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Posts tagged ‘Recipe For Disaster’

Drunk Noodles

This afternoon at work, pad thai noodles seemed like a good dinner idea. I had most of the ingredients, I’d only have to stop by the store for cilantro, bean sprouts and tofu. But as five o’clock neared, drinks took precedence. I rarely go out with coworkers, and never in midtown, but what the heck, I had the next day off.

But being midtown–we were checking out the newly opened Chemist Club around the block (this was formerly Britney Spears’s short lived Nyla, if you recall)–I could really only swing two drinks. And that’s the weird part. $22 and two pinot noirs (Willamette Valley, of course) later, I was drunk. Whenever I set out on a night of serious drinking I can down 5-6 cocktails before feeling properly punchy. There’s something about weeknights, imbibing when it’s still light out, being in the company of work mates instead of friend friends, I don’t know, that seems to accelerate the effects of alcohol.

Shopping for even three ingredients had lost its appeal on the way home. I walked in the door, starving and a little loopy, and it was only 7:30pm. More drinks seemed in order, so I dug up some hard cider left over from my birthday party a few weekends before. Now food seemed dire, but pad thai wasn’t going to work right anymore.

However, I did have most of the ingredients for pad kee mao, a.k.a. drunken noodles. Perfect. I would do a bastardized hybrid that might bother me any other night because I’m a rule follower, but when you’re hungry, desperate, and well, drunk, rules can be bent. I threw together the following in an attempt to approximate something mildly authentic while using up leftovers.

And besides, drunken noodles are named as such, not because they contain any alcohol, but because they are crazy spicy and a good companion for beer. What could be better on an unexpectedly tipsy Thursday night?

Drunk Noodles

1/2 lb. rice noodles (thick is better, but any will do)
1/2 lb. large shrimp (luckily they were already shelled, I didn’t bother to devein, but did slice them in half)
15 thai chiles, chopped
1 head of garlic, chopped
2 tbs. peanut oil
1/2 cup red onion (should’ve used shallots, and did have some, but they’re a pain to peel and all my energy had already done to prepping the garlic)
2 tbs. oyster sauce
1 tsp. sugar
2 tbs. fish sauce
1 tbs. green peppercorns (if they’re in brine like mine, rinse well and drain)
2 big handfuls of spinach (this is very wrong, but I didn’t have basil like you should for drunken noodles or cilantro like for pad thai. I did have a bunch of spinach that was going to go bad if I didn’t use it pronto, and who couldn’t use more iron in their diet?)
1 tbs. chile radish (for pad thai you can use salted radish, which I didn’t have on hand, but chile radish is awesome if you love that hot preserved flavor that isn’t really Thai at all. I put chile radish in places it doesn’t belong all the time)

Soak rice noodles in warm water for 30 minutes or so.

While noodles soak, pound garlic and chiles in mortar and pestle to a nice pulp. Cilantro stems should also be in this mix, but I didn’t have any.

Heat wok on high, add oil, then the garlic-chile puree. Toss in the red onions/shallots too. Cook for a little less than a minute.

Add shrimp (you can use all sorts of seafood, but I happened to have frozen shrimp). Cook until shrimp turns pink, then sprinkle the oyster sauce, fish sauce and sugar.

Mix in noodles. Cook for about a minute. Try to get out the clumps.

Add green peppercorns, chile radish and spinach, and try not to be annoyed that the nice holy basil and scent and flavor is lacking.

Makes about four servings, less if you are very hungry.

Very roughly adapted from Dancing Shrimp, by Kasma Loha-Unchit. Simon & Schuster (2000)

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Soft-Shell Buns

I’ve been meaning to try Momofuku Noodle Bar for as long as it has been open (two years tops, likely less) but I no longer have any friends or loved ones in the East Village, it’s not on my way to anything and I’m weird about sitting on stools at counters. And this Peking duck-like sandwich isn’t what the restaurant is known for, but after seeing this intriguing recipe in New York my mind forgot all about the pork belly and ramen I’d been missing.

The gist of the dish is sauteeing soft-shell crabs in bacon fat and stuffing them into Chinese buns along with hoisin sauce, scallions and lightly pickled cucumber slices. Easy. But I’m not sure about the buns because I haven’t eaten the original (which I definitely intend to now). They’re not char siu type buns, they’re more like super puffy tacos shells minus the crunch, doughy rounds folded in half to make a fluffy pocket. The buns, or steamed rolls like the package read, were also larger than I’d expected (I used a brand called Juans, which always cracks me up. Maybe on Staten Island, where the company is based, Juan is an Asian name), so you could realistically fit a whole crab inside, where the recipe called for halving the crustaceans. Or maybe my crabs were smaller. Either way, the end result was still satisfying (and I went wild and included some of the bacon, which is only intended for fat rendering). Pork and seafood get along better than many people think.

Crabuns

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Tapas Party

Sometimes it seems that 90% of the food I make is Asian in some way. I just can’t help myself, it’s what I love. But recently I gave into the Spanish/Basque bug that seems to have bitten every food editor, aficionado and amateur on the planet (It has always kind of bummed me out that I was raised so white bread suburban, no culinary lineage to speak of, unless you count tossing frozen Banquet chicken into a baking dish as cooking. But I am Basque. Sure, only a negligible amount, somewhere in the 1/8-1/4 range, but it’s a pretty cool heritage to claim if you’re going to adopt one as an adult–especially, seeing as how it’s a current culinary darling. And now that my dad is gone I wish I had learned more about those Mexican and Basque roots, though admittedly his Applebee’s ways probably wouldn’t have shed much light on the matter.) and threw a birthday bash, complete with plenty of tapas, traditional and nuevo.

It was a little risky considering many of my friends are either vegetarian or carnivores who might still shy away from blood sausage and anchovies. But it’s impossible to please everyone. I stuck to my guns and made things I’d like to eat (never mind the birthday boy), which is the best route sometimes.

Around the beginning of the year The New York Times, Food & Wine, and Gourmet all did tapas features. It was kind of bizarre, the barrage. I didn’t want to be a direct copycat, but I did draw from these sources as well as a few books.

My menu included:
Cheese: Cabrales, Queso de Murcia, Idiazabal, Mahon, Manchego
Snacks: Spanish olives, Marcona almonds, Serrano ham, quince paste

Cheese

And the following:

Anchovy and Pepper Roll-Ups

1 7.6-ounce jar Spanish piquillo peppers
1/2 pound white anchovies.

Slice peppers into 1/2-inch strips. You should be able to make 60. Place an anchovy on each pepper strip, roll up and skewer with a toothpick. Serve.

Yield: About 60 pieces

Take a Cup Of Tapas Yet For Auld Lang Syne, by Florence Fabricant. New York Times. December 29, 2004

I had lots of these left over–not many anchovy fans in the house. I ended up mashing the remains and tossing the resulting chunky paste with pasta. A nice second life.

Pear and Cabrales Canapés

5 ounces Cabrales or other blue-veined cheese
20 dried pear halves.

Mash cheese until smooth. Carve away cores of pears. Spread half the pears with cheese, top with remaining pear halves, and cut each into fourths. Serve.

Yield: 40 canapés

Take a Cup Of Tapas Yet For Auld Lang Syne, by Florence Fabricant. New York Times. December 29, 2004

These weren’t bad, but a little tangier and chewier than I’d prefer.

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Chickpeas with Blood Sausage in Garlic and Parsley
Garbanzos con Butifarra negra

From Bar Pinotxo, Barcelona

olive oil
½ large onion, thinly sliced
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley
1 oz. golden raisins, soaked in hot water for 15 minutes and drained
sprinkling of pine nuts
5 1/2 ounces. blood sausage, fried and coarsely chopped
14-ounce can chickpeas, drained
salt and pepper to taste

Put two tablespoons of olive oil in a saucepan over a low heat, then sauté the onion until it is just tender. Add the garlic, parsley, raisins, and pine nuts, and mix well.

Add the blood sausage and chickpeas and heat through, stirring all the time. Season with salt and pepper. Transfer to a serving platter, drizzle with olive oil, and serve at once.

New Tapas: Today’s Best Bar Food from Spain, by Fiona Dunlop. Laurel Glen Publishing (2002)

I absolutely love the flavors in this salad. It might’ve been one of the least eaten dishes, but that only meant more for me later. I’ve since made it with chorizo, mainly because blood sausage isn’t always on hand or nearby, and the result was still pleasing.

Chorizo With Sherry Finish

2 whole chorizo sausages, about 9 ounces each
Leaves from 2 branches fresh rosemary
1/4 cup dry white wine
1 cup fino sherry.

Peel casing from chorizo, and slice sausage 1/2-inch thick. Place rosemary on a cutting board, and lightly bruise with a rolling pin.Place chorizo, rosemary, wine and 3/8 cup sherry in a skillet that will hold chorizo in a single layer. Bring to a simmer and cook, turning chorizo once or twice, over medium-low heat until wine has evaporated, leaving bright red fat in the pan, about 15 minutes. Remove chorizo from pan and discard fat.

Return chorizo to pan. Just before serving, add remaining sherry, briefly reheat chorizo, and transfer, with pan juices, to a dish. Serve, with toothpicks or wooden skewers.

Yield: 60 pieces

Take a Cup Of Tapas Yet For Auld Lang Syne, by Florence Fabricant. New York Times. December 29, 2004

I used the small chorizo from d’Espana Foods (they have a website and I can’t re-find it for the life of me) and neglected to peel the casings. I was spared the fiddly work and it turned out fine.

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Minted Lamb Meatballs
Albóndigas de Cordero a la Hierbabuena

From Enrique Becerra, Seville

1 pound, 2 ounces lamb, ground or finely chopped
salt and pepper to taste
4 tablespoons soft bread crumbs
1 tablespoon chopped, fresh mint
2 small eggs, beaten
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
3 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1/2 cup dry sherry
1 tablespoon olive oil, for sauteeing

sauce
2 onions, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1 tablespoon olive oil, for sauteeing
1 cup thick tomato paste
1 tablespoon dry sherry
water, for thinning

Combine all the meatball ingredients, except the olive oil, in a large bowl and mix well. Form the meat into one-inch balls and saute in oil until lightly browned on all sides. Drain on paper towels and set aside.

In the same pan, saute the onions and garlic for the sauce in olive oil until soft. add the tomato paste and sherry and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from the heat.

In a blender, puree the sauce until smooth, andding a little water if it’s too thick. Return the sauce to the saute pan and add the meatballs. Bring to a boil and cook over a medium heat for about 10 minutes. Serve hot.

Makes about 32 meatballs

New Tapas: Today’s Best Bar Food from Spain, by Fiona Dunlop. Laurel Glen Publishing (2002)

These were a hit, though there was a minor trauma with under done centers. They took longer to cook through than expected. Luckily, this was rectified before the bulk of the guests arrived.

Garlic Paprika Shrimp

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons hot smoked Spanish paprika
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
salt, to taste
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
5 cloves garlic, sliced
3 pounds large shrimp, peeled and deveined
Juice of 2 lemons.

Pour oil into large pan. Add paprika, cumin, salt, cayenne and garlic. Cook just until garlic starts to brown. Raise heat to medium-high and add shrimp. Cook until pink, about 3 to 4 minutes. Toss with lemon juice.

Will serve about 15 people if part of a larger spread.

Minted Eggplant

1/4 cup Sherry vinegar
3 medium eggplants (2 lb total), trimmed and each cut lengthwise into 8 wedges
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano, crumbled
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh mint
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
Special equipment: a 12-inch collapsible steamer basket or a pasta pot with a shallow perforated colander-steamer insert

Bring 1 inch water and 2 tablespoons vinegar to a boil in a large pot (or a deep skillet with a lid). Arrange eggplant, skin sides down, in steamer basket and sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon salt, then steam, covered, until tender, 15 to 20 minutes. Transfer basket to sink and let eggplant drain 5 minutes.

Transfer eggplant to a deep platter. Whisk together garlic, oregano, pepper, remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt, and remaining 2 tablespoons vinegar in a small bowl, then add oil in a slow stream, whisking until combined. Pour dressing over eggplant while still warm and let marinate at room temperature, basting with dressing several times, 2 hours. Sprinkle with mint and parsley just before serving.

Makes 12 servings

Sketches of Spain, by Ruth Cousineau. Gourmet. January 2005

Crab Rangoon (half-assed & trashy version)

Purists (as if there could be such a thing) will cringe at my tinkering with a classic. Maybe I’ve just been skimming too many whack mom-ish food publications like Weight Watchers and Kraft Food & Family. I ended up using reduced fat cream cheese (though I’d never advocate fat free for any purpose, except maybe spackling) so I wouldn’t feel guilty (no, I’m not one of those types who drinks Diet Coke with candy) and fake crab because I’m cheap and actually like the taste. If I were making a smaller batch or trying to impress strangers outside of a Super Bowl party, I’d certainly use real crab meat. At least I didn’t use garlic powder.

More musings on this unlikely delicacy can be found here.

8 ounces crab meat
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
2 garlic cloves, minced
dash of Worcestershire sauce
1 green onion, chopped (optional)
48 square wonton wrappers
salt and pepper
oil for frying

Mix cream cheese, crab meat (if using the fake stuff, it won’t flake nicely, so chop it instead), garlic, Worcestershire and onion, if using, until well combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Spoon 1 teaspoon of filling onto wonton wrapper. The edges can be wet and folded simply in half for a diamond shape or continued by pinching the two corners and adhering to the center with another dab of water.

Heat oil to 375 degrees, deep-fry rangoons in batches (don’t overcrowd) for about 3 minutes, or until golden. Drain on paper towels.

Serve with hot mustard and/or sweet chile sauce. I highly recommend this Thai version.

Makes 48 crab rangoons, about five per person (unless you are feeding freaks, they will seriously all get eaten)

Mock Green Papaya Salad

In composing a menu for a “Weed and Feed” party (that had nothing to do with smoking pot–I’m so not a stoner that I didn’t even consider the connotation) which involved luring acquaintances to my apartment with the promise of fabulous food in exchange for pulling the orchard of shoulder-high brambles that had consumed my backyard, careful consideration was needed. Burgers and hot dogs would be a tough sell. A Thai spread seemed like better bait and if you’re going to do Thai food in the midst of sweltering summer heat, a light, green papaya salad almost goes without saying.

Som Tam, a spicy salad consisting of shredded unripe, green papaya dressed with the salty (fish sauce), sweet (palm sugar), hot (bird chilies) and sour (lime juice, sometimes tamarind) foursome, is a northern Thai dish eaten for its cooling effect. Green papayas literally grow on trees in Thailand. It’s not quite so in the United States.

Living in Sunset Park, a Mexican neighborhood touching Chinatown, I didn’t think procuring papaya would be difficult and put off buying it until the day of the party. Faith in local produce was my first mistake. My confidence was shaken by both Asian and Hispanic grocers who each had a box of forest green, football-shaped behemoths in the back. The fruit wasn’t only freakishly large and pock marked, but outrageously priced. This wasn’t promising.

Sunflower-gold, ripe papaya taunted me at every corner. I skimmed sidewalk crates on the off chance a green one would jump out. The sugar cane and tropical fruit van around my corner was my last hope. I spied two greenish, mottled specimens on the verge of turning. Wishing I had x-ray vision to examine their interior, I desperately grabbed them anyway, despite the purveyor protesting, “They’re not ripe!” Figuring she knew what she was talking about, I felt relieved rushing home.

Panic set in as I cut into the papayas, revealing soft peachy flesh. Guests were to arrive in less than an hour, and the star ingredient was nowhere to be found. This was no time to be my usual slave to authenticity. (You wouldn’t guess it from my fascination with trashy food, but when it comes to replicating ethnic dishes I am a stickler for proper ingredients. Substituting soy sauce for fish sauce or ginger for galangal will throw me into seizures.) Quick, what could stand in? Green mango might work, but wouldn’t be any easier to score than green papaya. Cabbage seemed a pathetic substitute–this wasn’t a slaw. What else is tart, crisp, juicy and available anywhere any time of year? Granny Smith apples, I guessed. It pained me at first, but I got over the trauma of deviating from the recipe. Besides, it’s not like my friends are food snobs–they’d be happy with nachos and frozen ravioli.

Don’t bother with peeling, simply give them a spin through the grating disk of a food processor (grating by hand is a tedious nightmare), place into a colander and toss with fresh lime juice (the apples brown almost as fast as you can shred them). The excess liquid will leech while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

You can tweak the hot-sour-salty-sweet dynamic to your liking, I prefer an incendiary version, but whatever you do, allow for apple’s natural fruitiness. Less sugar is needed than in the traditional preparation. While not an exact match, green apples are an apt understudy, the result being a simple refreshing dish in its own right. Green apple salad tastes nothing like a compromise.

In a frenzied moment of forced improvisation, I discovered that it’s all right to tamper with tradition. I gained a new dish, and for the first time in a year, a clear view of my back fence.

Mock Green Papaya Salad

8-10 Thai bird chilies
6 cloves of garlic, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon dried shrimp
3/4 cup green beans
3 cups green apple, shredded
Juice of 3 limes
2 tablespoons fish sauce
1 ½ tablespoons palm sugar
10 grape tomatoes, halved
1/4 cup toasted, chopped peanuts

Using a large mortal and pestle, smash the garlic and chilies into a paste. Add dried shrimp and green beans and lightly bruise. Stir in the green apple. Toss with fish sauce, lime juice and palm sugar, then mix in tomatoes. Adjust seasonings to taste. Mound on serving plate and top with peanuts.

Serves 4-6

This appeared in The New York Times mere weeks after I wrote the above. I’m no Mark Bittman, but heck…(oh, it’s archived now, but it entailed a green papaya recipe that used green apple).