My week in the kitchen

On my Facebook page I often publish photos of some of the food I cook at home, with brief explanations on what it is and how it is made. Unless you visit my page often, you miss this food porn. So I decided I will publish every week a recap of the most interesting things here on my blog. Here you go.

Home made polenta with home made mushroom ragu (porcini, morels, white mushroom). The mushroom sauce works perfectly with pasta too. 

The mushroom ragu, while simmering in my beloved cast iron skillet

The polenta: this is not precooked, so you have to stir it continuously for 1 hour. 

Slow cooker red curry coconut curry beef: roast chuck cooked for 3 hours in a thai red curry coconut milk. The sauce was delicious, but I think chicken or prawns would have worked better. 

FAILURE. I think home cooks should share more of their failures. Here is mine: my fried carnival sweets from Italian region Marche failed. The error was in figure No. 1: I divided the dough. That meant that the rolls filled with the lemon and sugar mixture (2) were too small and they opened up while frying (3). They should have looked like two rolls connected at the bottom: basically like the two things in photo 4, combined. They instead look like sad sticks (5).

How easy is it to make pasta, really? My two cents on Top Chef

I am reading many comments on food blogs about how unfair it is for Chef Sarah Grueneberg, of Chicago's Restaurant Spiaggia, to have made it to the finale of Top Chef. The criticism is twofold: they accuse her 1) of being a total bitch and of having bullied fellow Chicagoan Beverly Kim (from restaurant Aria) and 2) of always making pasta, and that making pasta is very easy, hence she is not a good chef.

I don't care about point 1. The couple of times I've had the chance of meeting and briefly talking to Chef Grueneberg, I have found her a very nice person, down to Earth, funny and amicable. Is she a total bitch in real life? I don't know, I am not friends with her. But honestly I don't care: all I care if I go to a restaurant is if the food is good. And her food for me is the best Italian I have ever eaten outside of Italy, full stop. 

Also: TV programs are made to dramatize things, to generate audience. If I were to be on a TV show and say "When they behave like scumbags, I hate journalists", a TV program would probably edit it all and make me say "I hate journalists", and then show me with a gun, and then they would show a journalist. This is how TV works. So, honestly, I don't care. 

But let's come to the second criticism, which I find peculiar. Did Sarah Grueneberg often cook pasta on the show? Yes, she did. So what? She is the executive chef of a Michelin-rated Italian restaurant. She is known for - among other things - her pasta. What should she be making? Stir-fries? (Incidentally, Beverly Kim, the chef that Grueneberg is accused of bullying, always cooked the same style of Asian cooking. I didn't have a problem with that, yet I would expect that people criticizing Grueneberg for making pasta would also criticize Kim for using always the same ingredients? Nope, that didn't happen...)

But the final argument is the most stupid I have ever heard: people think that it is unfair for chef Grueneberg to make it to the finale cooking pasta, because anybody can cook pasta, how difficult is that? 

Well, now: if cooking pasta was so darn easy, how come that the pasta I have eaten in 99.9% of Italian restaurants in my 15 years abroad has always been disgusting? Seriously people: I make home made pasta, at times with some success. But can I make it excellent every time? Is it Michelin worthy? Nope, it ain't.  Pasta is one of those things that people assume can me made to taste delicious very easily. This is so stupid: you can make pasta taste good, at times very good. But can you make it delicious every time? Not unless you are a very gifted chef. 

And that's all there is to it, really. You may not like her, you may prefer other chefs, and frankly, I don't care. But when I hear "cooking pasta is so easy anybody can do it" my BS detector goes crazy. 

The right ingredients with endless choice

I have already mentioned that the variety of food on offer in US supermarkets is outstanding. Whereas in my Belgian or Italian years I have memories of a couple of racks with "International food", where you could find some Indian, Mexican and Asian products or Italian pesto, US supermarkets' offer is limitless. There are two reasons: first and foremost the fact that American cuisine is a collage of different cuisines and different ethnic groups. So, the "international" products are not confined to a couple of racks, but they actually are the entire supermarket. This results in an orgy of products that - if you are crazy like me - is a feast for your senses. I mean, who had ever heard of Kabocha squash while living in Belgium or Italy? I most certainly hadn't.

The second reason has - again - to do with the concept of personal  choice that Americans built their Nation upon. They want to be able to choose. And the customer service is outstanding.

My wife disagree with me on the quality of produce on display here. She says that Belgian supermarkets had better vegetables. I say she is crazy (and Belgian): Belgian produce suffered from the lack of sun, so it was almost always tasteless. In spite of our disagreement on the quality of the produce, we agree on the fact that we are eating vegetables that we had never heard before. Parsnips? I had to go and look in a dictionary what the Italian name for this white, sweet carrot was (pastinaca, if you are wondering). It turned out that they used to be famous in Italy and in the rest of Europe until the 18th century, when they started to be used as animal food. Apparently over the past five years they started to become trendy again in certain parts of Italy as part of a rediscovery of cucina povera to the use of turists: so now restaurant owners can charge you 10 Euros for a parsnip soup made with scrap (tasty scrap at that) that were fed to pigs and sows.

And greens (collard greens, mustard greens), greens, and greens everywhere you go during Fall and Winter.  I like to take these greens and use them in traditional Italian recipes, modifying the flavors. Recently I made a collard green, bacon and butternut squash risotto that came out fantastic, if I do say so myself.

Of course there are times when I have issues with the ingredients. For instance the clams that are sold in Chicago supermarkets are the gigantic variety that dwarfs the little clams we use in the Mediterranean for our linguine alle vongole or soups. I mean, look at this photo: the clam is twice as big as the mussel. It is a monster! The texture is also very different. So I was really happy when I stumbled into Japanese clams, in a Japanese-only big supermarket, that looked identical to the Italian clams. I bought them (cheap) and made spaghetti alle vongole that were identical to the ones I used to eat in Italy.

This is why I love this place, foodwise. The choice is gigantic, and the limits are set by your capabilities and interest. Now go and try and make a chili con carne in Italy or Belgium. Good luck finding the right ingredients.

Top 5 things that piss me off in a restaurant

Las Saturday my wife and I went to eat out in a restaurant called Vermillion, in Chicago. It is an Indian/Latin American fusion restaurant. Aside from the lackluster food (an alternative name for the restaurant might be" Salt: we don't know what it is"), what really pissed me off was that there was absolutely no light in the restaurant. To the point that we had to use the lights of our mobile phones to read the menus. When we got our food delivered, we had to take a candle nearby, and use it to see what we were eating. I swear I am not joking.

I understand the need to create a nice atmosphere in a restaurant, playing with the lights. I do, I swear. I wouldn't want to eat in a restaurant with the same lights of a Walmart. But - as the ancient Romans used to say - in media stat virtus, virtus is in the middle.

Inspired by this last experience, here is my top five things that really piss me off in a restaurant:

1. Total absence of light, because it is very cool and hip. As mentioned above, obliging your paying guests to guess what the hell they are eating (will it be a potato? Will it be a piece of fish? Will it be a hot chile? Oh, the thrill of guessing...) is stupid. Many restaurants are guilty of this. 
2. Ear drum breaking music. I understand that if the theme of your restaurant is heavy metal music, you will be playing loud heavy metal music, so if I come and dine at your place I will gladly put up with this (even if I am a not a fan of heavy metal). But if the theme of your restaurant is NOT heavy metal music, then I would like to be able to have a nice conversation with the people I am having dinner with. Well, guess what? In many restaurants, even very good and/or expensive, Michelin-rated restaurants, not only is this impossible, but they look at you as if you were an idiot for even thinking that. Some even write it on their menu "don't ask us to reduce the volume of our music". Well, then don't ask me to give you money for a headache inducing experience in which the pleasure of food will be ruined by stupidly loud music. 
3. Not respecting reservations. Honestly people: if I make a reservation for 7pm, and I show up at 6.55, I want to be seated at 7pm. I don't want you to sit me down at 7,30 every freaking time. It doesn't matter how good your food is: I, the customer, want to be able to decide how to spend my evening. If I want to stand up and talk to friends before eating dinner, I will go to a restaurant with no reservations, and gladly wait my turn. If I make a reservation is because I want to sit and eat at that time. I understand that it is difficult for a restaurant to asses times and all: but it is not my problem. 
4. Pretentious waiters. Hey, guess what? No, I don't know what "alajar infused sbiruli" is. Thus, if I ask you nicely what it is, there is no reason to go all French on me and treating me like if I had just taken a huge dump on your shoes. Be nice, answer back, and put a smile on that hippy face. Because, guess what again, it is your freaking job to explain what the food is.
5. Overcrowded dining rooms in fancy restaurants. Either I am getting old, and my infamously low level of BS tolerance are getting even lower, or this is something that is happening increasingly often: you go to a "fancy" restaurant (those where the cheapest main course is priced at $35) and you are basically sitting on top of the next guest. The distance between the tables is maximum 5 inches, so that to get in and out you actually need to move the entire table. I don't often go to this type of fancy places, but when I do, I would like to be able to listen to the person I am having dinner with, and not to the (closer) lady who is sitting next to me. 

What about you: what are your pet peeves? 

Cowboy bison and beer pie

This is my take on shepherd's pie. I made it with ground bison and used a dark beer and brandy to develop a thick, sweet and sour sauce that complements well the bison's flavor. If you have time, I recommend you let the bison simmer as long as you can. Treat it like a chili con carne, and it will reward you with complex flavors. But you can speed things up, if need be. It will still be good.

This recipe is perfect if you have a cast iron skillet: you can cook the bison on the stove, and then put it in the oven directly.

Cowboy bison and beer pie
(PRINT OR DOWNLOAD THIS RECIPE)

Ingredients (for 6 people, in a 10in skillet)

• 1 pound (450g) of ground bison
• 2 tsp of chili powder
• 1 tsp of cayenne pepper
• 3 slices of bacon, chopped in ⅓ inch (1cm) pieces
• 1 tbsp of olive oil
• 3 peeled and chopped carrots
• 2 peeled and chopped parsnips
• 1 celery rib, chopped
• 2 garlic cloves, chopped finely
• ½ onion, chopped
• ⅓ cup canned crushed tomatoes or a few tbsp of tomato paste
• 1 tsp chopped fresh thyme
• 1 tsp chopped sage
• 1 laurel leaf
• 1 can of dark beer (I used an Imperial stout)
• 1/4 cup of brandy
• ½ cup beef broth or water
• salt & pepper

For the mashed potatoes

• ¾ pound of russet potatoes, or other baking quality, peeled and cut in four
• ¼ cup milk
• 1 tbsp butter
• 2 tbsp heavy whipping cream
• 1 egg, beaten
• salt and pepper

How to make it

• Heat your heavy skillet (I love cast iron) on low fire. Add the bacon and let it cook, stirring it occasionally, until it becomes crisp. This will take 10-15’. Don’t rush it. Take the bacon out of the pan and lay it on paper towel to dry.
• In the same pan with the bacon fat, add the oil. Add the carrots, the parsnips, the onions, the celery and cook, stirring for 5 minutes.
• Add the bison meat, the chili powder, a pinch of salt. Stir and make sure to brown the meat evenly, 10 minutes. 
• Add the brandy, let it evaporate 2 minutes. 
• Add the beer, thyme, sage and laurel. Scrape the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon, so as to make sure to get all that flavorful bits. Let the beer reach the boiling point, then reduce the heat, add the broth and let it simmer for a 1-2 hours, until the sauce has thickened to a thick gravy. You can speed up this part by slightly increasing the heat, but the flavors will not be the same. It will still be good though (treat it like a chili con carne: the more it cooks, slowly, the better).
• Check for salt and pepper and adjust to your taste.

• For the potatoes: cook them in lightly salty boiling water for 20 minutes, or until they are soft. Drain them and rice them into a large bowl.
• Heat milk, butter and cream in a saucepan until they are hot and almost boiling. Add the milk mixture to the riced potatoes and stir. Once the potato mixture is cool enough, add salt and pepper and add the beaten egg, stirring.

• If you have used a skillet that can go into the oven, simply spread the potato mixture on the flattened bison and vegetable mixture. If not, you need to transfer the bison to a baking pan. Cross hatch the potatoes with a fork, and bake in oven at 400F/200C degrees for 20-30 minutes, until the potatoes are browning (see photo). If you are in hurry, use the broiler in your oven, and it will brown your potatoes in 10’.

• Let the pie rest 5-10 minutes: serve!

We have a winner (almost): Green chili

A couple of weeks ago, I submitted my green chili recipe and a revised version of my red chili - which for the revamp I christened as "Four fresh chiles and a ghost" chili - to a chili contest organized by Food 52. Food52 is the culinary and recipe blog by Amanda Hesser and Merrill Stubbs that I recommend you regularly take a look at, because they have pretty interesting contests (Ms. Hesser is also the author of The Essential New York Times Cookbook: Classic Recipes for a New Century, an awesome book, if you ask me). 

My green chili didn't win, but it was among the four community picks chosen by the editors. In the words of the tester:  "We were won over by the gorgeous aroma of cumin and peppers filling the kitchen. Browning the pork in bacon fat is a nice touch. The end result is a seemingly mild chili with a good spicy kick at the end". 

This is the third time that one of my recipes is selected as editors/community picks: the first time it was my butternut squash and amaretto cookies tortelli, and more recently it had been the turn of my spaghetti with cherry tomatoes and pecorino cheese. 


I wonder: will I ever win?

Flemish beer beef stew (Carbonnade flamande)

The first time I ate Carbonnade Flamande, in a little cave-like restaurant in Brussels' Grande Place, I hate it. I found the texture repelling, and the beer flavor put me off. Now I would eat it every single day. What happened in the meantime? I guess 11 years of living in Belgium, a Flemish wife, and a lot of beer ingested: that's what happened.

Every Belgian family has its own perfect recipe of this beef Flemish stew. My wife's makes no exception. This is her family's recipe: the secret weapon is the bread smeared with mustard, which is added to the stew and let to dissolve slowly: it adds a flavor dimension that I haven't found in any recipes. The bread you use is important: there is no need to go fancy on the bread, even stale bread will work, but please: do not use the spongy, packaged disgusting thing that US supermarkets call bread: use real bread.

Since we are in the US, we have also made this in the slow cooker and it works perfectly. So I am giving you that option in the cooking notes.

A word about the beer to use: traditionally you should be using a red Flemish beer. What we use at home here in Chicago is a beer called Duchesse de Bourgogne, which - in spite of its French name - is Flemish. You can find it at Whole Foods or at Binny's. Let me warn you: it is expensive. But this is a beer flavored stew, and if you are saving money on the beer, I suggest you go and cook something else. I am serious: the beer gives 70% of the stew's flavor.

If you can't find it, ask your beer vendor if he/she can suggest a red Flemish ale for a Belgian stew. If he/she is any good, he/she should pick one for you that is sweet enough to help the caramelization that needs to take place in the stew, but not sweet enough to turn this dish into a dessert. If any Belgian reader is reading this and wants to chip in with advice on the best beer to use, by all means please do.

Tuscan Foodie's wife's Carbonnade Flamande
(PRINT OR DOWNLOAD THIS RECIPE)

Ingredients:

• 4 tbsp unsalted butter (2oz/60g)
• 4 slices of good quality bacon (about 4-5oz/100-150gr), roughly chopped
• 2 yellow onions, thinly chopped
• 2 teaspoons of dark brown sugar
• 2 minced gloves of garlic
• 3 tbsp of all purpose flour
• 3 lb (1.5 kg) of beef, chuck steak or round steak, fat removed, cut into pieces 2-3 inches/4-7cm wide
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 16 oz / 500ml of red Flemish beer (see notes above: Duchesse de Bourgogne would be perfect)
• 2 slices of bread (see notes above)
• 2 tbsp of yellow mustard 
• salt and pepper

How to make it

• Melt 2 tbsp of butter in a large heavy skillet over medium heat. Throw in the bacon and cook until crisp, but not burnt. Turn the bacon often. This should take 5-10 minutes. 
• Add the onions to the bacon in the skillet, add the sugar and cook until the onions caramelize, turning into a deep brown color. This will take 30-40 minutes, and you will need to stir now and then. This process is key: you are creating the sweet/caramelized flavor which will be a key component of the stew. Be patient: certain onions take longer than others to caramelize. 
• When the onions are brown, add the garlic, cook for 2 minutes and set the whole mixture aside on a plate. 
• While the onions cook, mix flour, salt and pepper in a plate or in a zip-lock bag: add the beef pieces and coat in flour (in a zip-lock it is easier). 
• Using the same skillet in which you cooked the onions and the bacon, melt the remaining 2 tbsp of butter. Add the beef pieces, making sure not to overcrowd the pan. Brown the meat on all sides. This will take 10-20 minutes: depending on the size of your pan, you may need to work in batches, adding butter as necessary. Browning the meat is also key, because it locks in the flavors. 
• When the beef is browned, remove it from the pan, and set it on a plate. 
• Add the beer to the skillet, and deglaze it, scraping its bottom with a wooden spoon: you want to make sure that all the brown pieces of meat that are stuck to the pan get loose: they are flavorful and you want them in your stew. Cook and stir until the beer boils. 
• Put the meat, the onion/bacon mixture, the beer in a large Dutch oven on the stove top, or in a slow cooker. Add the two slices of bread smeared with the mustard to the stew: the bread will dissolve while the stew cooks. 
• Dutch oven on the stove-top: cook covered for two hours, on very low fire. Stir now and then, to make sure to dissolve the bread.
• Slow cooker: cook covered 6-7 hours on low. Stir towards the end to make sure to dissolve the bread.  

How to serve it

Serve this with french fries or roasted potatoes or even roasted sweet potatoes. A beer - better if the one you have used for cooking the stew - is a must!

Cooking Ratios: table and charts

Ratio - the simple code behind the craft of everyday cooking is a book that will change the life of anyone interested in cooking. The idea behind it is the classic egg of Columbus: super simple, and yet I hadn't thought of it. Rather than giving you another book of recipes, author Michael Ruhlman gives you the ratios behind a whole list of them: for bread, you need 5 parts of flour for every 3 parts of liquids; for cookies, you need 3 parts of flour for 2 parts of liquids and 1 part of fat... 

The idea behind this book is that when you know the basic ratio (in weight), you have a working basis from which the sky (and your capabilities) is the limit : you can add whatever variation you fancy. Still, the basic ratio will remain the same.

Ruhlman is candid about not having invented anything. In the introduction, he explains that the idea of this book came to him when Uwe Hestnar, a chef at the Culinary Institute of America, gave him a piece of paper with a list of basic ratios, telling him that "this is all one truly needs". No fancy books. No detailed explanations. Just ratios. Because - Mr. Hestnar says -  the fundamentals of cooking don't change.

The book is really fantastic, and I really recommend you buy it. It is simple, and super usable: on top of the basic ratios, he explains how to obtain several variations from the same ratios, and gives you also a list of quick to try recipes. Alas, it has a big flow: it doesn't have charts. Actually, it does have a couple of charts, but they are small and unusable. And this is a pity, because I think everybody should have a summary table of this stuff hanging in their kitchen. After all, even Ruhlman admits that he made a chart and framed it...so why not his readers?

Ratios summary table with notes - inspired by Ruhlman's book - click to access a high-def image

Ruhlman used to sell a pdf on his site, but now it is not available. He actually has an iPhone app which he charges $4.99 for it. (Not bad: charging $4.99 for something you haven't invented, and that was given to you for free by another chef. Hat off to you).

So I made my own table (above) and my own charts (below). I don't think I am infringing on anyone's copyright in passing them to you: after all, Ruhlman has NOT invented these ratios, which are well known among professional chefs. So consider this my valentine to you.

For downloading, you have two options:

• You can click on the photos that I have inserted in this post (the table above and the charts below), and access high definition images of the pie charts I made. (The three photos with the pie charts are the same in content, but with a different layout, so you can choose which one you like best. 
• Or you can click here, and download a presentation with these four slides. Up to you. 

And yes, you are welcome.

Ratios for doughs and batters - inspired by Ruhlman's book - click for a high-def image

American fads

The lack of a strong, centuries-lasting food tradition is what makes the US such an interesting country in which to eat food at the moment. Alas, it is also the main reason why Americans seem to be so prone to fads, including diet fads.

French and Italians cuisines have all formed during centuries, assimilating traditions coming from different influences. On the bad side of things, this means they are now less open to new things, and they may be described as stiff. (Spanish cuisine is probably the exception here, with its capability to innovate itself profoundly at the moment). Because "American cuisine" is so new, Americans are more eager to try new things: some of them work, some don't, but at least this process of trial and error can generate new things.

The problem is that this lack of a stable dietary history also generates diet fads. The level at which the average American person seems to be influenced by diet fads is incredible. Up until 2002 the official government's guidelines invited Americans to eat grains and carbs and to reduce the level of animal fat. At the same time though, the Atkins diet was all the rage with a vast sector of the population, advocating exactly the opposite: cut the carbs, increase the fat (including animal fat) and eat as much of that as you want.

The low carb histeria exploded thanks to a famous article from the New York Times, appeared in July 2002. It  cast a doubt over whether fat was really the culprit for the overweight pandemic that had struck America since the mid-70s. Overnight, a country which had been taught to eat pasta like Italians do, because it was supposed to be good for you, started to obsess with low-carbs options. I distinctively remember spending New Year's Eve in New York in 2002, and every waiter was offering low-carb options. I didn't even know what it meant at the time.

Now there is a new fad coming along: the so called paleo diet, which actually originated in Europe. It advocates for a regimen based on what we think paleolithic men were eating, from 2.5 million to 10,000 years ago, before agriculture came into the picture: lots of meat, no pasta, no bread, no grains (all agricultural products or byproducts). The theory behind this actually doesn't sound too wacky as you might think: their point is that from an evolutionary point of view, man evolved to consume meat, roots and berries. Agriculture appeared too late in the game to have had any impact on our evolution as a species yet. To imitate the paleolithic lifestyle, there are even those who fast for 36 hours, exercise with an empty stomach, and then eat an entire buffalo. And I am not even joking, people. 

As for me, I simply don't trust nutritionists. As the fat/carb issue well proves, nutritionists are always ready to crucify you for something, and then the day after they will be on your back for something else.

And tonight I am eating pie.

Cioppino vs Cacciucco = Cioppucco - a Tuscan Foodie recipe

The first time I saw cioppino on a menu in San Francisco I didn't have a clue what it was. How is it possible, I was told: it is Italian. This is a fish soup which is said to have been invented by San Francisco fishermen originally from Genoa. However, as far as I could find, there is no trace of a dish called cioppino in any of the Italian regional books I own, nor could any of my friends from Genoa remember of having heard the word. As many other things Italian-American, it turns out it isn't Italian.

Where it comes from doesn't matter though in the end: the point is that it is a fish soup, it is delicious, and it is indeed in line with the many fish soups you can find in Italy.

Whatever coastal city you go to in Italy (and there are a lot of them, since Italy's shoreline is more than 8000 km long, almost 5000 miles) you will find a fish soup. It will be called different things, it will have different fish in it, but you will find it.  People will tell you that you must use white wine, no, actually red wine, what are you talking about you can only use dry vermouth...hey, don't even joke, you only use water. 

Got the picture? There are as many fish soups in Italy as there are fish in the sea. One of the most famous though, is the cacciucco. Originally from Livorno (a city that people from Pisa, like me, hate with a passion), cacciucco derives from the Turkish kucuk, which means tiny, referred to the small fish and pieces of fish used in the soup.

Nowadays, any restaurant serving you a fish soup in Italy or in the US will ask for a stiff price. From a historical point of view this is actually funny: originally fish soups were made by fishermen with the scraps of fish that they couldn't manage to sell, because they either didn't look particularly good, or because they were the worst cuts. In a stew, though, they would develop a lot of nice flavors and feed a ton of people. But if there ever was a poor man food, fish soup  is the one. Keep it in mind next time they ask you $30 for a cioppino or 25 Euros for a cacciucco.

Tuscan foodie's cioppuccio fish soup (serves 4)
(Print or dowload this recipe)

Now, back to us. In light of the historical development that I just explained, giving a recipe for a fish soup is always odd. Simply, use whatever fresh fish you will find, or use whatever shells you like. Even I don't have a fixed recipe, although some things are ALWAYS there: clams, mussels, tomatoes, white wine. But for the rest, feel free to improvise: add octopus, calamari, whatever you feel like adding. The important thing is that you follow a number of steps to develop the flavors. And this is how you do it.

I called this soup cioppucco (from cioppino and cacciucco) in honor of my Tuscan origins and of my new home.

One word about the cost: If you buy fresh fish, the biggest expenditure will be represented by the shrimps. So you can either omit them, or use frozen shrimps (you can actually make the whole stew with frozen fish, if you prefer).

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 tbsp olive oil
• 1 pound (450g) mussels, clean, in the shell
• 1 pound clams (450g) (the smallest you can find), clean, in the shell
• 8-10 large shrimps, with the shell, but deveined
• 12 oz (350gr) of white fish, chopped in bite sized pieces: whatever you have: I often use tilapia, but it could be any white fish that you have in the freezer or that the fish market has cheap at that moment
• 10-12 mini bay scallops (but you can use normal scallops - 8/12 of them - or omit them)
• 1/2 can of diced tomatoes
• a handful of cherry tomatoes, cut in half
• 2 cups of dry white wine (pinot grigio, verdicchio work perfectly)
• 4 tbsp of chopped parsley
• 2 peperoncini finely chopped (or chile de arbol, if it is easier to find for you - remember tha chile de arbol is hotter than peperoncino)
• 4 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
• 1 red onion, finely chopped
• salt and pepper to taste
• 12 slices of baguette or ciabatta bread

How to make it

• Heat the olive oil in pan large enough to contain all the fish and the broth that you will develop. I use cast iron because it better conveys the heat to the food, but any large pan with a lid will do. 
• Add the chopped parsley, onion, garlic, pepper and let it all go for 5-10 minutes, until the onions are soft. Stir occasionally.
• Add the wine, let the alcohol evaporate for 2-3 minutes. Stir.
• Add the crushed tomatoes and the chopped cherry tomatoes. Bring to boil, reduced the heat and let it simmer, covered, for 10 minutes. Add a pinch of salt. Not much though, because the shells will be salty. Stir now and then.
• Add the shrimps, the white fish, bring it back to boil and let it simmer for 5 minutes. Add the bay scallops or the traditional scallops if you are using them and let it all go for an additional 5 minutes. 
• Add the clams and mussels that you will have washed in cold water before. Let it all go for 5 minutes, or until all the mussels and clams are all open. If you are using big clams beware: they may take a long time to open, far more than the mussels. You will be running the risk of overcooking the rest of your fish. So, if you are using big clams, cook them separately in a pan, covered, until they are open, and then add them to the stew when the mussels are open. 
• Let it rest 1 minute. Taste for salt and pepper. Plate in plates that you will have warmed up in an oven, putting the bread on top, on the side.
• Devour

For the bread:

Put the slices of bread in a on oven at 400F (200C) and roast them for 10 minutes, turning them once. Brush with 1/2 clove of garlic and put on plates.

Cooking for Charlie Brown

Over the past three months I have been cooking also for Charlie Brown, my now seven-months old son. He is showing signs of appreciation for my cuisine (if we can call the pureed shit I feed him that). But he also shows early signs of preferences: sweet potatoes are always a winner, as are bananas. Other things are a hit or miss (turkey or chicken with gravy, unless sweetened with carrots or prunes, is a no go). All in all he is really being a very good boy, and he eats everything, home made or store bought.

Since I am now a stay-at-stove-dad, for at least a few months, I see no reason to feed Charlie only store bought pots of baby food. I have plenty of time to cook his meals. Especially because babies are not particularly demanding in terms of variety: you can prepare carrots and dates on a Monday and feed him that until Wednesday night. But on the other hand, we also want him to eat store bought food: we want to be able to travel with him without having to worry "where will we cook for him?". He needs to be able to eat the Target bought pot as well as my chicken stew. And so far so good (and he actually seems to prefer the silky texture of store bought food, which I cannot replicate with a home blender). 

Having the baby though has made me reconsider the type of food we buy. Since moving to the US we have increased the amount of organic food we buy. A big chunk of our income goes to Whole Foods, I am afraid to admit. Even after reading Pollan's book, buying organic seems the best choice: at least you are avoiding pesticides. This is especially true now that the baby is involved. So we are buying more and more organic stuff, and even the store bought processed baby food is organic for the most part. 

Since we are not vegetarian, it didn't even occur to us to raise Charlie Brown vegetarian. He has a lot of bacon to eat, I am afraid. When he is out of my house, he can do however he pleases. But there is no escaping my bacon until he is with me, I am afraid. Having said that, most of his diet is vegetarian at the moment. And I must admit that some of the things I cook for him are pretty good also spread on a nice toast: like blended boiled carrots and dates...

Books: The Omnivore's dilemma

The Omnivore's dilemma, by Michael Pollan, is one of those books that I approached with great hesitation. I was biased: I thought the author would try and teach me a lesson about how nasty and stupid eating meat and processed food is, and how wonderful the vegetarian and organic world is. My assumption was based on absolutely nothing. Luckily, I kept an open mind, so that I could prove once again to myself that you don't know what you don't know, and that if you base yourself on prejudices and on what you think you know, you won't go far.

The book is a wonderful read, and I have learnt so many things (did you know, for instance, that mushrooms are like flowers springing out from huge underground organism, called hypae, that seem to work like a neurological system linking hundreds, thousands of trees of the same forest, but that nobody knows exactly what they are? I certainly didn't know...)

The author sets on his quest for the perfect meal, following three different paths. The first path will lead him to buy a steer that will be processed by the meat processing industry. But the real star of this section is corn. Pollan in fact explains how corn has come to occupy every available nook in the American food chain, to the point that Americans are now literally made of corn. His conclusions about the industrial food processing alternative is that yes, it is cheap, but only because the final price that consumers pay does not reflect the real production costs. If one was to include in that final price also the costs of the use of pesticides, chemical substances, potential money you may need to spend to cure the diseases that that food may cause to you, the fast food burger would cost a lot more. And this, without even considering the conditions in which animals are kept and killed.

If his conclusion about the industrial food option were not surprising, his account of his "organic" experience was. Pollan goes to spend one week living and working on a farm that has refused the government's organic certification, on the ground that this certification now means absolutely nothing, and is designed to please big business. And indeed, if when you buy your milk from "grass fed cattle" or your eggs from "free range chicken" at Whole Foods you imagine happy beef cattle and chickens living in harmony on a green prairie, then you are delusional (like I admit I was). Yes, Pollan explains that if you are buying organic you are surely not buying things that were treated with pesticides. But that doesn't exclude a lot of other chemical substances which are instead still allowed. And do you know what "free range chicken" means? It means that they are in a cage, with a door which gives access outside. But since that door is closed for the first weeks of life of the chicken (as required by the US law), the chicken will most likely never develop the instinct of going through that door, even when it will be opened.

Not exactly what you thought, right?

His conclusion is in favor of those farms that still operate on a local scale. They alone - Pollan suggests - seem to be able to provide the potential buyer with the guarantee that the meat they are buying come from animals that lived freely, doing what they were supposed to do, and which have been killed humanely. A fallacy in his argument? He doesn't address the price issue. He does address it in the industrial food section, so I was expecting him to do the same here. But he doesn't. He simply says that the cost is lower than many thinks. And this bugs me, and I will explain myself in a minute.

The last section of the book sees the author hunting for pig and foraging mushrooms in California. In this section he deals with the moral issues surrounding eating meat and killing your own food. Whatever your position (omnivore, vegetarian, vegan) this is fascinating read.

His final conclusions is that neither the industrial food processing system nor the hunter/gatherer approaches are sustainable in the contemporary word. You are obviously not going every day to kill a beef cattle to make beef broth yourself. But you shouldn't even think that beef broth comes from a can, and costs 5c a gallon. He therefore seems to lean on the organic option, in spite of its fallacies and lies, and especially on the  local movement.

There is part of me that agrees with him. But another part of me thinks that Pollan ignores the proverbial big elephant in the room: price. I can't stop thinking about Nigella Lawson's words abouve the locavore movement: i.e. that it is an elitist movement. This annoys me, the fact that the supporters of the idea that you need to eat local (and seasonal) refuse to concede that this food always costs more. There is nothing wrong in admitting that it costs more, that it is better quality and that it is better for you. But there is a lot wrong when idiots I talk to tell me that no, it is not true that food bought at the green city market of Chicago, for instance, is more expensive for my wallet than what you can buy at Jewel Osco's supermarkets. This is a fat lie, people. Rather than denying the evidence, let's just bring forward the argument that no food should be bought on price only: nobody would buy a car on price only. So why are we buying food on price only?
v

Kitchenware in America: nurturing my obsession

As hinted by my obsession with cast iron pans, I am a huge sucker for kitchenware and cookbooks. Kitchen tools, plates, gadgets, pans: when I enter into a kitchenware shop I feel like the proverbial kid in a candy store. I even start to get stressed about the best strategy for browsing the shop: should I go directly to pick up  things I need/want, and then browse the rest of the store to see if something else catches my eye? Or should I start from racks with things I don't particularly care about, and slowly make my way to my real objectives? What if while I do that, somebody else snatches the only remaining item of something I was looking for? And what if, while I go directly for my target, somebody buys the only remaining gadget of something so amazing that I haven't even heard of?

I know, I know...

Although I had this lingering obsession already while living in Europe, America has exacerbated it. Because kitchenware shops here are mind-blowing. The choice, the quality, the prices, the atmosphere are nothing like I have ever seen in the cities that I lived in or visited before (with a possible exception: in Tokyo I spent 5 hours in a kitchenware shop trying things I had never seen in my  life; I bought so many things that I had to buy an extra bag to take them back home...and some of these things are still untouched).

When I was still living in Brussels I would make sure to always have time for at least two shops in my US business trips: Barnes & Nobles for books, and Williams-Sonoma for kitchenware/food. Yes, the prices at "Sonoma and Gomorra" (my nickname for this shop) are way high. But the pleasure I get from browsing it is embarassing.

For a country where most of the population does not and cannot cook, and rely on processed home made dishes, the quality of shops like Sonoma or Sur La Table may seem odd. However, once you get to understand how important are customer care, the strive for excellence and personal freedom for American society at large, it all makes sense: yes, there may be less people cooking than, say, in Italy or France. But what these people demand is huge variety of high quality tools. And they are ready to pay a steep price for it.

Speaking of steep price, though, my main problem with the US kitchenware shops is that often prices are actually way cheaper than in Europe...with the result that I always find a justification in my head to buy something new. I see a 12 inches cast iron skillet? Well, yes, I already have a 10-in and an 8-inch skillet, but hey, it is only $25...I already have five baking pans? Yes, but this one is 50% off, and it is one cm larger than the others I have...

My new Christmas dinnerware...

Another one of my favorite is Macy'. In Chicago the kitchenware department is located in the basement. When I feel down or homesick, this is where I go: browsing in Macy's kitchenware aisles. Which sounds sadder than it is, really.

Macy's is particularly good for its great sales. You see something that you like and all you need to do is wait a few weeks and you will be able to buy it at very, very low price. Before Christmas I had seen this very traditional collection of Christmas dinnerware (something that any housewife like me should have...). I waited and hop-la! I could snatch the entire set for a fraction of the price. And while at it, could I perhaps not take home this penguins winter wonderland dessert plates set, which was going for $9 down from $81? Only somebody with no heart could have left these little puppies there...

Do you believe me than I am here, in February, praying for November to come as fast as possible to be able to use these plates? There is something wrong with me.

My new Caribbean blue Le Creuset braiser:
how have I been able to cook without it
for so many years?

Anyway...I find that Americans here in Chicago are particularly obsessed with French brands of cooking tools. I don't know if this is a national obsession, but I am tempted to think it is. If French cuisine has lost its No. 1 spot in the preferences of American restaurant goers, the French allure still seems to conjure an image of quality in everything related to the kitchen.

Up until now I had always resisted the sirens of Le creuset, the iconic French cast iron enameled French ovens maker. The prices were way too high, and I was more than happy with my Lodge cast iron Dutch ovens and pans...But yesterday's visit at Sur La Table made my resistance melt: 20% off on already discounted Le Creuset's bakeware meant that this braiser in caribbean blue entered into my kitchen. Now I know myself: over the next few months I will obsess about owning some other pieces of the same color...

Food to fight six more weeks of winter

Winter this year has been very mild. I could even throw in a short motorcycle tour of a few hours in January. This is pretty amazing, although I do miss the frozen lake. So the news that this morning Punxsutawney Phil has come out of his lair to see his shadow, predicting six more weeks of winter, may not be so bad after all.

I am always fascinated at how certain traditions and beliefs exist in different cultures, but with different explanations. February 2, groundhog day, has very ancient roots. Romans used to celebrate Lupercalia at the beginning of February, purification rituals. The Catholic Church transformed this festivity into the Candle Festivity (candelora in Italian), to celebrate Jesus' appearance at the Temple.

What is interesting is that the belief that if there is good weather on February 2 we will have a long winter ahead of us exists everywhere. We even have a proverb in Italian that goes like this: per la santa Candelora, se nevica o se plora, dell'inverno siamo fora. Which means that if it rains or it snows on February 2, then winter is over.

Since our family by now is anything but a monolithic culture (we have even added an American son to the Italo-Belgian mix), we have made our own traditions for February 2: Belgians eat crepes on this date, and this is what we normally do at home (in certain parts of Italy they eat crespelle, which is basically the same thing). I like mine with brown sugar and lemon, while my wife generally goes for speculoos spread.

Then I always want to watch Bill Murray's movie Groundhog day, of course. The tradition also calls for me to fall asleep in the middle of it and for my wife to get upset because I forced her to watch a movie she doesn't like.

Happy Groundhog day everyone!