Dying for a Taste
Page 24
Javier was looking at me intently.
“Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a moron. I know it would be wildly unrealistic for me to take over the running of the restaurant, to try to step into Letta’s shoes. Even working just part time at Solari’s, I wouldn’t have the time, and I certainly don’t have the know-how, in any case. But I do want to be involved here in a real way—and not just with the front of the house, like at Solari’s, but with menu planning, food costing and purchasing. Even cooking sometimes.”
At Javier’s look of mock horror, I laughed. “Okay, so maybe I’ll need some extra help with that last one. But the point is, I’ll never be able do it without your help. And I’m thinking a new title for you would be in order, and a salary to go with it. Maybe executive chef?”
He cracked a smile.
“So what do you say? You willing to team up with me? Be the Batman to my Robin, the Simon to my Garfunkel?”
His smile became a wide, toothy grin. “Sounds good to me, Tonto. So how soon do we change the menu?”
Endive and Leek Gratin (Escarole)
(serves 6)
When I decided to try out this recipe from Escarole, I was shocked by the price of the Belgian endive (as much per pound as a good ribeye steak). So although the endive makes for a delicious gratin, if you want to go more on the cheap, You can substitute sliced pan-fried or blanched cauliflower or some other firm vegetable to your liking.
For the leeks, most folks cut off all of the dark green part of the stalks, using only the white. But at Escarole, they leave on about half of the dark green, which imparts a more robust flavor to the dish. Be sure to half the stalks lengthwise and wash away any dirt that may have accumulated between the layers before you slice it up.
Escarole serves this in individual oval ramekins—two escarole halves per person—but for the home cook, making it all together in one casserole works nicely.
Ingredients
4 tablespoons olive oil
3 medium leeks, tops of dark green removed, halved lengthwise and sliced into ½ inch pieces
6 Belgian endives, cut in half (lengthwise)
1½ cups heavy cream
½ cup chicken stock
pinch nutmeg
½ teaspoon white pepper
½ teaspoon salt
½ pound grated Gruyère (or similar Swiss-style) cheese
1 cup panko (Japanese-style bread crumbs)
1 tablespoon melted butter
Directions
Preheat oven to 375°F.
Grease a 9″ × 13″ baking pan or casserole with one tablespoon of the olive oil.
Pour another tablespoon of the oil into a heated heavy skillet and sauté the leeks over medium heat until just starting to brown. Dump the leeks into the baking dish and spread evenly over the bottom.
Add another tablespoon of the oil to the skillet, and when it is shimmering, place six of the endive halves cut side down in the pan. When they start to brown, turn them over, add two tablespoons of water, and cover the pan loosely. Continue cooking until the endives are tender (two to three minutes). Remove the endives to the baking dish, arranging them cut side up on top of one-half of the leeks. Pour the last tablespoon of oil onto the skillet and repeat this step with the rest of the endive halves, arranging them on top of the other half of the leeks.
In a medium-sized bowl, mix together the cream, chicken stock, grated cheese, nutmeg, pepper, and salt and pour evenly over the leeks and endives.
Mix together the panko and melted butter in the same bowl and spread evenly on top of the casserole.
Bake until bubbling and golden brown, about thirty minutes. (If it doesn’t brown enough to your liking, you can finish it under the broiler—but keep an eye on it as it can burn quickly!)
Let sit at least five minutes before serving.
Mario’s Linguine With Clam Sauce
(serves 4)
The flat shape of linguine (“little tongues” in Italian) provides the perfect vehicle to soak up this scrumptious sauce. Served with a tossed green salad and crunchy Francese bread, the dish makes for a surprisingly easy meal. Mario prefers the old-school method of dumping the cooked clams back into the pot along with the pasta, but for a more elegant presentation, you can plate the linguine first and then arrange the clams around the edge of the bowls.
Any type of clams will work for this dish, but the hard shell varieties—such as littleneck, manila, or cherry stones—have a lot less grit and, if store bought, should already be cleaned and flushed of sand. Discard any clams that have cracked shells or are open and won’t close within a couple minutes after being tapped on the kitchen counter.
Ingredients
3 tablespoons olive oil
6 cloves peeled garlic, thinly sliced (¼ cup)
½ teaspoon red chili pepper flakes (optional)
8 oz. clam juice (1 bottle)
1 cup dry white wine (Mario uses Pinot Grigio)
2 pounds clams
2 tablespoons butter
1 pound dried linguine
½ cup chopped Italian (flat-leaf) parsley
salt and pepper, to taste
Directions
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and start cooking the linguine while you make the sauce.
In another large, heavy pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat until glistening. Add the garlic slices and fry for a minute, stirring often so they don’t burn. Add the chili flakes, if using. When the garlic starts to brown, add the clam juice and wine to the pot and let it simmer until reduced by about a third.
Turn the heat up to high and dump the clams into the pot and cover. When the clams are all open (from four to eight minutes, depending on the type of clams), remove them to a bowl with a slotted spoon and cover the bowl to keep them warm.
Leaving the heat on high, let the sauce boil (uncovered) until reduced by half. Add the butter and let it melt, and then turn off the heat under the pot.
When the linguine is al dente (still slightly firm in the center—cooked eight to ten minutes), drain it and dump it into the sauce pot. Stir well, so all the pasta is coated with sauce. Add three-fourths of the chopped parsley and salt and pepper to taste, and then add back the clams and any liquid that has collected in the bowl and stir it all together.
Serve in large, shallow bowls and garnish with the remaining parsley.
Nonna’s Sunday Gravy
(serves 8)
This hearty, tomato-based meat stew—called “gravy” by many Italian American families—is traditionally made into two courses: the red sauce served over pasta for the primo, and then the meat as the secondo with a vegetable contorno. But feel free to eat it all together as a meaty sauce over the pasta of your choice, if you prefer.
Ingredients
¼ cup olive oil
1½ pounds beef chuck or short ribs (slightly more if bone-in)
1½ pounds pork chops or shoulder (slightly more if bone-in)
1 pound sweet Italian sausages
2 tablespoons chopped garlic (2–3 cloves)
2 cups coarsely chopped yellow onion (2 med. onions)
1 6-oz. can tomato paste
2 28-oz. cans plum tomatoes
½ bottle hearty red wine (about 2 cups)
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano
1 tablespoon chopped fresh basil
1 tablespoon chopped Italian (flat-leaf) parsley
salt and black pepper
cooked penne, rigatoni, or spaghetti
grated Parmesan, Romano, or other hard Italian cheese
Directions
Cut the beef and pork shoulder into three pieces each and season with salt and pepper.
In batches, so as to not crowd the pot, fry the beef, pork, and sausages over a medium-high heat in half the olive oil (two tablespoons) until golden brown on all sides. Nonna Giovanna likes to prepare her Sunday gravy in an enameled Dutch oven, but any large, heavy pot will do. (Note that it’s
best to avoid cast iron, as the acid in the tomatoes can leach out the iron, imparting a metallic taste to the gravy.) Remove the meat to a large plate once browned.
If needed, add the rest of the olive oil to the pot and sauté the onions and garlic over medium heat until the onions are just beginning to brown.
Add the can of tomato paste and stir into the onions and garlic. Continue to cook over medium heat, stirring often, until the paste turns a deep, reddish brown (about five minutes).
Add the two cans of tomatoes, with juice, to the pot. Using a fork and sharp knife, cut the largest tomatoes into quarters and the smaller ones in half. Then add the wine, sugar, and herbs and stir.
Add the meat (along with any liquid on the plate) back to the pot, and stir to cover the meat. If needed, add water so that the liquid in the pot just covers the meat.
Simmer over low heat, partially covered, for three hours, stirring occasionally to keep the meat from sticking to the bottom of the pot.
When done, the meat should be almost falling apart and the sauce fairly thick. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Remove the meat from the pot if you are going to serve it as a separate course. If not, you can cut the meat into smaller pieces and mix it into the sauce, being sure to remove any bones.
Serve the gravy over cooked pasta, topped with grated hard Italian cheese. Garnish with more of the chopped herbs for added color and flavor.
Seared Pork Chops With Apricot Brandy Sauce (Gauguin)
(serves 4)
This is a classic à la minute hot line dish, where a piece of meat is seared and then the pan it was cooked in is deglazed with liquid to dissolve all those luscious caramelized bits left behind. Once you’ve done all your prep work (chopping, coating meat with spices), it only takes about fifteen minutes to fry the chops and make the sauce.
Ingredients
6 oz. dried apricots, thinly sliced (about 1 cup)
½ cup brandy
1 teaspoon dried cumin
1 teaspoon dried ginger
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon salt
4 thick-cut pork chops, excess fat around edges removed
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 large red onion, sliced (about 2 cups)
¼ cup beef or chicken stock
4 tablespoons butter
Directions
Place the sliced apricots in a bowl and pour the brandy over to let them soak. The longer they soak the better—two hours minimum, but first thing in the morning or even overnight would be best.
Mix the cumin, ginger, black pepper, and salt together in a small bowl and then coat the chops on each side with this dry marinade.
Heat a large, heavy skillet over medium-high heat and then add the oil. Once the oil is shimmering, place the pork chops gently in the pan. (Do not crowd the chops; cook them in separate pans or in two batches if necessary.) Fry until golden brown and then turn. Continue cooking until the chops are done to your liking (Gauguin serves them still a little pink in the center). Remove chops to a large plate and cover with foil to keep warm.
Dump the sliced onions into the pork chop skillet and sauté over medium heat in the oil left in the pan, stirring occasionally so they don’t burn. When the onions start to brown, add the apricots (saving the brandy they’ve been soaking in for later) and continue to cook until the apricots start to brown.
Add the brandy and chicken stock to the pan and continue to cook for another two minutes.
Add the butter and stir into the sauce once melted.
Plate up the chops and spoon the onions, apricots, and sauce on top.
Acknowledgments
This book would not exist without the generosity of numerous people who took the time to share their expertise with me, including Cathy Kriege (bookkeeping and running a restaurant); Elena Capella (Sunday gravy and Italian families); my many culinary arts instructors at Cabrillo College; Kristen Leber (funeral homes); Kathy Franke (probate law); Enda Brennan, Greg Coben, and Nancy de la Peña (criminal law); and Rick Martinez, Joe Hernandez, Daniel Forbus, and David Pawlak of the Santa Cruz Police Department.
In addition, I am grateful to all those who have helped me with the craft of writing, including the leadership and members of Sisters in Crime and the Guppies; Ramona DeFelice Long (Necessary Parts class); Kristen Weber (editing); and my terrific beta readers: Toni Goodyear, Julie Graham, Kenneth Karst, Smiley Karst, Cathy Kriege, Sandra Long, Nancy Lundblad, Susan Mann, Robin McDuff, Tina Poles, Shirley Tessler, and Julie Villaire.
And, finally, grazie mille to my agent, Erin Niumata, for believing in me and taking a chance on an unknown writer; to my editors at Crooked Lane Books, Matt Martz, Nike Power, and Sarah Poppe; and to Robin McDuff, for way too many things to list here.