Rooftop Gourmet

This time of year, I’m lucky to have enough time and energy to turn on the stove let alone create some intricate, time-consuming blog dinner. It’s clearly the busiest time of year for retail wine sales (I’m not complaining) and it’s hard to even take a deep breath until January 1st. I still wanted to get something on the plate/blog from now until Christmas so I limited myself to just a few ingredients and just a few minutes in the kitchen.

I picked up some baby, super sweet, yellow tomatoes, spinach, and fresh diver scallops; three ingredients, relying on anything else I had leftover in my fridge and pantry. I aggressively ripped open the package of tomatoes, sliced the last clove of garlic I had, a pinch of salt, pepper and a glug of olive oil, all tossed into a small pan and popped into a 375 degree oven. I felt like I was in the middle of a Top Chef, quickfire challenge except the prize wasn’t $5,000 but rather an extra thirty minutes relaxing on the couch.

I roasted the tomatoes until the paper thin skins wilted and they started to slowly implode. Once this occurs, the pan gets filled with sweet tomato juice and it starts to reduce and thicken into a beautiful, bright orange tomato sauce.

The liquid and the extra virgin olive oil creates a syrupy, garlicky emulsion, perfect for a simple, quick sauce. In the meantime, I sautéed some baby spinach with oil and lemon zest and got my sauté’ pan screaming hot for my diver scallops. These scallops were huge and smelled incredibly fresh and sweet. Before I seared them in the hot pan, I made sure to pat them dry with a paper towel to make sure all of the excess liquid is gone to prevent the scallop from steaming as opposed to searing. This is the best way to achieve that dark brown, caramelized crust.

This literally takes two minutes. Don’t even think about turning your scallop… just let it sear until it’s cooked all the way through. You’ll appreciate the beautiful sear by demonstrating severe patience and flipping restraint.

That’s it… dinner is served. Arguably the easiest meal that I’ve ever made on the blog. I garnished the scallop with a spring of fresh chervil and dusted the pile of spinach with some lemon zest.

It took literally 12 minutes from start to finish and left my wife in shock that we weren’t sitting down to eat at ten o’clock again. To celebrate the fact that despite being exhausted, we were able to sit on the couch, watch a Christmas movie, and still be in bed by 10pm, I paired this simple dish with a bottle of Prosecco.

The Voveti is one of the few Proseccos made in the brut style, which is much drier than typical Prosecco. I wouldn’t classify Prosecco as sweet by any means, but it tends to be fruiter than a classic Brut Champagne. This D.O.C “bottle of bubb”, is bone dry and crisp with flavors of granny smith apples, lemon, and yeasty bread dough. Light and refreshing to celebrate the simplicity that was on the plate in front of us. The sweet scallop rested upon the warm, acidic yet slightly rich sauce and the bitter greens were freshened up with the hints of lemon.

Unfortunately no time to hit the kitchen means no time to hit treadmill as well, so this meal was perfect for a late December special. Stay tuned for the most decadent, lavish, over-the-top New Years Eve dinner party in the history of New Years Eve dinner parties. Happy holidays to all and may your stomachs and glasses always be full!

This past Wednesday couldn’t have been a more miserable day in terms of weather. The rain was blowing sideways, it was finally cold enough to wear a coat, and the sky was laden with dark, grey clouds. A perfect day for an adventure! I called the Butcher Shop on a whim and ordered 2 whole rabbits. A typical Wednesday afternoon right? We had dinner plans with my friend and his girlfriend that night and I wanted to put some extra work into preparing a dish that we normally wouldn’t serve.

My friend and I studied abroad in Italy together back in 2004, and I remember ordering a braised rabbit dish in the town of Trastevere, Rome and like I do more than I probably should, tried to force him to take a bite. He’s much more adventurous now and quite frankly he didn’t have a choice; I was making rabbit. I hadn’t actually cooked a rabbit since culinary school, but once I got the little bunny on my cutting board, it was just like riding a bike.

Rabbit is a pretty simple animal to understand. As intimidating as it sounds, visually it’s rather elementary. Just by glancing at it, you know where the hind legs are, you know where the front legs are, and just inside the ribcage is the loin. It’s also an extremely lean animal so there isn’t a lot of work to do in order to find the meat. Since I was cooking the rabbits whole, there was very little butchering to be done.

I removed the heart, kidneys and liver from the cavity and set them aside for bigger and better things; the liver is perfect for finishing my Bolognese sauce to give it a creamy, earthy layer of flavor.

Thankfully, we received the mothership of all Le Crusset pots as a wedding gift because these were not small bunnies and there is no chance that they would fit in the standard dutch oven. Our massive, fire engine-red, 15-quart pot can feed a family of 40 and I’m pretty sure it’s the same size as my wife’s largest suitcase. I actually had to turn on both front and back burners in order to get the entire surface hot enough to sear the bunnies.

I seasoned the rabbit with salt and pepper and sizzled them away in the pot, flipping only once, until both sides developed a dark, golden sear. I then removed the rabbits and set them aside while I built the layers of flavor, starting with the basic aromatics.

A classic mirepoix of carrot, celery and onion hit the pot along with a few smashed garlic cloves. You don’t want to rush this step, because this is where you really create the foundation for your braise.

Let the mirepoix caramelize, harmonize with the crusty rabbit bits stuck to the bottom from the sear, and sweat until completely soft. At this point, I added an entire bottle of dry, white wine and let it reduce until all that was left was about a half cup of liquid.

This burns off the alcohol, deglazes the pot, and concentrates the flavor of the wine. I decided to serve my braised rabbit in a fresh pasta with mushrooms, so in order to enhance and compliment the mushrooms I used a quick mushroom stock in the braise. I use this same technique when making mushroom risotto. I take dried, porcini mushrooms and rehydrate them in scalding hot water.

After about ten minutes the water is dark brown and rich with loads of umami.

I carefully returned the two rabbits to the pot and laid them gently on their side. All I could think of was the Bugs Bunny cartoon from when I was younger, where Elmer Fudd had Bugs in the large cauldron of boiling water. Sure enough, Bugs outsmarted Fudd by ladling the soup onto the hot coals and putting out the fire before he eventually escaped. Thankfully these guys were staying put for a solid 2.5 hours in a 325 degree oven.

I added some chicken stock, the intensified porcini liquid, and a bouquet garni that contained a few sprigs of thyme, rosemary and bay leaf before the lid was sealed and into the oven it went.

While the rabbits were braising away, I had plenty of time to get ready for my guests. I planned on serving a fresh pasta which, despite my ambition with the protein, I didn’t actually make myself.

I bought some fresh linguini from my friends at Nella Pasta, a local company specializing in fresh ingredients grown in neighborhood farms. I also picked up some golden chanterelle mushrooms, which along with morels and truffles are among the highly esteemed fungi in the culinary world. They’re meaty, fruity and woody and when cooked in fat their flavor elevates to a whole new level.

Sticking with a rustic, hunter-style meal, I chose to serve a wine exhibits that same profile. The 2008 Felsina Chianti Classico is one of my favorite producers from the heart of Tuscany.

The bright, young cherry fruit intermingles with earthy, herbaceous notes and there’s a long, dry finish that has a pleasant, wet tobacco characteristic. A simple yet complex Chianti is a perfect match for a bowl of fresh pasta with slow cooked game and mushrooms.

Once the rabbit meat was falling from the bone, I removed them from the pot to cool and this is where the real tedious part of the day started. I strained the braising liquid into a sauce pot and started reducing the rabbit/porcini stock into a sauce.

In the meantime, I hovered over the counter and began picking the tender rabbit meat from the skeleton. Everyone says that rabbit tastes like chicken and I don’t disagree completely. It tastes almost like chicken thighs that are slightly more oily and gamier. Personally, I think that rabbit has more flavor than chicken but to each his own. So it turns out that the two massive rabbits that I picked up about five hours earlier only yielded one quart of pulled meat total. HA!

Our guests arrived and there were no cute little bunnies, no remnants of rabbit, just a tupperware container filled to the brim with succulent braised meat. I opted not to show them the “before” pictures until after dinner was served. I tossed the fresh linguini into boiling water for only a few moments and warmed the rabbit meat in a skillet with some of the reduced braising liquid.

When the pasta was cooked, I added it to the pan along with some fresh thyme and a healthy spoonful of butter. Crank up the heat and the stock and fat emulsifies into a silky rich sauce that coats the pasta, causing it to glisten and causing my guests to start drooling. I finished it with some freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese for a tangy, nutty kick.

We sat down at the table, lit some candles and listened to the rain crash against the siding of the condo. At that very moment, after a warming and rewarding sip of the elegant Sangiovese, there was a sense of comfort watching the long noodles twirl around the diners’ forks. The flavor of the rabbit with the intense porcini sauce and the melt-in-your mouth texture of the fresh pasta was just what I needed on that dreary day. It turns out that instead of forcing my friend to try a bite of the rabbit, I actually had to force him not to lick his plate at the dinner table.

Christmas Season at my house starts the moment Thanksgiving ends. My wife is like a little elf, running around turning our tiny, 900 square foot condo into the North Pole. Garland, Poinsettia plants, ornaments, nutcrackers, cinnamon scented pine cones, and stockings are just a few of the decorations that transform my kitchen into Santa’s Workshop. When I get the holiday spirit flowing through my body (which it’s hard not too at home), I start thinking about meals that remind me of this time of year. A roast is something that I associate with Christmas-time because of all the warming aromas that come from the oven throughout the entire process, and they’re usually big enough to feed an entire family or large group of friends.

Not too long ago, I was leaving my friends Bachelor party in New Orleans and through my mid-hangover beer goggles, I glanced at the cover of an issue of Bon Appetit magazine while stumbling through the airport.

Anytime a crispy pork product crosses my path, I tend to pay more attention. On the cover was a massive roast, wrapped in Prosciutto surrounded by beautifully caramelized apples and fresh herbs. It should be illegal to sell magazines like this at airport terminals because there’s no food like it during my lay-over in Columbus, Ohio.

I was in a rush to catch my connecting flight so I couldn’t buy the magazine, but that photo has haunted me ever since.

The other night, I set out to recreate that beautiful image that I have dreamt about ever since. I don’t know what the actual recipe is because I never got a chance to turn the page but in this instance, beauty is only skin deep (or prosciutto deep).

I put my own spin on the cover story, Prosciutto wrapped Pork Loin with Roasted Apples with an audience of colorful, wooden soldiers cheering me on. I started by butterfly-ing my pork loin, which is essentially opening it up and turning it into a pork placemat which makes it easier to stuff.

I sautéed some baby kale and walnuts, lightly seasoned with lemon zest, salt and pepper and used this mixture as my stuffing.

I rolled the pork back up into a familiar cylinder and then wrapped the entire thing, in an even layer of salty Prosciutto di Parma. The only thing better than pork-on-pork is pork-on-pork-on-pork; but I didn’t go there.

Once you have a nice, snug and delicious package that resembles a pigskin, tie it up with butchers twine and slip some fresh rosemary in between the knots. I arranged my roast in a pan surrounded by local apples, cippolini onions, and a few garlic cloves. Into the oven it went, and before I knew it, the entire kitchen smelled like sizzling bacon, rosemary, and sage.

For my sauce, I sautéed some minced shallots and hit it with about a cup of dry white wine.

After the wine had reduced to a mere tablespoon of liquid, I stirred in a cup of heavy cream, a large spoonful of whole-grain mustard, and a pinch of nutmeg.

The sauce slowly thickened on the back burner and intensified in flavor as it simmered. The rich, creamy sauce was sharp with mustard and the hint of nutmeg made it slightly Christmas-y.

One of the reasons that I love pork so much is that it is extremely versatile when it comes to wine pairing. As flavorful as it is, it can be transformed into something light and elegant and served with a delicate white wine, or manipulated to stand up to a big, brawny red.

In this instance, I popped a bottle of the 2009 Owen Roe, “Ex Umbris” Syrah from Washington State. Winemaker David O’Reilly (who I’ve written about in the past) just got some crazy accolades for this wine.

It was rated 93 points by Wine Spectator and ranked #25 on the Top 100 Wines of the Year list. Deep plum and dark cherry perfume the nose while peppery, red fruit swarms the palate. It has a creamy, velvety texture and a resemblance to biting into a bacon-wrapped date! It’s very typical for the Syrah grape to have a meaty, bacon fat quality to it, which makes it one of my favorite grape varietals. Slight notes of anise and root beer on the finish that is breathtakingly long.

I pulled the roast from the oven and the crispy prosciutto was shimmering! I inserted a meat thermometer and the doneness was perfect, almost 145 degrees (add about 10 more degrees after resting). Slicing into this beast was breathtaking!

All of the different colors, smells, and textures were mind-blowing as ring, after ring, of pork heaven flopped onto the cutting board. Each slice was a work of art and it was so incredibly easy to assemble. I served a slice of the roast with some caramelized cipollini onions, a drizzle of the rich mustard sauce, and a sprig of rosemary.

The juicy pork was so tender and the center was filled with bitter greens and crunchy walnuts, making for a perfect contrast. The crispy outside was salty and held all of the mouth-watering juices inside. Siobhan and I (yes, it was just the two of us and our creepy nutcrackers) sat down at the table, with some Christmas music, a mammoth roast that could serve 12, and a bottle of the #25 wine of the year.

It was a perfect start to the holiday season and an even more perfect reason to get back to the gym. Hopefully the next cover of a magazine that catches my eye demonstrates some portion control.

Introducing the trendy dish of season! Pumpkin Mac & Cheese. It’s literally everywhere these days and every chef, blog, magazine, and cooking show wants to put their own spin on it; and that’s exactly what I did. I have to admit, whoever was the true Pumpkin Mac & Cheese originator was pretty brilliant.

Not only did they take one of the most iconic American, home-cooked dishes, throw in some seasonal flare, and make it unique, but they captured the culinary worlds’ attention and caused a massive, gooey, cheesy, pumpkin-y phenomenon. It’s just plain hard to read the words, “Pumpkin Macaroni & Cheese” and not stop in your tracks. The two things have never gone together before yet both sound so damn good together.

With the artisanal, gourmet mac & cheese craze still booming, and the pumpkin beer obsession on the rise, this combination of flavors, texture and spices is nothing shy of genius. I know that I am not alone when I say that when I first saw a recipe for this, I said to myself, “why the f@*# didn’t I think of that”! Okay… I’m jealous, but my stomach is now extremely full and I am completely satisfied.

I went out to buy two medium sized pumpkins because the ones that we used to decorate our front doorstep got smashed. Surprise… welcome to city living.

All I did was slice them into six equal parts, removed the seeds and guts, and roast them at 400 degrees until they were completely tender. I threw the bright orange, steamy flesh into the food processor and pulsed away until I was left with my homemade pumpkin puree.

If you’re too lazy to do this, just grab a few cans from the grocery store, and if you’re really lazy, just ask someone else to open the cans for you. I promise you that the “from scratch” method produces a much tastier and healthier pumpkin flavor.

For my macaroni and cheese, (which wasn’t really macaroni at all) I used an orecchiette pasta which in Italian means “little ears”. Every time I cook with orecchiette I can’t help myself from grabbing one of the baby ears and re-creating my favorite scene from Reservoir Dogs , screaming into the little dried pasta, “Hey… what’s goin on? Can you hear that”?

As the pasta water was coming to a boil, I diced up some applewood-smoked ham to give the macaroni & cheese some extra flavor.

I started to make a roux, which is equal parts butter and flour, whisked together in order to thicken my cheese sauce. I essentially made a pumpkin Mornay sauce which is a classic French Bechemel with the addition of shredded cheese, and of course pumpkin puree.

I specifically chose four different cheeses for flavor, balance, and texture. I used a classic Gruyere because of its impeccable melting quality and nutty flavor. I used a bright orange Vermont Cheddar for its color, and its sharp flavor. I used a smoked Mozzarella for the intense smoky flavor which I thought would work nicely with the pumpkin and the autumn spices, and lastly a creamy, fresh goat cheese for a tart punch.

All of the cheeses were slowly whisked into the Bechemel creating a thick, ultra-rich, cheesy euphoria. I finished the sauce with some minced sage, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt and pepper.

I had a hard time keeping my fingers and utensils out of the sauce and trust me… it didn’t suck.

I poured the sauce all over the top of the al dente pasta and stirred it around with the smoked ham. It got spooned into individual and group-sized ramekins and then covered with homemade breadcrumbs.

I took some old bread, and pulverized it in the food processor with fresh sage and some nutmeg. A little melted butter brought the crumbs together into a golden, aromatic crust for the mac & cheese. Roughly thirty minutes in the oven, and the breadcrumbs were toasty and the cheese sauce was bubbling away.

I served this American classic with arguably one of the most exciting and popular grape varietals of the times; Argentinian Malbec. The 2010 Altos las Hormigas Malbec comes from Mendoza Argentina. In 1995 Alberto Antonini, a well-known Italian winemaker took a trip to visit the major viticultural areas of Argentina. He returned powerfully impressed by the potential of Malbec in the Mendoza region. Later that year he purchased 216 hectares of vineyards and Altos las Hormigas was born.

The project has turned into a huge success and his Malbecs are some of the best in South America. This one is a deep violet, purple color and rich with peppery spices. The wine is full-bodied and marries well with the “pumpkin” spices of the dish and the sweet pumpkin flavor in the pasta.

The bold wine has notes of mocha and coconut in the finish and is actually equally as rich as the cheesy pasta. The crunchy breadcrumbs add a contrast in texture and buttery flavor to the velvety orecchiette. I love how present the actual pumpkin flavor was in the dish and how well the smoky cheese and ham complimented the cinnamon and nutmeg.

As I expected from the very beginning, the person who came up with this idea is brilliant and should be awarded for his or her ingenuity and creativity. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

For how often they’re used, onions don’t get nearly enough recognition as they deserve. They’re the workhorses of the kitchen, creating basic framework for complex sauces, stews, or braises. What would the culinary world be without onions? As common as they are, onions are probably the most complex and versatile vegetable out there.

First off, think about all different varieties there are that come in all different shapes, sizes, and colors; Vidalia, Bermuda, Maui, shallots, cipolline, Inca sweet, Heirloom Red Wethersfield, Red Zeppelin, Texas Sweet, pearl, Walla Walla, Red Baron, and French Gray Shallots are just a handful. Similarly to how Cabernet Sauvignon grown in France tastes different than Cabernet Sauvignon grown in Washington State, onions are completely different depending on where they’re grown. It all has to do with soil. Ever wonder why chopping onions make you cry?

When they’re growing, the onions take up sulfur from the soil through their roots. Then, sulphuric compounds are formed and stored inside the cells. When these cells are disrupted (via slicing or chopping), new, highly volatile sulfurous molecules are created and exposed to air which causes you to break out in tears. So a sweeter onion doesn’t necessarily contain more sugar, it was just grown in a region that had less sulfur in the soil, making it seem less pungent and harsh.

The purpose of the onion’s strong, sulfury odor and flavor was to keep animals from eating the plants. It clearly didn’t stop humans from devouring them and using technique to change the way that the taste.

There are so many different ways to eat, prepare, and serve onions and some varieties are better than others for certain culinary techniques. You can eat them raw, grill them, caramelize them, pickle them, roast them, sweat them, or fry them; all culminating in a totally different finished product in terms of flavor, appearance, and texture. Think about biting into a raw onion and how drastically different it tastes compared to a spoonful of caramelized onions.

Cooking an onion transforms the vegetable’s chemical composition. Starches are breaking down into sugars, and the sugars themselves are breaking down, with disaccharides splitting into simpler, sweeter monosaccharides. Meanwhile, the onion’s moisture evaporates too, concentrating its newfound sweetness.

Cell walls break down and the onion loses its shape, transforming into a soft, jam-like consistency. The color of the onions change because the carbohydrates and proteins interact with the sugar, creating a dark brown appearance and a rich, meaty flavor.

Now that you realize that onions contain such a complex mix of sugars and aromatic compounds, it is easy to see why they provide the foundation of flavor to so many of the world’s cuisines. It’s transformative nature of these elements in onions that makes them among the most versatile, and inspiring ingredients in the kitchen.

Now that we got the brief science lesson out of the way, I can tell you about how I prepared onions in a way that I never had before.

Just when I thought that I had maxed out every possible way to cook an onion, I stumbled upon a recipe calling for onion puree’. I thought to myself, how the hell does that work, and began investigating.

I picked up a half-dozen large yellow onions, a couple of boneless rib eyes, and a few fresh herbs at the store and I was on my way back to the kitchen to turn roughly four simple ingredients into an elegant and complex meal.

I started off by thinly slicing all six of the massive orbs, and simultaneously bawling like a baby. My wife walked in and thought that either someone had passed away or I caught the tail end of Extreme Home Makeover. But then the sulfur tear gas knocked her in the face and she had to stick her head in the freezer. These were some pungent onions!

I slid the onions from the cutting board into a large sauté’ pan with a pat of butter and let the heat do its work on making them sweet. For this particular preparation, I didn’t want the onions to get any color so I constantly stirred them and kept an eye on the flame. Once they became soft, I added some chicken stock and water, and began steaming the onions for an additional 10 minutes.

Once they tasted sweet enough for my liking, but still retained some of that raw onion bite, I transferred them all to a blender and buzzed them into a creamy puree with just a touch of buttermilk. I kept the puree warm on the stove and seasoned it with salt and pepper while I got my grill blazing hot. I took a few mental pictures of my shiny grill before it gets covered in snow. There’s nothing worse than having to shovel a frosty path, and bundle up just to cook a steak in the dead of winter.

I popped the cork on a bottle of 2005 Chateau Dauzac Margaux and poured its entirety into a decanter because despite being six years old, a wine like this still needs time to open up and breathe. I immediately got whiffs of the wine’s perfume as you would a woman’s while passing them in a hallway and I was intrigued and excited. I finished up my steaks and plated a few slices with a dollop of the silky puree.

I finished the pink flesh with a few drops of 20 year old, aged Balsamic vinegar and a sprinkle of sea salt while the onion puree got some picked thyme, parsley and chive. Extremely simple, yet a complete dish with multiple layers of flavor. The buttery meat and the drops of sticky vinegar were loaded with umami and when combined with the onion puree it was a bite of comfort and desire. The onion flavor was all too familiar yet the texture and form it came in was very new and intriguing to me. As for the wine, a perfect match for this dish.

Some sweet fruit and toasted oak on the nose. The high quality of the vintage produced some serious backbone and firm, tannic core. Loads of dark black fruit, macerated plums, and hints of licorice and vanilla ice cream. A bone dry finish was wonderful with the juicy rendered fat in each bite of the heavily marbled rib eye. My onion adventure was complete and in the meantime, learned a ton about this special vegetable and all of its crazy powers. I will never look at an onion the same way again.