Rooftop Gourmet

With my fiance in Florida, relaxing on the beach during school vacation, I am home alone and forced to cook for myself. Cooking for one is a difficult thing task for someone like me who typically makes enough food to feed and entire baseball team when it’s just the two of us eating. I was determined to stay on budget and finish the meal with no leftovers… even if it meant cleaning my second plate as a late night snack.

 The East Broadway Stop & Shop has been closed all week for renovations (hopefully meaningful ones), so I ventured into the South End to a small market that I had heard about. It’s called Foodie’s Urban Market, and it definitely lived up to the hype. Fresh produce, a separate butcher section, and aisles of gourmet ingredients make this market my new quick stop location.

 It certainly beats the old Stop and Shop where it takes 45 minutesto dig through a mountain of yellow onions before I find one without a mushy hole in it. I walked into this place with no ideas in mind, and wound up in the same place I started an hour later. With nothing accomplished, and nothing in my basket I had to make a split second decision before I got kicked out for loitering. I ended up leaving with an 8oz. Filet Mignon, 2 shallots, and a block of English Stilton. Stilton is an extremely strong smelling, cow’s milk blue cheese from England.

 It’s distinctive blue veins are created by piercing the crust with stainless steel needles that allows air into the core of the wheel. A recent survey proves that eating English Stilton within one hour of sleep causes 75% of men and 85% of women to experience “odd and vivid” dreams. I don’t know what that means and I’m not sure that I want to, but there wasn’t enough cheese left to consume after dinner anyway.

I came home and started making a cheese sauce for my steak. I started by making a light roux (equal parts butter and flour whisked over moderate heat), which acts as a binder to thicken my sauce.

 I poured in some heavy cream and cubes of the gorgeous blue cheese, which slowly dissolved into a thick, gurgling cream sauce. I finished it with a healthy pinch of freshly cracked black peppercorns and a sprinkle of chopped parsley. I love steak, and Filet is probably my least favorite cut of meat. I am a flavor junkie, and the marbling in a Filet Mignon just doesn’t cut it for me.

 I usually go for a ribeye for its fat that weaves itself throughout the meat and then melts into the flesh when it hits the grill. Tonight was different because I was making an insanely rich sauce, packed with flavor, that it was okay to substitute flavor for tenderness. I seasoned the Filet liberally and seared it in a smoking hot pan before finishing it in the oven.

The outside of the meat formed a nice black pepper crust, leaving the center pink and juicy. During the last couple minutes of cooking, I threw a pad of butter on top of the Filet and let it melt into the flesh (I couldn’t resist… why do you think steakhouse steaks taste better than when you make them at home??). For some additional texture, I topped the steak with a heaping mound of fried shallots before spooning the pungent, creamy Stilton sauce all over the plate. I sat at the barstool in my kitchen and watched Sunday Night Baseball while devouring this, and sipping a 2006 Cameron Hughes Lot 74 Cabernet Sauvignon.

All of the Cabernet grapes in this wine come from the Oak Knoll District in Napa, which tends to be a cooler climate region than most Cabernet growing zones. The result is more of a Bordeaux meets California style… a clash between old and new world. It definitely wasn’t your typical fruit bomb, powerful California Cab. It was loaded with cassis and espresso flavors that balanced beautifully with the tannins. In my opinion, this is a wine that structurally could hold up for quite some time in a cellar. It was a great match for the Filet, because it was quite elegant and sexy. A grilled ribeye might have overpowered this wine. After the game I went to bed, and had a dream that I was having a heart attack. It was extremely vivid, but not quite so odd…. it must have been the Stilton.

Amidst all of the unpacked boxes, and time spent icing our backs and knees from the moving process, we still found time to order a pizza and pop a house warming present. Trust me, it’s killing me staring at my new Vermont Castings monstrosity of a grill (more like an entire outdoor kitchen range) and brand new stove without whipping up something creative, but we’re just too exhausted. Literally collapsing after hours of moving and unpacking, an eleven o’clock pizza sounded like the way to go.

I ordered a half double mushroom-onion, and half bacon-olive with extra cheese on both halves. Deadly, but much deserved, and washed down smoothly by the bottle of 2000 Dom Perignon. The ferocious Champagne bubbles temporarily lifted me out of my exhaustion coma and made me alert enough to devour a few slices before passing out.

Living in South Boston during St. Patrick’s Day is a blast. Walk into the supermarket the week before and you really don’t have a choice not to cook corned beef. They’re everywhere! The line just to get up to the cabbage cart is four people deep. It was as if a monsoon was coming (I think it might have). The torrential downpour for three straight days left me no choice but to get that hunk of meat boiling away because I wasn’t leaving my kitchen.

I have to be honest, I had never made corned beef before, but how hard could it be? Boil the meat for a couple hours, slice, and serve. Those Irish know how to keep it simple. Even though corned beef and cabbage isn’t a traditional Irish meal, it is a huge part of Irish-American culture. If you want to see first hand how popular a traditional Boiled New England dinner is, pop into the East Broadway Stop & Shop on March 16th. When Irish immigrants came to America, they began curing large cuts of beef with huge salt crystals. They referred to these salt crystals as corns, which is where this American dish got its crazy name.

Since I’m moving out of my apartment tomorrow, I decided to cut my landlord some slack and opt not to boil the cabbage. The smell of boiled cabbage is pretty funky and it can linger for days. I went a more pleasant route, and roasted some brussel sprouts, a mini cabbage relative, until the outer leaves were nice and crispy.

I did toss the Yukon golds into the salty cauldron, but removed them and slathered them in butter when they were finished cooking. My Irish side wanted to keep it as traditional as possible, but my Italian side was determined to put its own spin on this dish. I wanted to make a sauce that would balance out the salt cured beef so I chose a Zabaglione, a sweet, Italian dessert. A classic Zabaglione is made by whisking egg yolks with sugar over a double boiler to incorporate as much air as possible.

Then, sweet Sicilian Marsala wine is slowly added to give the custard-like sauce its flavor. I put an Irish twist on this sauce by substituting one of my favorite Irish Whiskeys for the Marsala. Bushmills Black Bush Whiskey is a unique blend of malt whiskey that is aged in Sherry casks, and sweet batch-distilled grain whiskey.

The color of the whiskey is slightly darker than normal and has lots of nutty, dried fruits aromas and flavors from the Sherry casks. Straight up, the whiskey is impeccably smooth and has a sweet finish that lingers forever. This made it a perfect alternative to finish off my sweet Zabaglione.

When the corned beef was done, I sliced it thinly on the plate and spooned the frothy sauce over it. The Zabaglione was light and airy but extremely rich on the palate. When combined with the egg yolks and extra sugar, the Bushmills tasted like raisins and butterscotch. It was a perfect sauce to compliment the salty beef. If you want to get really corny… add some green food coloring to your Irish Whiskey Zabaglione this St. Patrick’s Day!

I am moving this week into a new condo but I am going to try to get another blog in somehow. Conviently, we bought the top floor unit and will still be the Rooftop Gourmet. Our new roofdeck is bigger and better, and the kitchen will be able to support all sorts of adventures to come, so stay tuned.

Braised oxtail is exactly what it sounds like… slow cooked tail meat from a giant ox. Turns out, this tough, gelatinous cut of meat is packed with the most intense beef flavor than any other part of a cow. When it’s slow cooked for hours, the connective tissue and meat breaks down slowly leaving you with fork tender, rich, flavorful beef. Don’t be fooled, this isn’t just a fly swatter, it’s a foodies’ dream.

I braised the oxtail in a reduction of two bottles of red Zinfandel and beef broth. By reducing the wine first, it concentrates the bold fruit flavors as well as burns off the boozy taste. A brunoise of classic mirepoix (carrots, onions, celery) were sweated down and a handful of aromatics were tossed in (thyme, parsley stems, and bay leaves) before I added my secret twist ingredient.

 I love incorporating different ingredients to braises and stews just to give it that underlying aroma or flavor that you can almost put your finger on, but can’t quite figure out what it is.

 One teaspoon of cinnamon and some freshly grated nutmeg did the trick. It didn’t overpower the beef, but contributed to the richness of the sauce, giving it some Moroccan flair.

With the pot of tail in the oven and lots of time to waste, I fooled around with some hors dourve ideas. I roasted some whole garlic cloves with some baby heirloom tomatoes and extra virgin olive oil. Whenever you want to draw serious flavor out of an ingredient… roast it. The skins of the tomatoes pop and then start to wither down into a wrinkly pile of condensed tomato goodness.

 I sliced up some mini baguette into a crostini and spread a healthy dose of tangy goat cheese on the top before smothering it with the roasted tomatoes and sweet garlic cloves. A sprinkle of chunky sea salt and a drizzle of truffle oil made these bite sized snacks unforgettable.

When the oxtail was getting tender, I scraped all of the meat off the bones and discarded them. I poured all of the braising liquid into a fine mesh strainer and returned it to the pot to reduce and concentrate even more beef flavor while I shredded the meat with two forks.

 The rich aromas of meat and sweet spices wafted into my nose and it was tempting to not sneak a few heaping forkfulls of beef before I even boiled the water for the gnocchi.

I bought some golf ball sized potato gnocci at Whole Foods which only needed a few minutes in some boiling water before they were soft and tender. These gnocchi were especially fluffy and not too dense which was nice because I could eat more before entering a food coma.

I tossed the gnocci in with the oxtail ragu and the silky sauce clung to the starchy balls perfectly. I chose to pair this dish with the new vintage of one of my favorite Italian reds. The Umberto Cesari Sangiovese Riserva has been a staple on my table for years.

 This wine is everything a good wine from the Emilia-Romagna region should be; lots of fruit on the nose followed by some spicy cherry fruit, dried herbs and porcini mushroom flavors. It has great acidity and weight which was important for going head to head with the hearty ragu. The rustic and powerful red held its own and was a great match with the dish.

 Most wines from the Emila-Romagna region are bold and robust because the cuisine in that part of the country is pretty hearty. Lots of filled pastas, and heavy ragus come from this region. This classic dish emphasizes the fact that Italians use every single part of the animal and make even the strange parts taste delicious. So next time, you’re on your way to the supermarket, pick up some tail.

With all the hustle and bustle of recently getting engaged, this is the first time my fiance and I had some time to get back into the kitchen. Of course I decided to make something that requires getting our hands dirty and put her in fear of getting her newly adorned bling messy. 

A roulade is French term derived from the phrase “to roll”, and is typically a cut of beef that is rolled around a filling of some sort. Pretty much every cuisine has their version of this classic dish, from the Italian Braciole to the simple Japanese Maki Roll. Siobhan is a pro at rolling and trussing so I put her to work stirring the risotto and getting the butchers twine ready while I pounded the meat.

The thick slab of top round beef looked like a place mat after I was done with it. The pounding not only tenderizes this tougher cut of beef but makes it more accessible to rolling and stuffing. The stuffing consisted of shallots, garlic, spinach, Panko bread crumbs, pine nuts, and shavings of fresh Pecorino Romano cheese.

It’s important to let the stuffing rest and cool before spreading an even layer over the beef (and shave the cheese on after it cools). I think Siobhan was a butcher in a previous life because she trussed the roulade like a champ, slip-knot, after slip-knot, without skipping a beat. It wasn’t until we were cleaning up afterwards that she let me in on her secret; apparently the technique is very similar to a sewing motion.

 Once the beef was secured, we seasoned and seared it in a sizzling hot roasting pan before popping it into a 350 degree oven.

 The risotto was on the stove, getting constant splashes of hot veal stock, sucking it dry, and calling for more liquid in steady intervals. As soon as the first grain of arborio rice started to get al dente, I took the pot off the heat and added a handful of Parmesan cheese, a pinch of saffron, and a _____ of butter.

 The lid goes on, and the risotto can rest on the back of the stove while we waited for the roulade to come to temperature.

I must admit, I have never roasted a radish before but I read about roasted radishes in a book that I’m reading. “Nasty Bits”, is a compilation of short chapters and food related rants by famous chef and author Anthony Bourdain.

He talked about eating roasted radishes in a French bistro with nothing more than a sprinkle of sea salt. Sure enough, the experience was just as he had described it. The pop of the tiny, shriveled orb released juices that tasted like clarified butter and got me drooling all over myself.

When the roulade was medium in temperature, we removed it from the oven and started snipping off the twine while it rested.

 I opened a bottle of the 2007 Porrera Black Slate Priorat because this was their debut vintage to celebrate our debut engagement blog dinner. This wine comes from the Priorat region of Spain, which is considered to be the best of the best for Spanish grape growing regions. It is a blend of Garnacha and Carinena grapes grown in the tiny village of Porrera, a area of Priorat where the winemaker, Joan Sangenius was raised.

As you can tell from the initial quaff and first sip, this isn’t some hot shot dabbling in winemaking and debuting their first wine. This is a serious wine from a man who comes from a family that has been making wine for over 200 years. The inky, jet black color is intriguing and the nose is full of blueberry and spice. Ripe flavors, and sweet, dark berries fill the palate seductively followed by a young, sharp finish.

 This wine is would benefit immensely from five to ten years of cellaring. The rich, full bodied wine had nuances of black licorice that paired nicely with the outer charred crust of the roast and the smooth mouth feel was harmonious with the tender, inner layers of beef. The layers of flavor in the stuffing hit your taste buds, one after another, culminating in a huge bite of creamy, cheesy risotto. The roulade was devoured quickly but there was plenty of extra risotto for us to take to work the next day… that’s just how we roll.