July 2, 2009 Favorite Foods

Yesterday while having lunch with my friend Betsey Apple, she asked me what are my favorite foods to cook. Our conversation ranged far and wide, and I never answered her, but wrote her an email later. It's hardly an "answer" to her question, but she told me I should share my thoughts with my readers. Here's basically what I told her (with hot links and photos added):

You asked me what food I most like to cook. I realize I never answered. That's a funny question. I cook all the time. I do not particularly like to make desserts because I don't particularly like to eat them, but I do so love a few that I make, and folks like them so much that the "reward" factor is high with, say, a crostata [There's a recipe on the January 22 blog.]. So I DO like making THEM. But sweets aren't high on my list, either eating or preparing. [I would add here that cobblers made with fresh fruits, my apple-nut torte, apple pie, and German Chocolate Cake are always winners as well. For the recipes, see 8/27/07, 2/10/08, 11/25/07, and 1/08:Barbados.]

And I love shrimp, but the less you do to them the better. And oysters are probably my favorite food on earth, and there's no cooking there. I don't even like to put anything on them if they are salty enough.

I also love all the old southern "peas" -- whippoorwills and lady peas and cream peas and crowders, but cooking them is boring work. [See "Cowpeas," New Year's Eve 2007.]

And I adore eggs -- and cooking them is an artform (I've seen Betsey scramble eggs properly; so few do it well), and it's almost immediately rewarding. There's THAT.

Sometimes I really, really like grilling. But not necessarily always. It's so easy. And it's sorta dumb. I do like to be stimulated. 

And I love it when I cook something I've never cooked before, don't consult cookbooks, and it comes out perfectly [the rabbit below, for example].. And I love foods that complement the big wines I love to drink, though my cooking is rarely fancy.

I guess I'm saying that I don't have a favorite way of cooking. I love most foods. There are some flavors I adore (besides salt, my favorite!) like orange, but that doesn't mean that I love oranges. It's more at orange peel.[See, to wit, the Orange Chocolate Mayonnaise Cake I wrote about on October 30.] And so much of my more elaborate cooking is for friends, and, again, folks tend to appreciate anything I do, so those old standbys that I make such as shrimp pilau [recipe here] and chicken country captain and gumbo [See August 2007] and cornbread and ham biscuits and a couple of desserts I make win such praise -- and empty plates -- that it's hard not to enjoy making them, knowing what the response will be. 

I don't have a "perfect meal," though there are some ideas I turn to again and again. One preferred meal [See 12/20/07] begins with raw oysters (and/or caviar) and champagne; some delicious fresh vegetables, barely cooked; something fried (There. I said it. Not only do I love the way it tastes, I've perfected frying just about anything -- so much so that I truly enjoy doing it, in spite of the mess); some delicious wine; and a perfect pear (tu sais qu'il n'y a que dix minutes dans la vie d'une poire quand elle soit parfaite) and a piece of Stilton. But there really is something to be said for making something so simple -- a rack of lamb, green beans, and potatoes, for example -- that eliminates all thinking from the equation. Do I enjoy making that meal? Yes, because I get to enjoy the evening instead of slaving over a pot of bubbling grease or a burning fire. [The rack I simply coat with a mixture of herbs, garlic, and bread crumbs, put in a 450^o oven for 10 minutes, reduce the heat to 425 and continue to cook for another 20 minutes. I will have parboiled quartered small Yukon Gold potatoes and green beans. The potatoes I sprinkle with s&p and drizzle with olive oil, tucking a few rosemary sprigs amongt them and put them on a baking sheet in the oven at the same time as the lamb. While the cooked lamb rests, I toss the green beans in skillet with some garlic and olive oil.]

There's also nothing like watching friends eat something I've made such as my Rockefeller Turnovers (all the ingredients for Oysters Rockefeller sautéed together then tucked into puff pastry turnovers and baked) and seeing the surprise and delight on their faces. I never tire of them myself, those turnovers, so they rank high. [I posted the recipe on December 20, 2007.] But how do I compare those appetizers to the rare piece of dry-aged prime with a glass of Volnay? [See, for example, the recipe for Standing Rib Roast in Ireland, Part I.]

And how do I rank anything higher than my fig preserves or, for that matter, any of my canned goods? 

I don't know, Reader, I've always liked cooking, but this convoluted attempt at an answer is about favored tastes, not techniques. I love to steam some foods -- like eggplant, a technique I learned from a Japanese friend, and, I think, the best way to cook it.

I've always loved whatever is the freshest, the tastiest -- the just-dug potato, the perfectly ripe peach, the oysters I gather from the pluff mud, the figs of August, truly vine-ripened tomatoes, and blemish-free okra.
They're all my babies. Don't make me choose!

July 1, 2009 Rabbit with Fennel and Preserved Lemons

What glorious weather we've been having! Yesterday I bought a rabbit and cut it up into servings pieces (the thighs, legs, and saddle), and made a stock with the remaining parts of the carcass, adding fennel trimmings to the usual aromatics of celery, onion, carrots, and herbs. I seasoned the cut up pieces with salt, pepper, and paprika, browned them in olive oil a big heavy casserole, set the browned pieces aside, and added a cut up onion, a cut up bulb of fennel, and several stalks of cut up celery to the pot, cooking them over high heat, but stirring constantly so as not to let them brown. I also added a split and quartered piece of lemon grass, left intact so that I could remove it later. When the vegetables were becoming clear, I added a cup of white wine and deglazed the pot, then added the rabbit pieces and enough stock to just barely cover the pieces. I brought the mixture to a boil, turned it down to a bare simmer, covered the pot, and let the rabbit braise for about an hour and a half, until it was very tender. In the meantime, I cooked basmati rice in the rabbit/fennel stock. I removed the rabbit pieces and the lemon grass from the braise, added the diced skin of a preserved Meyer lemon, increased the heat, and reduced the liquid until it was thick, then served the rabbit and the juicy vegetables atop the rice. I discarded the lemon grass. It was a lovely supper for the two of us, and I have a pot of rabbit-flavored fennel soup in addition to the finished dish that we devoured.

Today I'm headed to Black Salt for lunch with my friend Betsey.