The Town Tart

Cooking from The Hip, Cat Cora style

It's very easy to slag the Food Network celebrities.  It's kind of a sport amongst food bloggers and other food media types... and I get it.  I've done it too.  It's easy to make fun of the Rachael Ray or Sandra Lee types, usually because of their grating personalities.  But, you can't argue their success.  And I would argue that anything that gets people cooking is to be applauded, and Rachael Ray has done a lot of that. 

There are other Food Network stars that I absolutely love:  Alton, Ina Garten, Jamie Oliver, Guy Fieri (don't hate -- he's cute) to name a few.  They have permanent placement on my DVR, much to The Mayor's annoyance that I am clogging up the memory.  But then, there are those in the middle.  Those that I don't really know that much about, those that don't attract (or repel) me instantly... and Cat Cora falls into that category.

The Mayor gave me her cookbook, Cooking from The Hip, for Christmas.  Bless his heart, because it's obvious I have a problem with cookbooks... they are threatening to take over the Bungalow... we only live in 750 square feet... anyway, he gave me the book and I confessed that I just didn't know that much about her.  I flipped through the pages and thought, well, there's not that much interesting here.

Plus, the editors have organized the book in the most irritating fashion:  there are four sections -- "Fast," "Easy," "Fun," and "Phenomenal."  Within each section could be appetizers, mains, desserts, whatever.  As I was testing recipes from this book it was so infuriating to have to think, Now, was this "Fun" or "Fast?"  Sheesh.  Note to Book Editors:  don't be clever with organizing the recipes into bizarre groupings.  Just give me the usual, Appetizers, Mains, Desserts.  If I have to turn to the Index every time I need to find something, I will go to a different book.

That being said, I set out to start testing.  I didn't have great expectations, because nothing jumped off the page and screamed "MAKE ME!"  But, I chose a few and over a few weeks got cooking:

• Lamb Chops with Asparagus-Feta Salsa
• Chickpea and Roasted Pepper Soup 
• Potato-Celery Root Soup 
• Porchetta 
• Basque Beef Tenderloin with Green Sauce 

Can I be honest?  Of course I can, this is my show:  There wasn't a dud in the bunch.  In fact, The Mayor was downright effusive over the Lamb Chops, and the Green Sauce that goes with the Beef Tenderloin has been a constant fixture beside nearly everything we have eaten in the past three weeks.  The Mayor said I should make it by the pint... and I have been.  

These recipes have two things in common:  they are really fast to put together and they have really big flavor.  Two components that are big winners in my world.  Take for instance the Chickpea and Roasted Pepper Soup.  This is your basic open up cans and jars, dump in a pot and heat.  So, some may say so what, any ninny can do that.  Well, what I loved here is that she takes a jar or roasted red bell peppers and purees them to add to the soup base.  Now, maybe I'm not your average ninny, but I don't think I would have ever thought of that, and it was fantastic.  I made a pot of this soup for our work week lunches and it was delicious and satisfying everyday.

The Porchetta, which is a big pork loin roast stuffed and coated with a gorgeous mix of fennel, onion, mushrooms, and garlic, was a huge hit, and it did indeed just get better as she said it would.  We ate happily on that pork roast for days, turning the leftovers into the best cuban sandwiches on earth.  And we had her fabulous Green Sauce slathered all over it.

What's interesting to me is, when I first looked through Cora's book, I actually had trouble picking out things to make.  Nothing sounded that interesting.  I'm still not certain what "cooking from the hip" means, even though in her forward she says it means to be flexible.  And I really dislike how the book is organized.  But now, after making these five recipes (well, six recipes, counting the Green Sauce), as I look through the book again I see things that interest me more.  Maybe it's because I got to know her style a bit, and I have confidence that she knows what she is doing and her tastes suit ours.  Whatever the alchemy, the book was a winner in our house.  Although, due to amount of raw garlic in the Green Sauce, I'm not so sure others will thank her, as I am sure The Mayor and I probably stink to high heaven!

Green Sauce
Adapted from Cooking from The Hip by Cat Cora

6 garlic cloves, chopped (I used 8... you should know me by now)
3 dried bay leaves
1 poblano chile, coarsely chopped, with the seeds left in
1 serrano chile, coarsely chopped, with the seeds left in
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/3 cup finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/4 cup chopped fresh oregano
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh basil
1/4 cup sherry vinegar
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

While Cora suggests using a mortar and pestle to make this, or alternatively a blender, I think the food processor is the way to go. I put the garlic in and whizz it until it is finely chopped. Then I add the rest of the ingredients and pulse until everything is chopped up and well mixed. Done. Easy. So good. Put on EVERYTHING.

Making Plans for Nigel

I had really missed the boat on Nigel Slater.  I am usually fairly current on British chefs, and I am certain that I must have come across his name here or there, but I just simply gave him no attention.

It wasn't until Luisa at The Wednesday Chef began to declare her love for him, and many commenters posted to concur, that I thought, "Gee, I'd better get in here and see what the fuss is about."

I am here to report that I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what the fuss is about.  The Kitchen Diaries is one of the biggest cookbook purchasing mistakes I have ever made.  Do you want to know how I really feel?  It's rubbish.

And I am so sorry to those that adore him -- especially to Luisa and Molly, both of whom I respect enormously.  We will just have to agree to disagree, for there is no meeting halfway on this one.

So, Slater writes a book, cataloging his eating and cooking from January to December.  It's not unlike food blogging, I suppose, although I suspect he had a bit more time to put his daily thoughts together than a regular ol' blogger. And his "entries" are so not interesting.  And sure, the same could be said for my entries, but at least you didn't have to pay 35 bucks to read my blatherings.  AND I give recipes that have actually been tested.  I'll guarantee you that Slater's recipes have not been tested exactly as written.

Since the book is written as a diary, the recipes are seasonal and broken up into the months of the year.  I was testing the book in December, so I really wanted to stick with the recipes contained in that chapter, but it was not to be.  Here were the offerings:

• Nigel's Christmas pudding
• Christmas Cake
• Taleggio and parsley cakes
• Sauteed chicken with spices, fennel and cream
• Marinated feta and artichoke salad
• Baked red mullet with pine nut stuffing
• Roast duck with pancetta and potatoes
• Lemon ice-cream tart
• Potatoes with duck fat and garlic
• Bean sprout salad with mint
• Walnut and candied peel tartlets
• Grilled pork steaks with vermouth and fennel
• Roast leg of pork with onion and Marsala gravy
• Cabbage with orange and juniper
• Roast goose, juniper sauce and apple and lemon puree
• Passion fruit roulade
• Cheese bubble and squeak

Once I crossed off the list of things I can't make due to size (leg of pork) or due to the fact that they have wings (chicken, duck, goose -- The Mayor is the Jack Sprat of Poultry) or due to the fact that I have already made them (Christmas pudding, Christmas cake) or due to hard-to-find ingredients (juniper) or due to things I just say no to (red mullet, bean sprouts, cooked cabbage, passion fruit), or due to just plain boredom or fussiness (feta and artichokes, walnut tartlets and lemon ice cream pie) well that just doesn't leave me with much to try. Not really Nigel's fault, but annoying nonetheless.

I was forced into other months, I am sure sending the world off its axis in the process.

I finally settled on four things, 75% in the "winter months" -- I just could not find anything else I wanted to try:

• Sausages with salami and lentils (January)
• Stilton, onion and potato pie (November)
• Lime tart (January)
• Pork and lemon polpettine (April -- this was The Mayor's choice)

Since The Mayor adores sausages and lentils, the Sausages with salami and lentils choice was a no-brainer.  It's too bad it just didn't taste great.  I used the best sausages and salami I could find (and they alone were delicious) and super fancy lentils, but the combo just left us flat.  Slater doesn't call for any kind of seasoning except black pepper, but I think some kind of herb is needed to perk this dish up.  Rosemary or thyme, anybody?  How about marjoram?  And it's too tomato-y.  The Mayor about had a coronary when he saw I was cooking lentils with tomatoes.  He said he knew that was a no-no from his bachelor days, since legumes don't cook in highly acidic sauces.  The lentils did cook without a problem.  I would just never, ever make this again.

Next was the Stilton, onion and potato pie.  After standing at the stove for an hour caramelizing onions, I want the final results to be spectacular.  This was just so-so.  The potatoes were fine, the Stilton is good and the onions were welcome, but overall, it is not worth the time it took.  It's fine to call this simple, but nearly two hours of my time is not simple. And again, Slater calls for absolutely no salt through this entire dish, except in the water to boil the potatoes.  No salt on the onions, no salt in the mash... what is the matter with him?  Is he a seasoning-hater?  I think someone needs to spend an afternoon with Emeril.

And the finale?  An absolutely disgusting Lime tart.  It was so eggy I wouldn't let The Mayor go near it.

And let me begin here on Slater's ridiculous directions.  Can anyone tell me what a "generous tablespoon of water" is?  I detest imprecise directions.  Heaping tablespoon of sugar, I get.  There is no such thing as a generous tablespoon of water.  Call it one tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon.  Or say, "add water until the dough comes together." But don't tell me to add a generous tablespoon of water. It makes me nuts.

He also cautioned to not over-mix the eggs with the sugar -- "Mix the eggs and sugar together, beating lightly for a few seconds -- you don't want the mixture to be frothy."  Really, why not?  Because if we follow Nigel's instructions, we end up with what I got:  a scrambled egg lime tart.  I am guessing that the sugar and eggs need to be beat to death until at a ribbon stage for this tart to work -- definitely not for the prescribed "few seconds."  I had to throw the entire thing in the bin.   

Slater has one recipe for beef, and it is for a tenderloin that is so long he doesn't have a carving board long enough to hold it.  Out of 300 recipes, he can only find room for just one beef recipe and it's so extravagant that you can only make it once a year?  Instead, he is content with a year of pheasant, pigeon and quail, and no less than five (FIVE?!) recipes for mackerel (yeesh!) and seventeen for chicken.  Where's the beef, man?  I am pleading with you!

The Mayor made the Pork and lemon polpettine, which are basically meatballs.  He followed the recipe exactly (he's so good) but these just tasted off to me... something about the ground pork, a ton of lemon zest and juice, and ten anchovies all together just didn't work for me.  The Mayor liked it, but you know, he's Irish.  I couldn't finish the two little balls on my plate.  Yuck.  It's all I have to say.  And once again, no measurements for seasoning.  For me, it is imperative to have a measured amount of seasoning when dealing with raw meat -- since there is no way to taste it before it is cooked, someone needs to give some kind of guideline about how much salt and pepper to toss in. 

I want this book out of my house.  I find no enjoyment in his poncy notations, his recipes are extremely hard to read and the instructions frustrating to follow.  Not to mention they don't taste good.  And the thing is, I give cookbooks a fighting chance because I am selecting recipes to test based on things that I think I will love.  Look, if I hate squid, and I make a dish with squid, and I report back and say it was disgusting, well, duh.  But I am picking recipes full of cheese and potatoes and whatever else I fancy.  That should already give the recipe a leg up.  So, that let's me know that, at least to my taste, this book is crap.

But I know there are plenty of Nigel Slater fans out there so, I'll tell you what:  the first person to email me at thetowntart at thetowntart dot com gets the book, free and clear.  Really.  It's my pleasure.

Cooking with Jamie

I am split down the middle for Jamie's Italy.  For a cookbook reader, Jamie Oliver's latest is everything one could hope for:  beautiful photographs (one for nearly every recipe), transporting imagery, playful and passionate writing.  But, for the cookbook user, the recipes I'd actually want to cook are few and far between.  Out of 120 recipes, there are only 28 that I would actually want to make. Some recipes are really so simple you can't call them recipes and others go down roads I just don't want to travel, such as rabbit or pasta with sardines.

I didn't hold out much hope for the recipes I finally did choose.  Nothing felt truly inspired and I thought I might have an embarrassing evening, since we invited our friend Laurie (Not Her Real Name... she and I share a... um... well... an obsession) to dinner...  Boy, was I pleasantly surprised.

• Crostini (Squashed Cannellini Beans with Garlic & Tomatoes and Olives)
• Pasta e Ceci (Pasta with Chickpeas)
• Insalata di Farro con Vedure al Forno (Farro Salad with Roasted Vegetables)
• Costolette di Maiale con Salvia (Pork Chops with Sage)
• Bustrengo (Bolognese Polenta and Apple Cake)
• Risotto ai Finocchi con Ricotta e Peperoncino (Fennel Risotto with Ricotta and Dried Chili)

Crostini was one of the recipes that I just felt was "filler" in the book.  And he devotes several pages to both crostini and bruschette. I mean, who doesn't know how to chop up a couple of cherry tomatoes and some olives, add some oil, vinegar, salt and pepper and throw it on a slice of toasted ciabatta?  But the thing is, I rarely do it.  In fact, never.  And why not?  It was so damn good and so damn easy, I should be doing this all the time.  And that's where I think I get Jamie.  He's teaching me about simplicity, something that I always resist because I think I am such a foodie. Why do I think that something must be complicated to be spectacular?

I served another crostini: mashed cannellini beans with some fried garlic and then drizzled with rosemary bashed in a mortar with olive oil and salt.  Again, super simple, but what a combination.  Earthy, aromatic, and rustic.  This was just a sign of things to come.

I love pasta and bean soups.  The Mayor and I used to go to Lanza's nearly every Friday night when we lived in the East Village.  It was our favorite neighborhood Italian, the kinda place you see in movies and say, "I wish we had a local like that."  We even thought about having our wedding reception there...  Anyway, after 9:00pm, they offered a "Late Night Pasta Dinner" that included an appetizer, pasta main course and dessert for under ten bucks, and we were regulars.  We'd take visiting friends and relatives there just to show off.  The appetizer we always chose was the White Bean and Escarole soup.  It was especially welcome after the twenty minute walk through blustry New York winter streets.

Jamie listed several pasta and bean soups and I chose Pasta e Ceci (Pasta with Chickpeas), which is really more of a pasta than a soup, but delicious all the same.  Again, completely simple and utilizing canned beans and broth (I am not such a foodie that I believe in making my own stock), the result was totally satisfying and comforting. Sitting in Venice Beach, I was just momentarily wistful for Lanza's.

I chose Insalata di Farro con Vedure al Forno (Farro Salad with Roasted Vegetables) because Jamie wrote it was his favorite salad.  Unfortunately, I could not find authentic farro, but he listed bulgar wheat as an acceptable substitute.  The biggest surprise here for me were the roasted vegetables.  He instructed to splash vinegar on the vegetables as soon as you remove them from the oven.  I was completely surprised by the flavor and couldn't stop eating them straight off the sheet pan.  Again, we're talking simplicity: roasted vegetables, salt, pepper, oil and vinegar. And I am eating them like Skittles. The roasted vegetables are tossed with the cooked farro and the result was lovely. The farro was flecked with colored vegetables like confetti -- and mine looked identical to the photograph in the book.  I love it when that happens.

The main course I chose was Costolette di Maiale con Salvia (Pork Chops with Sage).  The potatoes are diced and parboiled, then tossed into a roasting pan with pancetta, oil, salt and pepper and put into the oven.  The chops are stuffed with a proscuitto, dried apricot and sage butter and then seared on both sides and then plopped on top of the potatoes to finish cooking.  Spectacular.  There is just nothing better than potatoes cooked in pig fat.  And the chops were beautiful, oozing with the flavored butter.  And I appreciated the small attention to detail, placing sage leaves on each side of the chops.  It was really elegant.

Jamie is woefully light on the dessert section.  He does recommend drizzling vanilla ice cream with olive oil and sea salt.  I wasn't comfortable springing that on our guest, so I settled on Bustrengo (Bolognese Polenta and Apple Cake).  It wasn't spectacular and not something I would make again, but it wasn't an embarrassment either. My only major complaint was the batter filled two 11" tart pans, instead of just one... I didn't need two of these laying about the house.

The last recipe, Risotto ai Finocchi con Ricotta e Peperoncino (Fennel Risotto with Ricotta and Dried Chili), was tested by The Mayor himself.  I had to work late so he broke out the pots. What a treat to walk into the Bungalow and be hit with a waft of risotto.  I walked straight to the Aga and started eating it out of the pot with a wooden spoon.  I could not have been happier.  When I got up in the morning, The Mayor called out from bed, "Taste the risotto!"  It was still just as good, even though cold and thick from a night in the fridge.  And, I think I see some arancini in this risotto's future (Mayor: hint hint).

So, where does this leave me with Jamie's Italy?  The recipes I tested were outstanding.  They were simple, easy, quick and full of flavor.  But there are so many recipes here that I would not try, mainly because they just are not my taste (I hate that I limit myself -- I want to like squid and pheasant... I just can't do it).  I have a feeling, though, that if I liked rabbit, I'd love Jamie's versions.  For a cookbook reader, it is a wonderful book to add to the collection.  Jamie writes like he talks and is obviously very passionate about food and cooking.  So, with all of that under consideration, I am recommending the book:  highly to cookbook readers, highly to those with tastes for rabbits and sardines, and moderately to the rest.  I have full confidence that nearly every recipe will work beautifully and set your taste buds exploding.

Also, the companion television show, Jamie's Great Italian Escape, shown on the Travel Channel is well-worth watching.  He seems to be such a nice guy it breaks my heart.

Risotto ai Finocchi con Ricotta e Peperoncino
Fennel Risotto with Ricotta and Dried Chili
Excerpted from Jamie's Italy
by Jamie Oliver

*I did not reprint Jamie's wonderful recipe instructions due to copyright issues, since his writing style is so distinct. Suffice it to say that cookbook readers will have a ball reading his delightful instructions.*

1/2 teaspoon fennel seeds
Extra virgin olive oil
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely sliced
2 bulbs of fennel, finely sliced, herby tops reserved
Sea salt & pepper
1 risotto bianco (recipe follows below)
2 small dried chilies (we used red pepper flakes)
4 tablespoons good crumbly ricotta (we used goat's cheese -- Jamie wrote it was an acceptable substitute)
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
Parmesan cheese, for grating

Grind fennel seeds with a mortar and pestle. In a large saucepan, heat the olive oil and fry the garlic until soft, and then add the ground fennel seeds and the sliced fennel. Season with salt and pepper and turn the heat down to medium-low. Cover with a lid and cook slowly for about 20 minutes, until the fennel is soft.

Start the risotto bianco and continue through the recipe until the rice is half-cooked. Halfway through Stage 3, stir in the fennel, then continue to cook the risotto until the rice is cooked.

Grind the dried chilies in a mortar and pestle until fine. At Stage 4, when you add the butter and Parmesan, add the crumbled ricotta and lemon zest. Taste and adjust seasoning, adding as much lemon juice as you like.

Serve with fennel tops and ground chili sprinkled over risotto, then top with grated Parmesan.

Risotto Bianco

2 pints stock (chicken, fish or vegetable, as appropriate)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
1 large onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1/2 a head of celery, trimmed and finely chopped
2 cups risotto (Arborio) rice
2 wineglasses of dry white vermouth or dry white wine
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
5 tablespoons butter
4 oz. freshly grated Parmesan

Stage 1: Heat the stock in a saucepan. In a separate pan, heat the olive oil and 1 tablespoon butter, then add the onion, garlic, and celery and cook over medium-low heat for about 15 minutes without browning. When the vegetables have softened, add the rice and turn up the heat.

Stage 2: Keep stirring the rice until translucent. Add the vermouth or wine and keep stirring.

Stage 3: Once the vermouth or wine has cooked into the rice, add a ladle of hot stock and a pinch of salt. Turn the heat down to a simmer. Continue adding ladles of stock, one at a time, allowing liquid to be absorbed before adding the next ladleful. This will take about 15 minutes. Taste the rice to see if it is cooked. If not, continue to add more stock until the rice is soft but with a slight bite. Season with salt and pepper.

Stage 4: Remove risotto from heat and add butter and Parmesan, stirring well. Cover and let sit for 2 minutes. Serve immediately.

Cooking Provence

I have had a tough week of cooking, people.  The picture above is crap and I don't even care...  I have been through hell because of that cookbook.  I am ready to toss it into the bin.

Okay, let me cool down and start from the beginning.  The Mayor and I love olive tapenade.  I would buy it kinda frequently at places like Bristol Farms, but I always felt like I could do a little better at home (and I'd know what went into the mix -- I'm always a little scared -- like there is Eye of Newt or something in there).  So, rummaging through my cookbook collection, I pull out Cooking Provence : Four Generations of Recipes and Traditions (don't even click through -- it's not worth the $2.72 it's currently selling for on amazon.com -- does that give you a hint as to where I am heading?).

Anyway, I made the Spicy Olive Paste (Tapenade) and it was delicious.  So delicious that when the jar runs out, The Mayor shakes it at me and I make more.  It has become a staple in the Bungalow fridge. (I was a little too heavy handed with the olive oil this time around... my fault, not the book.)

Spurred on by the success of the recipe, I felt that this cookbook, which has been languishing on my bookshelves since the mid-90's, deserved a test-run around the kitchen.

This is where the problems first begin.  I could hardly find anything I wanted to make... Pork Pate with one pound of pork liver and a half-pound of pork fat?  Uh... no. Light Stew of Snails with Spices? [shiver]  Casserole of Pigeons?  Jeasy-creasy, did I get one of Harry Potter's textbooks?  This horror show is like something Professor Snape would put together.

And if it isn't a freakfest, it's mundane:  Uncooked Tomato Sauce, White Bean Soup, Old-Fashioned Roast Chicken... does any of this light your fire?

So, this is what I settled on:

• Tomato Soup (Soupe de Tomates Fraiches)
• Brussels Sprouts with Walnuts, Apples and Raisins (Choux de Bruxelles aux Noix, Pommes, et Raisins)
• Saint-Remy-Style Potatoes (Pommes de Terre Saine-Remoise)
• Red Snapper with Sweet Garlic (Red Snapper a l'Ail Doux)
• Upside-Down Apple Tart with Rosemary (Tarte Tatin aux Rosmarin)
• Spicy Olive Paste (Tapenade)

First stop on the disaster train, Tomato Soup.  I was drawn to the recipe because I list tomato soup as one of my number one comfort foods.  Mother always bought me Campbell's Tomato Soup with Rice and made it for me just so -- never dilute it too much, leave it a bit on the thick side and use milk, not water.  Ah... that and maybe a grilled cheese sandwich (made with Velveeta, please) is home.

[Edit:  Mother, after reading this said, "See, you got memories, baby."]

So, I thought, hey, if I can improve on the store-bought tomato soup like I improved on the store-bought tapenade, let's give it a go. It started out well, using two different kinds of tomatoes and lots of garlic and onions, etc.  I cooked it all down and then gave it a blitz.

The result was okay.  Just okay.  The Mayor thinks I am being too harsh, but sorry -- if I am going to spend this much time chopping and dicing and sauteing and blitzing in batches, it had better be spectacular.  It just wasn't.  We are eating the leftovers by dumping in enormous mounds of garlic quark cheese, which is helping it tremendously.

Next stop, Brussels Sprouts with Walnuts, Apples and Raisins. Again, nothing stellar.  All the components were there, but it just didn't jell for me... everything felt separate and distinct rather than a cohesive dish.  The Mayor, ever supportive, thought they were good.  They were, just not right.  It's not like these would be the go-to for your Thanksgiving veg.

Picking up steam on this runaway train, we head to Saint-Remy-Style Potatoes, another flaccid recipe.  Again, all the right components:  potatoes, leeks, Gruyere.  Eh.  It left me uninspired.  I just have made so much better potato gratin-type recipes...

Red Snapper with Sweet Garlic.  The real recipe here is for the sweet garlic part:  garlic cloves are boiled in a sugar syrup until soft and then mashed into a paste with olive oil and parsley.  The resulting garlic-infused sugar syrup was way more interesting and yet that is just discarded.  The garlic sauce needed so much doctoring to coax any kind of flavor out of it... it all leeched into the syrup!  In fact, ultimately I sploshed in a little syrup and that gave the sauce both the sweetness and garlickiness (I know, word?) it needed. 

The author also said that we should "keep some in the refrigerator" to use with various recipes.  The recipe called for 16 cloves and I got about 3 tablespoons out of it.  You'd have to use a helluva lot of cloves to get anything close to something you'd keep in the fridge...

Don't get me started on the fish -- it was your basic "season fillets with salt and pepper and dredge in flour." Yawn.

But the coup de grâce of this Provencal hell was the Upside-Down Apple Tart with Rosemary. This went bad from the start.  The recipe recommended Rome or Golden Delicious apples, and since it is apple season I went for the Rome.  Obviously this was a bad choice for a tarte tatin.  The apples literally bled out their juices once over the heat.  Caramelization, the hallmark of a good tarte tatin, never materialized.  It was a watery mess. Would Golden Delicious have made a difference? I suspect so, but dammit I was trying to go for something less ordinary. And, after all, Rome was suggested... sheesh.

I dutifully placed the mushada apples in a circular pattern in the skillet, covered them with puff pastry and just said, whatever.  I was so through.

The result was a very tasty applesauce tart.  What a mess.  I will admit that the taste is amazing.  The addition of rosemary is super-genius.  I don't think I have ever really put the two together, but this is like chocolate and peanut butter or chocolate and raspberry or chocolate and... you get the idea.  The flavor is astounding... too bad the tart is such a flop.

Thank my lucky stars I didn't cook any of this for my dad's dinner party last week! The Barefoot Contessa would not have let me down like this!

In summation, my friends, I am not writing this all down to tell you not to buy the book. I mean, why would you -- it's over a decade old. I am really just venting. Nearly a hundred bucks in food down the drain, not to mention the effort. I can't even remember buying the book, but that is the case with a cookbook junkie, I suspect.

The percentage of recipes here that I would actually want to cook is very slim, and then well, you now know the rest.

So, let me save you the two bucks and tell you the only reasons to buy this book:  Rosemary and apples together are the bomb, and if you like tapenade, this is the best we have found:

Spicy Olive Paste
Excerpted from Cooking Provence
by Antoine Bouterin & Joan Schwartz

3 cups black olives marinated in olive oil and herbs (from Provence, Greece or Italy), pitted
8 cloves garlic, peeled
3/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
4 to 5 oil-packed anchovy fillets
1 tablespoon brine-packed capers, drained
1 teaspoon chopped fresh basil
1/2 teaspoon fresh thyme or rosemary leaves

Place all the ingredients in a food processor or blender and process to a rough puree. The mixture should have some texture. It will keep up to one month in the refrigerator.

Cooking Barefoot

I really have a love/hate relationship with the Food Network.  I can be found at times, I am willing to admit, splayed out on the sofa, hypnotized by one cooking show after another.  Give me the Paula Deen/Barefoot Contessa/Michael Chiarello trifecta and I am set for a Saturday morning.  And I love love love Alton.  But every single recipe I have downloaded and tried has been an utter disappointment.  I refuse to try anything Giada cooks anymore, no matter how tempting it looks.  I know it just won't work right. Same thing for Chiarello -- I just had a butternut squash disaster last week.  And Paula?  Well, her stuff is good but it's the same stuff you get out of those spiral bound community cookbooks that your mother always seemed to have with the same damn cream of mushroom soup-based casseroles.  And since her four food groups are butter, sour cream, sugar and mayonnaise, well how the hell can recipes not be good? And please don't get me started on Rachael Ray. 

Which brings me to Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa.  I know there are those that trust her, those that worship her and those that are just plain obsessed, but I have always been on the fence.  Sure, her show is one of my favorites and I think she is lovely and her relationship with Jeffrey is adorable, but I was just never inspired.  I always felt that her style, while beautiful and easy, was ordinary. 

This was until Mother gave me Barefoot Contessa at Home: Everyday Recipes You'll Make Over and Over Again.

Always thrilled to get a new cookbook, I read it like I read all others: like a novel.  I savored it.  I noted her comments about making sure you have a spotlessly-clean oven before cranking it up to 500 degrees and that she uses Kikkoman brand soy sauce.  It was a nice book but I wasn't compelled to cook anything.

I seized the opportunity to cook a birthday dinner for my father, using only recipes from the book, just as an experiment.

The result?  I am buying the rest of the Contessa's library.  I am a convert.  I will cross the line to obsession.  She is a freakin' magician.  I love her. 

I tested seven recipes:

• Summer Borscht
• Mustard-Roasted Potatoes
• Parmesan-Roasted Cauliflower
• Seafood Gratin
• Coconut Cake
• Eli's Asian Salmon
• Irish Soda Bread

Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

Summer Borscht. It was psychedelic.  I really had my doubts putting this together. The recipe was just too easy and so few ingredients... how good could it be?  Drop on the floor, smack-your-momma kinda good, that's how good. Proof?  The folks ain't adventurous.  Never heard of "borscht." I tried to mask the name and called it a chilled beet soup, but both Mother and Pops were dubious. And the color was slightly scary... it's amazing that anything like that occurs in nature. So, we sit to eat our first course of borscht and our collective heads explode.  I shocked myself.  Ina made me a chef, man.  This was goooood.

For the main course, we had steak, which was fine -- we loosely followed Bobby Flay's recommendations for steak cooking, but The Mayor took charge of that. What we really want to talk about are the sides, right?

Here are her Mustard-Roasted Potatoes. I loved the look of the whole-grain mustard seeds dotting the potato and onion landscape. The flavor wasn't overpowering, but it lent a flavor that was earthy and slightly tangy. These will be made again in the Bungalow, oh yes, but my resident all-things-potato-expert Irish husband quibbles about the choice of a "waxy" versus a "floury" potato.  Whatever. He also thinks I should parboil before roasting. Sheesh.  There is no living with him when he's on a potato rant.

Next, we have Parmesan Roasted Cauliflower.  Super simple and unbelievably good.  I actually said at dinner, "You know, cauliflower is really an underrated vegetable." The Mayor looked at me like I lost my mind.  I'm not a big veg person. I will definitely make this again because like Ina says, anything with one cup of parmesan and one cup of Gruyere has got to be good.

And finally, the star of the show: Seafood Gratin.  Ina includes this under the "Dinners" section, but I made it as a side for a "surf and turf" kind of meal.  Outstanding.  The only substitution I made was using canned lump crab meat instead of fresh lobster.  I also made it in one large gratin dish rather than individual dishes as Ina does. It was heavenly:  a layer of shrimp, cod (oops... another sub -- she called for halibut) and crab, covered with sauteed carrots and leeks, soaked in a creamy tomato-ey seafood stock and then topped with panko, cheese and fresh tarragon.  It was truly exceptional.  And really so easy.

For Pop's birthday dessert, I baked my first layer cake ever, Coconut Cake. And I stood in front of the oven window, fretting the entire time.  Did it rise too fast, is it browning too much, is it done, is it overdone, are the edges dry?  Really.  Fifty minutes of worry when I should have just trusted, right?

Of course.  It was beautiful.  The frosting was wonderful.  The cake was moist. I wasn't shamed or embarrassed.  I mean, I'm no cake decorator, but for a first effort, this was stellar.

Here's The Mayor with a plate laden with goodness. Mother, a woman who is relentlessly counting carbs, went back for seconds of everything.  That is something I have never witnessed.

I was on such a roll, I decided to test a few more recipes out and since I had a half box of currants leftover from making the Christmas Pudding, I treaded softly on hallowed ground and baked Irish Soda Bread.  This, along with potatoes, is not something that you want to get into with an Irishman.  The Mayor has his own feelings about the bread, and while he hasn't said it must be banished to the back garden and buried, he's not exactly attacking it with fervor, weeping that it reminds him of his childhood when he would eat warm bread on a cold day on the shores of Bantry Bay, either. He has noticed, and annoyingly comments, that I have made a dent in the bread.

Yes, I have made a dent.  A considerable dent.  Slathered with Kerrygold, it's my new breakfast. Forever.  Seriously.

My only bummer recipe was Eli's Asian Salmon.  Something just went really wrong.  It was so salty I couldn't eat it.  I drank two Cokes immediately following this dish. I refuse to believe it's the Contessa's fault.  It simply must be me. I did appreciate her instructions to line the pan with foil, and the hint for the aforementioned clean oven.  I also appreciated her telling me what temperature to pull the fish out at... for I am a over-cooking worrier so things tend to be undercooked in the Bungalow, something I am not to fond of, either.  God bless probe thermometers.  I loved the idea of this salmon, I loved the ingredients, I loved making it.  But I've got to figure out the salt problem... maybe it's just as simple as less soy sauce or a low-sodium variety.

What have I learned through this Barefoot Contessa experience?  Her recipes are anything but ordinary.  Her food is simple to put together, yes, but not plain on the tongue.  To hell with complicated instructions and grocery lists that require three stops and cooking for two days.  This was the first time I put together an entire meal and didn't feel cheated at the end.  I didn't feel like I had put so much effort in and got so little out.  Quite the opposite in fact.

It has been so long since I have made a recipe that I could say I would make over and over again... Ina has given me six in a weekend.  I may never need another cookbook.  Well, okay I am lying about that, but this cookbook gives you exactly what the Contessa promises:  everyday recipes you'll make again and again.

Summer Borscht
Excerpted from Barefoot Contessa at Home: Everyday Recipes You'll Make Over and Over Again
by Ina Garten

5 medium fresh beets (about 2 pounds without tops)
Kosher salt
2 cups chicken stock, preferably homemade
16 ounces sour cream, plus extra for serving
1/2 cup plain yogurt
1/4 cup sugar
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 teaspoons champagne vinegar
1 1/2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
2 cups medium-diced English cucumber, seeds removed
1/2 cup chopped scallions, white and green parts
2 tablespoons fresh dill, plus extra for serving

Place the beets in a large pot pf boiling salted water and cook uncovered until the beets are tender, 30 to 40 minutes. Remove the beets to a bowl with a slotted spoon and set aside to cool. Strain the cooking liquid through a fine sieve and also set aside to cool.

In a large bowl, whisk together 1 1/2 cups of the beet cooking liquid, the chicken stock, sour cream, yogurt, sugar, lemon juice, vinegar, 1 tablespoon salt, and the pepper. Peel the cooled beets with a small paring knife or rub the skins off with your hands. Cut the beets in a small to medium dice. Add the beets, cucumber, scallions, and dill to the soup. Cover with plastic wrap and chill for a least 4 hours or overnight. Season to taste and serve cold with a dollop of sour cream and an extra spring of fresh dill.

Polenta -- Not your Momma's Mush Anymore

I hate to toot my own horn, but I am pretty famous for my polenta.  I have been known to convert polenta haters to polenta lovers.

A few months ago, our neighbors decided to have an impromptu potluck and I was asked to bring something warm since everyone else decided to go to Costco and buy pasta salad.  Me, with my two burners... great.  But, lightning struck!  Of course -- polenta!  Quick, one burner, tasty.  Done.  It was the hit of the party, although The Mayor kept getting the kudos because he carried in the damn pot so everyone thought he made it.  Harrumph.

Yes, polenta can be a bit of work and yes, you have to have patience mixing it or you will have horrible, god-awful little lumps of uncooked cornmeal and yes, you must season it well or it can be really bland. But, once you get the technique down, it's super easy and can be really wonderful.  And there is no better place to start than here:  Polenta: Over 40 Recipes for All Occasions.

Okay, maybe you need to be a polenta lover to have a cookbook devoted to just polenta. But, trust me, if you aren't a polenta lover now, just try a few of the recipes in this book, and you will be converted.  You will be the next one taking polenta to the neighbors and be crowned king or queen for the night.  (Just don't take it to a party I will be at... that's my polenta turf!)

The Mayor is a polenta fiend.  As I was leafing through the book this weekend, he walked in and asked what I was doing.  I replied, "Just looking through a cookbook to see what I'm gonna cook..." Oh, he said, and kept on walking.  I called after him, "Hey!  Don't you want to know what kind of cookbook?" Tell me, he said.  I just held up the cover to him.  Ah, the jubilation.  I know what makes him tick.

If you think polenta is just a one-trick pony, this book will open a whole new bag for you.  There are recipes for breakfast, hors d'Oeuvres, main courses, side dishes and desserts. Since The Mayor is such a fan, there was quite a bit of cornmeal flying around the kitchen this weekend:

• Crabmeat Polenta with Lemon Chive Sauce
• Lamb & Artichoke Stew with Oregano Polenta Dumplings
• Venison Medallions on Cranberry-Orange Polenta Diamonds
• Polenta Dolce with Dates and Ricotta

The Crabmeat Polenta was foiled due to our neighbor's oven. (Do you wonder why I am putting in six ovens in the VBB???) It is a heavenly mixture of crabmeat, tomatoes, kalamata olives, Parmesan cheese, scallions, garlic, a couple eggs and of course, polenta.  This gorgeous mass is supposed to baked, then spooned onto plates and topped with a light sour cream-lemon-chive sauce.  As I mixed it all together, I called The Mayor in to light the stove... He burned through a pack of matches... no whoosh.  Dammit.  I can't wait for my electric ovens.  We ate it anyway -- I just heated it up in a pan so it was hot, then topped it with the cool cream... It wasn't pretty, but it was delicious.

The Lamb & Artichoke Stew was foiled by Albertson's supermarket -- no decent lamb, so I substituted beef.  I don't think it made a difference in the end. I made the stew and stuck it in the fridge to eat this week.  It is so rich and savory, I think I should have made a double batch to freeze.  The polenta dumplings came together in a flash, and cooked up light and airy.  I couldn't finish my bowl, so The Mayor grabbed it, but complained that the dumpling to stew ratio was off in my remains.  Well, excuse me.

Our main course was the Venison Medallions, but again with the substitutions, I used pork.  We like pork.  Venison, not so much.  The recipe for the polenta diamonds is highly unusual, incorporating orange zest, orange juice and dried cranberries into the mix.  You let that cool, then cut into diamonds and then fry 'em until brown.  The Mayor used an expletive to describe them.  They were that good.  Not to mention the sauce that is poured over the meat -- too die for.

And to end our polenta parade, a dessert -- the Polenta Dolce.  This is a basic polenta made with milk instead of stock, a bit of sugar and some Grand Marnier.  Top it with some sweetened ricotta cheese and chopped dates and Bob's your uncle:

This was the only thing The Mayor was not too fond of... he said it reminded him of Irish porridge.  I thought it was yummy, if a bit rich, especially after the polenta overload of the day.

The author gives secrets to polenta-making success and also breaks down the different types of cornmeal available.  She says she cannot stand behind results of polenta made with the medium-ground type yellow cornmeal you find in the grocery stores, but I have had nothing but success using it, and I really don't want to have to seek out true "polenta cornmeal" every time The Mayor and I get a hankering.

The biggest tip I have for you polenta novices out there is this:  While stirring your barely simmering liquid, take a fistful of polenta and slowly, slowly, slowly, let it fall through your fingers. Then, get another fistful and repeat the process.

For the cup of polenta that I was using, it took me about 8 handfuls and about 5 minutes to incorporate it all into a lump-free mixture.  This is time-consuming and patience is required, but you will be rewarded with a smooth, golden polenta that will make your friends and neighbors swoon and think you are a magician in the kitchen.  Just don't let your spouse carry the pot to the party.

Pork Chops on Cranberry-Orange Polenta Diamonds
Adapted from Polenta: Over 40 Recipes for All Occasions
by Brigit Légère Binns

Polenta Diamonds:
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 ounce pancetta, coarsely chopped
1/2 medium-size red onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic
Grated zest of 1 orange
3 cups water
2 cups beef stock, divided
Juice of 1 orange
1 teaspoon coarse sea salt
1 cup polenta or coarsely ground yellow cornmeal
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1/2 cup dried cranberries

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 pork chops
3 more tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons Grand Marnier
1 cup Pinot Noir or other dry, fruity red wine

To make the polenta:  In a large heavy saucepan, combine the oil and the pancetta and cook over low heat for 3 to 4 minutes, or until the pancetta has rendered its fat.  Add the onion and garlic, and cook, stirring, for 4 to 5 minutes, or until softened.  Add the orange zest and stir for 1 minute more.  Add the water, 1 cup of the beef stock, orange juice, and salt to the pan and bring the liquid to a boil.  Reduce the heat to low and, when the liquid is simmering, gradually sprinkle the polenta over in a very slow, thin stream, whisking constantly in the same direction until all of the grains have been incorporated and no lumps remain.  Reduce the heat to low.  Switch to a wooden paddle and stir every 1 or 2 minutes for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the mixture pulls away from the sides of the pan and the grains of polenta have softened. [Tart's note: I don't cook the polenta nearly this long. It always seems to be done much sooner.]  Stir in the butter cubes, dried cranberries, and pepper.  The mixture will be very thick.

Rinse an 8x12-inch roasting pan [Tart here again: Pyrex or anything else is just fine] with cold water and shake dry.  Mound the polenta in the pan and using a rubber spatula repeatedly dipped in very hot water, spread the polenta evenly in the pan until it is just over 1/4 thick. [I just used my hands.]  Cover the pan with a tea towel and allow to rest for 1 hour at room temperature or up to 24 hours in the refrigerator.

When ready to serve, preheat a broiler to high heat.

Cut the polenta into 12 diamond shapes [I found this finicky -- squares are fine], brush them with melted butter and put them under the hot broiler for 4 to 5 minutes on each side, or until golden and crunchy.

Salt and pepper both sides of the pork chops.  In a large heavy skillet, heat the butter over medium-high heat and cook the chops to taste.  Remove to a plate in a low oven while you finish the sauce.

Immediately turn up the heat under the skillet to high and add the Grand Marnier. [Take the pan off the heat first -- then put the pan back on the flame -- safety first!]  Add the remaining cup of beef stock and the pinot noir to the pan and reduce rapidly until there is only a scant 1 cup of slightly syrupy liquid remaining. [I reduced the sauce, but not as far down as the author suggested.  I then added a paste of 2 tablespoons butter and two tablespoons flour to the sauce to thicken.  I like more sauce and the way the butter makes the sauce glisten.]

Place two polenta diamonds in the center of each plate and top with a chop. Drizzle sauce over the top and garnish with thinly sliced oranges topped with 2 dried cranberries.

Soup's Off

What am I to do, living in temporary housing with a borrowed pot and a two-burner hotplate?  Given that The Mayor and I will be moving from house to house for a bit while our kitchen under construction, it seemed like cooking a bunch of soups to freeze and nuke for later sounded like a pretty good idea.

Mind you, today isn't exactly soup weather:

The Mayor, always describing the weather, called today Spectacular.

Now, me without my cookbooks (all in storage), I headed over to the bookstore to grab a soup book.  Of course, I wanted to go for some glossy gorgeous hardbacked thing with beautiful pictures and exotic ingredients. The Mayor was with me and pulled down a little paperback, with no pictures and a not-so-intriguing title: Twelve Months of Monastery Soups.  Mmm... monk cookery.  Can't wait.

So, I put down the big, shiny behemoth and take the book from The Mayor's hands.  I am not immediately won over, but divine intervention was about to strike. I notice that the book's chapters are separated into months -- something that appeals to my sense of order. I flip to January and read through the selections and think, well, there's some good stuff here. Things look simple -- like they can be made with a minimum of equipment. I am converted -- I put the big, beautiful book down and take my little monk-written recipe book home.

I decide on five soups from the January section:

• Chickpea Soup a la Provencale
• Artichoke and Potato Soup
• Cream of Pea Soup
• Orzo Soup
• Cherbah

All were vegetarian and all were simple -- I made them all in less than five hours, using only one pot. My total grocery bill was $69.94, and this will feed me and The Mayor countless meals during our kitchen transition. All we need to add is a baguette once in awhile.

I have to say, none of the recipes really knocked our socks off. They were all just kinda bland. I think part of the problem was sticking to the month of January... there are really delicious-sounding soups further on down the year.

I also limited my choices to things that didn't need to be blended, since lacking the kitchen means lacking the blender. (I did make a mistake with the Chickpea Soup -- it did need to be whizzed up, so I just stuck it un-whizzed in freezer containers and I will whizz it later... It didn't stop The Mayor from eating it, however.) And maybe coming off our curry-high from last week, we we're seeking something a little jazzier.  I am just not sure. 

This experience won't prevent me from trying out some soups in some other months, but I have to say that not hitting one winner from five tries is a bit disappointing.  Oh well, the soups are in the freezer and we won't go hungry for the next few days. I think I'd better just stock up on some red pepper flakes to light a fire in our bowls.

Color Me Curried

My fingers are permanently stained the color of turmeric.  Some people look at me as though I am unclean.  One helpful co-worker even suggested that I put a pot of water on the boil with a little Downey fabric softener mixed in to remove the stink from my clothes, my hair, my home. What has happened to me, you might wonder? 

Mangoes & Curry Leaves : Culinary Travels Through the Great Subcontinent

Unfortunately for those around me, we (that would be my husband, The Town Mayor, and I) are quite happy -- incandescent, in fact -- to smell like we live deep within the folds of Curry Valley.  We have worked our way through the recipes in this book with a vengeance, inhaling curries and dals and chutneys as fast as me and my two burners can crank this manna out. (Yes, I only have two working burners at the moment -- new kitchen is in the works). 

We have visited our local Indian grocery India Sweets and Spices no less than three times this week, coming home with bagfuls of wonderfully exotic things, such as moong dal and ghee (and oh, I will wax rhapsodic about ghee momentarilee!).

Bless Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid, for they have opened up a world I never new existed. Sure, I knew that I could hit a favorite Indian local (Bombay Cafe comes to mind), but I would never dream I could recreate these mystical, magical, mysterious plates at home.

We began our journey with Prawn White Curry -- a fiery white-hot dish pleasantly disguised by it's soothing creamy color. This is where the door opened and everything went Technicolor... I wasn't in Venice Beach anymore; I was in Sri Lanka. Traditionally, the shrimp heads and shells are ground up and added to the curry, but praise all the things good in the world, they don't call for us to do it here. It is just full of simple yumminess -- garlic, fenugreek, coconut milk, fresh chiles, shallots, fresh ginger, turmeric, tomatoes and limes juice... and of course, headless prawns. It is absolutely staggeringly delicious.

That same night begat another dish from the same region, Sri Lankan Beef Curry, a dish full of freshly ground coriander, cumin seeds, cinnamon, cardamom, turmeric, and tamarind. It was marred only by the fact that I need to learn that stew beef really needs to stew. The next day, upon reheating, the beef was meltingly tender.

Served on top of the beef as a condiment was Hot Sweet Date-Onion Chutney.  Three words: Oh. My. Gandhi.  So simple -- four ingredients -- dried red chiles, dates, onions and ghee -- but, WOW!  The Mayor and I were undone.  This will be a regular staple in the fridge from now on. In fact, last night, I reached for the jar, and characteristically and stereotypically, it was empty, because the Mayor finished it off and put it back where it belonged -- in the fridge, of course. When I quizzed him, "WHY?" he said, "Well, I was planning on licking the jar."

The final recipe was the simple, but exquisite Raita.  I must confess that I hate cucumbers.  Hate them.  I can sniff them out in anything.  I am a bit Howard Hughesian about them -- if they even touch other pieces of food on my plate, I swear I can taste their lingering essence. Yet, who has been scarfing down this cucumber salad like it was ice cream?  Yes, me, The Town Tart.  And I cannot explain it.  Again, just four ingredients: the cukes, yogurt (full-fat, whole, please), cilantro and salt. I just know that it, when served with the rest of food, is one of the best culinary combinations I can think of at this moment... mind you, I am in a curry coma.

We supplemented this first feast with some delicious parathas, bought frozen from the above mentioned and now much beloved Indian grocer, and we were delirious with joy. Where has this been all our lives?

The next night brought us to new lands -- Nepal and it's Mountain Dal, made from Mung dal (split yellow lentils) spiced by an intoxicating mixture of turmeric, dried red chiles, coriander seeds, cumin, cloves, cinnamon and peppercorns. And a quick tip here:  just go by yourself a cheap coffee grinder, label it "For Spices Only" and be done with it.  It will make your life so much easier, not to mention spicier! Whizzing up whole spices in one of these things is a snap and the flavor is so worth it. The authors extol the virtues of a mortar and pestle, but I have neither the time to bash these little nuggets of love into paste nor the counter space to give over to a huge piece of rock.  But, no worries -- Jeff and MiMi (as I call them now -- we are thisclose) give the coffee grinder their blessing, as well.

This recipe was also our introduction to mustard oil.  Now, Alford and Duguid warn that it is labeled "not for human consumption" only because it prevents all of those pesky little problems of importing food products from foreign lands... hmmm... that's comforting. So, sure enough, when we located the bottle at India Sweets, the label read "for massage use only." The lady behind the register assured me it was safe to eat and encouragingly said, "It's very, very delicious, and when it's heated, it changes the flavor to something beautiful." Good enough for me!

We tried another beef dish, Bangla Slow-Cooked Beef with Onion, which was more amazing than the previous beef curry. And with the addition of a topping of caramelized onions slow cooked in ghee, well... I'm sorry, I just can't go on... Talk amongst yourselves for a bit while I recover.

For a change of pace, we added vegetables to the menu and chose Cauliflower Dum. These people make one of the most boring vegetables on earth turn into something wonderful and interesting. The cauliflower maintained its crunch, but was tender and oh-so-spicy good.

As The Mayor and I work our way through, it's has become quite apparent that everything in this book is golden. It has been an absolute joy and an amazing adventure to try out these recipes, experimenting with ingredients never before found in my kitchen, and we are not nearly done yet. But, I'll leave that ride for you to experience yourself. Just find and support your local Indian grocer, get yourself a Penzeys Catalogue and get ready to be transported to the far-reaches of the earth.

My only complaint about the book is that it is too beautiful to take into the kitchen.  So, for every recipe I followed, I left the book open on the dining room table, and walked back and forth to the kitchen muttering "quarter teaspoon fenugreek, quarter teaspoon coriander" as my mantra, so as not to splatter these beautiful pages. My suggestion to the authors: please, for your next book, include inside a disc so that we can print the recipes out. This is a book I want to keep beautiful forever.

Mountain Dal
Excerpted from Mango & Curry Leaves: Culinary Travels Through the Great Subcontinent
by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid

1 cup mung dal, washed and drained
5 to 6 cups water
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon salt
2 to 3 dried red chiles, stemmed
1 teaspoon coriander seeds
1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
3 cloves
One 1-inch piece cinnamon or cassia stick
Seeds from 2 green cardamom pods
5 or 6 black peppercorns
1 tablespoon mustard oil or vegetable oil
1 cup finely chopped onion

Put the dal into a large pot with 5 cups water and the turmeric and bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat to maintain a strong simmer, partially cover, and cook for 30 to 40 minutes, until the dal is almost mushy.  For a more liquid texture, add another 1/2 to 1 cup water.

Meanwhile, using a mortar and a pestle or a spice/coffee grinder, grind together the chiles, coriander, cumin, cloves, cinnamon, cardamom, and pepper. Set aside.

When the dal has finished cooking, add the salt and stir, then lower the heat to very low to keep it warm.

Heat a wok or karhai or a cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. Add the oil, then the finely chopped onion, and stir-fry for 5 minutes. Add the ground spice blend and stir-fry for 1 to 2 more minutes, then transfer to the pot of dal. Stir the dal well and cook for about 10 minutes, then serve hot.

Serves 4