The Constables Larder

Ramp and Mushroom Risotto

Every once in a while, you read amusing stories about the tension and strife that ensue when cooking in your mother’s kitchen. The hovering. The unsought advice. The skeptical brow. Unfortunately for you, dear reader, I have no such stories from this recent dinner. In the making of this ramp and mushroom risotto, I had free reign. Perhaps it is because I am male, or perhaps it is simply the nature of my mom, but there was no drama to rivet this tale.

I think we got most of the mother-child conflict out of our systems when I was in high school and needed heavy pushing to study and get into a good college. Her obstinate determination at that task exceeded even my own innate and not-insubstantial stubbornness. In the end, her mission was accomplished, for which I am eternally grateful.

Turning the tables and making her a great meal is the least I can do. This risotto, while not innovative in the slightest, was particularly good for three reasons: a homemade vegetable broth made with patience, the use of the last of my ramps, and a mix of porcini, shiitake and oyster mushrooms.

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Prosciutto-wrapped figs, arugula and goat cheese salad

I learned to cook from two women: my mother, and Julia Child. The latter was from a book, but nothing beat looking over my mother’s shoulder and pestering her with questions. This occurred shortly after I graduated from college, moved to Austin, and quickly realized that the only way I could afford decent food was to make it myself. It did not take many canned soup evenings to tenderize my brain into an eager state to learn.

When we traveled down to Washington D.C. this past weekend, I had a chance to cook in my mother’s kitchen and tried to make the most of it as time permitted. The dinner was not complex, but the results were successful: this salad followed by a ramp and mushroom risotto (posting next). This post is about the salad: simmering dried turkish figs with thyme, wrapping them with prosciutto, and serving on a bed of arugula, walnuts and goat cheese with a lemon/olive oil dressing. At the bottom of the post, I’ve also included some photographs taken while walking around Georgetown.

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Ramps, Ramps, and Ramp Fritters

Easter Sunday was a bit unusual for me this year. I spent the morning with family, but ever-patient Lisl gave me special dispensation to spend the afternoon tromping around the woods with a bunch of other food bloggers collecting wild ramps, fiddleheads, stinging nettles, wild garlic, and more. This outing was organized by Marc of No Recipes (who has a full write-up of the event and resulting menu on his blog, along with some great photos) and Jonathan of Lab 24/7.

(Clockwise from top-left: ramps; stinging nettles; fiddleheads; non-edible but pretty flowers)

I now understand the special appreciation people have for ramps. Douse them in olive oil and sea salt and toss under the broiler for a few moments, and the results will make you go weak in the knees. Since Sunday, I have also eaten pickled ramps, sauteed ramps with the drippings from a roast chicken, made ramp fritters (recipe below), and later this week will be making a ramp risotto. One has to strike when the iron is hot!

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Ruhlman Rebuttal

I like Michael Ruhlman. Hell, I recently bought two of his books. However, I struggled with a recent Ruhlman blog post on the subject of food writing, and the applause in the comments. I am going to bypass the truisms (work hard, learn to write well, write often, write for an audience beyond yourself, don’t expect riches) and focus on the quotes that tripped me up, which lead each paragraph below in italics:

“Writing is not about the ‘me,’ it’s about the ‘not me.'” — A pithy statement for sure, but riddled with confusion. If one is talking about being mindful of the reader, then there is no argument from me, especially since much of food writing is a craft rather than an art. If one is talking about content, then the line between the two can get rather blurry. Take Molly Wizenberg’s recent success, A Homemade Life. I do not see how one can call this lovely book “not-me” without some philosophical pretzel-twists. The same goes for cookbooks. Many authors, whether Bertolli in Cooking by Hand or Olney in Simple French Food, are not afraid to let the “me” shine through. Actually, the “me” brings their books to life.

“It’s my belief that there are too many cookbooks out there already and the unnecessary ones prevent the good ones from being seen.” — Dear Michael Ruhlman, how does someone who just published a new cookbook say such a thing? And could you not make the same statement about any creative output? It lays the foundation for a marvelously distopian setting: gothic street corner, hunkered masses, loudspeaker blaring: “This is a public service announcement to all artists, authors, producers and entertainers. Cease and desist. You are distracting the public from the True Quality. If you are True Quality, you will know it because Enlightened Management will tell you that you are True Quality. Have an Obedient Day.”

“Blogs, of course, are still so new it’s hard to predict what they will look like in 10 years and who will be making money from them. And, unlike any other form of engaging writing, they are almost always about the ‘me.'” — Back to the me/not-me issue. Engaging writing? I would argue that a huge amount of fiction is actually “me” highly disguised as “not-me” (and sometimes not so highly). Nor do I think this surprising when many authors follow the advice “write what you know.” Actually, I am coming to the conclusion that the terms me/not-me must mean different things to Michael Ruhlman and me, er wait, I mean “not-me”, or is that “him who is I”?

“Bottom line: don’t write if you can help it, and don’t write expecting to make money. The only really good reason to write is because you have to.” — and hello curmudgeon Ruhlman! I will grant that the odds are against having financial success as a writer (or most forms of creative expression). The odds are not impossible but they are tough. I also have to grant that Ruhlman is probably talking about writing for a living, but I just cannot let such a sweeping statement go by. The only good reason to write?! What stuff! Write if you love to! Write if you are determined to! Write if you want to improve your mind! Write if you want to express yourself! Write because you have the freedom to do so, and revel in that freedom! It has not always been so.

In the end, I suspect that some of Ruhlman’s comments are the result of people looking for shortcuts in a very tough, competitive, grueling profession (albeit not the only profession to deserve those descriptors). Still, I prefer to applaud attempts to embrace the artistic. A dose of realism is possible without trying to stamp a tender sapling into the ground.

Rustic Provencal Galette; the new site

Before diving into the recipe, we want to welcome you all to the new home of Constables Larder. Thank you for joining us here, and please let us know what you think. If you are an RSS subscriber to the old blog, please unsubscribe that one and sign up here (although if you are seeing this post, it means it’s working automatically, miracle of miracles).

Spring is finally starting to emerge, and my palette is very Mediterranean-focused. Last weekend, this manifested in the form of a galette — essentially an onion tart with the addition of zucchini, olives, garlic, and tomatoes. Instead of a pâte brisée, I decided to try a Provençal pastry (pâte à l’huile d’olive) which Richard Olney describes in Simple French Food (my new flame). It is easy to make, quite tasty, and has a rustic personality and texture.

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Potatoes In Beer

This is a simple yet surprisingly sophisticated dish from Richard Olney’s Simple French Food. I’ve long been a fan of making scalloped potatoes with milk and/or cream. The use of beer makes the dish a little less rich, which can be a good thing, yet still flavorful, and the onions add a sophistication that I really enjoyed.

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Pork Shoulder Braised with Ginger, Fennel, and Citrus

Every once in a while, I have to jump up and down waving my hands, hoping that some of you try a particular dish. This is one of those times. Alas for the vegetarians. Ginger, fennel, soy sauce, garlic, lime, orange, pork and a low-slow braise, oh my! I never knew how well ginger and fennel go together.

The meal began when I made another pilgrimage to Fleishers, the exquisite butcher in Kingston NY, and walked away with a bunch of goodies including a 3lb berkshire pork shoulder. As everyone knows, great ingredients make great meals, and berkshire pork is far-and-away superior to the overly-lean pork you get in American supermarkets. I like working with bone-in cuts; flavor is better and I like the texture that comes with gently shredding the meat away from the fat and bone at the end.

Wanting to try a new flavor profile with the pork, I turned to the Internets and discovered an interesting recipe on Epicurious. I didn’t really follow the recipe’s methods, but the flavor inspiration was fantastic. The braised fennel was transported some something entirely new.

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Mushroom Crostini w Truffle Salt

Saturday’s dinner posed an interesting challenge. Meal time was going to be set by the baby, not by the food, so I needed dishes that could be served quickly or wait a while. In the end, I decided on starters of mushroom crostini, with a touch of truffle salt to elevate the bite, and some asparagus and arugula rolled in prosciutto. The main course was linguine with a rich bolognese sauce enhanced with balsamic vinegar.

The asparagus rolls were the result of mind-bending repetition. I had to watch a silent Mark Bittman make them about 700-odd times. Yes, I flew Jet Blue to and from San Francisco last week and Bittman was dancing all over the screens. I never actually listened to the audio, but it’s really not necessary for such a simple and clever appetizer. Here is the Bittman video for those who haven’t flown Jet Blue recently!

I boiled the asparagus for 5 minutes, then quickly placed under cold water; seasoned the arugula with the juice of a lemon, a splash of olive oil, salt and pepper; rolled it all up in prosciutto; and sliced into “rolls”. I’ve wrapped asparagus in prosciutto and grilled it before, but really liked the addition of arugula here. Very good.

Mushroom Crostini w Truffle Salt
Serves 4

4 thin slices of ciabatta-like bread, toasted
2 handfuls cremini (young portobello) mushrooms, thickly sliced
3 tbsp butter
olive oil
thyme leaves from 2 sprigs of fresh thyme
1 tsp fresh parsley, finely chopped
salt and pepper
truffle salt

This is a simple nibble that just takes a bit of patience with the saute pan. Melt the butter and a splash of olive oil in a pan on low heat, and saute the mushrooms for 20 to 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the parsley, thyme, a pinch of salt, and a pinch of freshly ground pepper about 5 minutes into the cooking process. If they start to dry out, add a splash of dry vermouth or white wine.

Before serving, toast the thin slices of bread (note: if you are a garlic fan, you might rub a smashed clove of garlic on the top of the slice first). Spoon some mushrooms on top, drizzle some of the melted butter from the pan, and finish off with a small pinch of truffle salt.

Truffle salt? Well, after lunch with the Foodbuzz crew last week, they walked me over to the Ferry building and so raved about this salt that I had to get some. I had been doing SO well resisting the truffle craze, but you know, and I’ll say this very quietly, it really is quite yummy.

…as for the rest…

The main course was nothing fancy; I have been experimenting with different methods for making bolognese sauce. I happened upon the Food Network chef Anne Burrel because of a twitter post by Deb of Smitten Kitchen, and the first thing I saw on Burrel’s webpage was a video of her making meat sauce. Her technique was very different from mine. She purees her mirepoix in a food processor, browns the heck out of absolutely everything, and uses tomato paste rather than whole or crushed tomatoes.

I did not follow her recipe exactly, but experimented with many of her ideas, finishing off the sauce with balsamic vinegar to add a spin of my own. I rather liked the results, served with freshly chopped parsley and a heaping of grated parmesan. I still like my personal method, but Burrel’s ideas make for a richer sauce for the right weather and mood.

Pancetta, Chard, Cranberry Bean and Gouda Gratin

I spent last week in San Francisco and missed my kitchen, although I did have a few good meals with friends, colleagues and even the Foodbuzz editorial team. Hence today I felt the need to get in the kitchen and prep a civilized lunch for a cool spring day. This cranberry bean gratin emerged out of the available ingredients, and we happily polished it off with a glass of white wine. I decided it is a keeper (even our 3-yr old loved it), so the recipe is below.

Meeting the Foodbuzz team was great fun (that’s me second to the left). We ate lunch on the water at La Mar and had some great peruvian-style seafood dishes. I continue to be impressed with the passion of the Foodbuzz team, and they are all super-nice people. I enjoyed our conversation about the food blogosphere, the rise of twitter among food bloggers, and the changing Foodbuzz site itself, and look forward to seeing their business grow and evolve.

Pancetta, Chard, Cranberry Bean and Gouda Gratin

0.15 lb pancetta (one thick slice), diced
1 medium onion, chopped finely
4 small cloves of garlic, minced
large bunch of swiss chard (instructions below)
2 medium tomatoes
1/3 cup white wine
1/3 cup reserved bean cooking liquid
1 tsp tomato paste
1 to 2 cups fresh or soaked cranberry beans
3/4 cup fresh breadcrumbs
3/4 cup grated gouda cheese
2 tbsp unsalted butter
several sprigs of thyme
olive oil
salt and pepper

Place the cranberry beans in a large pot, fill with water an inch above the top of the beans, and add 1/4 tsp of salt, 1 bay leaf, and 2 sprigs of thyme. Bring to a boil then lower to a gentle simmer. Cook uncovered until tender (start checking around 20 minutes). Reserve about 1/3 of a cup of the cooking liquid, drain and set aside.

Pre-heat oven to 375F.

Prep the chard by washing the leaves and removing the stems, discarding all but two of them (keep the two firmest, freshest stems). Chop the leaves, and thinly slice the two stems.

Grab a big hunk of country bread (stale or fresh), remove the crust, and turn into breadcrumbs in a food processor.

In an oven-ready large skillet (I like to use cast-iron), heat up a splash of olive oil and cook the diced pancetta on medium heat for 2 minutes. Lower the heat to medium-low and add the diced onion, and cook until the onions turn translucent. Add the chard leaves, chard stems, minced garlic, a splash of olive oil and a pinch of salt. Cook until the chard leaves are wilted, and then stir in the cranberry beans, chopped tomatoes, white wine, reserved bean liquid, and about 1/4 teaspoon of fresh thyme leaves. Cook for 5 to 10 minutes, stir in the tomato paste and 1 tbsp of butter, taste for salt, and cook for 10 minutes more.

Turn off the heat. Sprinkle a mixture of breadcrumbs and grated gouda cheese on top. Cut a tablespoon of butter into small pieces and sprinkle around the top. Place in the oven for 20 to 30 minutes. If the top is not browned, you can finish it off with about 30 to 60 seconds under the broiler.

I am going to submit this to My Legume Love Affair, one of my favorite blog events (run by Susan of The Well-Seasoned Cook) — this month being hosted by Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska.

A Four Fruit Crumble (or Crisp)

Due to the new addition to our family, Lisl’s mother flew over from Sydney. Over time, I’ve come to grips with the Australian craving for fruit. My niece consumes it in vast quantities. You actually have to strenuously encourage her to eat something *other* than fruit. She could be a bat, save for the whole sleeping upside-down thing. Needless to say, the first thing I did was pop into Costco for a bunch of mangos and blackberries. A fruit crumble was destiny, helped by the fact that they are so simple to do (i.e. sleep-deprived parents can easily whip one up).

There is a debate over the proper name for this dessert. The Aussies call this a crumble, and Americans call this a crisp. I don’t really view either one as right or wrong, any more than I would weigh down on the side of coriander vs cilantro, or eggplant vs aubergine. Open minded, that’s me. Unless you’re talking about raw sea urchin. Or yams. No yams. Ever. We digress.

Four Fruit Crumble (or Crisp)

1/4 cup flour
3/4 cup oats (the regular kind, not instant)
1 cup brown sugar
8 tbsp unsalted butter, chopped
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
2 small pinches of salt*

1 mango, peeled, pitted and cubed
4 oz blueberries (small container)
8 oz of blackberries
8 oz strawberries (topped and chopped)

Preheat the oven to 350F.

Wash and chop your fruit and place it in a pie dish or small baking dish. It probably goes without saying, but do not feel beholden to stick to my ratio of one fruit versus another.

In a large bowl, combine the flour, oats, brown sugar, butter, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt. Mix it all together with your hands, and break the pieces of butter up with your thumbs and forefingers until they are small-pea-sized.

Spread the oats mixture over the top of the fruit.

Bake for an hour, then let cool for 10 minutes. Serve with some vanilla ice cream. I know the below photo isn’t going to win any awards, but really, with a dish like this, it’s eatin’ time!

* a pinch is the amount you can pick up between your thumb and forefinger.