Rooftop Gourmet

I’ll admit… I used to walk by packages of dried Porcini mushrooms in the grocery store and think to myself, “WHY would anyone want to eat a nasty, crunchy, dried mushroom”? They looked like little satchels of bark mulch that I used to stomp around in at recess.

Then one day in culinary school, I actually learned how to prepare them the right way. From that day on, I realized that it is virtually impossible to get as much mushroom flavor and essence out of a fresh mushroom than it is from a dried one. The intensity of woodsy, earthy, fungus-y deliciousness is multiplied and compact into a gnarly little dried root looking thing that comes alive in hot water. It reminds me of the little 25 cent toys I used to beg my mother for on the way out of the supermarket that you dropped into hot water and they “magically” transformed into a dinosaur or a washcloth.

 The onset of Spring jam-packed our calendar this week so once we were able to finally take a deep breath, we sat down for a simple, yet comforting dinner.

For most people, risotto is a long, grueling task that quickly turns into an afterthought in the 7 minutes it takes to make rice pilaf. For us, it’s a slow paced, relaxing dinner that requires essentially no prep work and minimal clean up. On the way home from work, I picked up some fresh and dried mushrooms, and a few sea scallops to combine the fruits of the land and the sea into one nourishing dish. Everything else I needed was already a staple in my kitchen, including my loving risotto stirrer.

I always have a jar of risotto rice on hand in my pantry for times like these. Risotto rice is a very specific type of rice called either Arborio, Carnaroli, or Vialone Nano.

The name risotto translates to “little rice” because it is short-grained and extremely high in starch. These rices have the ability to absorb liquids and release starches so that they are stickier than other long-grain varieties. Unlike other freelance Italian cooking techniques, perfect risotto requires extreme precision and care.

While Siobhan started the sofrito (sauteing finely chopped onions in butter), I quickly sauteed a variety of wild mushrooms in a separate pan with some freshly snipped thyme from my rooftop herb garden. I also soaked a handful of the dried Porcini mushrooms in hot water and let them rejuvinate. This technique not only produces rehydrated mushrooms, it leaves you with a rich mushroom broth, that’s dark as night.

Once the Porcinis have come back to life, I remove them from the broth with a slotted spoon and transfer them to the food processor for my secret trick. I pulse the dried mushrooms into a thick, dark, mushroom paste that gets stirred into the risotto about halfway through the cooking process to intensify the mushroom flavor. This extra burst of flavor is what turns great mushroom risotto into incredible mushroom risotto. After the onions become translucent, Siobhan added the Carnaroli rice straight to the pot and stirred it around so that each and every grain gets coated with the butter.

This step in the process is called tostatura, because you’re essentially toasting the short, chubby grains before the liquid is added. Next, you want to hit the pot with some type of liquid, typically white wine because it adds flavor, and acidity.

We added some dry white wine, along with a splash of nice Cognac because we wanted to infuse some of its rich, caramel, vanilla undertones into the earthy dish. This is when you crank up the heat a bit and let the liquid reduce before slowly adding the broth, ladle by ladle. Siobhan used the leftover broth from the dried mushrooms, along with some canned mushroom broth that we had in the back of the pantry. This is the part of the process where you literally have to glue your feet to the floor below the stove and never walk away.

Gently adding hot stock to the pot and constantly stirring, loosens up the starch molecules on the outside of the rice grains and ships them into the surrounding liquid, creating a smooth, creamy texture. During Siobhan’s forearm workout, I added the homemade, dried mushroom paste to the pot, which instantly gave the risotto to a dark, mocha hue to it. After about twenty minutes, and constant seasoning and taste-testing, the risotto was almost al dente. At this point, I added the fresh mushrooms and removed the pot from the heat to prepare it for the mantecatura stage.

This consists of the addition of butter and Parmigiano-Reggiano, along with vigorous whipping to make the texture as smooth and creamy as possible. While my stirrer was whipping away, I seared a few fresh sea scallops in a skillet until one side caramelized and sweet. We plated the wavy risotto in a tiny bowl and topped it with a perfectly seared scallop and a tiny drizzle of the ever so aromatic, White Truffle oil. This earth meets sea comfort delight was steaming and begging me to dig right in. The truffle awoke all of my senses, and the first bite seemed to magically dissolve on my tongue like a thin piece of edible silk.

The mushroom flavor was predominant, but the nutty Parmigiano and rich Cognac were not far in the background. I popped a bottle of 2004 Cascina Roera Vigna San Martino Barbera d’Asti from the Piedmont region of Italy, where risotto is most abundant. From the second the cork slipped out of the neck, the Nebbiolo smell was permeating the room. This is one of those wines that is so proud of its roots that one whiff of the glass, and you just know where it came from. Aromas of black cherry and herbs, with a brick red color to the wine are pleasantly inviting. The alcohol percentage on this wine is surprisingly high, but after it’s open for a while, the boozy taste blows off, leaving you with soft tannins and gorgeous fruit. There is a decent amount of acidity, and the flavors are a combination of cherries and cranberry, with a gutsy, mocha finish.

This wine was excellent with the risotto because of its natural flavors and because some bottle age added to the earthiness of the dish. The risotto was so lavish and rich that I wanted more but couldn’t possibly take another bite. It was probably a good thing that this risotto sent us both into a food coma on the couch because we missed all of the Boston sports teams get their asses handed to them.

 I’ve said it a million times, there’s nothing I enjoy more on a warm summer night than grilled steak and corn on the cob. Something about the charred meat and the buttery, sweet corn kernels popping in my teeth as I typewriter through cob after cob. It reinforces that spring and summer are my favorite times of the year, spending time outdoors with friends and family around great food.

This past Sunday was a perfect night to fire up the grill, especially because I couldn’t run the dishwasher due to the water ban in Boston. Washing my knife, and cutting board with boiled water was frustrating enough, so I tried to cook the majority of the meal outdoors. I wanted to combine my favorite combination of steak and corn on the cob into something that I could hold in my hands. Forget the steak knife and fork, I wanted to create a sandwich that was packed with all of the flavors I was craving.

Skirt steak is perfect for sandwiches because it’s thin, and you have to slice it against the grain to maximize its tenderness; perfect for layering in between bread.

I seasoned the skirt with salt, chile powder, and enough freshly cracked black pepper to send you into a sneezing fit. Because it’s not very thick, I only flash grill it for a few minutes each side until its medium rare before slicing it. While I was out on the deck, I also grilled a couple ears of fresh corn.

This takes a little bit longer, because you want the kernels to brown and take on some of that amazing grill essence. You’ll know that the ears are starting to cook because they start popping loudly underneath the hood of your grill. When the corn was grilled, I took a knife to them and shaved off all of the grilled corn kernels and set them aside for the sauce. I made a classic aioli from scratch, which is basically a garlic-infused mayonnaise.

You start by whisking egg yolks and finely minced garlic while constantly drizzling in the oil. It’s quite the workout, especially if you don’t have a helper to hold the bowl for you. When my aioli was nice and thick, I seasoned it with salt, pepper, and fresh lemon juice before I spooned it into the blender. I tossed in all of the grilled corn kernels and pulsed it a few times to infuse the fresh corn flavor, but not too much to keep some of the whole kernels in tact.

I dipped my finger in to taste it and was blown away at how “corny” it was! One small, creamy bite was packed with so much sweet corn flavor, tangy garlic,  zesty lemon, and underlying char that made you realize it was grilled.

I could have taken out a spoon and devoured an entire bowl. Instead, I quickly grilled a chewy, French baguette and spread the grilled corn aioli all over it. Then I layered slabs of sliced skirt steak, some baby arugula, and shaved red onions, before topping it off with another drizzleof the corn sauce. I really had to clamp down on the sandwich in order to fit it into my mouth but it was worth the stretch. The juicy steak was so tender with that fiery black pepper crust that burned your lips just for a second before it was cooled down by the sweet and creamy aioli.

These would be great to serve at parties or barbecues because they’re small and handheld. You can hold a sandwich and a beer at the same time, whereas with corn on the cob and steak, it requires two hands, a forkand knife, and a lot of napkins. On the side, I made a grilled fingerling potato salad. Fingerlings are those small golden potatoes that look like fingers and are rich and buttery. I simply tossed them with olive oil, salt and pepper and dumped them onto the grill.

When they had a nice crust on them, I tossed them into a bowl with sliced haricot vert (thin French green beans), shaved red onions, and a few dollops of creamy Roquefort cheese.

The steam from the grilled potatoes slowly melted the creamy blue cheese and brought the whole potato salad together. I served these sandwiches on the deck with a bottle of 2006 Thomas Cusine Vilosell from Spain. I love this wine, not only because of its wicked cool label, but it’s a great wine for grilling. It’s a blend of primarily Tempranillo, with a touch of Cabernet, Merlot, Syrah, and Garnacha.

The wine is perfect for grilled meats because of its rich, smoky flavor. The grapes are grown at high altitude in chalky, clay soil which gives the wine this peppery, earthiness to it. When those flavors combine with the ripe, fruit from the Syrah and Garnacha, the combination is your Weber’s match made in heaven.

On scorching hot days, like this one, you can even throw it in the fridge for 15 minutes before serving it to give it a slight chill which surprisingly enhances certain red wines. The Vilosell had tons of blackberry and cocoa flavors followed by a smoky, black pepper finish. The only problem was putting down my sandwich to take another sip.

Imagine walking into a grocery store as a small child and looking at all of the different fruits, vegetables, and meats for the first time, wondering what every item is, let alone tastes like. That’s what I felt like the other day while on my grocery shopping adventure to the Super 88 in Dorchester. The Super 88 is a massive Asian market that can be quite overwhelming and confusing if you can’t read Japanese… you simply have to use your imagination.

I wandered the aisles for hours trying to decipher labels, picking up strange looking vegetables, and ogling at animal parts that I’ve never seen offered in a meat section before.

 I had an idea of what I was making but my curiosity kept me staring into fish tanks, and smelling what looked like giant, prickly dinosaur eggs. I wanted to make a traditional Japanese hot pot dish called Shabu Shabu that was actually created in the 20th century.

 It is a variant of the Chinese version called sukiyaki, where thinly sliced meat and vegetables are cooked in a steaming hot pot of broth. Shabu Shabu Translates to “swish swish”, which is the sound the pot makes when you swirl meat around with your chopsticks.

With a faint idea of what dashi was, I tracked down an English speaking clerk and asked him to direct me to it. I didn’t realize that it came dried and packaged, because I was under the impression that it was a broth. Apparently dashi is dried bonito fishflakes, dried seaweed, and who knows what else is in it.

 You mix it with hot water and it transforms into a heavenly aromatic, flavorful broth. I picked up two ribeyes, and went wild with all sorts of Japanese vegetables and roasted seaweed to add to my Shabu Shabu. I was surprised at how inexpensive everything was… I got an overflowing package of shiitake mushrooms for $1.20 (you can’t get that at Whole Foods).

At home, I spent a while honing my knife skills by julienning a dozen different vegetables and the steaks that I arranged around my medium sized Le Crusset.

It’s important to slice the meat very thin so that it cooks in just a few seconds of swishing around in the pot. Once I had a picture perfect, color-wheel of assorted hot pot accompaniments and a huge pot of boiling water, I added the dashi bouillon to the water.

 I also preheated my hot pot so that the temperature of the dashi broth stayed as hot as possible. The aroma of the hot broth was soothing and reminded me of miso soup but much richer. When it came to a rolling boil, I tossed in some Japanese Udon noodles, which only take a few minutes to cook.

Udon noodles are awesome because they’re like fresh spaghetti with more girth. I placed them in the bottom of the hot pot and ladled the dashi broth over it before I started to arrange everything else on top.

Carrots, scallions, shiitake mushrooms, Nori (roasted seaweed), bean sprouts, Japanese cabbage, enoki mushrooms, Thai chilies, and baby Bok Choy surrounded my sliced ribeye, which I topped with a farm fresh egg. Everything floated in the rich broth which immediately started to absorb all the new flavors. I broke out my chopsticks and started swirling everything around. In seconds, the ribeye was cooked and Siobhan and I sat, huddled over the Shabu Shabu slurping like madmen while getting a dashi broth facial.

 The long noodles slapped against our faces while we slurped everything into our mouths as fast as our chopsticks could handle. We clearly noticed that as the meal went on, the more flavor the pot was giving off because everything had more time to hang out. The umami sensations were insane and sending us into a whole new world of flavor.

 Not only was it delicious, and extremely inexpensive, it was a lot of fun to eat. Sharing a steaming pot and adding more of your favorite condiment whenever you wanted. We also dipped the cooked ribeye into a little bowl of soy sauce and sesame oil for some additional flavor. We opened a bottle of the 2007 Grgich Hills Estate Fume Blanc because even though we were eating red meat, it was a relatively light dinner. Fume blanc is a term that was coined by Robert Mondavi when he started barrel aging his domestic Sauvignon Blanc.

At the time, California Sauvignon Blanc wasn’t as popular and didn’t taste as good as it does today, so he threw it in some oak and transformed it into a whole new taste profile. The Grgich Hills has tons of tropical fruit, pineapple, and lemongrass flavors that come bursting out of this golden retriever hued white. The wine is medium bodied and fills your palate like a fine White Burgundy would, leaving a creamy finish cut by a burst of acidity. This is an extraordinary wine, and it was a perfect compliment to the kamikaze of flavors that came bursting out of the steaming shabu. Sometimes, if you jump out of your comfort zone, and experiment with different flavors and cultures, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

 Ribs are something that can be prepared in hundreds of different ways, and depending on where in the United States you are, conversation about ribs can get pretty sticky. Carolina, St. Louis, Kansas City, Texas and many other BBQ hotspots are so adamant about how ribs “should” be prepared and served, that the pit masters could argue more than a Red Sox and Yankee fan.

 For the most part, American ribs are all smoked for a long period of time (which is a sign of authentic Barbecue)… but the question is, what type of wood chips should be used. Should you use a dry rub or a wet marinade? Wet sauce or no sauce at all? Vinegar based sauce or mustard based? Sweet sauce or spicy sauce? The variables are endless. I took the authentic Barbecue out of the equation because I don’t have a smoker and I wanted to create something a little bit different.

What American Q Masters don’t realize is that other countries cook just as much pork ribs as they do, but in different ways. Sweet and sticky pork ribs are a staple in Chinese cuisine, and the Italians would NEVER discard any part of a pig let alone mask the natural pork flavor by smoking it.

The only real requirement for cooking pork ribs is that they must be cooked slowly over low heat in order to achieve that ‘fall off the bone” tenderness. I had nothing to do on Sunday afternoon, so I picked up a few racks and got started on a dry rub for my slow roasted, Tuscan style pork ribs.

I snipped a bushel of fresh sage and rosemary from my new herb garden that was overflowing on my deck. The bright green leaves were healthy and extremely aromatic. I chopped up the fresh herbs and added some whole fennel seeds, salt, freshly cracked black pepper, dried chili flakes, coriander, brown sugar, and tons of freshly minced garlic.

After coating the racks with extra virgin olive oil I gave them a thorough rub down with the seasoning I created and tossed them into the fridge to marinate. After about two hours, I took them out and brought them to room temperature.

Slow and low is the phrase that describes how these slabs of pork cook, because right off the bat, the meat is too tough to even chew. The low, steady temperature and hours of cooking time slowly breaks down the fibrous meat and leaves you with pork that melts in your mouth. I set my oven to 220 degrees, threw the racks in and forgot about them for five hours (well… it was was hard to completely forget about them with the smell of roasting garlic, fresh herbs, and dripping pork fat permeating the kitchen)!

In the meantime, I multi-tasked prepping my side dishes and flipping back and forth between the Celtics and Red Sox. I fired up the grill and tossed a bowl full of red and yellow bell peppers onto the smoking grates.

 I let the peppers char on all sides before returning them to the bowl and covering them with plastic wrap. Don’t worry if they look burnt… they are burnt, but when you carefully peel away the skin, you’re left with a juicy, tender, filet of roasted pepper. Make sure you cover the charred peppers right away so that they steam in the bowl to finish cooking and to let some of the smoky goodness seep into the flesh of the veggie. I sliced them into thin strips and tossed them with some extra virgin olive oil and a squirt of honey. I made a split second decision before the ribs went in, and realized that I should probably cook the potatoes first because no one wants to eat potatoes that were roasted at 220 degrees.

 A Tuscan feast wouldn’t be a Tuscan feast without a nice bottle of  red wine from the heart of Italy. The 2006 Gaja Ca’ Marcanda Promis is a “Super Tuscan”, which began as a marketing term but loosely refers to all Tuscan wines that blend their classic Sangiovese with other grapes such as Cabernet, Merlot, and Syrah.

 This wine is made by Angelo Gaja, a pioneer winemaker who is famous for his wines from Piedmont, but somewhat recently bought land in Tuscany to grow some different grapes. He made the Promis by blending 55% Merlot, 35% Syrah, and 10% Sangiovese. The elegant, and sexy Merlot blended with the Old World style Sangiovese is a great match, especially with a hefty chunk of Syrah to enhance the wine’s backbone. The wine is bright red, and full bodied with flavors of cherries, raspberries, leather, and grilled herbs (a classic Tuscan characteristic and perfect with the ribs). I opened it an hour before serving to let it breath and allow the flavors to develop. When the ribs came out of the oven, I sliced them in between the bones and scattered them in a pan.

They were delicious but needed something else. I decided to fire them under the broiler in a puddle of aged Sherry vinegar. The open flames crisped the outside of the ribs and the vinegar sizzled away. After a few minutes, they were perfect. The rich vinegar gave the savory ribs that extra pop of acidity and tang that they needed. Served atop a mound of roasted potatoes and shallots, and next to a pile of sweet,roasted peppers, these Tuscan style ribs were amazing. The meat was hanging off of the bones, and seemed to dissolve on your tongue. Flavors of the rich herbs, with the nutty fennel, sweet brown sugar, and spicy chili flakes made my lips tingle. After rifling through about a rack and half, I took a sip of the Super Tuscan. It seemed quite strange drinking such an elegant wine while holding my Riedel stemware in a hand covered in pork juice. I still went through about a roll of paper towels and needed a shower after dinner, but it was totally worth it.

I always get excited when fresh corn starts to appear at the market because I know that summer is approaching quickly. Despite the gorgeous weather yesterday, I still had a craving for something warm and comforting. I grabbed a few ears of fresh corn and peeled back an inch of the husk to reveal the golden nuggets that were nice and plump even though it’s quite early for corn season.

I packed them up and set home to make a quick corn chowder. I started off by slicing the kernels off of the cob and boiling the cobs in milk.

This is essentially the same idea as making a stock. All of the corn flavor inside the cobs gets extracted and flavors the milk. After about an hour of simmering away, the milk tasted just like fresh corn.

In my chowder pot, I started off by rendering the fat out of some house cured pancetta until I was left with some crispy matchsticks of delicious pork belly.

I sweated some diced yellow onion, and tossed in the corn kernels and cubes of Yukon Gold potatoes before covering everything with the fresh corn flavored milk. I just let let it simmer away until the potatoes were cooked all the way through.

Lots of times, a flaky white fish is used in a fish chowder so I figured that a nice thick piece of Cod would be a perfect compliment to the corn chowder. I pan roasted it which creates a crispy crust on the top but leaves the inside moist and flaky. One touch from a fork and the Cod splits away into natural medallions that seem to melt on your tongue.

 The flavor was distinct yet delicate. I finished the dish with a sprinkle of fresh chives and a drizzle of really good Extra Virgin Olive Oil. I opened a bottle of 2007 Dumol Russian River Valley Chardonnay, which is pretty rare for me to do because I am not a huge domestic Chardonnay fan.

I cannot get over how most of them are overly oaked, almost to the point that I have to chew the wine it’s so thick and creamy. In my opinion, most producers go so far over the top with their domestic Chardonnays, that they completely over power any dish you put infront of it. I figured I’d give it another shot, and thankfully I did because the Dumol was actually quite balanced and food friendly. There was just the right amount of oak, fruit, and acidity that made it very pleasing even though it was a very big wine.

 There is lots of stone fruits and lemongrass flavors up front followed but a rich finish with hints of nutmeg and allspice. The flavor of buttered brioche toast lingers on your palate for minutes after you swallow. It might have been a little bit too powerful for the dainty Cod, but all the less worked great with the rich chowder. Maybe… just maybe I’m starting to enjoy domestic Chardonnay.