184. Risotto with Peas and Prosciutto (p. 255)

Maybe it's because she's had such a restrictive diet for the past seven months, or maybe it's because we're on vacation, and she's decided to let her hair down a bit, but, almost out of the blue, my wife - who hasn't eaten beef or pork in years - said to me, "You know, I think that I'd be willing to eat prosciutto."

Prosciutto? Really? Not a nice ribeye? Or bacon? But hey, I'm going to go with it because, after all, prosciutto is a gateway meat.

So, I went straight to The Book and picked this recipe for Risotto with Peas and Prosciutto.

Risotto is one of those dishes that has a reputation for being difficult or fussy. But it's really easy, and doesn't take a whole lot of time. All it takes is a little bit of attention and some stirring. But, it's actually kind of relaxing to spend about twenty minutes gently stirring Arborio rices and watching it get creamy and delicious-looking.

The preparation is very easy, too. First, I put some store-bought chicken broth in a pot and brought it to a simmer. I measured out a cup of frozen baby peas and set them aside to thaw. I chopped a small yellow onion. I cut up some sliced prosciutto and grated some Parmigiano-Reggiano and set them aside.

Then, I melted some butter in a pan, and cooked the onions for a few minutes. I added the rice and cooked it with the butter and onions for a minute. Next, I added some white wine and simmered it until the wine was absorbed. Then, I started adding the hot chicken stock, about a half cup at at time, stirring until absorbed before adding some more. After about twenty minutes, I had used all of the stock, and the rice was al dente and nice and creamy. I stirred in the peas, cheese, a bit more butter and some salt and pepper.

The Book also calls for a 1/2 teaspoon of lemon zest and three tablespoons of chopped parsley. I forgot to pick these two items up at the grocery store. As I mentioned, I'm on vacation this week, and a little out of sorts. Lemons and parsley are the kinds of things that I always have in my kitchen, but of course, I'm not in my kitchen. I'm sure that the lemon and parsley would have given this risotto a nice bright clean note, but even without it, it was delicious. Rich and creamy, with the sweet, crisp peas, and the salty bite of the prosciutto. An excellent weeknight meal, vacation or not.

And now that we've breached the no-meat border, the possibilities are endless. I'm going to keep on working on her. Who knows, I might have her eating The Book's Beef Wellington before you know it.

Date Cooked: August 15, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

157. Basic Polenta (p. 264) and 158. Broiled Polenta with Tomato Sauce (p. 266)

According to The Book, Mediterranean cooking authority Paula Wolfert developed a "no stirring" method for making polenta. When I read this recipe* for basic polenta, with its instructions to stir the polenta for one minute every 10 minutes of the 45 minute cooking time, I assumed that The Book hadn't adopted Ms. Wolfert's method. But, considering that the traditional method would have you stir the polenta constantly for the entire cooking time, this method is, relatively speaking, "no stirring."

The polenta was really very easy to make. It just takes a bit of time. All I did was boil some water and salt and then whisked in some cornmeal. I reduced the heat, covered it and, as I said, stirred it for one minute every 10 minutes until it was very thick and creamy.

After I finished cooking the basic polenta, I moved on to this recipe for broiled polenta with tomato sauce.

First I divided the polenta in two. I stirred some grated fontina cheese into half of it (the other half was for my wife, who can't eat dairy for the time being). I put the polenta into two small rectangle plastic containers that I had brushed with some olive oil, and put it in the refrigerator to set. The Book says to use a bowl, but it seemed to me that the finished dish would work out better with rectangle slices than with dome-shaped wedges.

Next I made the sauce. First, I heated some olive oil and cooked come chopped onions and garlic. Then I added some canned Muir Glen organic whole tomatoes and cooked it until it they had broken down into a thick sauce.

By then, the polenta had set. I turned it out of the containers, and cut it into 3/4 inch slices. I put the polenta under the broiler and waited for it to get golden around the edges. I waited, and waited, and waited. The Book says that it should take about three minutes per side. But after more than ten minutes, it still hadn't browned. I don't know that the problem was, but it was late, I was hungry, and I couldn't wait any more, so I took the polenta out of the oven. Before I made this, I thought about grilling the polenta instead of broiling it. I wish I had.

Even though the polenta wasn't crispy, this was still a tasty simple supper. We ate it with some spicy Italian turkey sausage. The polenta was tender and flavorful. The fontina gave it a nice creamines and saltiness without being "cheesy." And even though my wife's polenta had no cheese at all, she still liked it very much. The sauce was pure and simple. If I were to make this in late summer, I'd use fresh local tomatoes for the sauce, but canned were good.

Date Cooked: May 25, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

*The recipe for basic polenta is not on epicurious.com. The recipe for the broiled polenta with tomato sauce includes its own recipe for basic polenta, but it's not the same as the one in The Book, and it does call for constant stirring.

146. Indian Baked Rice (p. 258)

I don't think that I ever had Indian food until I was in college, but since then, I've loved it. Chicken tikka masala is definitely on my short-list of death-row meals. So, I'm glad that The Book has a number of Indian dishes for me to try as I work through The Project. This recipe was the first of The Book's Indian recipes that I've made, and I was pretty happy with it for the most part.

First I rinsed and drained some basmati rice in a few changes of cold water, then I set it aside to drain for a while. Next I heated some canola oil in my large Dutch oven and cooked some slivered almonds until they were golden. Or at least that was the goal. As usual, I let the almonds cook for just a few seconds too long, and many of them got overcooked. This is becoming a routine whenever The Book calls for toasting or frying anything. I always over-do it. I'll get the hang of it, eventually. I took the nuts out of the hot oil, and let them drain on some paper towels.

Next I cooked some onion in the hot oil, and added some garlic, jalapeno, grated fresh ginger, salt, and some of the garam masala I made. Then I added the rice and cooked it with the onion and spices for a little while. I added some chicken broth and cooked it on the stove for a bit and then covered it and moved it to the oven for a while longer. Once all of the liquid had been absorbed, I removed the rice from the oven and let it sit for a while. I sprinkled it with the fried almonds and served it with some garam-masala-rubbed grilled chicken breasts and some braised leeks.

This dish was good, but not great. The rice was a little dry, which might have been my fault. But the flavor wasn't as intense as I would have liked it to be. The scent and flavor of the garam masala was there, but it was a bit more subtle than it could have been. If you make this, I'd suggest using a heavy hand with the seasonings.


Date Cooked: April 26, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: B+

120. Lentils and Curried Rice with Fried Onions (p. 277)

These days, I'm still trolling through The Book looking for dishes that I can cook on the weekend that my wife and I can eat for dinner throughout the week. (With a ten-week old baby, we still haven't found the time get back into the routine of weeknight cooking.)

The Book's headnotes for this recipe* includes a little Bible story. Apparently, in the Old Testament, Esau gave up his birthright to his brother Jacob for a bowl of lentil soup. This dish was good, and all, but I don't think that I'd give up an inheritance for it ... that is, if I had a rich uncle, which I don't think that I do. While the lentil may have strong Hebrew roots, this particular dish is based on an Indian classic called khichri.

First, I sliced up a pound of onions really thin. That's a lot of onions, a lot of slicing, and yes, a lot of tears. I used to think that they were kind of silly, but less than half-way through my slicing, I really wished I had a pair of these onion goggles. The sliced onions went into a cast-iron pan with about two cups of hot oil. I fried the onions in two batches. The first was a little overdone; the second a little underdone. I tossed them all together, seasoned them with some salt and pepper, and believe it or not, the result was fine. They were crispy, and had a niced caramelized flavor. I set them aside until the rest of the dish was finished.

Next, I cooked the lentils by putting them in cold water, bringing them to a boil and then simmering for a little while. Then I drained and rinsed them, and set them aside.

Then I toasted some dry rice in a little oil with some curry power and cayenne pepper. Once it was nice and fragrant, I added some water, brought it to a boil and cooked it until the rice was done.

To finish the dish, I fluffed the cooked rice and stirred in the lentils and plenty of chopped parsley. I topped it off with some of the fried onions and some leftover cooked chicken. (The Book says that this dish is good with lamb, too.)

This was a pretty good dish. The curry flavor was excellent, and the rice and lentils were perfectly cooked. The fried onions were a very nice touch. But this was the first time I've ever deep fried anything, and I've got one question that I haven't been able to find an answer to. What do I do with the used cooking oil? I strained it and put it in a container in my refirgerator. It seems like an awful lot of oil to just pour down the drain (will it clog the pipes?), but I don't know if I can re-use it either. If you've got any insights, put 'em in the comments.

Date Cooked: March 1, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: B

*This recipe is not on epicurious.com.

99. Lentil and Brown Rice Stew (p. 276)

Continuing my theme of cooking on the weekend for the week ahead, I picked this recipe because The Book says it serves 6 to 8, and since there's just 2 of us (my son's not going to be eating solid food for a while now), I knew that we'd get a least three meals out of one day's worth of cooking.

I also picked the recipe because it looked like a hearty vegetarian meal (sort of ... it's got chicken broth) packed with all sorts of wholesome ingredients. That, and it looked really easy to make. Basically, all you do it throw all of the ingredients - including canned tomatoes, chicken stock, lentils, brown rice, carrots, onions, celery, and flavorings like garlic, thyme and a bay leaf - into a pot and simmer for about a hour. Then I stirred in some parsley and some smoked turkey sausage that I had leftover from the jumbalaya I made the week before. The sausage isn't in the recipe, but the blurb in The Book suggests that "adding about a pound of smoked sausage makes a great dish even better." How could I not add sausage?

This stew was good. It didn't change my life, but it was a very satisfying weeknight dinner, and I'd make it again. The combination of the rice and lentils gave it a nice substance and texture. The flavor was good, if difficult to place. I don't know if it was the thyme and bay, or the flavor from the sausage, but the stew made both me and my wife think of barbecue sauce. Strange, no?

This stew did well in the freezer and microwave.

Date Cooked: January 17, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B+

97. Black Bean Chili (p. 268)

We're still talking about things that I made to freeze and eat during those first sleep-deprived days ad new parents.

Shakespeare said that a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet (or something like that). That may be so, but I think that this recipe* would have tasted better if it had been called Black Bean Soup instead of Black Bean Chili. To me, the word "chili" calls to mind a thick, hearty and substantial stew. This recipe, while tasty, has a very thin, soup-like texture. As a result of it being called "chili," I was disappointed when it didn't live up to my image of what "chili" is supposed to be.

The first thing I did to make this recipe was to soak some dried black beans overnight (again, I get an A+ for planning ahead). Next, I toasted some cumin, paprika, cayenne and oregano in a skillet for a few minutes. I'm not sure whether this somewhat fussy step was worth the effort or not. Toasting spices gives them a more intense flavor, but because of the other strong flavors in the dish (like chipotles in adobo sauce), I couldn't really notice a difference. The Book calls for a dried pasilla chile to be ground and mixed in with the spices. I couldn't find a pasilla, so I left it out, and I think that it was just as well since, when Teena made this chili, she found almost too spicy to eat.

After dealing with the beans and spices, I cooked some onions and green peppers in oil and then I added some garlic, chopped chipotle peppers and the spice mixture. Next I added the beans and some water and simmered for an hour and a half. After all of this simmering, the beans were nice and tender, but I was really disappointed with the texture of the chili. For a minute, I thought about pureeing some of the chili in the blender to give it some body, but I didn't think that it was worth the extra dirty dishes. So, I mashed some of the beans with at potato masher. It helped thicken the chili a little but, bot not enough. The last thing I did was to add some chopped canned tomatoes.

I divided the chili into three freezer bags. When we were ready to eat it, I put one of the bags in a bowl in the microwave and zapped it for three minutes at a time until it was nice and hot. I served it with chopped cilantro, a dallop of sour cream and some tortilla chips. It was OK, but like I said, the texture was not what I'm looking for in a chili.

Date Cooked: December 28, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B-

*This recipe is not online.

73. Panfried Tofu on Sesame Watercress with Soy Orange Dressing (p. 279)

A few weeks ago, I was looking for something quick to make for dinner, when I came across this recipe in the Grains and Beans chapter. (Oh yeah, tofu is made from beans, isn't it?)

This is one of the few recipes that I have come across in The Book that serves two. With an active time of 15 minutes and a total time of 25 minutes, this is a perfect weeknight meal for a busy couple.

The first step is to toast some sesame seeds in a dry skillet. Toasting sesame seeds is always pretty dicey since they can take a little while to get going, but once they start to turn, they can go from toasted to scorched in no time at all. The last few times I've toasted sesame seeds, I've relied more on smell than appearance to tell when they're done. After the sesame seeds were toasted, I put them aside for a while.

Next, I cut a block of extra-firm tofu into four slices and cooked them in some oil on a hot skillet. The Book says to cook for 6 to 8 minutes. It took me a bit longer to get the slices nicely browned and crispy. When the tofu was ready, I removed it from the pan and set it aside.

Next, I cooked the watercress in the same skillet with a bit more oil. Once it wilted a bit, I added the toasted sesame seeds, and then put it on the same plate with the tofu.

Finally, I made the soy orange dressing by simmering some ginger, garlic, orange juice, soy sauce and sesame oil for just a little while until it thickened a bit. I drizzled the dressing on the tofu and watercress, and served it with The Book's Foolproof Long-Grain Rice.

This was a quick, easy and delicious dinner. I've always liked fried tofu, and this preparation was excellent. The tofu was crispy on the outside and light and tender on the inside. The sauce had a very nice combination of ginger, orange and toasty sesame flavors. The watercress was crisp and peppery, and the sesame seeds was a nice touch.

Date Cooked: November 2, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B+

58. Risotto with Porcini (p. 256)

As the weather starts to get cooler, I begin to crave comfort food. And one of my favorite comfort foods in risotto. Mushrooms, however, are not a favorite food of mine. So, it was with some hesitation that I made this recipe.* But with my first bite, all of that hesitation fell away, and I just might be a mushroom fan after all.

The recipe starts with soaking dried porcini mushrooms in warm chicken stock and water and a little bit of oil. Then, the mushrooms are drained, rinsed, chopped and set aside. Don't discard that soaking liquid! Strain it through a paper-towel-lined sieve and put it in a saucepan with more chicken stock and bring it to a simmer. This is the liquid that will be added, bit by bit, to the risotto as it cooks. (Note to self: You just used up the last of your frozen, homemade chicken stock. Time to make some more.)

Then, it's on to the rice. First, melt some butter in a pan (rather than the 4-quart saucepan suggested by The Book, I used my trusty 12-inch Calphalon non-stick "Everyday" pan) and soften some chopped onion. Then add the Arborio rice and cook for a few minutes. Then, start adding the cooking liquid, one-half-cup at a time, stirring constantly until the liquid is absorbed, before adding more liquid. After about 20 minutes, the rice is creamy and tender, but still a little bit firm. To finish off the dish, add some more butter, the chopped mushrooms, a good amount of grated Parmaigiano-Reggiano, and some salt and pepper.

What a great recipe! I really enjoyed this. The flavor is rich, earthy, and luxurious. This dish is as comforting to make as it is to eat. There's something calming about standing in front of a warm stove for a half-hour slowly stirring and methodically adding little bits of cooking liquid. I served this with some steamed broccoli rabbe, which was a nice pairing. I will definitely make this recipe again.

Date Cooked: September 28, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A

*The epicurious recipe I've linked to is not the same as the one in The Book, but they have a lot of similarities. The Book's recipe, which is not online, is simpler than the epicurous recipe, and does not call for soy sauce or wine.

23. Foolproof Long-Grain Rice (p. 254)

Before I started The Project, I had a few doubts. Can I really do this? Am I up to the task? After all, I can't even cook rice! I'm not kidding. Rice and me have not been friends. Whenever I make it, I study the package directions and follow them carefully. But the result is always the same: Dissapointment. Overcooked, undercooked, soupy, and sometimes crunchy. Come on, this is a basic item! If I can't cook this, what makes me think that I can cook the gastronomic delicacies in The Book?

But when Lisa, one of the finalists on Top Chef, botched her rice (not once, but twice!), I was reassured. It's not just me! If the pros have a hard time with this, then I'm in good company.


So, when I saw this recipe in The Book for "Foolproof Long-Grain Rice," I perked up. Can it be true? Have the folks at Gourmet really discovered a foolproof way to cook rice? Well, they have, and the rice came out great.


The cooking method is not what you're used to doing if, like me, you follow the package directions. I kept reading and re-reading the recipe in disbelief as I went through the steps. Do they really want me to do it like that? First you bring the rice, water and salt (in very specific proportions) to a boil. Then, in a break with tradition, you continue to let it boil (uncovered! who ever heard of such a thing?) for a while. Then you reduce the heat and steam it for a time. Finally, you take it off the heat and let it rest, all the while letting it be as it does its thing. The result? Rice perfection. The grains were tender, fluffy and just a little bit sticky.


My only complaint is that the rice was a bit too salty. Next time I make this (and I will make this again, every time I serve rice) I'll reduce the salt by half and see what happens. Who knows, maybe that's the secret to the perfect cooking? We'll see.

Date Cooked: July 13, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A- (perfectly cooked, but too salty)