  Place in the oven and cook for 1½ hours. (If the casserole is very full, set it on a rimmed baking sheet in the oven in case it bubbles over.) When the gratin is done, the potatoes will be very soft, the cream will have bubbled up, and the ham will have crisped somewhat. Bring to the table and spoon out onto plates.

  Creamy Potatoes with Leeks and Pancetta

  I enjoy cooking in earthenware over a wood fire. Although I cannot give you a scientific reason, I am sure it has its own special way of heat transfer. I can never duplicate the
results of risotto made in earthenware, for example, using metal cookware. I first learned to make a classic potato gratin, the loose inspiration for this dish, from Raymond Thuilier, with whom I worked when I was in my early twenties (he was eighty-nine!). He was an extraordinary man: not only a chef, but also a fine painter and the mayor of a town in Provence. Within three years of opening his restaurant, he had achieved three Michelin stars, the fastest anyone ever climbed that summit. This invention is dedicated to Chef Thuilier, who taught me that if you want to do something in your life, don’t listen to people who tell you it’s too late. SERVES 6

  2 pounds Yukon Gold potatoes, scrubbed

  2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

  2 leeks, white and pale green parts only, minced

  8 ounces smoked pancetta or lean bacon, diced

  Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

  1 cup crème fraîche

  1 cup heavy cream

  1 cup freshly grated Parmesan

  Slice the potatoes about ½ inch thick on a mandoline.

  Heat the olive oil in a heavy flameproof casserole over medium-low heat. Add the minced leeks and pancetta and sauté for about 8 minutes, until the leeks soften and start to turn golden and the pancetta has rendered most of its fat.

  Add the potatoes, stir to combine, season to taste, cover, and continue cooking for about 15 minutes, until the potatoes are tender.

  Mix the crème fraîche and heavy cream together and gently fold into the potatoes. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for several minutes more, until the cream thickens. Fold in the grated Parmesan and serve hot.

  Smashed Potatoes

  These addictive potatoes can be boiled and smashed in advance and then crisped just before serving. Flattening the potatoes results in a larger surface for the crunchy golden crust. SERVES 4

 

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