Its just like me to check out a new stack of complicated French cookbooks and immediately begin cooking the only Indian recipes in them. What can I say--even after two months of this diet Im not any more enamored of French cooking than I was to begin with. Its more of a morbid fascination than anything. Curries, daal, and naan are still my favorite things to make. Yet the mysterious ingredients and elaborate process required to make terrine and aspic intrigue me. So until Im done with Montignac, France and India will keep battling it out in my kitchen. Its been fun so far.

Korma is what happens when you slow braise meat marinated to tenderness in yogurt or cream, then slather it in a complex mixture of spices. Its killer. The marinade does all the hard work. All thats left to do is brown the meat and watch it cook. Couldnt be easier. Well there is is matter of tracking down 10 different spices from where ever it is you store them, but its well worth the hunt.

This was some of the most authentic Indian Ive ever made. Its worlds better than the Rogan Josh I order time and again at the near by Indian place. Same basic idea but I got to control the spices and the fat content. Then I went and ruined the notion of any calories I saved by using yogurt instead of heavy cream in the lamb by making fried cauliflower as a side.

Its a ridiculous thing to make really. The fella asked “Doesnt deep frying something defeat the purpose of eating a vegetable at all?” I think I threw a towel at him. Logic has no place in the kitchen. This was all about satisfying an urge. Several times last week I read food bloggers talking about how fried cauliflower tastes exactly like popcorn. So I wanted to give it a try seeing as both the fella and I have been missing popcorn.

It tastes nothing like popcorn but it is good in small qualities and it went well with the lamb as a side to absorb all the delicious korma sauce. This particular dinner pleased me to no end. I already know this recipe will be in heavy rotation on my menu list.

What a thing to find in an ancient traditional French cookbook from the 50s full of scary pictures of what is supposed to be food but looks like alien creatures swallowing other smaller unrecognizable creatures. This is the stuff of nightmares. I will have to try to get pictures of these dishes as seen in the pages of this book, they really need to be seen to be believed. I am oh so glad I didnt notice them before cooking the korma or may have lost the curage to try making it.

Lamb Korma

2 pounds boneless leg of lamb
3/4 cup yogurt
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons cumin seeds
3 teaspoons turmeric
1 teaspoon ground cardamom

1/4 cup coconut oil or ghee
1 1/2 cups onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, diced

1 teaspoon powdered mustard
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon cayenne (it could use more)
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1 cup water
1 teaspoon lemon juice
2 tablespoons grated coconut

Trim off and discard fat from lamb. Cut meat into bite sized pieces. Mix with the yogurt, salt, cumin, turmeric, and cardamom in a large bowl and let marinate for at least 2 hours.

Heat 1 tablespoon of oil or ghee over medium heat in a large skillet. Cook onions and garlic until browned and tender. Add another tablespoon of oil, enough to coat the bottom of the pan and add the remaining spices. Stir thoroughly, toasting the spice mixture for about 2 minutes. Remove onion and spice mixture from pan and reserve for later.

Place pan on medium high heat, add the remaining oil and begin to cook the lamb until browned on all sides. Pour off any excess fat.

Add the onion and spice mixture back to the pan, cover and let simmer on medium heat for about 20 minutes. Pour in the water, cover and allow to cook another 30 minutes or until the meat is tender. Add more water if needed.

Just before serving add lemon juice and coconut. Stir well and serve.

Original recipe from Modern French Culinary Art by Henri-Paul Pellaprat.

Read More..

The only way I made it through this recipe without eating the dog was by drinking a bottle of wine. Sometimes getting drunk before dinner is the only way to forget how hungry and increasingly desperate you are. The wine was the high point of the meal really. It didnt take any effort. It didnt confuse me with odd directions. It didnt refuse to cook. Even on the best day Id be glad to have several bottles of it in my house actually.

As a general rule I dont even like Chardonnay, there are a few I will make an exception for and this is my new favorite. The Optimus is a killer bottle for $11. It isnt a cloying oak monster. Nor is it a tropical fruit smoothie disguised as a wine. It is instead a balanced blend of slightly buttery pear and green apple with a honeyed finish. Its so easy to drink you wont know youve had half the bottle while staring at the inexplicably raw chicken that has been on the oven for an hour until youre at the grocery store later singing to the leeks. I have a feeling this is going to be my summer wine this year.

You may have guessed by now that the meal itself gave me some trouble and you would absolutely be right. Im still holding a grudge against it a day later. It was that annoying but (Lindsay dont read this part) I loved it so much I already have plans to make it again next week. Next time Im going to go 30 Minute Meals on it, making a much simpler version of this amazing but picky original version.

It started out fine. Boiling artichokes—I adore artichokes almost as much as curry so I knew this recipe was going on the menu right away. Blanching a tomato which was odd but once it was done I totally understand why the recipe called for it. Once all the vegetables were chopped I had time waiting for the artichokes to get tender and the chicken to brown, to relax. That should have been my first indication something was wrong. Ive read The Julia and Julia Project, when a French recipe seems too easy youve probably mucked something up. The fates are up there somewhere laughing at you enjoying your wine knowing things about to hit the fan. Without the proper amount of stress and insanity it isnt properly French.

Following the recipe I put the chicken in the oven to bake for 12 minutes. Took it out, did some stuff to it and put it back in for another 10. It was crispy on the outside and the recipe said that was all there was it so it should be done, right? Wrong, wrong, wrong. The chicken halves we were using were still totally raw in the middle. I put them on stove for a while longer and drank some more wine, glaring occasionally at the chicken pan. During this time I ate my artichoke furiously. The thermometer I stuck in the chicken said it was done. So you would think it was done, right? Nope.

I literally threw my hands in the air and did what I always do when a recipe makes me want to throw dishes across the room, I passed it on to the fella. He made that chicken his bitch. He put it in the pan like he meant business and stood supervising it while drinking his wine and making his artichoke disappear. He took the chickens temperature which read as well done. We re-plated it for the third time. Do you think it was done now? Sorry no.

This chicken wasnt giving up. I swore at the chicken, cursing its relatives and everything holy to it as I tore its flesh from the carcass. The fella looked at me like the crazy person I was at that moment. I then explained to him I was cutting out the middleman and just putting the bloody (literally) chicken meat in the pan and cooking it sans bones. This worked much better, the meat cooked in a couple minutes and gave it a chance to combine nicely with the mushroom and wine sauce when I added it to the pan to reheat.

The fourth time we sunk our forks into the meat it was divine. The chicken was tender, the sauce was delightful and what remained of the vegetables I hadnt already snacked on were scrumptious. Maybe Im a food masochist and waiting for the food makes it taste that much better after the build up of anticipation. Or maybe I was so drunk I probably could have eaten the dog at this point. Regardless Ill get back to you when I come up with a better version of this meal.

Until then anyone know where a girl can get a reliable meat thermometer around here?

Basque Chicken

2 large artichokes, trimmed
1 large ripe tomato
2 pounds bone in chicken or 2 baby chickens
3 tablespoons butter
3 ounces chanterelles (I used white button mushrooms)
1 garlic clove, germ removed, finely diced
2 tablespoons dry white wine
2 tablespoons chicken broth

Poach artichokes in salted water until tender, about 10 to 15 minutes or when the outer leaves are easily removed. Cut the heart out of the artichokes and set aside. Discard leaves or dip them in some butter as a snack while waiting for the chicken to cook.

Cut a conical plug from the stem of the tomato. Blanch tomato in the boiling artichoke water for 10 seconds. Remove from water and peel off skin. Cut tomato in half, squeeze out seeds and juice to discard. Coarsely chop the remaining pulp.

Preheat oven to 350.

If using whole chickens season the inside with salt and pepper then truss them with string so legs are up close to the breasts and the wings are firmly in place. Simply season under the skin of the chicken if using bone in pieces.

Melt 2 tablespoons of butter in an oven safe pot large enough to hold both chickens. Brown chicken on all sides, about 5 to 10 minutes on each side. Add more butter if necessary to keep meat from sticking. Cover pot and place in oven for 12 minutes.

Remove the pot from the oven. Spoon in the artichoke bottoms, sliced chanterelles, and tomato around the chicken. Return the pot to the oven for another 10 minutes or until the internal temperature is above 165. Remove from the oven again. Set aside chicken to keep warm while preparing sauce.

Put the pot full of mushroom, artichoke, and tomato on a burner over high heat. Add garlic, wine, and broth. Bring to a boil and cook until liquid is slightly reduced.

Serve the chicken with pan juices and vegetables spooned around them.

Original recipe from The Lutece Cookbook by Andre Soltner.

Read More..

The fella made this the other day when he took a half day. When I came home the house smelled divine. Of course that tends to happen when heavy cream is involved. It was nice to take a night off from cooking. Not to mention priceless to come into the kitchen to see the fella clawing at his remaining hair looking totally baffled, the kitchen a mess asking me, “Why are these flipping directions so complicated?” If he didnt before, now he knows what Ive been going through. Happily for us both the Boulud cookbook that has been causing us both so much frustration went back to the library this evening. Hes been good to us but its time to move on.

For such a seeming simple recipe this meal really puts you through the paces. It has a fussy sauce. It requires the use of a sieve on said sauce. And it requires keeping the sauce edible while thin cutting slippery pieces of salmon. The fella cheated and used full thickness salmon when I assured him he didnt need to impress me with fish mongering skills at this point in our relationship.

Sieving off the solids in the sauce creates a really creamy but delicate sauce. Somehow it managed to be both delicate and decadent at the same time. The crisp perfect asparagus probably helped even out the naughtiness of the cream. Though I do have to admit at this point in the diet Ive lost my ability to feel guilty about eating a meal with a pint a cream per serving. I figure with all I have to deny myself its the least Montignac can do to allow me some heavy cream.



I also found perhaps the best wine to pair with this dish. The Aveleda Fonte Verde screams spring to me. Its tart and full of green apple flavors not to mention a semi sparkling feel on the tongue. Yet there is the sweetness of tropical fruit in there too. And at about $7 its a wine I can afford to buy every spring to brighten my spirits as the long grey days drag on before summer actually appears. The added bonus was it was just what this sauce needed, the tartness of the wine accented the cream and the sorrel.

Salmon and Sorrel Troisgros

SAUCE:
1 teaspoon butter
2 medium white mushrooms, finely chopped
1 large shallot, finely chopped, rinsed and dried
1 cup dry white wine

1 cup heavy cream
2 ounces sorrel, washed, dried and cut into very thin strands (baby spinach marinated in lemon juice for a couple minutes works as a good substitute)

Melt butter in small saucepan over medium heat, then add mushrooms, shallot and white wine. Season with salt and pepper and bring to a boil while keeping a close eye on the pan. Boil until wine is completely evaporated.

Lower the heat to the lowest possible setting. Pour in the cream and let cook very slowly for about 15 minutes, until the cream is thickened enough to coat the back of a metal spoon. Using a metal sieve or cheese cloth, strain the cream sauce off of the vegetables into a bowl or another saucepan.

Add the sorrel (or spinach) to the cream sauce and put saucepan over medium high heat. Bring cream just to a boil and then remove from heat. Taste and season with salt and pepper if needed.

SALMON:
2 center cut salmon fillets about 1 inch thick and skinned
oil

Using a long thin knife, slice each salmon in half horizontally, creating two wide thin pieces of fish. It should look like the salmon version of scallopini.

Coat the bottom of warm dinner plates with the sorrel sauce and keep warm as fish cooks.

Heat a large skillet over medium high heat with enough oil to keep fish from sticking without frying it. When pan is hot, slip in the fillets. Cook for no more than 2 minutes, then flip the fish to cook the other side for another 10 to 30 seconds until fish is warm yet still pink at center without being raw.

Serve immediately by placing warm fish in the center of the sauce covered plate.

Original recipe from Cafe Boulud Cookbook.

Read More..