Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Basket-Woven Bacon and Thurber Cookies







This is a sidebar to the various posts about my aunt and her life/death/memorial service.  My aunt was a major foodie, and of course it made sense to create a menu for her memorial luncheon that contained some of the foods people associated so closely with her.  I proposed a menu that included a homemade pâté de campagne (accompanied by crudités, Dijon mustard, cornichons, and freshly baked baguettes from the local bakery The Blue Duck); various forms of charcuterie and cheeses; a potato and green bean salad dressed with pesto; and of course, Stoned Wheat Thins.

I had never made a pâté before, but it isn't difficult.  The only part that can become difficult is the part where you (meaning I) decided to make a basket-weave/pie crust-style pattern of the raw bacon that lines the pan in which the pâté bakes.  This is not easy.  The recipe only asked that I lay the bacon in and up the sides of the pan, which is easy.

This is my recipe.  The only other difficulty I had was with the seasoning, because obviously you can't taste raw ground pork to see if you have enough salt/pepper/etc.  I suggest taking a spoonful of the fully mixed raw pâté, forming it into a small, flat patty, and quickly cooking it to taste for seasoning.  Suffice to say that the richness of the pâté demands fairly bold seasoning, so use a heavy hand with the pepper, allspice and thyme.


PÂTÉ DE CAMPAGNE
Serve at room temperature with a sprinkling of salt, cornichons, Dijon, and a baguette.

Yield: Makes 20 servings

INGREDIENTS

3/4 cup Cognac

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 cup minced onion

2 1/2 pounds ground pork

12 ounces bacon (8 to 10 slices), finely chopped
14 ADDITIONAL bacon slices for lining pan [buy two packages]
3 garlic cloves, pressed

2 1/2 teaspoons salt

3 teaspoons dried thyme

1 1/2 teaspoons allspice

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

1/3 cup whipping cream

1 6-ounce piece ham steak, cut crosswise into 1/4-inch-thick strips

Coarse sea salt

Cornichons (tiny sour pickles)

Dijon mustard


PREPARATION
  1. Set rack at lowest position in oven and preheat to 350°F. 
  2. Boil Cognac until reduced to 1/2 cup, about 1 1/2 minutes. Cool.
  3. Melt butter in heavy medium skillet over medium heat. 
  4. Add onion and sauté until soft and translucent but not brown, about 8 minutes.
  5. Combine ground pork and chopped bacon in large bowl. 
  6. Using fork or fingertips, mix together until well blended.
  7. Add sautéed onion, garlic, 2 1/2 teaspoons salt, thyme, allspice, and pepper to bowl with pork mixture and stir until incorporated. 
  8. Add eggs, cream, and reduced Cognac and stir until well blended.
  9. Line 9x5x3-inch metal loaf pan with bacon slices, arranging 8 slices across width of pan and 3 slices on each short side of pan and overlapping pan on all sides. Using hands, lightly and evenly press half of meat mixture (about 3 1/4 cups) onto bottom of pan atop bacon slices. 
  10. Arrange ham strips over in single layer, lying longways [this is so you will get little ham squares in each slice]
  11. Top with remaining meat mixture.
  12. Fold bacon slices over, covering pâté [if your bacon strips are too short and don't actually cover the whole surface, it doesn't matter because this side of the pâté will be the bottom when served]. 
  13. Cover pan tightly with foil. 
  14. Place pan in 13x9x2-inch metal baking pan and transfer to oven. 
  15. Pour boiling water into the larger baking pan to come halfway up sides of loaf pan. 
  16. Bake pâté until a thermometer inserted through foil into center registers 155°F, about 2 hours 15 minutes.
  17. Remove loaf pan from baking pan and transfer to rimmed baking sheet. 
  18. Place heavy skillet or 2 to 3 heavy cans atop pâté to weigh down. 
  19. Chill overnight. 
  20. This can be made 4 days ahead.
  21. To unmold, place loaf pan with pâté in larger pan of hot water for about 3 minutes. Invert pâté onto platter; discard fat from platter and wipe clean. Cut pâté crosswise into 1/2-inch slices.



Here are some observations I made while making this recipe.

  • Cold bacon is much easier to work with than room-temperature bacon.
  • Don't even bother trying to hand-mince the bacon unless it's frozen.  I recommend putting large chunks of chopped frozen bacon in the food processor and pulsing over chopping it.
  • Before loading the pâté mixture into the pan, do my trick of making a mini-burger out of some of it and tasting for seasoning.  
  • The type of salt you use greatly impacts the overall saltiness of the finished recipe.  Regular table salt (such as Morton's) is very fine-grained, whereas Kosher salt is much larger and flakier.  A teaspoon of table salt has much less air in it than a teaspoon of Kosher salt.  If you are using Kosher salt when you make this, I recommend adding about another 1/2 teaspoon.  But again, you can mix, cook a patty, taste, and adjust if needed.
  • Another time, I'd take twice the number of ham strips (buy two steaks), and make three layers of pâté with two layers of ham instead of the one layer the recipe calls for.  Also, I'd buy extra cornichons and lay a few lines of them alongside the ham strips so we got little green dots in each slice.
  • After you bake the pâté and remove the foil, you will see a TON of liquid and fat has accumulated.  Be assured that MOST OF THIS IS LIQUID, NOT FAT!  Therefore, you really should let the meat sit in its juices for about 20 minutes so they redistribute through the pâté and keep it moister for serving.  You might also just leave the juices alone and weight/chill the pâté without draining at all.  If any gelatinous or fatty residue remains on the surface of the pâté after unmolding, you can gently scrape it off using a knife.







As for the Thurber cookie, I got a bee in my bonnet about Father's Day and couldn't think of anything to make for my own father that wasn't hopelessly twee.  I decided, instead, to bake him a giant cookie (about 10" x 8") depicting one of his favorite James Thurber cartoons (the caption is "Alright, have it your way. You heard a seal bark.")  This method is applicable to any relatively simple cartoon, or any design at all, I suppose.  For the best royal icing and sugar cookie recipes for this type of thing, search my blog posts from last December.  Roll out to the appropriate thickness, and lay baking parchment over the flat dough.  Using a pencil, sketch the OVERALL outline of the shape you want onto the paper, then using a very sharp paring knife cut out the design right through the paper.  To assure sharp borders, chill the cut dough for at least 15 minutes in the freezer before baking.  My dad liked it a lot...this kind of thing is right up his alley.  Maybe next year I'll do some Charles Addams.



More Memories of Shirley

I posted a version of this on my Facebook page, but wanted to post it again here for the benefit of those who attended Shirley's memorial party yesterday and requested the URL for my blog.  Should any of you read this and want digital copies of any of the photos you saw yesterday, please send me a message by posting a comment at the end of this blog entry.

MEMORIES OF SHIRLEY


Being able to hear the dogs barking themselves silly as you come down the driveway...

clamshell shards in lieu of asphalt...

burning feet at Flying Point beach...

homemade pesto with home-grown elephant garlic...

sauteed cherry tomatoes...

tennis on the TV...

the smell of Pall Malls...

the feeling of soft moss underfoot near the pond...

sweltering in the upstairs bedroom on summer nights...

taking the dogs to Carvel and then for a run on the beach...

going to grown-up parties and wandering around others' houses...

getting a lecture from Shirley and Tee Adams when all I wanted to do was watch the Miss America pageant...

the little copper saucepan in her kitchen...

triscuits and tomato juice in the fridge...

Ivory Snow by the washing machine...

the smell of Prell shampoo and showering outside on hot summer afternoons...

the magnetic soap holders...

bathing Charlie in the kitchen sink when he was a baby...

the coffee table imprinted with fossils of shells and tiny prehistoric animals...

the pictures of lions hanging in the stairwell...

being able to hear the train whistle at night, which for years blew the exact same notes that form the first orchestral chord of Debussy's "L'Apres Midi d'un Faune"...

the excitement of seeing swans on the pond...

Athena's horse paddock...

the huge, feathery, gone-to-flower asparagus plants...

giant purple alliums, later dried and displayed in the baroque coffee pot on the sideboard...

tiny white gravel by the back door...

the dusty smell of the studio...

the beautiful worn brick of the walkway...

playing "Island of the Blue Dolphins" (i.e. being stranded on an Aleutian Island) with shells and sticks, and then being stung by a wasp and screaming bloody murder...

walking to the Penny Candy store to buy those candy dots on paper, candy cigarettes, and mint leaves...

leaving pennies on the railroad tracks with Athena and Pete...

doing Mad Libs with Athena in the upstairs bedroom and her saying "Horse" (and spelled "Hoss") every time she was asked for a noun...

swinging open the huge bedroom window shutters and looking down at the living room...

her little glass jar of salt with the big cork and the wooden spoon...

Her ceramic "S" hanging on the wall...

the smell of salt air and dogs...

the old sweatshirt I inherited from her that for years after smelled EXACTLY like her and her house (I hated to wash it)...

making "doggie stew" and doling out Liv-A-Snaps...

being fascinated as a child with the cat door that opens underneath the house...

the espaliered pear tree on the street side of the studio...

swimming with Athena and Pete one summer in that murky pond...

hanging out in the dory on the pond with Pippit...

the high-pitched squeak Pippit would emit when she was excited...

Spider and Mara...Dolly...Shammy...Nathan...Bobby...Pippit...Bugsy...

how Shirley helped me to get ARF to to place Butch, an abused cat from my old Bronx neighborhood, with a nice adoptive family...

sitting around in Dorothy MIllstone's livingroom and looking at all her tchotchkes...

going to the dump with the dogs...

Shirley's ingenious kitchen trash can system (the hole in the counter!)...

Gristedes milk in the brown and red carton...

Dove chocolates in the vegetable crisper...

the cool terra cotta tiles underfoot downstairs...

the bright chime of her downstairs clock...

the woodstove on chilly days...

the picture on the living room shelf of Pete and Shirley, with Spider licking Pete's face...

the precarious three-legged dining room chairs that dump you on the floor when you shift your weight even slightly...

the perpetual hunt for a pillow for Shirley to use while reading that was strong enough to withstand her incredibly sharp elbows...

attempting to make said pillows and stuffing them with everything from cotton batting to rice.  Nothing worked, of course...

Shirley's coy assertion, when asked about Jelly (whom she and everyone who met him believed to be the world's most perfect marmalade cat), that she "made him up out of my head.  And no, you can't have him."...

Shirley being so patient and sweet with Pete when he was a little boy and threw up twice in one night...

writing a poem to Shirley, which I planned to read aloud during a company visit exhorting her to stop being so crabby and go sailing (she did not sail, don't know why I thought this was a good idea)...

the dogs galloping with abandon in the back yard, tongues flapping and ropes of saliva training in the breeze...

the wonderful shaggy copse that forms the front end of the property, making it truly private...

the thrill of driving all the way from Boston and FINALLY turning into that magical gravel driveway and driving through that tunnel of trees...

doing little woodworking projects during the summer and painting them with leftover house paint...

Laughing once at a shopping list she wrote that said "canned cat" (she forgot the word "food") and the next morning being wordlessly and straight-facedly presented by Shirley with a can bearing a handmade label saying "CANNED CAT".  This sits on my shelf still...

coffee in a kimono in the mornings.  I have owned many kimonos, most hand-imported by my dad, because I like the memory and the feeling of it...

being yelled at to close the #$%$#@ shower door upstairs (until I was 40, although I hadn't left it open and flooded the bathroom since the Carter administration)...

sandy towels and sunburns...

takeout duck legs from Citarella...

"Sushi Wooshi" in fashionable downtown Water Mill...

going to Megans for burgers with cheddar/port spread (so good)...

going to the post office to pick up the mail...

Shirley's unmistakable handwriting and simple cream-and-brown stationery...

the beautiful birth announcement she made when Charlie was born...

the skeleton and funny little animal skulls in the studio...

a million cool pencils and drafting tools to play with...

the tool bench...

the suet bird feeder...

being really happy that Shirley liked three cast brass Japanese garden bells I gave her one Christmas...

baking her a prune cake (thinking it was something nice from her childhood) only to be told "what is this crap?" (trust me, it was funny)...

trying on Sally Curtis' new Walkman when they had just come out, and wandering from room to room in Shirley's house, marveling that I could still hear the music JUST THE SAME wherever I walked...

Alfonso...

As a very small child way trying to walk with my mother all the way to the Milk Pail along the Montauk Highway, never realizing it was nearly four miles away...

Mara running away all the time...

Bugsy trying to bite the water coming out of the sprinkler...

Heavy Duty, the cat with 34 toes...

realizing for the first time that Shirley just as much as my grandmother had raised my dad...

not understanding why she wanted to stay in a hotel when she came to visit (I totally get it now!)...

plants and flowers everywhere...

sounds of birds and cicadas...

talking with her about the house, how it was built, and finding out how to maintain it (although Dick Jr. really did everything)...

if you left even one paperclip at her house after visiting, receiving a grouchy phone call from Shirley in which she would berate you for leaving "all that crap" in the house...

A gold-colored can of pate of dubious origin that stood on her pantry shelf literally as long as I can remember...

Shirley being triumphant when she and Dick figured out you could use those cheap, adaptable wooden tool handles from the hardware store as stair grips/railings. She loved anything clever like that...

the feeling of amazement when the back yard was first re-landscaped to include the new trees and the little brook...

the little slate lazy susan on her countertop with the African clay dish, the tiny sleeping rhinoceros, toothpicks, eyeglass cleaner, and other carefully curated things necessary to the activities done while sitting there (largely, reading and drinking coffee or whiskey, smoking cigarettes)...

the little oblong copper pan that always held a neat, crisp stack of Viva paper napkins.  She was very brand-loyal.  I remember being shocked when she started using Dove soap in lieu of whatever she'd used for decades before.  Only a dermatologist's orders would've compelled a huge change like that...

the binoculars hanging at the ready, in case some interesting bird should alight on one of the perfectly-positioned bird feeders outside the kitchen window...

The bookshelf by her easy chair containing life's most important books:  Julia Child's "Mastering the Art of French Cooking", and a guide to north American birds...

her brightly colored Swedish enameled ashtrays... was the one in her bedroom turquoise or orange?...

the little stool painted with a portrait of Dolly, the bassett hound, one of Shirley's dogs when I was very small (6 or 7)...

remembering that Shirley buried Dolly when she died out in a garden, beneath a little tree and a bunch of day lillies...

the day a bunch of official Audubon bird watcher tramped into Shirley's house, a crisp fall day, taking "inventory" of all migratory birds they could observe in and around her property (which, sitting on a pond lying very near a bunch of other small ponds, makes it a perfect haven for birds of all sorts).  Fixing them some hot soup and tea...

sliding open the kitchen window on summer mornings and letting the breeze blow through the house, listening for Shirley coming and going from the studio, waiting to hear her screen door slam...

repeating "wait, Bobby, wait...Bobby, wait!!  WAIT, BOBBY!!" every time you tried to go out the sliding glass door...

learning from Shirley what a "Baltimore Oriole" was (the bird, not the baseball team, although that's what she called the birds). Also, spotting red-winged blackbirds and learning the sound of their wonderful, distinctive song...

the mysterious and always-exciting little path that connected the Haresign's property and Shirley's, and shuttling back and forth all summer long on many exciting missions...

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Banh Mi: A Vietnamese Sandwich, Not a Gaelic Epithet

Summer supper is a conundrum.  If it were only my husband and me, and we happened to still be living half a block away from Saigon Grill the most superb Vietnamese restaurant in the world (yes, a completely subjective claim inasmuch as I see no need to visit many other Vietnamese restaurants now that I've found one so clearly superior), we'd order in a little bo luc lac and goi du du and call it a night.  Cool, crispy, vegetal, sour, sweet, crunch, savory, slippery, pungent, spicy, the list of descriptive adjectives goes on and on.  Amazing food, amazingly refreshing.  And, not coincidentally, the product of a country deeply familiar with dense, wet, hot weather.


My summertime supper go-to meals include the following:

  • Salade Niçoise, bread, cheese, cold French rosé
  • Fish tacos (fried tilapia with crema on fresh corn tortillas), salad, and cold Negro Modelo beer
  • Cold barbecued chicken drumsticks with cornbread, blue cheese coleslaw, and cold beer
  • Corn-on-the-cob, sliced tomatoes, cold white wine (no meat)

As of tonight, I can add homemade banh mi, the much-vaunted (in New York, anyway) Vietnamese sandwich, served with icy lemonade.


Asian cooking for the uninitiated can be exasperatingly labor-intensive.  As might be expected, the whole construct is different from that of Western cooking. Some recipes require a million ingredients, many of which take a long time to even locate, and these ingredients often require slow and painstaking chopping into microscopic bits.  On the other hand, the actual cooking (i.e. the application of heat) sometimes takes only seconds.  You really do have to get a little bit Zen about it all and embrace the process, especially if you have dull knives.  If you're getting super authentic, you may also find yourself with lopsided amounts of leftover ingredients.  I once gave my husband a private cooking lesson for his birthday, a one-on-one tutorial in Thai cooking.  The chef gave us a list of about 20 ingredients to be found only at an Asian grocery, saying “these are the ones you WILL be able to find”.  The food was spectacular, and not as hard as you'd think, but we were left at the end with enough pickled minced radish and palm sugar to make Thai food daily for a family of seven for a month.  Unlike cilantro or soy sauce, pickled minced radish does not have all that many applications in non-southeast Asian cuisine. 


This recipe for banh mi does indeed require a lot of chopping, but happily, with the exception of the fish sauce and the sesame oil, all the ingredients are available at a regular grocery store.  It should be said, though, that fish sauce and sesame oil really are heart of the recipe, and are not so obscure as to be impossible to locate, so I strongly recommend you make the effort to find them.  A well-stocked Stop & Shop/Wegmans/whatever should have at least one brand. 

By the way, if you're not familiar with fish sauce, I'm not referring to tartar sauce but instead to a clear, amber colored liquid made of fermented fish juices.  It usually comes in a big plastic bottle, and is as common as soy sauce is in Chinese and Japanese cuisine.  It smells very funky in the bottle: it's quite strong and you wouldn't want to take a big gulp of it.   The tiniest bit of it appears in thousands of southeast Asian recipes, and the food simply doesn't taste right without it.  If you find it off-putting in its naked incarnation, remember that there are a lot of highly pungent fish-based products we regularly consume (such as the anchovies pureed into many a caesar salad dressing) without being aware of what makes the flavor, only that the flavor is right.  I'm just saying give it a fair chance.

These sandwiches are all the things Vietnamese food should be... that is, crispy, fresh, meaty, salty, sweet, tangy, pungent, etc.  And most of all, they are just the thing for a boiling hot summer night.


BANH MI 
(Vietnamese pork sandwiches on French bread)
Recipe courtesy of Epicurious.com

Hot Chili Mayo:
  • 2/3 cup mayonnaise
  • 2 green onions, finely chopped
  • 1 tablespoon hot chili sauce [Sriracha brand is good, but I used plain Jamaican hot sauce]
  • the juice of 1/2 lemon

Meatballs:
  • 1 pound ground pork [I used "meatball mix", which is equal parts beef, pork, and veal]
  • 1/4 cup finely chopped fresh basil
  • 4 garlic cloves, minced
  • 3 green onions, finely chopped
  • 1 tablespoon fish sauce (such as nam pla or nuoc nam)*
  • 1 tablespoon hot chili sauce (such as sriracha)
  • 1 tablespoon sugar
  • 2 teaspoons cornstarch
  • 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt

Sandwiches:
  • 2 cups coarsely grated carrots
  • 2 cups coarsely grated Japanese white radish [you can substitute purple turnip or jicama]
  • 1/4 cup unseasoned rice vinegar
  • 1/4 cup sugar
  • 1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
  • 1 tablespoon Asian sesame oil
  • 4 10-inch-long individual baguettes or 
  • 4 10-inch-long pieces French-bread baguette (cut from 2 baguettes)
  • Thinly sliced jalapeño chiles
  • 16 large fresh cilantro sprigs

Prepare the Hot Chili Mayo:
Stir all ingredients in small bowl. Season with salt. Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover and chill.

Prepare  the Meatballs:
Gently mix all ingredients in large bowl. Using moistened hands and scant tablespoonful for each, roll meat mixture into 1-inch meatballs [NB: I always make my meatballs flat like mini-hamburgers, so they cook quicker and more evenly].  Can also be made 1 day ahead. Cover and chill.

Prepare the Sandwiches:
First, assemble the homemade carrot/radish pickles.  Toss first 5 ingredients in medium bowl. Let stand at room temperature 1 hour, tossing occasionally.

Heat sesame oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Add half of meatballs. Sauté until brown and cooked through, turning meatballs often and lowering heat if browning too quickly, about 15 minutes. These may be kept warm in a 300 degree oven.

Cut each baguette or baguette piece horizontally in half. Pull out enough bread from each bread half to leave 1/2-inch-thick shell. Spread hot chili mayo over each bread shell. Arrange jalapeños, then cilantro, in bottom halves. Fill each with 1/4 of meatballs. Drain pickled vegetables [I didn't drain mine, as I like my banh mi kind of juicy/squishy]; place pickles atop meatballs. Press on baguette tops.

Read More http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Pork-Meatball-Banh-Mi-356790#ixzz0rbfreFmp