“It looks like Chappy took a crappy in my gumbo”

Last week, Dylan texted me a video of Gordon Ramsay making "chille beef lettuce wraps" with the comment that "These are so good. We've made them ~5 times now." My first thought was that we'd obviously have to try these, given the sterling recommendation and how much I appreciate it when you all send me new dishes to try.

 

But then, of course, I immediately thought of Cassie and JC's all-time favorite Gordon Ramsay video from an episode of Kitchen Nightmares, in which Chef Ramsay first destroys the food at Chappy's on Church restaurant in Nashville, then tries to help them do better. (I guess the changes didn't take because Chappy soon reintroduced his old menu, but the restaurant closed after that anyway.) My favorite part is when Chappy "beats the crap" out of a buttery filet mignon with a meat pounder to "tenderize" it as part of some surf-and-turf type dish ("steak and lobster rocket") that went for $36.95, then says "Chef Ramsay is a dumbass" for denigrating his food.

 

Last meals

Tucked inside the front cover of my well-loved copy of The Zuni Cafe Cookbook by Judy Rodgers (2002) is Dwight Garner's review of the book that appeared in the December 8, 2002 edition of The New York Times. Garner started his review by calling it not only 2002's best cookbook but "the one people are still likely to be talking about, and cooking from, 20 years down the line." Prescient words. At the end of the review, Garner suggested zeroing in on the recipe for sea bass with leeks, potatoes, and thyme. The dish was "the best thing that had ever come out of [his] kitchen." Garner even went so far as to say that it was something he and his wife would "serve at our last meal."

In the 19 years I've owned The Zuni Cafe Cookbook, I never have tried the sea bass. However, another dish from the same book—pasta with tuna and pine nuts—would make it onto the podium if I were casting about for my last meal. One of the other contenders has always been potato gnocchi with sage butter and Parmesan. And now I think I have my third finalist: Chili Colorado.

 

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Sauce killer

You have no idea, dear readers, how much time I spend culling through and trying new recipes to find good ones to post here for you. I've posted the occasional stinker, but mostly I've done a decent job separating the wheat from the chaff. A lot of the time I'm searching for vegetarian main dishes you can all enjoy. Mom likes most everything we try, but we've had some decidedly so-so dishes lately, including Red Lentil Chickpea Loaf and Ginger Turmeric Chickpeas with Roasted Cherry Tomatoes. Both were from trusted sources, which is doubly disappointing.

Another relatively trusted source is the "Genius Recipes" column by Kristen Miglore at Food52, but we recently had another meh experience with the Moro's Warm Squash & Chickpea Salad with Tahini that was touted as a genius recipe. (Chickpeas are the common element in all of these pedestrian dishes of late, so maybe I should just stick with Chickpea Curry and Hummus.) The tahini in this recipe is part of a tahini sauce that also includes lemon juice, raw garlic, and olive oil. You mix some of the sauce with the the other components of the dish—roasted winter squash, canned chickpeas, and raw red onion—and then pass the rest of the sauce at the table to serve over the individual helpings.

There's nothing Mom loves better than extra sauce to put on her food, so she was spooning this stuff pretty liberally over her plate. At one point, she reached for the serving spoon, misjudged, and sent the spoon flying off the table and onto the floor where it landed, with a splatter, on the heavily trafficked area between the kitchen and our bedroom. She waited a few seconds, then got up, picked up the spoon, and put it back in the sauce. Horrified, I exclaimed "What are you doing?!" Mom genuinely had no idea what I was talking about until I explained that you can't take a spoon that's picked up who-knows-what germs from the floor and chunk it back into the food we weren't done eating yet. Mom tried to explain that she thought I adhered to the "5-second rule," but I told her that "The sauce is dead to me now!" Which was probably a good thing anyway, given how bitter the sauce was, but that didn't stop Mom from eating the rest of it.

And just to fulfill the stated objective of UaKS ("Cooking, and other unsolicited advice, for my children"), let's be clear that the 5-second rule is not really a thing. A Scientific American survey article ("Fact or Fiction?: The 5-Second Rule for Dropped Food") concludes that while "allowing dropped food to linger on the floor certainly increases the risk of bacterial transfer to that fallen indulgence, it’s better to think twice before eating anything that touches an unsavory surface." That's because most studies have shown that "bacteria transfers to food immediately on contact," including one experiment demonstrating that "E. coli moved from floor tiles to cookies and gummy bears well within five seconds." And the transfer is even more likely to happen instantaneously when the surface in question is hard (like the wood laminate in our dining area) and the food is moist (like the tahini sauce on the offending spoon in question).

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Summer tomatoes, part II

In my book, Caprese Salad is pretty close to the highest and best use of perfectly ripe summer tomatoes, but J. Kenji López-Alt of the "Food Lab" at Serious Eats might disagree. He says he didn't understand the true nature of a Bacon, Lettuce, and Tomato Sandwich until he tasted his first great tomato, which led to this postulate: "A BLT is not a well-dressed bacon sandwich. A BLT is a tomato sandwich, seasoned with bacon." Well, I don't know about that, but I was impressed enough with Kenji's passion to try his Ultimate BLT Sandwich when I picked up some bacon from Free Union Grass Farm to go along with my heirloom tomatoes. It is a very good BLT, but be warned if you try it: Kenji does not tell you to drain some of the fat from the skillet before toasting the bread in it. As you can see from the video, that's not an issue with his griddle, but it was a major problem with my skillet, as there was a lot of fat in the pan and the bread absorbed pretty much all of it and ended up tasting greasy and sorta like a heart attack on a plate.

I still had most of the bacon left after making Kenji's BLT, so I made another recipe I've been wanting to try—the BLT salad by famed grill master Steven Raichlen, which is essentially a deconstructed BLT sandwich with more lettuce. In the end, I have to say that as much as I love a good BLT I actually preferred the BLT salad. And you don't really need a recipe for a BLT anyway, despite what Kenji says.

I didn't toast the croutons enough because I was worried about burning them

BLT Salad

From Man Made Meals (2014) by Steven Raichlen via The Splendid Table

You can substitute Bibb (aka Boston or Butter) lettuce for the iceberg lettuce, or even mesclun/spring mix if you're really in a pinch.

4 slices thick-sliced high-quality bacon, cut crosswise into ½-inch slivers (thicker lardons, basically) 
60 grams (~6 slices) good French baguette, cut into ½-inch cubes (~1½ cups)
30 grams (2 tablespoons) buttermilk (or heavy/whipping cream or half-and-half)
28 grams (2 tablespoons) mayonnaise
15 grams (1 tablespoon) distilled white vinegar or rice vinegar
1 small or ½ large head iceberg lettuce (see note)
2 large, ripe summer, preferably heirloom, tomatoes (don't make this with crappy supermarket tomatoes)
kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper

    1. Place the bacon in a cold, heavy 10-inch skillet (cast iron if you have it), and place the pan over medium heat. Fry, stirring often, until the bacon is browned and crisp, about 10 to 12 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the bacon to a paper-towel-lined plate.
    2. Pour off all but 1½ tablespoons of the rendered bacon fat from the skillet. Stir the bread cubes into the fat. Cook, stirring often, until the bread is well browned, about 5 to 7 minutes, lowering the heat if needed so that the bread is toasted but not burnt. Using the slotted spoon, transfer the croutons to the plate with the bacon.
    3. In a large bowl, whisk the buttermilk, mayo, and vinegar together.
    4. Remove the core from, and coarsely chop, the lettuce. You should have about 4 cups.
    5. Remove the core from, and dice, the tomatoes. Season with salt.
    6. Whisk the dressing again to re-combine. Place the lettuce, tomatoes, bacon, and croutons in the bowl with the dressing. Season with lots of freshly ground black pepper, or to taste. Using the slotted spoon or your hands, gently toss all of the ingredients with the dressing until well combined. Taste for seasoning, remembering that the bacon is already salty. Serve immediately, before the croutons get soggy and lose their crunch. Makes 3 to 4 servings.

Parental trauma

Parenting is 24/7/365. Even when you are all out of the house, we are never far from the worries and always just a phone call away from being on high alert. On my way home from physical therapy last week, Mom called to tell me I needed to get my butt to Harrisonburg toot sweet (not her exact words) because Brad had just broken his wrist playing soccer (again) and was in the emergency room at Rockingham Memorial Hospital:


Steel


We love our soccer,
but at what cost?

Heat exhaustion;
broken ribs that never heal;
one, two and three (at the same time),
now four fractured wrists.

I’m on my way home when K calls,
sounding grave. I speed off
to Harrisonburg to collect Brad from the ER,
then the next morning to the hand clinic,
where the doctor “reduces” his fractures,
fending off surgery,
but multiplying Brad’s agony. Aghast,
I wince as the doc mashes
on his already contorted appendage
while Brad squeezes my hand, moaning,
sweat beading on his brow and upper lip.
"It isn’t great, but it’s better.
Let’s give it a five-minute rest,
then try again."

Five minutes later, the doc takes pity,
maybe, looking at skinny little Brad—
"It’s good enough, we don’t have to do any more."
But Brad surprises with his steely resolve—
"No! Do it again if it’ll make it better."

During the second round,
tears well in my eyes, too,
flashing back on K clutching my hand
as Brad came into the world,
now all grown up, but still our baby.

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Mom was away while I was navigating the emotional beatdown of being there for Brad while he was in so much pain. When I'm on my own, I sometimes try out a new recipe, especially one that's gluten-full like Farro with Mushrooms and Thyme, but mostly I just take a break and scrounge some simple meals using whatever I can find in the fridge and pantry. Last week (before Brad got hurt), I used a piece of naan left over from making naan veggie pizza, some fig butter, and a few slices of beautiful prosciutto di Parma to make a different kind of naan pizza, which was probably my favorite one yet.

Naan Fig Prosciutto Pizza

Time from start to finish: 18 minutes

2 pieces of fresh naan (such as Trader Joe’s Tandoori Naan flatbread)
extra-virgin olive oil
Trader Joe's Fig Butter or other fig jam
2 or 3 thin slices of prosciutto, torn into bite-sized pieces
Chèvre or Gorgonzola, crumbled into small pieces
freshly ground black pepper, to taste

    1. Place a rack in the center of the oven and heat to 425 degrees. Line an 18-by-13-inch baking sheet with aluminum foil, dull side facing up.
    2. Lightly brush or rub the smooth sides of the naan with olive oil. Place on the foil bumpy side up.
    3. Spread a thin layer of fig butter on the tops of the naan. Distribute the prosciutto pieces, then the cheese crumbles, evenly between the two flatbreads. Drizzle lightly with olive oil. Grind a twist or two of black pepper over the top.
    4. Bake until the cheese is soft and the crust is browned and crisped some, about 9 minutes. Cool for a minute, then cut each pizza into four pieces and serve promptly. Serves 2 with a salad.

54 and still beautiful

Last week, Mom had to test a kid at Burley, where her friend Leigh Ann works. Mom needed to tell Leigh Ann something, but she wasn't in her room when Mom looked for her. So Mom told another teacher in the room—a striking young blond woman—to tell Leigh Ann that Karen had been by to see her. When Leigh Ann got back, the young teacher told her that someone she had never seen before was looking for Leigh Ann. She couldn't remember Mom's name, so she described her as tall, with thick hair, and "beautiful." Which made Mom's whole day, as you can imagine. Another 2½ years gone by, but you've still got it baby!

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This was the best meal I've made in a while, a restaurant-quality dish that cost less than $15 to make and serves 4 people easily. Mom skipped right past her usual "heavenly" descriptor for my really good meals and instead pronounced it "infuckingcredible." The homemade pappardelle definitely contributed to the quality of the dish, but I'm sure it would still be very good with store-bought pasta.

Homemade Spelt Pappardelle with Quick Sausage Ragù 

Quick Sausage Ragù with Pasta

Adapted from The Best Simple Recipes (2013) by America’s Test Kitchen

Time: 35 minutes

I used mild Italian sausage links from Free Union Grass Farm, which I think was key here. The heritage breed pigs run around free in the woods at the farm, so the sausage is not particularly fatty. If you use a very fatty sausage, the fat will not cook off and the ragù will probably be too greasy. 

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium (4–6 ounces) onion, diced
2 plump garlic cloves, minced
1 pound mild Italian sausage, casings removed (see note)
½ cup dry white wine, preferably Sauvignon Blanc
1 (28-ounce) can diced tomatoes
1 tablespoon fine sea salt
1 pound gemelli, ziti, penne, or fusilli, or Homemade Spelt Pappardelle
½ cup (1 ounce) freshly grated Parmesan or Grano Padano cheese, more for serving
¼ cup chiffonade of fresh basil, if it's available in your garden
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

    1. Bring 4 quarts of water to a roiling boil in a large stockpot.
    2. Meanwhile, heat the oil in a large saucier or sauté pan over medium heat. Stir in the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is softened but not browned, about 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds.
    3. Add the sausage to the pan and cook until just cooked through, about 4 minutes. While the sausage cooks, break it into small pieces using a wooden spoon (a wooden scraping spoon with a flat edge at the top works especially well if you have one).
    4. Add the wine and cook until it is mostly evaporated, about 2–3 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes and their juice and cook, stirring occasionally, until the sauce has thickened some, about 8–10 minutes.
    5. Around when you add the tomatoes to the sauce, add the salt to the boiling water and stir until dissolved. Add the pasta and stir well for about 30 seconds. Cook until al dente, stirring occasionally. Drain the pasta, reserving a mugful of the cooking water.
    6. Transfer the drained pasta to a large serving bowl or back into the stockpot you cooked the pasta in. Add the sauce and toss to combine. Add the Parmesan and basil, if using, and toss again. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Adjust the consistency as needed with some of the pasta cooking water. Serve promptly, passing additional Parmesan at the table. Serves 4.

Jedi mind trick

Your opinion of the new Star Wars movies may have been unfairly influenced by Russian bots, sock puppets, and trolls. (Remember when "sock puppets" meant Lamb Chop and other relatively harmless creatures?) Wait, you're thinking, don't Russians only interfere in our elections? Well, those, too. In fact, Kathleen Hall Jamieson, a professor at the University of Pennsylvania who has studied political speeches, ads, and debates for the last 40 years, concluded in her new book (Cyberwar: How Russian Hackers and Trolls Helped Elect a President) that "Russia very likely delivered Trump's victory." You can read all about it in Jane Mayer's recent article in the New Yorker, "How Russia Helped Swing the Election for Trump."

As if giving us the Tweeter-in-Chief wasn't bad enough, the Russian sock puppets then really went too far and fucked with a true American institution: Star Wars. A study conducted by Morten Bay ("Weaponizing the Haters"), a research fellow at USC, found evidence of "deliberate, organized political influence measures disguised as fan arguments," the likely objective of which was to increase "media coverage of the [Star Wars] fandom conflict, thereby adding to and further propagating a narrative of widespread discord and dysfunction in American society." In particular, Bay discovered that more than half of the comments directed at The Last Jedi director Rian Johnson on Twitter to express dissatisfaction with the movie actually came from Russian bots, trolls, or sock puppets who "us[ed] the debate to propagate political messages supporting extreme right-wing causes and the discrimination of gender, race, or sexuality." So maybe The Last Jedi wasn't as bad as you thought it was; your opinion may have been skewed by a Russian conspiracy to sow widespread division by tearing down one of the foundations of American culture as part of a larger propaganda campaign. Or maybe The Last Jedi really did just suck.

On the positive side, "Russian Sock Puppets" is a fantastic name for a rock band (or a wind quintet)!

"Deal with those Russian sock puppets, I will."

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The vegetable season is winding down at the City Market, but I still managed to find all of the ingredients I needed to make this dish there, including the chorizo from Free Union Grass Farm. Much like Brother Juniper's Spanish Lentil and Sausage Soup, just about all of the flavor in this recipe comes from the sausage, so you really need to use something flavorful like chorizo or spicy Italian sausages.

Chorizo with Fajita Vegetables and Potatoes

Adapted from Emma Laperruque via Food52 (with video)

Time from start to finish: 55 minutes

3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 pound chorizo or spicy Italian sausages (see note), each link pierced once with a fork
1 pound baby potatoes, halved or quartered depending on how small they are
kosher salt
2 bell peppers, roughly chopped into ¾-inch pieces
1 large (200 grams or more) red onion, roughly chopped into ¾-inch pieces
⅓ cup (80 grams) water

    1. Place a 12-inch cast-iron or stainless steel skillet that has a lid over medium-high heat. Add 1 tablespoon of the oil and heat until shimmering. Swirl to coat the pan, then add the sausages. Sear until browned over most of the surfaces, about 5 minutes total. Remove to a plate.
    2. Turn the heat down to medium. Return the pan to the heat, and swirl in another tablespoon of the oil. Place the potatoes in the pan with a cut side facing down. Season with a good three-finger pinch of salt. Cook, without moving, until the bottom side is brown, about 4 minutes. Flip each potato (tongs work well here); if you quartered the potatoes, flip so the second cut side is facing down. Cook, without moving, for 4 minutes. Remove to the plate with the sausages.
    3. Swirl the remaining tablespoon of oil into the pan. Add the peppers and onions, and season with another good three-finger pinch of salt. Cook, stirring regularly, until the vegetables are softened.
    4. Pour the water into the pan and cover. Cook until the potatoes are cooked through (a paring knife will slip in and out of a potato easily), about 10 to 15 minutes. Turn the heat down as needed to maintain a gentle simmer (probably down to medium-low eventually). Remove the lid for the last few minutes of cooking to boil off some of the excess liquid. Serve promptly with a piece of crusty bread to sop up the tasty juices. Makes 4 servings.

We sure do miss you guys, but ...

This is what our dinners look like now:

Candlelit; with a glass of wine; and bacon in our food! No offense, but Mom says it's like being on vacation. (Who'da thunk such blasphemy could ever pass your mother's sweet lips?)

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Feasting before the Rome derby, episode III

After this week's epochal win over Barcelona in the Champion's League quarterfinals, we had high hopes going into today's derby with our hated city rival Lazio. Alas, it wasn't to be this time, as the game ended in a 0-0 draw, with Bruno Peres and Edin Dzeko both rattling the woodwork for AS Roma. It was still an okay result, as we remain tied with Lazio for the third of four Champions League spots reserved for teams from Serie A, and we have the tiebreaker over Lazio, having defeated them earlier this season. Even so, our position remains precarious, since we're also only one point ahead of Inter, who holds the tiebreaker against us if it comes down to it. I guess we'll just have to win the Champions League this year to secure our direct qualification into the Champions League next year.

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After a months-long inquiry spearheaded by the Charlottesville 29, it has been determined by the cognoscenti that Charlottesville's signature dish is the ham biscuit. Brad will undoubtedly be disappointed that the winner was not an egg-on-everything-bagel from Bodo's, but Chef Angelo appears to be on board as he is now serving up his own version of the dish at C'ville's best restaurant, the Ivy Inn. In honor of the unveiling, here are my own buttermilk biscuits, which I'm sure are not as tasty as Angelo's, but are still pretty good. 

Buttermilk Biscuits

There are lots of ways to cut the butter into the dry ingredients. I went with grating in frozen butter shards, because I keep butter in the freezer, and it's an easy method that works well. You can also cut the butter into ½-inch cubes and incorporate it into the dry ingredients using a pastry blender or by rubbing it in with your fingers. Or you can mix the dry ingredients in a food processor fitted with the steel blade, then scatter ½-inch cubes of cold butter over the flour mixture, and pulse until the mixture looks like coarse cornmeal, about 8 to 10 one-second pulses. The food processor works very well, but then you have to clean it, which is why I like the grating method.

360 grams (3 cups) all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon (12 grams) white sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 slightly rounded teaspoon fine sea salt
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 stick (113 grams; 8 tablespoons) frozen butter
303 grams (1¼ cups) buttermilk

    1. Place a rack in the center of the oven, and heat to 450 degrees.
    2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and baking soda.
    3. Using the large holes of a box grater, grate the frozen butter onto a plate or cutting board, then scatter the shards over the dry ingredients. Stir the butter into the flour with a silicone spatula.
    4. Pour the buttermilk over the flour-butter mixture. Stir together with the spatula until mostly combined.
    5. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Gently knead the dough just enough to bring it together (maybe 8–10 times). Gently pat the dough into a 1-inch-thick rectangle, then fold it over onto itself. Repeat the patting and folding two more times; this will help make flaky layers in the baked biscuits. Gently pat the dough into an 8-by-10-inch rectangle (for square biscuits) or a 9-inch circle (for round biscuits). Either shape should be about ¾-inch thick.
    6a. For square biscuits (easier), flour the edge of a bench scraper. Use the bench scraper to cut the rectangular dough into 12 or so squares. Push straight down when cutting (no twisting).
    6b. For traditional round biscuits, cut circles out of the dough using a floured 2½-inch biscuit cutter. Push straight down when cutting (no twisting). Gather the leftover dough and gently pat it into a ¾-inch-thick circle, working it as little as possible, and continue cutting out biscuit rounds.
    7. Arrange the formed biscuits, upside down, on a 13-by-18-inch baking sheet. (There is no need to grease the baking sheet first.) Bake for 5 minutes, then turn the oven down to 425 degrees. Bake until golden brown, about 7–8 more minutes. Serve warm, with good butter and/or jam, or allow to cool completely to make ham biscuits.

Ham Biscuits
Get your hands on some of the best-quality Virginia country ham you can find. Split biscuits in half. Spread each half with a thin layer of honey mustard. Pile on some thin-sliced country ham.

A ready-made sandwich

So I've obviously been going pedal to the metal on the spelt testing since I discovered that Mom can handle foods made with spelt. Breads made with 100% spelt flour apparently don't come out well in a bread machine. But the Spelt Soda Bread was incredibly easy and puts a very good loaf of bread on the table inside of an hour. This isn't quite that fast, but it's almost as easy and the payoff is even greater. Mom and I both love this, and it's a whole meal to itself, sorta like a ready-made sandwich that you just have to slice and eat. 

Spelt Bread with Ham and Chorizo

Adapted from The Hairy Bikers’ Big Book of Baking (2012) by Si King & Dave Myers via Sharpham Park

Since I make yeasted bread in the bread machine once or twice a week, I buy SAF Red Instant Yeast by the pound; it's much cheaper that way. I keep a small container in the fridge for weekly use, and the rest in a larger container in the freezer so it will last longer. They sell yeast spoons that measure 2¼ teaspoons, which is the same amount that's in one envelope (or sachet, as the Brits say) of yeast.

450 grams (~3¾ cups) whole grain spelt flour, plus extra for dusting
1 teaspoon fine salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
2¼ teaspoons (one 7-gram/¼-ounce envelope) instant yeast (see note)
300 grams/ml (~1¼ cups) water
oil, for greasing
100 grams sliced ham, torn or cut into bite-sized pieces (I used smoked ham from Timbercreek Market) 
50 grams sliced chorizo or salami, torn or cut into bite-sized pieces (I used Olli salame; they make chorizo, too)

    1. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, baking powder, and yeast. Leave a well in the center with your whisk, then pour in the water. Mix well with a silicone spatula, though it won’t all come together until you start kneading.
     2. Tip the dough out onto a work surface, lightly floured if necessary, and knead it gently until the dough is smooth, 1 to 2 minutes. The gluten in spelt is more fragile than that in wheat flour so no more than that. Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap or a clean kitchen towel, and leave to rise for about an hour until it has nearly doubled in size. 
    3. Near the end of the rising time, heat the oven to 350 degrees. Have ready an 18-by-13-inch baking sheet.
    4. Deflate the dough, then place it on a silicone mat or a lightly floured work surface and roll it out to make a roughly 8-by-12-inch rectangle. Cover the surface of the dough with the pieces of meat, leaving a ½-inch border around the edges (see the photo above). 
    5. Starting from the 8-inch side of the rectangle, roll the dough up like a Swiss roll. Place the roll on the baking sheet, seam side down. Bake until the loaf is golden brown and (supposedly) sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom, about 45 to 50 minutes. If you have an instant-read thermometer, it’s much more reliable to take the bread out when the center registers 195 degrees. Cool on a wire rack. Store wrapped in foil in the fridge.

Sexy peppercorns

Two years ago I brought Cassie to a bassoon day at VCU in Richmond. It was a good excuse for me to have breakfast and spend a beautiful morning wandering around Carytown with my buddy Ed. One of the stores we stopped in was Penzeys, a great spice shop. Being a fan of all things pepper, Ed looked through the selection of peppercorns and bought some of his favorites, the Tellicherry Peppercorns.

Fast forward to about a month ago, when I got a cryptic email from Ed with no text, just the subject line "so you don't like the tellicherry pepper, eh?" I emailed back that I was confused, but no clarity was forthcoming from Ed, who told me only that it would come to me as I mulled it over, but that it "could take days."

Within a week, I got a package from Ed with this inside:

I called Ed and he explained that these are Kampot peppercorns, which are grown only near Kampot, Cambodia. Kampot pepper is apparently prized by chefs like Anthony Bourdain, who says "[i]t's got a floral dimension that's really something special," and Michael Laisknois, a pastry chef who uses the pepper in desserts because it has "a certain sweetness to it rather than straightforward heat."

I was intrigued and wanted to try it in some dishes that really showcase the pepper as a star ingredient. The first thing that came to mind was obviously pasta cacio e pepe. So one night last week when Mom and Cassie were both eating out, I made a big pot of spaghetti for Brad and me. I put a good handful of the Kampot peppercorns into my mortar and pounded them lightly with the pestle until they were just cracked:

The bouquet wafted up immediately, spicy but quite floral and very interesting. I dosed the finished pasta heavily with the cracked pepper and it was fabulous: strong, but complex and not at all overpowering. I looked forward to the next dish I could feature the pepper in.

In a wonderful bit of serendipity, last week's edition of "Genius Recipes," one of my favorite columns on Food52, featured a "genius, speed-demon method for crispy pork shoulder" in a recipe that uses a lot of black pepper. Yesterday, I swung by the Timbercreek Market and picked up some pork shoulder (aka butt or Boston butt), which is actually a cheap ($6.99 a pound; that's cheap for anything at Timbercreek), "surly" cut of meat:

It was morning when I went to Timbercreek, so I had to treat myself to one of their yummy biscuits, too. 😉 When it was time for dinner, I pounded the Kampot peppercorns in my mortar, along with some Sichuan peppercorns and a pinch of red pepper flakes, and tossed the cubed pork with it. You can see from the raw meat just how much pepper is in this dish:

But it was so good. Again, spicy, but very flavorful and not overpowering. It's times like these I'm thankful for you vegetarians in our family. More for me (or Mom and me, in this case), as Grandpa Guy likes to say. Mom and I scarfed it all in one sitting, and will happily do so again the next time I make it. Dylan loves pepper, so this is definitely one for him to try, especially since it's quick and simple, too. (The original recipe is from Nigel Slater as one of his "midweek dinners" for The Guardian.)

Salt and Pepper Pork

Adapted from Dinner (2017) by Melissa Clark via Food52 (adapted from Nigel Slater in The Guardian)

If you can't find the Sichuan peppercorns, skip them or use some more black pepper—the dish will still be good, just not as aromatic or tongue-tingling. Food52's adaptation of this recipe says not to use a nonstick skillet, but I think that's a mistake. The second time I made this, I used a nonstick skillet and 99% of the pepper remained on the pork, rather than having a lot stick to the bottom like it did when I made this in a stainless steel skillet.

1 tablespoon black peppercorns
2 teaspoons Sichuan peppercorns, or to taste (see note)
a pinch of crushed red pepper flakes
1 pound boneless pork shoulder/butt, trimmed of tough gristle (keep most of the fat) and cut into 1-inch cubes
½ teaspoon fine sea salt
2 tablespoons peanut, canola, or sunflower oil
1 teaspoon flaky sea salt, like Maldon
a few crisp iceberg or romaine lettuce leaves, shredded
a few torn cilantro or mint leaves
lime wedges

   1. Using a spice grinder or a mortar and pestle, coarsely grind together the peppercorns and the red pepper flakes. You can also put everything into a ziplock bag and pound it with a meat pounder or the bottom of a heavy skillet. Whatever method you use, don't overdo it; you want everything to be only coarsely ground. In a medium bowl, toss the pork cubes with the pepper mixture and fine sea salt. Let rest at room temperature for 20 minutes.
    2. Heat the oil in a wok or 12-inch nonstick skillet (see note) over medium-high to high heat. When the oil is shimmering, swirl it around the pan, then add the seasoned pork. Sprinkle the flaky sea salt over the pork. Stir-fry until the pork cubes are golden brown all over, moving them quickly around the pan so the pepper doesn't burn, about 5 minutes.
    3. Serve the pork over rice, or on its own, with the crisp lettuce, a few torn leaves of cilantro or mint, and a squeeze of lime. It's also good tucked into a piece of warm, soft flatbread with the lettuce, cilantro, and a squeeze of lime, sort of like a taco. Serves 2 or 3.

Making Brother Juniper's acquaintance

I recently passed along to Dylan a copy of one of my all-time favorite cookbooks: Sacramental Magic in a Small-Town Café: Recipes and Stories from Brother Juniper's Café, or "Brother Juniper" for short, as it's referred to by everyone I know. It is definitely the most entertaining cookbook I know to read straight through, if you read cookbooks for something other than the recipes. The chapters on "The Coleslaw Reaction Revisited" ("Boy, that's good slaw!") and "Holy Smoke" ("'They try!' said Mama Flint. 'Oh honey, they try, yeah they try!'") are alone worth the price of admission.

While thumbing through Brother Juniper again recently, I was surprised how long it's been since I made this soup, given my love of all things lentil. With the availability of great chorizo from Free Union Grass Farm (which Dylan and I recently visited together), I thought this would be right up Dylan's alley, and I wasn't wrong. Dylan swooned over the soup, declaring it the best meal we've made together since he got home, and vowing to add it to his dinner rotation. There are many other treasures in the book for Dylan to discover, including the California Hoagies with "Secret Sauce" Dressing, which Mom and I used to have on a weekly basis.

Brother Juniper's Spanish Lentil and Sausage Soup

Adapted from Sacramental Magic in a Small-Town Café (1994) by Br. Peter Reinhart

Time from start to finish: ~45 minutes (depending on your lentils)

The soup has no added spices other than what it's in the sausage, so you need to use a spicy sausage here. I haven't tried it, but Reinhart says you can make a vegetarian version of this soup by substituting vegetarian soup base for the water and adding paprika, cayenne, black pepper, and a touch of vinegar.

4 cups (950 grams) water
8 ounces (1¼ cups) uncooked green lentils, picked over and rinsed
kosher salt
1 pound fresh chorizo, Creole sausage, or linguica, casings removed (see note)
1 large onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
8 to 10 ounces frozen, chopped spinach (one 10-ounce package, or you can use half a 1-pound bag of Trader Joe's Chopped Spinach)
2 large tomatoes, diced; or 1 (14.5-ounce) can diced tomatoes (regular or fire roasted) with their juice
Chopped fresh parsley or cilantro, for garnish

    1. In a pot no smaller than a 4-quart saucier, bring the water to a boil. Add the lentils and 1 teaspoon salt, cover, and turn the heat down to maintain a steady simmer. Cook until the lentils are tender but not mushy, often about 25 to 30 minutes, but the time varies depending on the lentils, so start checking at 15 minutes.
    2. Meanwhile, heat a 10- or 12-inch skillet over medium heat. Add the sausage, breaking it up into small pieces with a wooden spoon. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the sausage is browned. Remove the sausage to a plate with a slotted spoon, leaving as much of the oil as possible in the pan.
    3. Stir the onions into the oil (you can add some extra-virgin olive oil to the pan if your sausage wasn’t very fatty), and season with a pinch of salt. Sauté until the onions are soft and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute (don't burn the garlic). If there’s a lot of fond in the pan, you can deglaze with a little water or sherry vinegar if you like. Remove the pan from the heat.
    4. When the lentils are ready, stir in the sausage, onion and garlic, spinach, and tomatoes with their juice. Bring to a simmer and cook for 10 minutes. Taste for seasoning. Serve promptly, garnishing each serving with the chopped parsley or cilantro. Makes 6 servings.

A quick substitute for graduation leftovers

We had a butt-ton (as Cassie would say) of food left over from Dylan's graduation festivities. (My little boy graduated from college, good grief!) I hate wasting food so I suggested we have leftovers for dinner, but Grandpa Guy was less than enthusiastic. I pondered for a minute and asked Grandpa if he likes mushrooms, to which he replied "sometimes." Despite the lack of commitment, I decided to go for it, since Dylan loves mushrooms and it was his graduation we've been celebrating. I ran to Food Lion, picked up half a pound of cremini mushrooms (not enough, according to Dylan), and threw this dish together in the time it takes to boil a pot of water and cook spaghetti. Grandpa was much more enthusiastic after trying it and even had two big bowls, which was a relief. Now I just need to do something about the upstairs toilet, which Grandpa said "always smells like piss."

Spaghetti with Mushrooms and Prosciutto

Inspired by Italian Food (1987) by Elizabeth David

1 to 2 tablespoons fine sea salt

1 pound spaghetti

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided

8 to 12 ounces cremini or white button mushrooms, thinly sliced

4 ounces prosciutto, cut into relatively thin strips (or diced pancetta)

kosher salt

freshly ground black pepper

freshly grated Parmesan or pecorino Romano cheese, for serving

    1. Bring 4 quarts of water to a roiling boil in a large, covered stockpot over high heat. Stir in the fine sea salt until dissolved. Add the pasta and stir a few times during the first minute or two to keep it from sticking. Cook until al dente. Drain, reserving a mugful of the pasta cooking water.

    2. Meanwhile, place 2 tablespoons of the butter in a large skillet, saute pan, or saucier. Place the pan over medium heat. When the butter is melted, add the mushrooms and prosciutto. Season with a pinch of kosher salt and a grind or two of pepper. Saute until the mushrooms are lightly browned and have released their liquid, but the pan is not dry.
     3. Add the drained pasta to the pan along with the remaining tablespoon of butter and ¼ cup (a 2-ounce ladleful) of pasta water. Toss until well combined, adding more pasta water as needed to adjust the consistency. Serve promptly, topped with grated cheese. Serves 4.

Making use of the leftover pancetta

I had some leftover pancetta from dinner the other night that I couldn't let go to waste. We all liked the Pasta alla Gricia a lot, but Dylan said he still likes Amatriciana sauce better, so I decided to work on that recipe a bit. I've made a few different versions, but this time I worked out a simpler one of my own that was just a riff on the "white Amatriciana" we had the other night. I stuck to the ingredients used in the traditional sauce (at least according to the mayor of Amatrice), which means no onion (and definitely no garlic) and a little bit of white wine to deglaze the pan. I did break with tradition some in the technique: I like the trick from Cook's Illustrated of smearing the cheese with some of the fat, which keeps the cheese from clumping up when you stir it into the hot pasta.

Spaghetti all'Amatriciana

Time: ~30 minutes

There is much controversy over whether to add onion to the dish. If you want to try it with onion, dice a small onion (or a medium shallot or two) and sauté the pieces until softened and translucent, but not browned, at the beginning of step 2.

115 grams/4 ounces guanciale or pancetta, sliced at least ⅛-inch thick
1 tablespoon (14 grams) extra-virgin olive oil
30 grams (½ cup) grated Pecorino Romano cheese, plus more for serving
¼ to ½ teaspoon red pepper flakes, to taste
¼ cup dry white wine, optional
1 (28-ounce) can whole San Marzano tomatoes, hand crushed or roughly chopped; or 1 (15-ounce) can diced tomatoes, with their juice (the diced tomatoes are easier, but the hand crushed or chopped whole tomatoes are better)
1 to 2 tablespoons fine sea salt
1 pound spaghetti or, preferably, bucatini

    1. Cut the guanciale into 1-by-¼-inch pieces. Place the pieces in a sauté pan or saucier with the oil and set the pan over medium heat. Sauté the guanciale, adjusting the heat as needed, until it has rendered its fat and is just turning golden and crispy around the edges. Remove 2 tablespoons of the fat to a small bowl, add the cheese, and smear them together until the cheese is coated with the fat. If there is a lot of fat remaining in the pan after removing the 2 tablespoons, you can pour some of it off if you like, but leave at least a tablespoon or two in the pan.
    2. Return the pan to medium heat. Stir in the red pepper flakes and cook for 30 seconds. Stir in the wine and cook until nearly evaporated (the wine that is; the fat isn't going anywhere), 2 to 3 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes with their juice. Cook at a gentle simmer, stirring occasionally, until the sauce has thickened some, about 10 minutes.
    3. Meanwhile, bring 4 quarts of water to a roiling boil in a large, covered stockpot over high heat. Stir in the salt until dissolved. After adding the tomatoes to the sauce, add the pasta to the boiling water and stir a few times during the first minute or two to keep it from sticking. Drain, reserving a mugful of the pasta cooking water.
    4. Add the drained pasta to the pan and toss well to coat with the sauce. Remove the pan from the heat. Add the cheese-fat mixture and toss well again. Add pasta water as needed to adjust the consistency. Serve promptly, passing more cheese at the table. Serves 4.