Over the last couple of weeks we've started (once again) eating alfresco. When you're four flights up facing a courtyard and surrounded by herbs and twinkly lights, you no longer feel as if you are in the city, it feels as if you are somewhere else. Drinking cocktails, eating the latest farmers market offerings, and watching the sun set - it's magical. Dinners, as is typical of me this time of year, revolves around small plates of different things. Fresh farmers market vegetable salads, really good cheeses, and occasionally local meat. We recently got a phenomenal butcher in our hood and it's been fun trying their offerings (we are big fans of their cheesesteak sausages). I love the fact that when you go in for ground meat, it has actually just been ground. It's such a novel and old fashioned concept. I made these meatballs with the aforementioned freshly ground lamb and I have to say, these are just insanely good. The meatballs are spicy and come together quickly but it's the raisin pesto that I want to eat by the spoonful. Salty, sweet, herb-y, it pairs brilliantly with the lamb and yogurt. This will be my Summer 2018 repeat dish. Spicy Lamb Meatballs with Raisin Pesto Recipe adapted from Bon Appetit For the Meatballs 1 large egg 1/2 cup panko (Japanese breadcrumbs) 3/4 tsp. ground cumin 1/4 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes or aleppo pepper (if using aleppo increase to 1/2 tsp.) 1/4 tsp. ground turmeric 1/4 tsp. sumac (optional) ¼ cup finely chopped parsley 2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil 1 1/2 tsp salt 1 clove of garlic 1 lb. ground lamb For the Pesto 1/2 cup parsley leaves with tender stems 1/4 cup pistachios 1/4 - 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil 1 clove of garlic 1/2 cups mint leaves 1/2 cup cilantro 3 Tbsp. golden raisins Juice of 1/2 a lemon 1 tsp. pomogranatte molasses 1/2 tsp. kosher salt, plus more to taste Black to pepper to taste Plain whole-milk Greek yogurt (for serving) Place a rack in upper third of oven; preheat to 425°. Combine egg, panko, cumin, red pepper flakes, turmeric, sumac, finely chopped parsley, oil, and 1½ tsp. salt in a large bowl. Finely grate 1 garlic clove into bowl. Add lamb and mix with your hands until evenly distributed. Gently roll lamb mixture into 1½"-diameter balls (about the size of a golf ball; you should have about 20). Place on a rimmed baking sheet, spacing evenly apart. Bake meatballs until browned and cooked through, 8–10 minutes. Meanwhile, puree parsley, pistachios, garlic, mint, cilantro, raisins, lemon juice, pomegranate molasses, salt and pepper, and a 1/4 cup olive oil in a blender until smooth. Taste pesto; season with more salt if needed - if too thick, add more olive oil. Spread yogurt over plates and divide pesto and meatballs on top. Top with sesame seeds if desired. Do Ahead: Pesto can be made 2 days ahead; cover and chill. Meatballs can be formed 2 months ahead; freeze on baking sheet until firm, about 2 hours, then transfer to a freezer bag and keep frozen.
The death of Anthony Bourdain really hit me. I ready Kitchen Confidential what feels like a decade ago (now I think about it it most definitely was a decade ago). The book was shocking but I loved its honesty when it came to the underground world of the restaurant industry. Anthony Bourdain was a badass, fearless, and completely unapologetic about who he was as a person and as a chef. He was forthcoming about his struggles with drugs, alcohol, and depression and in a world where so many people try and constantly paint an unrealistically rosy picture of their life, Anthony was a breath of fresh air. He told it like it was. My dad, like Anthony Bourdain, taught me to seek out off the beaten path food no matter the location. BBQ restaurants that look like shacks on the side of a highway in Delaware, hole-in-the-wall empanada spots, BYOB fish-fry restaurants in former dark wood-paneled bars. Anthony Bourdain made it cool to travel far and wide in search of food that told the story of a place. He taught you to be adventurous and daring and above all to live fearlessly with an open mind and an open stomach. I will miss him and his voice.
I know social media gets a lot of crap for being the worst thing that's ever happend to society - it's rotting our brains, disrupting out sleep schedule, tracking our every move, blah blah blah, but if I am being honest, I love (like really love) Instagram. I love Instgram for the sheer fact that it has afforded me the opportunity to discover/meet/become friendly with a whole world of really amazing cooks. Women who are cooking the kind of food I always want to eat (i.e. in-season produce filled one pan salads and pastas, lots of fruit desserts, cookies!). In a lot of ways Instagram has replaced my cookbooks when it comes to weeknight cooking. I basically run through my feed and from there come-up with an off the cuff dinner plan solely based around someon
e's beautiful picture. I'm really digging this on the fly, being inspired by whatever crosses my path kind-of cooking. It feels really liberating. I got this recipe from one of those uber-talented women that I follow on Instagram. Emily is a mom who somehow manages to get her kids to eat all sorts of really exciting foods that I am 100% sure I wouldn't have touched when I was 8 (fiddlehead ferns and rhubarb?!). She posted this recipe and I was extremely excited about it - a cross between a cobbler and a custard but with a hilariously funny name, it's basically a dream June dessert. I made it over Memorial Day weekend and we all loved it (I really love it for breakfast the next day). It would be amazing come August filled with peaches.
Strawberry-Rhubarb Pandowdy Recipe from Emily C. at Food 52 To make the rye crust 1 cup (120 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour 1/2 cup (60 grams) rye flour 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt 10 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes 3 to 6 tablespoons ice water In a food processor, pulse flours and salt to combine. Scatter butter pieces over the flour mixture, then pulse until the butter is the size of large peas, about 6 to 8 short pulses. Sprinkle 2 tablespoons of water over mixture and pulse a few times, then repeat with 1 tablespoon of water at a time, or just until small curds start to form and dough holds together when pinched with fingers. It’ll look kind of crumbly but that's okay. (Alternatively, you can do this by hand.) Empty dough onto clean counter or piece of wax paper. Using bench scraper, gather dough into a rough rectangular mound about 12 inches long and 4 inches wide. Starting from the farthest end, use the heel of your hand to smear about one sixth of dough against your work surface away from you. Repeat until all of your dough has been smeared. Using bench scraper, gather the dough again into a 12-inch long and 4-inch wide mound and repeat smearing of dough with heel of hand. The dough should be smooth and cohesive at this point; if not, repeat smearing process again. Form dough into 4 inch disk, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate until firm about 1 hour. The smearing process creates long layers of butter in the dough, which translates to long flaky layers in the cooked crust. To make the filling and assemble pandowdy 1 1/2 pounds strawberries, hulled (leave small berries whole; halve any large berries) 1 pound rhubarb, chopped 1/2 cup light brown sugar, packed 1/2 cup granulated sugar 1/4 cup quick-cooking tapioca (sometimes called granulated tapioca or tapioca pearls) Pinch of kosher salt Finely grated zest + 1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice, from 1 small lemon 1 large egg, separated into white and yolk (egg white lightly beaten with a fork) 2 tablespoons turbinado sugar 1/2 cup heavy cream 2 teaspoons vanilla extract Heat the oven to 400° F. In a small bowl, mix together the sugars, tapioca, and pinch of salt until well integrated. In a 10-inch cast-iron or ovenproof skillet, gently toss the strawberries with the sugar-tapioca mixture, lemon zest, and lemon juice. On a lightly floured work surface, roll dough into a 12-inch round, dusting with flour as needed. (Don’t worry if your dough isn’t perfectly round.) Gently lay round of dough atop the fruit filling, tucking and folding the dough edges around the fruit, leaving a small rim that sticks up against the side of the skillet. Brush with egg white and then sprinkle evenly with turbinado sugar. Poke a few small holes in the crust so steam can vent. Bake pandowdy for about 30 minutes (place a foil-lined baking sheet underneath the skillet to catch any fruit juices that spill over), then remove the skillet from oven and break the dough into large pieces with a sharp knife to “dowdy” its looks. Return to oven and bake until the crust is golden and firm and the fruit juices are bubbling up through the crust pieces, about 20 minutes longer. Meanwhile, whisk together the cream, egg yolk, and vanilla extract in a measuring cup with a spout. Remove the pandowdy from the oven and let the juices settle for a minute or two. Slowly begin pouring the cream mixture into each of the cuts; use the back of a spoon or a knife if needed to help with the flooding, working your way around the entire pandowdy. Some of the cream will go under the crust and much will pool on top. This is okay (and expected)! Return the pandowdy to the oven and bake until the cream just sets but is still a little jiggly, about 8 to 10 minutes. Remove to a cooling rack and let cool completely. Even when fully cool, the pandowdy will have lots of juice, part of its charm, so serve in bowls with spoons. It's best on the day it's baked, but it's not bad at all on Day 2 straight from the fridge (breakfast, perhaps?!).
