le sauce

burrata with pumpkin seed pesto and chlies

Not a recipe, just a suggestion.

I've sung the praises of burrata before. So good, I like to have it as simply as possible:

1. Grill or lightly toast a thick, airy slice of bread, rub it lightly with a cut clove of garlic and season with salt while it's still hot. 
2. Quarter a ball of burrata lengthwise, lay a slice on top and press/smear it over the crostini with the back of your spoon. 
3. FInish with some fresh, finely sliced or baby basil leaves, a drizzle of your best extra virgin olive oil, a sprinkle of Maldon salt and the tiniest bit of freshly cracked black pepper. 
4. Eat and ascend to the heavens simultaneously.

Pesto while all about intense flavour, is as simple too. I like to experiment with it--you take any nut, any herb, any cheese, even change up the oil and away you go.

I put the these two together when I want to spoil myself or someone else. A pumpkin seed pesto and a little chili oil on burrata is a great idea, if you need one. You probably don't though--whatever you're craving at the moment will be far more satisfying than anything anyone else suggests. I would only advise, if you're spurging on burrata, you might as well get yourself the best bread you can find and top it with the best salt you have on hand. Break the burrata apart any way you'd like, serve slivers even. And ok, one last word, pick this up and bite into it. Don't even think of denying your teeth the pleasure of sinking in.

One standard-size piece of burrata should serve 4 people who want a taste--6 even if you're serving this with bread, as suggested. It could also serve 3 greedy people. Or 2, very unwise people, who will not feel so great half an hour after eating too much of a too-rich thing. Trust me.

(See how this recipe fits into a lazy, Sunday, spaghetti dinner party menu!)

risotto-stuffed chard bundles with browned butter oyster mushrooms

 

These were the star of the night, and I should tell you, they shared a table with a banana cream pie.

It was Lana who reminded me that chard leaves make such pretty packaging, they look so special side by side. I saved the idea for a very special dinner, so I had lots of time to think through the rest of the details. Having made arancini, I knew that next-day risotto was full of flavour and would cooperate fully.

I debated spiking the bundles with cold pieces of butter to moisten the risotto while the bundles were being heated--and I encourage you to try this. But in the end I actually like the structure that a "firmer" risotto lends the bundles, which yeild and are creamy for sure, but you do get to cut into them. And while a mushoom risotto would be delicious, it's much nicer with the mushrooms on the outside. The oyster mushrooms get a little crisp around the edges when frying and in a browned butter sauce... I always encourage substitutions but I'm pretty damn excited about making this recipe again, exactly as is, if I do say so myself. I hope you love it too--but definitely share your tweaks with me too!

saffron risotto & paprika-fried eggs

You see an egg, I see a crouton.

I gave up thinking about what the perfect thing would be to top this risotto. A risotto, saffron or otherwise, doesn't need to be topped at all. I wasn't looking for something that would add a lot of flavour, especially considering the fact that I didn't want anything that would compete with the saffron, so I thought about chopped and seared king mushrooms, which I still think would be a fine idea. But I settled on small croutons, tossed in more saffron butter, or better yet, paprika butter to give them a little more colour. I would toss them in the butter that I made to stir though this risotto (the tiniest of spins on finishing a risotto with butter). And then? 

Then I finished the risotto and flat out forgot to make the croutons. It's not like I could make them once the risotto was done--few things are as unforgiving as risotto that has been sitting around for a minute past its prime. So I enjoyed the risotto as-is that night and put the leftovers in the fridge. To stretch out the meek remains for breakfast for two, I planned to top the risotto with eggs and the idea you see here was born: I fried the eggs in the butter and paprika mixture intended for the croutons, and let the edges of the egg crisp up for a little contrast in texture. And that's how I'll make this forever more.

The egg yolk makes the risotto just a little richer and creamier--as its other traditional finishing ingredients, butter and cheese, are intended to do. I used smoked paprika for my eggs and it complimented the risotto without overpowering the saffron. Tastier and more luxurious than a crouton by far, as you can imagine. But why imagine when you have a recipe?

black olive bagna cauda

If you wander through le sauce, you'll start to notice that I enjoy black olives a lot. I cook them with pasta, I eat them with eggs, and there's not much that separates the recipe below from the black olive tapenade I make. Except that a bagna cauda is just way more sultry than a tapenade. It's heady with garlic and it's very much about the luscious, flavoured oil that the garlic, and usually the anchovies, swim in. A tapenade, like other dips, may come together with a lot of oil, but it's not left loose and silky like this is.

Not being an eater of anchovies, I felt I was being left out of the bagna cauda party, so I replaced them with black olives in this recipe mostly for their saltiness. Really, this time, the olives are just a means to an end--a way to get me as close to bagna cauda as I can. And their inclusion makes this a less-than-authentic bagna cauda--I even roasted the garlic to mellow and sweeten it, where it's usually simmered on the stove. But it's my version of a vegetarian bagna cauda and it was absolutely devoured at the start of the last dinner party I hosted. Ok, fine, I associate with the kind of people that eat everything in sight to begin with, but this went particularly fast, even for us.

meat-free "amatriciana"

I don't always set out to vegetarian-ize everything I used to eat. Quite frankly, it takes a lot of effort to create a respectable, comparable meat-free version of most things, and, quite frankly, most of those original versions are not so hot anyway. I mean that the number of dishes I truly miss from my meat-eating days, that were really about meaty texture, flavour or both, is relatively small. Amatriciana, a classic Italian red tomato sauced pasta that starts with guanciale (cured pig jowl), is all about the salty, richness that comes from that pork. And it's damn good. Good enough that I wanted to make something similar that I could enjoy. 

To be successful I had to replace the saltiness and richness I'd be losing when I omitted the guanciale, and I settled on cured olives and butter, and relied on onions for sweetness and smoked paprika for, well, smokiness that reminds many of cured meat, even though guanciale is not smoked. I added a second, non-smoked paprika, the darkest I had on hand, strictly to saturate the sauce with red. It was important to me to recreate that almost surreal, blood-red sauce. It totally worked and you'll end up with something that threatens to stain anything it touches and I thought it was stunning, even though it gets briefly masked with an avalanche of Parmesan dust. It's also nice to strike the dish with a flash of chili oil right before serving, making it, perhaps, the boldest meat-free pasta you've made, and hopefully, a damn good spin on Amatriciana.  

Amatriciana

2 tbs extra-virgin olive oil
2 tbs unsalted butter
1 med red onion, finely chopped
1-2 large dried red chilies, broken up, to taste
1 large garlic clove, finely chopped
1 tsp smoked paprika powder
1/2 tsp dark paprika powder
3/4 tsp kosher salt, divided
3/4 c pitted, chopped Nicoise olives
1/2 c sun-dried tomatoes in oil, chopped
1 tbs tomato paste
2 c canned whole plum tomatoes and liquid (San Marzano preferred)
1 c or more finely grated Parmesan cheese

Add oil and butter to heated pan. When the butter has melted, add onion and chili, stir to separate the onion pieces and cook over medium-high heat, stirring frequently until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic, both paprika powders, and 1/2 tsp of salt, and cook for a minute until the garlic has softened. Add olives, sun-dried tomatoes and cook for another minute. Add the tomatoes and their liquid and the remaining 1/4 tsp of salt and bring to a simmer for 5 minutes.

Remove the pan from the heat and purée the sauce using an immersion blender or a food processor until fairly smooth. Return the pot of sauce to a medium-low heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Add half-cooked pasta to the sauce and finish cooking the noodles in the sauce. Serve the pasta and top with lots of the grated Parmesan. Serve with chili oil if desired.

Makes 4 servings.

so much pesto

I've lost any pesto inhibitions, if I ever had any. Since a traditional pesto is basil leaves, pounded or pureed with a little garlic, pine nuts, some grated Parmesan cheese and extra virgin olive oil, there's really not one element you can't swap out for something similar. I used every herb I could get my hands on to get very different pesto flavours, and in the case of the garlic scape pesto, the scapes served as both garlic and greens! I varied the nuts and cheeses in each pesto but you could even use different oils. Using a little hazelnut oil or a drop or two of sesame oil would change things pretty drastically, and herb-flavoured oils might be a nice way to add a certain je ne said quoi to a standard basil pesto.

Both the taste and the colour of pestos vary depending on what's in them, but a thin layer of oil on top of finished pestos (which freeze so well and thaw on the counter in just a couple of hours, by the way) helps keep oxygen away and your greens vibrant. They'll still dull and darken a little but it's nothing a good stir before serving can't fix. And speaking of serving, what can't you use pesto on, really? Pasta is obvious, crostinis are perfect for summer and no-cook nights, and they're great on grilled or roasted vegetables, polenta, in soups, stirred through couscous, eaten straight from the bowl...

burrata and eataly (manhattan)

At the La Verdure counter at Eataly in Mahattan, I ordered a simply delicious crostini. Grilled corn and black garlic on softened butter spread onto thick slices of bread. It was basically a 4-ingredient meal and as satisfying as 4-course one. Good crostini comes down to really few but really good toppings and it's a perfect way to highlight something special, like that caramalized corn and that black garlic, or...

...burrata. A special, and not altogether inexpensive treat, it's a fresh buffalo mozzarella pouch housing a thick cream and more of the remnant strands of mozarella that make up the pouch itself. It can be enjoyed a number of ways but I always want it the way you see pictured here.

1. Grill or lightly toast a thick, airy slice of bread, rub it lightly with a cut clove of garlic and season with salt while it's still hot. 
2. Quarter a ball of burrata lengthwise, lay a slice on top and press/smear it over the crostini with the back of your spoon. 
3. FInish with some fresh, finely sliced or baby basil leaves, a drizzle of your best extra virgin olive oil, a sprinkle of Maldon salt and the tiniest bit of freshly cracked black pepper. 
4. Eat and ascend to the heavens simultaneously.

But back to Eataly--the new Italian grocery/eatery on W23rd and 5th in Manhattan. I love Lidia Basianich and since she is a partner in Eataly, I was secretly hoping to see here there. Nope. I guess our meeting is slated for the future instead. I was impressed nonetheless. The upscale grocery aisles are filled with imported dry pastas and local, organic yogurt, with gourmet prepared foods for sale to go, and also meat, cheese, and wine bars surrounding marble counter tops at which you stand and eat the picnic-basket items you just secured. Surrounding that are three small, barely cordoned-off restaurants, one focusing on seafood, one on vegetables. Sounds chaotic but it all flows rather nicely. I ate dinner alone at the counter of La Verdure one night, met a few locals who lived on the block and popped in after a long day at the office for good food and a glass of wine, and relished my crostini. 

LS baking academy: the classic cake (génoise)

Here's the thing. The le sauce baking academy started because I can't bake, am/was not a baker, and I wanted to learn. Non-bakers do not own big, powerful stand mixers. They work hard, hand whisking and beating where possible, and borrow electric hand mixers from their aunt when attempting to make a cake. But cake recipes basically warn you that using hand mixers takes, oh, 20x as long as using a stand mixer, so I'll warn you of that as I was warned. I moved a new, strong electric hand mixer diligently across my batter for over 20 minutes and my egg whites still didn't get as stiff as they should have before I gave up, so my cake didn't rise as high as it should have. But it was still light, delicious and the quintessential cake.

A chef friend of mine suggested that I start with génoise when I said I wanted to begin my foray into cakes with the classic version. Provided you have a stand mixer, this recipe couldn't be any easier. Four simple ingredients, the eggs being the only leavener, it could come together in a few, non-exhausting moments. It is still possible to use an electric hand mixer or just your own two arms since cakes were made for a million years before Kitchenaid was born. Just don't give up as easily as I did, and even if you do, you won't be disappointed. In the end, there will still be cake!

If you have more cake experience than me (and that would be all of you), do share your wisdom and tips in the comments, and links to your best recipes on your own blogs. The le sauce baking academy is where we learn to do this together, remember. I'd love to see your best cakes and tips before September 6, when I'll be back with more results from my cake trials and a new and very different cake recipe. If you try this génoise recipe, please let me know how you liked it or better yet, blog about it and leave us the link in the comments so we can see for ourselves.

first taste: pasta a la strega nona

Childhood picture books, stories and TV shows that depicted food and dining made a real impression on me. Illustrations of steaming bowls of pasta or a piece of toast smothered in purple jam gave me my first taste of foods I'd yet to try, and are sometimes still the archetypes I hold food up to today. Instead of simply reminisce, I'm going to bring those dishes to life the way I imagined they'd be.

Strega Nona is the story of a witch, technically, a friendly witch who uses magic to help the villagers around her. But I cold barely tell you anything about the actual story line. To me, it's about a Nona in old-school Italy who makes pasta in a magic black cauldron. The pasta is, naturally, delicious, steaming hot and always plentiful--spilling from the bowl and there's more in the cauldron. In true Italian style, the sauce is not the point, really. In the illustrations, you see only swirls of noodles and that's enough to tempt you. 

*Strega Nona story and lovely illustrations by Tomie dePaola

The image above is exactly as I remembered it. I took this book out of the library to reference for this post and I swear I hadn't seen it in decades. Without a magic cauldron and a village to feed, I didn't attempt to make enough pasta to fill the largest bowl in my home. But I did get the longest pasta noodles I could find and I kept the sauce simple. For barely there (looking) sauce, it had to be cacio e pepe. Smooth, silky cheese and pepper pasta, that looks as much like the noodles in Strega Nona's pot as I could conjure up. 

This recipe comes courtesy of dashing Mark Ladner who shared it with Bon Appetit. You can read the recipe or better yet, you can watch his charming self in this video and pretend he's making it for you. You know, if you want.

re-baking: pizza dough (overnight fermentation and whole grain crust)

Hi bakers. Can you believe it's been a month since we tackled pizza dough? Thank you for all of your comments on that post. I was surprised and happy with how easy it was, but I didn't stop with that initial success. I did some more reading and as with bread dough, it's widely believed that the secret to better pizza dough is a long (24+ hour rise). The New York Times writes about it, and if the Gray Lady believes, I had reason to believe.

The result? Not as impressive as I'd expected. Perhaps my 24-hour dough was a little easier to work with, and maybe a little more impressive in terms of a golden crust that shatters at the edges. But in terms of flavour, I can't say I noticed a significant difference. Maybe I need to do a side-by-side test to be sure. But I would say that the dough in my last post is just as delicious after 2 hours as it is after a day.

Then it was on to whole grain crusts, and I was going to attempt a half-and-half whole wheat to white flour ratio, or maybe get crazy and make a spelt crust. And then I found a wonderful recipe on Heidi Swanson's site, 101cookbooks.com. Who knew white whole wheat--a white, whole grain wheat--existed? Heidi, of course. I became obsessed with making this whole grain pizza. I went to many stores to source this very special flour. And failed. Yes, therefore I have no whole grain crust to report on. But I will not give up. I will find this flour and when I do, you will hear about it. Until then, feel free to leave me your favourite whole grain recipe links or suggestions on the original post. If you have a tried-and-true crust you love, I need to try it. Thanks!