Chicken Piccata for Family

For all of my adult life, friends have been my extended family. We meet for drinks and share birthdays and the occasional non-essential holidays. We share Sunday dinners and weeknight meals too. I call when I've made more soup than I can possibly eat. They call when their garden is overflowing.

It works.

But there's still nothing like family. And a loud and long Sunday family dinner? A small dose of perfection.

There was snow and cold and the occasional holiday light still twinkling in January. There was cheap, good French red wine drunk before five. Gooey warm artichoke dip. A petite caprese salad: small slices of tomato topped with a sliver of cheese and a small strip of basil. Big kids and little kids laughing together.

We set the big oval table with cloth napkins and colorful plates and squeezed in together. Ate crisp ceasar, and chicken piccata dripping with bright lemon sauce. Feeling gluttonous, I mopped the sauce with bread again and again. There was more wine poured and a tower of cupcakes for dessert.

It was one of those meals, and days, that seemed heartbreakingly short. This is how I will remember it:

Chicken Piccata
2 split (one whole) boneless, skinless chicken breasts
Salt and pepper
1/2 cup flour
1 large egg
1/2 tablespoon water
3/4 cup seasoned dry bread crumbs
good olive oil
3 tablespoons unsalted butter at room temperature, divided
1/3 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (from 2 lemons), lemon halves reserved
1/2 cup dry white wine
sliced lemon, and chopped fresh parsley leaves, for serving

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Line a sheet pan with parchment paper.
Place each chicken breast between 2 sheets of parchment paper or plastic wrap and pound out to 1/4-inch thick. Sprinkle both sides with salt and pepper.
Mix the flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon of pepper in a shallow plate. In a second plate, beat the egg and 1/2 tablespoon of water together. Place the bread crumbs on a third plate. Dip each chicken breast first in the flour, shake off the excess, and then dip in the egg and bread crumb mixtures.
Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large saute pan over medium to medium-low heat. Add the chicken breasts and cook for 2 minutes on each side, until browned. Place them on the sheet pan and allow them to bake for 5 to 10 minutes while you make the sauce.
For the sauce, wipe out the saute pan with a dry paper towel. Over medium heat, melt 1 tablespoon of the butter and then add the lemon juice, wine, the reserved lemon halves, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Boil over high heat until reduced in half, about 2 minutes. Off the heat, add the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter and swirl to combine. Discard the lemon halves and serve 1 chicken breast on each plate. Spoon on the sauce and serve with a slice of lemon and a sprinkling of fresh parsley.
Serves two, easily doubled (or more!)
Thank you, Ina

Farro with Broccoli, Walnuts & Golden Raisins

I have been on a mad reading streak lately. Maybe it is because of the grey and rain and cold. Or perhaps it is the planes and the endless airport delays. Whatever the reason, I read like I am hungry, never getting enough. I finish a book, put it down, and pick up another. Each completed read brings a bizarre sense of accomplishment to this first quiet month of the new year.

Non- fiction is my favorite, and books about food and with recipes are particularly loved. There's just something about knowing what others eat to stay alive that makes life seem a little easier.

This recipe is a riff on one in I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti bu Guilia Mclucci. She made it with penne; I went for the slightly more virtuous farro. The nuttiness of the grain played well with the salty cheese and browned walnuts. I purposefully under cooked the broccoli so there was a healthy snap to pair with the sweet burst of the raisins, and the crackle of red pepper flakes and garlic meeting on the tongue.

It made for several nourishing meals, meals eaten perhaps too quickly. A fork in my right hand and my left fingers firmly pressing open the spine of a book; pages turning madly.

1 pound broccoli
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 clove garlic, chopped
pinch of hot red pepper flakes
1/2 cup raisins
salt
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup farro
fresh parmesan

Wash broccoli and cut into florets. In a skillet large enough to old both cooked farro and broccoli, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add garlic and red pepper
When garlic is golden add broccoli, raisins, and salt. Saute for 15 to 20 minutes, adding some water if mix gets too dry. Meanwhile, toast walnuts in a small skillet for 5 to 6 minutes over medium heat.
Cook farro according to directions. Add cooked farrow to skillet with broccoli then add a splash of olive oil and walnuts.
To with large shreds of parmesan cheese.

Chi-Town

Last night, while out with friends, I was asked about my weekend in Chicago. "Name your low, your high, and your high high," someone said.

My low was by far the combined eight hours I spent in SFO and O'Hare.
My high was seeing family and friends in an almost-new city -- I hadn't been to Chicago in almost ten years!
My high high? The hotel.

I am not the type of girl who cares very much about lodging. When I travel, I'm there to see what goes on outside the hotel front doors, so the interior doesn't matter much to me. I've stayed in many clean but spare quarters and done just fine.

But there is something to be said for modern, elegant, and completely over-the-top accommodations. And The Elysian was divine. We arrived in our room to find beds draped in white linens, a fireplace, and letter pressed memo cards for taking notes -- least you forget something.

The concierge -- how I loved the concierge-- had delivered a welcoming spread fit for a foodie queen: bubbly, a charcuterie plate, and five perfect macarrons. Pop! went the bubbles and the weekend began.

We ate that night at Balsan, the hotel bistro. It felt oh-so big city, even though our meals (salads, tarte flambe, and a burger) leaned more towards down home comfort food.

The next day we lounged in our room and ate hotel delivered breakfast before enjoying a noontime snack at the Signature Lounge on the 95th floor of the John Hancock tower. The view wasn't clear, but if you were brave enough to creep to the edge, you could see Lake Michigan, a crowd of buildings, and tiny yellow taxis darting back and forth.

That night I dinner hopped: I went with family to Gemini Bistro. The wine list was super and I was thrilled to find a bottle of 2007 Brooks Willamette Valley Pinot Noir for the table. I tried not to look at the menu because I was saving myself for my second meal, but the food that arrived looked great and the few duck fat fries I had were crispy, fatty, salty, and delicious. A perfect appetizer.

Next, I hopped in a cab and went to Nightwood. This little restaurant was bustling; it reminded me of bohemian Portland and the spots I used to haunt when I lived there. We had a lovely series of small plates paired with a Rhone red. First there was broccoli rabe with golden raisins, pine nuts and anchovies; next came beets and citrus with burrata, and raviolis stuffed with shredded pork. For dessert there was a crispy buttery sweet-tart rhubarb turnover with a cloud of whipped cream and a few floating strawberries.

Sunday brought simple breakfast, family dinner, and a nightcap at Bernard's Bar in the hotel. Would you hate me if I told you I ordered the 1989 armagnac and when they were out, they gave me a glass of the 1959? It was nutty and caramel laced and fragrant -- a completely heady way to end my last night.

I'm realizing I should have taken photos but sometimes the moments are too good to distract with cameras. I just wanted to dig in.

When the oven is broken, how do you cook?

This little sign has been posted on the oven for almost two weeks now; the oven has been broken since before Christmas! A new one is coming soon, but after a wine soaked, fat filled weekend I am tired of eating, longing for roasted veggies, and seem to have completely lost the urge to cook.

So, what would you make if you didn't have an oven? The stove top is a-ok, and I've got a microwave and a toaster oven too. Seems the only thing I am missing is inspiration.

Send help soon, please.

Agrodolce: Sweet & Sour Chicken

I am headed to Chicago tomorrow to visit aunts, uncles, and cousins -- oh my! And there's a dinner with a dear friend in there too. We'll dress up and taxi to a low lit restaurant and I might just have a sassy cocktail and a glass of wine too. Can a weekend get much better?

The anticipation makes me think about what I love most about gathering together with family and friends: long meals together, too much food and drink, laughter and conversation.

I was reminded of a meal my Mom and I made on one of the last nights of 2009. It was a recipe from Insalata's Mediterranean Table, the cookbook I'd given her for Christmas. The ingredient list is quite long, but the actually execution is easy, and the final result is divine. Is there really anything better than a chicken thigh, robed in sweet and tangy juice on top of a pool of polenta? I think not.

We ate this meal on the eve of New Year's Eve alongside a green salad and a crisp bottle of champagne. Then we popped in the car amidst a swirling snow storm and headed to the movies. When we exited the theater I remember looking up into the sky and watching the snowflakes fall slowly all around me. I felt like I was in my own private snow globe -- a magical place to be.

Cheers to long weekends, snow and cold, food and drink, and memory making. Enjoy!

Agrodolce
12 chicken thighs
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons canola oil
1 and 1/2 cups minced yellow onion
1 and 1/2 cups minced celery
1 and 1/2 teaspoons minced garlic
1 and 1/2 cups dry white wine
4 teaspoons cider vinegar
4 teaspoons sherry vinegar
3 cups chicken stock
1/3 cup golden raisins
3 tablespoons honey
1 and 1/2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 and 1/2 tablespoons capers
2 to 3 tablespoons kosher salt
3/4 teaspoon fresh ground pepper
1/8 teaspoon red chili flakes
3 bay leaves
3 sprigs thyme
1 and 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 and 1/2 tablespoons chopped Italian parsley
1 and 1/2 tablespoons chopped oregano
Polenta for serving

Generously sprinkle the chicken thighs with salt and pepper. In a large saute pan, heat the oils over medium-high heat. Working in batches, taking care not to over crowd the pan, brown the chicken on all sides. Remove the thighs from the pan and set aside. Drain off all but 3 tablespoons of the oil. Add onion, celery, and garlic; cook, stirring, until the onion is translucent, about 4 minutes. Add the white wine, cider, and sherry vinegars; cook, scraping up the darkened bits from the bottom of the pan, until the liquid is reduced by half. Stir in the stock, raisins, honey, tomato paste, capers, salt, pepper, red chile flakes, bay leaves, and thyme. Return chicken to the pan and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat, cover, and simmer until the chicken is cooked through, about 20 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Transfer the chicken to a platter; set aside. Whisk in the butter, chopped parsley, and oregano; pour over the chicken. Serve immediately over polenta.
From Insalata's Mediterranean Table Cookbook

Galette du Rois

I went to the most fabulous party last night that ended, rather triumphantly, with me being crowned Queen for the day.

The fete was truly the last of the holiday season. Yes, the trees and lights are down, but according to the religious calendar there is still something left to celebrate: the arrival of the Three Kings. Epiphany is celebrated on the first Sunday after the first Saturday of the new year and honors the arrival of the three kings at baby Jesus' crib side.

The traditional French King's Cake is buttery golden, flaky and rich, and layered with almond paste. Embedded in one slice is a feve -- a tiny ceramic religious figurine. Whoever finds it is declared King (or Queen) for the day.

But there's more. Traditionally, the youngest child hides under the dining table while an adult cuts the cake. The child calls out who gets the next slice, and after all have a piece of cake, eating and feve finding commences.

But at this party the youngest (4.5 months) was unable to complete the task. So that left me -- me!-- the 32 year old baby of the group to crawl under the table and aid in the delivery of buttery galette slices.

Imagine my surprise when the feve was mine too. The only trouble was that the day was mostly done and this Queen didn't have much to dictate. Still, I'm hoping that the mere presence of my golden crown and my teeny tiny Virgin Mary feve signals hope and riches today and beyond.

Will Eat for Words

This is not meant to be one of those dreamy breakfast shots, the likes of which are posted on one of my favorite morning blogs, Simply Breakfast. This is a down and dirty action shot: granola, milk, frozen blueberries. Black coffee. A post-it that proclaims Chapter 11. Highlighters and pencils and yellow legal pads. The writer's life.... The writer's breakfast.

After a very productive writing week, I got to the end of it woefully under prepared to face the weekend. The fridge boasts some once exciting, now soggy leftovers. There is nothing else in there worth mentioning. And to make matters worse -- there are no recipes that I lovingly hand culled during the week that are just waiting to be made over this two day stretch.

This morning I'll start not with breakfast, but with brunch. I'll flip through a small stack of glossy food magazines and make a list. I'll go to the store, and hopefully soon I'll have next week's leftover's brewing -- a prefect hearty concoction to keep me writing devotedly for the next few days.

My Brother's Paella: The Recipe

Here it is -- my brother's recipe for paella. He notes that he is "comfortable calling this my paella recipe as long as people know that there is liberal interpretation necessary in the creation of good paella." He also notes that he lived in Spain for almost nine months. I think this makes him kind of an expert.

This paella is named after his host mother, Maria, and is based on the recipe she taught him in her small kitchen in Malaga, Spain.

Maria's Paella
6 chicken thighs (or one for each person - whichever you've got)
one pound uncooked chorizo sausage, sliced into 1/4" rounds
12-15 large prawns (raw)
12-15 mussels, clams or other mollusk
1/2 pound calamari (cones preferred)
one medium yellow onion
~ 2 cups frozen green peas
one whole roasted red pepper
one cup green olives (cocktail olives will do too)
3 cups arborio rice
41/2 cups chicken stock
1 cup fish stock or clam juice
one teaspoon saffron, crushed
3 cloves garlic
palmful of fresh thyme
pimentón (smoked paprika)
big palmful of fresh rosemary (fresh)
one bay leaf
one tablespoon Tabasco or other hot sauce (use less or more to taste)
copious amounts of Spanish olive oil
splash of wine - red or white is fine.

To make:
*a quick note on paella pans: deeper, dutch oven style pans make better paella. Many people think that the large flat pans that they see in photos and restaurants of Spain are necessary or best. Not true. Real Spanish cooks use deep dish.

1. Season the chicken by putting fresh rosemary, thyme, and olive oil underneath the skin and then top with salt and pepper. Set aside.
2. Brown the chorizo in a large pot (le creuset, dutch oven, or paella pan) so that its oils release. Remove and set aside.
3. Brown the chicken thighs in the oil from the chorizo. Remove and set aside.
4. Dice the onion and brown it in the oils from the chorizo and chicken, adding 2 cloves garlic after ~ 10 minutes (be sure not to burn the garlic!!). Add a splash of wine to onions and de-glaze the pan a bit. No more than 1/2 cup should be necessary.
5. Add the dry rice to this mixture and allow it to permeate into the rice - brown 5 minutes, taking care not to burn the rice
6. Cover the rice with the combination of fish and chicken stock
7. Add fresh rosemary, thyme, saffron, bay leaf, pimentón, salt, and pepper, and tabasco
8. Once boil is established, place the chorizo in the mix and give it a stir to distribute it in the rice. Do the same for the mostly cooked chicken thighs, instead placing them in a ring around the pot with at least 1 inch distance from the side of the pan. Make sure they are well immersed in the rice, and covered by the liquid.
9. Let cook undisturbed for about 1.5 hours. Cook on the stovetop and not in the oven. This will allow a wonderful crust to form at the bottom of the pan.
10. once the rice is cooked (be sure to take a little taste here and check for seasoning too), leave the pot on the heat source to let a crust form around the bottom of the pan (best part). Add the frozen peas, roasted peppers, olives, prawns, calamari rings, and mussels. For the prawns and red pepper, form a spiral or spoke design from the middle of the pan. Add the calamari in good distribution by sticking the rings about 1/2" into the rice. Place the mussels hinge side up with good distribution. Add a quick glaze of Spanish olive oil across the top of everything, cover the pot, and let the seafood steam 5-10 minutes. Take care to make sure all seafood is cooked or opened (but not rubbery). Also take care not to burn the rice here (crust is good, burned is bad). Reduce or remove heat if needed.
11. Dig in. Add olive oil on top if you like.

Yes, it is a long and time consuming recipe. But is there anything better to do than cook during one of the first weeks of January?

Food For Luck

It's the first Monday of the New Year, which for me marks a return to my desk, my notes, my list of things to do. In some ways it feels like every other Monday, but it isn't -- it is the first Monday of 2010. It's time to increase productivity and devotion, time to make those phone calls I've been meaning to make for months. Time to schedule a dentist appointment, service the car, plan a trip.

Thank goodness for leftovers for lunch, and lucky ones at that. My parents are from the South and I grew up eating black eyed peas on New Year's Day for good luck. It is a tradition I have tried to carry into adulthood, and this year I was determined to make a huge pot of beans -- people, I need the luck.

I soaked the beans on New Year's Eve and on New Year's Day, the first thing I did was slice one half of a big yellow onion, mince four garlic cloves, and heat some olive oil. Once the oil was hot I threw in the onion and the garlic, and when the onion gleamed translucent, two slices of Applewood smoked bacon I had chopped into thick chunks. Once all this was smelling really good, I added my peas-- a full cup -- and enough water to cover them. Within the hour they were done. I finished them with lots of salt, pepper, and a few splashes of apple cider vinegar for a little tang. There were enough peas to fill a two pint tupperware. I am hoping if I eat them all I will have good luck well into the new year.

Black eyed peas pair perfectly with collard greens -- is this because so many people vow to eat more greens in the new year? Or because after nearly two weeks of over eating and over drinking our bodies are practically screaming for green?

I think the answers are yes and yes. To make my greens I chopped the other half of my yellow onion, along with most of a small fennel bulb. Again I heated olive oil, then added the onion and fennel once the oil was slick and hot. After cooking till translucent I added water -- about three cups worth -- and simmered it for thirty minutes into a fragrant broth. Next I added one huge bunch of chopped collard greens -- remove the stems, please -- and cooked them down into a big green mess.

But I wasn't finished yet. Oh no. Normally I would eat this meal with a big buttery hunk of cornbread. But the oven is broken. These greens would have plump little cornmeal dumplings. Borrowing an Edna Lewis recipe I combined:
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup yellow cornmeal
2 teaspoons packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 cup whole milk

Next you whisk together flour, cornmeal, brown sugar, baking powder, and 1/4 teaspoon salt, then blend in butter well with your fingertips. Stir in milk until just combined. Let dough stand 5 minutes.With wet hands, roll rounded tablespoons of dough into balls. Gently place dumplings on top of greens. Cook, covered and undisturbed, over low heat until greens are very tender and silky and dumplings are puffed and cooked through, about 20 minutes.

Yum, yum, yum. Eat your peas and greens and dumplings all crowded together in a bowl. They like to be cozy. This is a delicious way to enter a new year and very comforting (and dare I say healthy?) leftovers to take you into a new week. Good luck, all.

3 January 2010

"Sometimes the days burst open like seedpods and we see thousands of futures, and it's so much that our throats swell and we can't do anything but turn away and forget that gleaming, all that possibility. Who could live into such brightness? Sometimes the days beat their wings slowly so we can take their measure, so we know how lucky we are that we are being given just one moment more."
From The Slippery Year: A Meditation on Happily Ever After, by Melanie Gideon

Photo taken this afternoon, Limantour Beach, Point Reyes National Seashore. It was sixty-five degrees. I walked in my tank top and watched kids playing in bathing suits, picnics, kites, and games of catch.

Happy New Year.