200 through 205: Adam Cooks a Feast!

I'm sorry that I haven't posted anything in a few weeks. I've been incredibly busy at work. So, to thank you for your patience, faithful readers, and to celebrate reaching the milestone of 200 recipes, I thought that I'd take a few dishes out of order and tell you about the pull-out-all-the-stops feast I cooked to celebrate my thirty-fifth birthday last month.

Here's the menu:
Brandied Chicken Liver Pate (p. 22)
Baby Greens with Warm Goat Cheese (p. 131)
Twenty-First-Century Beef Wellington (pp. 418-20)
Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes with Caramelized Shallots (p. 559)
Pan-Browned Brussels Sprouts (p. 526)
Devil's Food Cake with Brown Sugar Buttercream (p. 742)

Up first was the Brandied Chicken Liver Pate. The Book describes this as a "simple, classic pate" with a twist: currants, which The Book calls "a delightful surprise." To make the pate, I started by melting some butter in a skillet and adding some finely chopped onion and garlic. Then I added a pound of chicken livers to the onions and garlic. I've never cooked with chicken livers before, but I've always wanted to try. The first thing that took me by surprise was the price...they are dirt cheap. Ninety-nine cents per pound. The other thing that surprised me was the rich, meaty and decadent flavor. I'll definitely seek out some more chicken liver recipes. Back to the recipe. I gently sauteed the livers for about ten minutes, and then added some cognac to the pan and simmered until it was almost evaporated. It was really starting to smell amazing. Then, I put the liver mixture in the food processor and added some spices: nutmeg, allspice, salt and pepper. I processed the mixture for about a minute until it was nice and smooth. After it had cooled a little bit, I stirred in some currents that I had plumped-up in some boiling water. I packed the pate into a large ramekin and chilled it for a few hours. About an hour before our dinner guests (our good friends Travis and Jodi) arrived, I took the pate out of the refrigerator to come to room temperature. The recipe doesn't make very much, but that's OK, since it's so rich. A couple of canapes is just about all a person can handle. The flavor of this pate was excellent, but unfortunately, I didn't love it. I'm not sure if I overcooked the livers, of it something else went wrong, but it was a little dry. If it had been smoother, it would have been excellent.

For a first course, I chose a salad of Baby Greens with Warm Goat Cheese. I was looking for something light, elegant, and most important, something easy, since the rest of the menu was pretty aggressive. This was a really excellent salad. In fact, it just might have been my favorite part of the meal. First, I prepared the goat cheese rounds by mixing together some egg whites and a little bit of water in a shallow bowl. Then I put some panko breadcrumbs in a dish. Next I cut a log of goat cheese into 1/3-inch rounds. I took The Book's advice to use dental floss to cut the goat cheese. It worked a lot better than a knife, which would have mashed it down. Instead, the floss just sliced through the log, leaving perfect little rounds. I dipped each round in the egg mixture and dredged it in the crumbs. I put the rounds on a tray and refrigerated them until I was ready to cook them. I made a simple vinaigrette of cider vinegar, Dijon mustard, salt, pepper and extra-virgin olive oil. I tossed some pre-mixed salad greens with the vinaigrette and arranged them on four plates and stashed them in the refrigerator for a few minutes. When I was ready to serve the salad, I heated a bit of oil in a small skillet and cooked the cheese rounds until they were golden on both sides. I arranged three cheese rounds on each plate, and we enjoyed. This was a very simple and delicious salad. The cheese was warm and creamy and the crust was crisp and tasty. I always love recipes like this that are easy, but that make a big impression in terms of flavor and presentation. I'll certainly make this one again.

The main event was the stunning Twenty-First-Century Beef Wellington, which I served with Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes with Caramelized Shallots and Pan-Browned Brussels Sprouts. Since my wife doesn't eat beef, I don't get the chance to cook it very often. Since this was my special day, I was going to make the most over-the-top beef dish in The Book. First, I needed to get the beef. The recipe is written for 12, but since I was planning a dinner party for 4, only three of whom eat beef, I cut the recipe in half and counted on leftovers. So, instead of the 4 1/2 to 5 pound center-cut tenderloin called for in the recipe, I got a 2 1/2 pound tenderloin. I was taken aback, but not surprised, by the price of the beef: $15 per pound. Expensive, but still cheaper in the end than dinner for four at a fancy restaurant. This recipe includes two sub-recipes: the Cilantro Walnut Filling that surrounds the meat, and the Sour Cream Pastry Dough that encases the whole thing. The filling wasn't too difficult. I blanched some spinach, cilantro and parsley and squeezed out as much moisture as I could. I pulsed the greens in the food processor with some walnuts, garlic, breadcrumbs, egg whites, honey and spices: cumin, coriander, salt and pepper. The pastry dough was fairly straightforward, too. I combined some flour, a little salt and some cold butter (cut up into cubes) with my fingertips until it was crumbly. Then I added some sour cream and a little bit of cold water. The dough was very sticky, but it was workable. After a little bit of frisage, I shaped the dough into a flat rectangle, wrapped it in plastic and put it in the refrigerator to chill. With the dough and filing done, I was ready to assemble the roast. First, I seared the roast on all sides. Then I rolled out the dough into a large rectangle. Using a rubber spatula, I spread some of the filling in the middle of the rectangle and placed the seared beef on top of the filling. I then spread more of the filling all over the roast. I wrapped the pastry around the beef and sealed the edges with an egg wash. I cut a few steam vents on top of the wrapped roast and brushed it with more egg wash. The Book wanted me to decorate the roast with shapes cut from the scraps of the pastry dough. But, because I cut the pastry dough recipe in half, I didn't have any scraps left, so I had an unadorned Wellington. No matter, it was still a show-stopper. Once fully assembled, the whole thing went in the refrigerator to chill for an hour. Then I baked the wrapped roast for about an hour until the pastry was golden and the meat registered 115 degrees on an instant-read thermometer. (My new Themapen digital instant read thermometer, which was a birthday gift from my wife!) I let the roast rest for a few minutes before slicing it. This was really an amazing dish. First, it was beautiful. But beyond that, it was also delicious. The pastry was flaky and tender. The sour cream gave it a nice lightness and tang. The filling was excellent, too. The cilantro was a bright and unexpected note that really updated what you would otherwise expect to be a very staid, traditional dish. The beef was wonderful, too. It was perfectly cooked: very tender and nice and rosy inside. A real special-occasion meal.

For the sides, I chose a couple of simple, but sophisticated accompaniments. For the Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes with Caramelized Shallots, I caramelized some thinly-sliced shallots in a little butter and then stirred them into some Yukon gold potatoes mashed with buttermilk. The Pan-Browned Brussels Sprouts were very easy. First, I melted some butter in a cast-iron skillet and cooked some thinly sliced garlic until it was golden (OK, it burned on the first try.). Then I removed the cooked garlic and lowered the heat. I cut the Brussels sprouts in half lenghtwise and put them cut side down in the skillet and sprinkled pine nuts over the top. I let them cook undisturbed for about ten minutes until they were nicely browned on cut sides. I removed the Brussels sprouts from the pan with tongs, leaving the pine nuts to cook a little longer with the garlic, which I added back to the pan. These Brussels sprouts were excellent. They were not at all soggy or bitter as Brussels sprouts can get with some cooking methods. The crispy seared edges and the pine nuts were a nice touch.

And the finishing touch? Devil's Food Cake with Brown Sugar Buttercream. After last year's less-than-impressive birthday cake, I was reluctant to make another cake from The Book for my birthday. But, this year's cake was a real success. Because I knew that I'd be so busy cooking the main meal on dinner-party day, I decided to cook the cake layers a week before and freeze them. The cake batter isn't too difficult. First, I mixed some cocoa powder and boiling water and then added some milk and vanilla. In a separate bowl, I mixed some all-purpose flour, baking soda and salt. Using my Kitchen-Aid stand mixer, I beat two sticks of softened butter with some dark brown and white sugar. I added in some eggs and then the cocoa and flour mixtures, a little bit at a time. I appreciate The Book's occasional warnings about what to expect when you're cooking. For example, The Book helpfully notes that the batter for this cake might look curdled. If it hadn't been for this little note, I might have assumed that my batter was a failure, and been driven by desperation to throw the batter away and go with a store-bought cake. I divided the batter into three cake pans and baked them for about a half hour, switching positions half way through. Once the layers were cool, I wrapped them in plastic wrap and foil and put them in the freezer until the day before my dinner party, when I transferred them to the refrigerator to thaw slowly.
For the brown sugar butter cream, I started by putting three room-temperature egg whites and a bit of salt in the bowl of my Kitchen-Aid. Then, I heated some dark brown sugar and water in a pan until it began to boil. While the sugar syrup boiled, I turned the mixer on and added some lemon juice once the egg whites started to get frothy. When the sugar syrup reached 238 degrees, I very slowly poured it into the hot sugar syrup into the egg whites, constantly beating at high speed. Once the meringue was nice and cool, I began adding three sticks of softened butter, a tablespoon at a time. By the time about half of the butter was added, the frosting broke and looked very curdled and unappetizing, but thanks to another comforting warning from The Book, I knew to soldier on because it would be fine in the end. When all of the butter was in and the frosting had come back together, I added some vanilla and beat it for two final minutes.
I frosted the cake the morning of the dinner party, covered it loosely and put it in the refrigerator until that evening. After dinner, I took the cake out of the fridge and let it sit on the counter to let the frosting come back to room temperature. This was an amazing cake. The cake layers were rich, moist and chocolaty. It kind of reminded me of those Suzy-Q cakes I used to eat as a kid. The frosting was really rich and creamy, and its flavor was very unique. It had a very sweet, caramely taste that I've never had in a birthday cake before. It was a real winner.

It was a huge amount of work to make this feast, but I couldn't think of any other way I'd rather spend my birthday. Good food, good friends, my wife and son ... a good day!

Date Cooked: October 24, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: It took ALL DAY! But it was worth it!
Ratings:
Pate: B-
Salad: A+
Beef: A
Potatoes: A-
Brussles Sprouts: B
Cake: A-

199. Grated Potato Pancake (Pommes Paillasson) (p. 566)

Ididn't really set out to make this recipe. Instead, I had planned on making The Book's recipe for Rösti. But, when I set out to cook the potatoes about an hour before we wanted to eat, I noticed that the Rosti recipe calls for the potatoes to be cooked and chilled for four hours. Scrach that, and move on to plan B. And what a delicious plan B it was.

First, I peeled a couple of potatoes (The Book calls for Russets, but I had bought the Yukon Golds called for in the Rosi recipe, oh, well), and grated them with the largest holes on my box grater. The Book says that you can also use a food processor, but grating potatoes is easy enough that I didn't think it was worth the effort of taking out the food processor and cleaning it afterward. I put the grated potatoes in a dishtowel a handful at a time and squeezed with all my might to get as much moisture out as I could. It's really amazing how much water you can get out of something so dense as a potato.

While I melted some butter in a nonstick skillet, I tossed the grated potatoes with some salt and pepper. I spread the grated potatoes on top of the melted butter and pressed down gently on the top with a spatula to compact it a bit. Then I left it alone for about twelve minutes to cook and get nice and crispy on the bottom.

Then, I carefully slid the pancake onto a plate (thank goodness for good nonstick pans). I placed another plate on top and flipped it over so that the browned side was facing up. I set it aside for a minute while I melted some more butter in the pan. Then I carefully slid the pancake back into the pan, browned side up. I cooked it for another twelve minutes or so until it was just as crispy as the first side. Finally, I slid the pancake onto a cutting board and cut it into six wedges.

I served this potato pancake with the Grilled Chicken Palliards and Nectarine Chutney that I made some time ago. It was really delicious. Crisp and buttery on the outside. And on the inside, nice and tender, but not quite mashed potatoes. Think McDonald's hash browns taken to the next level.

The Book notes that this dish is also known as Pommes Paillasson in France, loosely translated as "straw mat potatoes." I can see the comparison in terms of appearance and crispiness, but I can guarantee that this dish is a heck of a lot tastier than munching on a welcome mat.

Date Cooked: September 6, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Pretty Easy
Rating: A-

198. Lattice-Crust Peach Pie (p. 762)

The one good thing about having a backlog of recipes to write about is that it lets me pretend that it's still summer, and not cold and rainy out like it actually is.

I made this recipe* to bring to a pot-luck picnic at a co-worker's farm back in August. It came out pretty well, and that's not just me boasting. Someone at the picnic, who didn't know what I brought, told me that I should save some room for dessert because "someone brought a great-looking peach pie." I just smiled.

A lot of pies in The Book call for the standard Basic Pastry Dough for the crust. This recipe, however, has its own special crust recipe. What's so special about it, you ask? Well, that would be the lard, which makes the crust extra tender and flaky. It really makes a difference compared to a butter or vegetable shortening crust.

To make the crust, I blended together (using my fingertips) some flour, a little bit of salt and a half-pound of cold lard cut into bits until it started to look like beach sand. Then I mixed in a little bit of lemon juice and some cold water. I turned the dough out onto a floured pastry mat and did a little firsage action to fully incorporate the fat into the dough. I divided up the dough into two pieces (one slightly larger than the other), wrapped them in wax paper and put them in the 'fridge.

Meanwhile I peeled some fresh peaches by cutting a small "x" in the bottom of each peach and plunging them in boiling water for a few seconds and then into ice water. That loosens the peels just enough that they come off pretty easily. I pitted and sliced the peaches and tossed them with some lemon juice, flour, sugar, salt and a pinch of ground mace. What is mace, anyway? It turns out that it's the lacy, outer covering of the nutmeg seed. It's removed, dried and turned into a powder and used a lot like nutmeg, but some say that it's flavor more delicate and less sweet.

To assemble the pie, I rolled out the larger piece of dough into a 12-inch circle, and put it into a 10-inch disposable pie plate (since I was bringing it to a pot luck picnic, I didn't want to have to worry about getting my pie plate back). I put the shell in the 'fridge while I worked on the dough strips for the pie top. I rolled out the smaller piece of dough into an 11-inch circle. By the way, my flexible, non-stick pastry mat (from Target of all places!) is printed with a handy one-inch grid that makes it easy to roll dough out to any size you want. I put the dough circle on a wax-paper-lined baking sheet and put it in the 'fridge for a few minutes to firm up a bit. Meanwhile, I took the shell out of the 'fridge, filled it up with the peach mixture and dotted it with some butter. I took out the dough circle and cut it into strips (about 3/4 inch wide. Then I arranged half of the strips on top of the pie in one direction and then I arranged the remaining strips in the other direction. I interlaced them in a basketweave pattern. Not as hard as it sounds. The Book says to crimp the edges of the crust "decoratively." I used the end of a wooden spoon to create a fluted edge. Finally, I brushed the top of the pie with an egg wash made from an egg beaten with a tablespoon of water.

I baked the pie at a high temperature for about twenty minutes, and then lowered the heat and baked it for another forty-five minutes or so. When the edges of the crust started to brown a bit too much, I put my foil pie shields on the pie to keep the edges from burning.

Not only was the pie beautiful (the picture doesn't really do it justice, it was state-fair-blue-ribbon pretty), but it was really delicious. As I said, the crust was tender and flaky. The filling was sweet and tart, and just thick enough so that it wasn't runny or gelatinous.

The picnic at the farm was one of the best days we had this past summer. It was my son's first time seeing horses and cows. I didn't know how he'd react to big animals. He wasn't a bit afraid. He petted the horses, and called out to the cows until they came over to see him. Lots of fun.

Date Cooked: August 29, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A

* This recipe isn't on epicurious.com.

197. Vodka-Spiked Cherry Tomatoes with Pepper Salt (p. 26)

OK, it's time to stop sulking. Gourmet's gone, and it's not coming back. (But if you believe Ruth Reichl, the death of every other magazine isn't very far behind. It sounds a little like sour grapes, but she just might be onto something.) So, it's time to move on and get back to blogging. And boy do I have a huge backlog of recipes to get through!

But before I do, I have to comment on something I saw on EatMeDaily.com today. Every year, there are a few "big" cookbooks that are released around the holidays. This year, those books are David Chang's Momofuku, and Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc at Home. In what I think is a wonderful development, two intrepid bloggers have already stepped up to take on the challenge of cooking through these two ambitious books. EatMeDaily isn't so sanguine. Here's what they have to say about the cook-through phenomenon: "this schtick is starting to get old." Well, folks, the snarky food blog is a schtick that's not all that original either. That said, I just can't hate you, EatMeDaily. Can't we all get along?

Now that I've got that off my chest. Back to the food. This recipe, which I made as an hors d'oeuvre for my family's Labor Day cookout (I told you I had a backlog!), could easily be renamed "Bloody Mary Bites." These boozy, zesty, spicy and salty nibbles were a nice surprise, even though they weren't my favorite recipe from The Book.

For the last few weeks of August and the first few weeks of September, my CSA box included some delicious red and yellow cherry and grape tomatoes. Sweet and flavorful, they were great on their own by the handful as a snack, but I was happy to sacrifice a pint to this recipe. First I peeled the tomatoes. I made a small "x" on the bottom of each tomato and blanched them in boiling water for just a few seconds before shocking them in ice water. Just like magic, the peels slipped right off. A little bit of a pain, but necessary for the vodka to permeate the tomato flesh.

Next, I combined some vodka, white wine vinegar, lemon zest and some superfine sugar. I marinated the tomatoes in the vodka mixture for about an hour, and I served them with a small bowl of mixed kosher salt and coarsely ground black pepper for dipping.

These hors d'oeuvres were potent little bites. There's a lot of bold tastes here: vodka, lemon zest, salt and pepper. They made quite an impression, although I didn't really love them. I think that had a lot to do with the fact that I'm not a big vodka fan.

Date Cooked: September 5, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B-

Post Mortem

Now that the initial shock of Gourmet's closure has worn off, people are starting to ask "what happened?," and "what's next?"

There's been plenty of Monday-morning-quarterbacking in the past few days, most of it focusing on the Internet, and food bloggers especially (gulp!), as a primary cause of Gourmet's demise. As Amanda Hesser put it, there was "nothing wrong" with Ruth Reichl's "stewardship" of Gourmet. "What was wrong with the magazine," Hesser says, "was its medium: print." Hesser says that people want content fast, and they want it on the Web. But, more importantly, "they don't want the master talking to the servant." They want to be part of the conversation. Chris Kimball, of Cook's Illustrated, disagrees. He says that "the world needs fewer opinions and more thoughtful expertise," and they're willing to pay for it. That's why, he says, his no-advertisement, subscriber-financed business model is doing just fine, thank you very much.

There's even been a fair amount of not-so-nice "I told you so"-ing, including a cutesy piece in The Boston Globe, a "Recipe for Obsolescence." Talk about the pot calling the kettle obsolete! Only a few months ago the Globe's parent company, the New York Times, came dangerously close to shutting down the Globe for very much the same reasons that Conde Nast closed Gourmet.

But no amount of hand wringing and second-guessing will bring Gourmet back. Or will it? Venture capitalist Kylie Sachs has started a one-woman campaign via Twitter to resurrect Gourmet under a Cook's Illustrated-like business model. It seems like a long shot, but, as of today, savegourmet has 648 followers (including yours truly).

Barring a Lazarus-like resurrection, what will become of Gourmet's current subscribers? According to a notice on Gourmet's web site (which will go dark after a "transitional period"), subscribers "can look forward to receiving Bon Appetit magazine for the remainder of their subscription." I, for one, plan to say "Thanks, but no thanks!" to this offer, and in fact, I also intend to cancel my subscriptions to other Conde Nast magazines (GQ and Details).

A little birdie has told me that I can expect to recieve a subscription for Cook's Illustrated for my birthday, which is right around the corner (hint, hint). It won't be the same, but Cook's Illustrated, will fill at least part of the hole in my mailbox left by Gorumet's passing.

Laughing through the tears

They say a picture speaks a thousand words. This picture, from Gawker, says only one: gone.

Apparently, the rumors are true: almost immediately after Conde Nast's announcement on Monday that it was closing Gourmet, the offices were packed up. Now, just two days later, the offices are empty and quiet.

As sad as this is, Jon Stewart has, thankfully, given us something to laugh at through our tears. On last night's Daily Show, Stewart made the suggestion (which is no more ridiculous than killing a 68-year-old-icon) that, instead of shuttering Gourmet, Elegant Bride, Modern Bride, and Cookie, Conde Nast should have colsolidated them into a single publication: Pregnant Gourmet Bride Magazine! Here's the clip, props to Eat Me Daily.

The one bit of silver lining in Gourmet's closure, if there is one, is that it paves the way for Ruth's next book: Ruth Reichl: The Condé Nast Years, or something like that. It ought to be good reading. In the meantime, I'll be watching my mailbox for the November issue, and I'll savor every bit of it.

R.I.P. Gourmet Magazine 1941 - 2009

Today is a very sad day for the food world. It was with complete shock and dismay that I read the news this morning that Conde Nast was discontinuing four magazines, including Gourmet. The November issue will be its last.

It's no secret that newspapers and magazines in general have been having a rough go of it over the past few years, and the current recession has been particulary tough on magazines, like Gourmet, that depend heavily on advertising for revenue. In fact, Gourmet's January issue and Bon Appetit's March issue had so few ads that they were barely over the 98-page minimum necessary to even glue the magazines together. There have been rumblings during the past couple of months that there would be "frequency reductions" and severe budget cuts at several Conde Nast magazines. But no one expected today's news that the 68-year-old grand dame of epicurian journalism would be shuttered. The news surely surprised Bon Appetit's publisher, Paul Jowdy (who's keeping his job), who said back in February that the roumors that Conde Nast would close Gourmet or Bon Appetit were "ridiculous ... They would never do that." Apparently, when bean-counting management consultants are involved, you can never say never.

Conde Nast says that it "will remain committed to the brand, retaining Gourmet's book publishing and television programming, and Gourmet recipes on Epicurious.com." This is cold comfort for Gourmet's subscribers -- some of whom have been loyal readers for decades -- not to mention Gourmet's staffers, who, if you believe the stories, are being treated very, very badly by Conde Nast. The reports are that all of Gourmet's staffers, including Ruth Reichl, have been let go, and have been given only 48-hours to pack their things and leave the building. Ruth's Twitter post from today seems to confirm this. "Thank you all SO much for this outpouring of support. It means a lot. Sorry not to be posting now, but I'm packing. We're all stunned, sad."

I'm stunned and sad, too, Ruth.


(Thanks to Eat Me Daily, Eater, Gawker, and The NYT Media Decoder for their excellent coverage of this unfolding story.)