Ben Cooks Everything

Time Out New York’s food blog The Feed has a short interview with Bittman today. The headline tries to make him look like a cranky old man, but the actual interview is full of the helpful kind of wisdom we’ve come to expect: “When I’m in the kitchen I’m not obsessively trying to create the perfect dish; I’m trying to put dinner on the table. Comparing yourself to the people who cook on television is like comparing yourself to Andre Agassi. If you can drive you can cook.” As someone that doesn’t know how to drive, I’m not sure how to take that last analogy, but as usual I like where Bittman’s coming from. More wisdom at the link below.

What Pisses Mark Bittman Off? [the feed/time out ny]

I’ve made chicken stock before, and I do it more and more now. It’s not that hard, if you have the time, and it’s worth it. I still keep some store bought stock in my pantry just in case I need it. I’m only human.

When I first made stock way back in the beginning of the HTCE project I didn’t provide a ton of step by step directions. So I thought I’d pass along this post from The Paupered Chef’s Nick Kindelsperger. It’s a well written and beautifully photographed account of Kindelsperger’s quest to make the best Jewish penicillin he can muster for his ailing wife. It is, dare I say it, better than Bittman’s recipe in How to Cook Everything (there are ways in which the blog is a better forum for the recipe than the printed page, yes?).

Since I first made stock, I’ve been after the perfect recipe. Bittman’s comes out light and simple, and it’s not bad by a long shot. But I like a really strong, dark brown thing that I just didn’t get from HTCE. I’ve been looking for tips all over, but what I think has made the most difference came from Michael Ruhlman’s The Elements of Cooking, an essential text for the home cook looking to gleam some helpful knowledge from the pros. What you do is brown the chicken in the stockpot you’re going to use before you add the water. The caramelized bits of meat give the stock a deeper darker color and flavor. You can also use this method to brown any vegetables you are using, to the same effect. Just don’t tell Mr. Ruhlman that you keep canned stock just in case. He will NOT let it slide.

Well, Ruhlman’s a bit of a snob (it’s why we love–him someone’s got to uphold these standards, right?) and I wouldn’t go that far. But with that said, I can’t recommend enough taking a crack at homemade stock. It’s not difficult, it just takes time. Use Kindelsperger’s recipe, or Arthur Schwartz’s. or Bittman’s or Ruhlman’s or Pepin’s or your grandma’s or whoever you like. It’s cathartic, and your house will smell incredible. And then when you inevitably get your first cold of the fall, there’s Jewish penicillin right there in the freezer, waiting for you. And it’s way better than canned.

Building a Better Chicken Soup [the paupered chef]
THE Best Time to Make Stock [michael ruhlman’s blog]

As I’ve noted before, it’s Fall! I love this season: the weather, and the food (what else is there?). Pumpkins are at the market, soup is back on the menu, and I’m not constantly perspiring. Sure, it’ll be cold soon, but have you tasted the apples?! Anyway, I was going to use the black beans from before in another bean salad, but the potato-leek soup turned out so delicious that I decided to make Bittman’s Smoky Black Bean Soup instead. Winter’s coming, I’d better assemble an arsenal of soups to be used as sustenance, comfort, and homeopathic remedy, right?

In the recipe, you sauté some onions (I substituted half of the onions for red bell pepper), then add beans, stock, and chipotle pepper (either dried or canned). Basically you just simmer that, then puree some of it if you like (I do). I added the step of browning some bacon and adding it after pureeing. Couldn’t hurt, right? Finish it by squeezing in a bit of lime juice just before serving. Bittman suggests some sour cream as well, but I didn’t have any, so I used some ricotta salata I had in the fridge–not a bad combination at all, though I must admit that sour cream or even a bit of yogurt would be better.

Here’s a new favorite chicken recipe. It’s really easy, and it uses barely any ingredients–probably lemons are the hardest thing in the ingredients list to procure, and those aren’t very hard to procure at all. Bittman likens it to a “simplified teriyaki,” but I think it’s just the opposite: what you get here is something much more nuanced and complex than the gloopy sweet stuff that comes when you order teriyaki (of course, I haven’t made the teriyaki recipe in How to Cook Everything, so who knows). Apologies to Julia, Alice and Talia who all came over to eat this one night last winter and never saw it posted on the here. It’s just that… well… it was way, way, better this time.

Take chicken–either a whole one cut up into 8 parts, or any combination of parts thereof. Heat oil in skillet (you need to have a lid later on, so make sure that’s not a problem). Season the chicken, then brown it in the oil, turning so they get nice even color. Remove from the pan.

Pour off most of the oil in the pan. Add garlic, let it soften, then add some lemon zest, cayenne, soy sauce, sugar, and water. Return the chicken to this mixture, letting it get nice and coated in the brothy sauce (or was it a saucy broth?). Turn the heat down so it bubbles gently, cover, and let cook for 20 minutes or so, until the chicken is done. Remove the chicken to a platter of some sort, stir lemon juice into broth, and serve with the chicken.

I also roasted some potatoes and onions to sop up some of the broth. This is a huge and easy weeknight meal, with leftovers that reheat damn well at work!

It’s pumpkin season.

Claire really wanted to come over and make pumpkin seeds. They’re a lot of work but they’re delicious. We got two huge pumpkins and scooped the seeds out, rinsed them, and roasted them. Pumpkin seeds are one of my favorite snacks, and one of the first things I ever made from my mother’s copy of the original How to Cook Everything. The Fiery Pumpkin Seeds was cut from the book in the 10th anniversary edition, but it’s pretty simple: cumin, cayenne, salt and pepper. I add chipotle chili powder, and you can add whatever spices you like, but the cumin-cayenne mix is really addictive. Roast ’til golden brown, and keep an eye on them, because they go from perfect to burnt really quickly.

Later that night, it was suggested by Eva that I could roast the rest of the pumpkin. I started hacking away the skin with a knife like the green pumpkin I cooked in Philly and sliced it up into oven fry size. I tossed them with olive oil, salt, and pepper, and roasted them at 450 until they were turning brown. They were pretty tasty, especially with the mayo-mustard-sriracha dip. That stuff is so good I’m not even telling you the recipe.* The roasted pumpkin was delicious. There are no pictures of the finished product, but here’s some of the raw pumpkin on the baking sheet.

But these pumpkins were so huge, I couldn’t even fit a whole half of one on my largest baking sheet. The next day, the other pumpkin was just sitting on the table, staring at me, so I peeled it (by far the worst part of making winter squash, particularly the pumpkinlike varieties), cut it up into smaller pieces and turned to the Pureed Vegetable Soup without Cream recipe. Seriously, this book has everything. Even the cut Fiery Pumpkin Seeds recipe is replaced with Roasted Nuts with Oil and its Pumpkin Seed variation. The recipe, which is Bittman assures us can be made with any winter squash, is made with carrots in the main version. You cook your veggies in butter or oil with some onions and whatever vegetables you have laying around (I just had onions and the pumpkin) until they soften, then add water or stock and cook until the vegetables are really tender. Then, you can puree however you like: blender, food processor, masher, ricer, food mill, back of a spoon, whatever. I used my brand new hand blender. I love it–it’s probably the most fun thing to use in my whole kitchen, and way easier to use and clean than the food processor, which is how I would have done this before. (Thanks, Mom!)

The soup is pretty good. It’s not my favorite, but I’m glad that I now have this technique because it’s promising–I want any excuse to use the stick blender and it’s soup weather.

*OK, fine. The recipe is mayonnaise, mustard, and–wait for it–sriracha.

Remember the frozen pesto from before? It met its delicious end this weekend.

20 Quick and Easy Ways to Spin Fast Tomato Sauce, #12. Stir in as much or as little pesto as you like after the sauce finishes cooking.

New favorite.

Last week I went back to Philly to hang with Carly, Rob, and their daughter Lily, who’s now 9 months old and by far my cutest cousin (sorry, Lev). When I arrived, Carly asked me if I could do anything with a squash that their neighbor had given them. It was one of the craziest looking squashes I’ve ever seen, like an enormous bright green pumpkin.

Some research on the Serious Eats boards led me to believe (I’m not 100% sure this is correct, so feel free to chime in below in the comments) that the mutant vegetable was a kabocha, also referred to as a Japanese pumpkin. Bittman’s advice in How to Cook Everything is that even though winter squashes are all different, they’re interchangeable in recipes–they may need a bit more or less cooking time or liquid as they cook, but you can feel free to mix and match. So that’s what I did: I took the recipe for braised and glazed winter squash with soy variation, and used this enormous green pumpkin instead of the usual butternut, which Bittman warned me would be better because it’s “easier to deal with than the others.”

That’s probably true. Peeling this thing was a pain in the ass, and I tried roasting its seeds thinking they’d be just like pumpkin seeds. They were not. They tasted weird and cooked really unevenly, so some ended up soggy and others were burnt to a crisp.

For the squash, you cut the vegetable up into cubes, then heat some oil in a pan with garlic. After the garlic starts to cook, you add the squash, some water, and some soy sauce and salt and pepper. Let this simmer, covered, until the squash is tender. Bittman says this takes about 20 minutes, but with the green pumpkin, which I suppose is much more dense than butternut squash, it took over an hour and still wasn’t as tender as I would have liked. It was pretty tasty though.

My camera died before dinner was ready, so there’s no photo of the finished product this time; instead, I give you this picture of Lily playing with a pumpkin.

After work, my pal Melanie and I decided to make pizza for dinner. We got some dough from Whole Foods (more on that later) and picked up a bunch of toppings, to add to things I already had in the house, as well as a healthy amount of wine. Talia and Ryan came by and we had a veritable party of pizza on our hands.

So, we originally planned on making 4 medium sized pies, but the dough from Whole Foods was way too cold to work with, so Talia (she’s a professional, y’all!) broke the dough balls up into smaller pieces and put them on top of the oven so they’d proof faster (she also taught me the term “proof”). After a while they were warm enough to roll out, stretch, top and finally bake.

I’ve made the dough myself before, and I’ve also bought it from my local pizza place. This was the first time I tried the dough at Whole Foods. It’s the same stuff they use for their prepared pizza in the store, and it’s very good. But it was more expensive (only by a dollar or so but still), and it was not immediately ready to work with, a huge problem as we were just off work and really starting to get hungry. When you go to a pizza place, their dough is proofed and totally ready to go. And it’s cheaper. And it’s probably more convenient than Whole Foods. Win-win-win! Glad I tried the Whole Foods dough, but probably not going to do it again.

So, on to the pies. First up, we had Caramelized Onions and Vinegar (which I’ve made before). For this, you make Bitty’s (can I call him Bitty? I saw Mario Batali do it on that terrible show they were on together and I kind of love it, but I’m not Mario Batali, so…) recipe for caramelized onions, and then stir in a tablespoon or so of good balsamic vinegar. This goes on the pizza, and the pizza goes in the oven. Do not underestimate this simple topping–it’s addictive.

Next was a more traditional pizza, at least by my provincial New York thinking. I had some tomato sauce with turkey sausage in it leftover from pasta dinner the night before, so we put that on the dough along with some smoked mozzarella. This was good. Very good. The smoked mozzarella was something I was not certain about, but it’s now going to be a fixture at every pizza party.

Then, a pesto pie. Once again, having pesto in the freezer ready to go is a godsend.

I just defrosted it, spread it on the dough, and then topped it with some sweet yellow grape tomatoes from the market. And some more smoked mozzarella. Again, delicious. What’s not to like?

The last pie was olives and rosemary and a bit of olive oil. It was good, but certainly not the favorite of the night. Following that one, we started experimenting, making one with just olive oil, and another with a bit of parmesan and the leftover smoked mozz. Really, the main thing here is that you can’t really go too wrong, and you should try anything that suits your fancy. There’s about 30 variations in How to Cook Anything, and many more than that if you’re feeling creative. Have a pizza party today. If you buy the dough pre-made, it’s actually a pretty quick meal, and you don’t need all the crap everyone tells you that you MUST have, like a peel and pizza stone.

It’s fall, and I had a hankering last week for soup. I made a ton of stock, froze most of it, and used the rest, thinning it with some water, to make the Leek and Potato Soup from HTCE. This is such a simple soup, but just three ingredients make a hearty and rich broth. It’s easily going to become something I make all the time.

Potatoes (preferably a starchy kind, since you want them to thicken the broth), leeks, olive oil go into a large pot and cooked until they soften. In goes stock or water (or a combination) to cover. You bring that to a boil and let it simmer until the potatoes are breaking up and getting really soft. At this point, you’re pretty much done. I pureed the soup at this point, but it’s not necessary, I just prefer it that way.

Oh, and I added sausage. That move, while perfectly alright, didn’t really add much to the soup, and I’d probably leave it out next time.

Served it with some homemade croutons (i.e. a piece of toast I cut up), salad with ricotta salata on the side. Delicious.

Part of the idea of the Ben Cooks Everything project is to see what’s worth making from scratch. Some things, I’ve found, are totally worth it, save you money and store in the freezer for reheating at the perfect time (chicken stock, pesto, tomato sauce). Some of them aren’t worth it at all, I’ve always thought.

Take beans. Canned beans are fine! Bittman himself has said so, and every bean recipe in the book can work either with cooked-from-scratch beans or canned beans.

They’re certainly cheaper than canned beans–a pound of uncooked black beans cost me $1.86 and yielded 4 cups of cooked beans. And if you store them with some of the cooking liquid, they freeze and keep just as well as canned, but presumably, they taste better. I don’t know, I’ve never cooked my own.

To cook them, Bittman provides three methods: Quick-Soak (boil, turn off heat, let soak 2 hrs, return to heat, simmer til done), No-Soak (boil then simmer, til done), and Long-Soak (soak in cold water for 6-12 hrs, drain, simmer til done). Regardless of the method you use, the type of bean makes the cooking time vary greatly. I opted for Quick-Soak, Bittman’s favorite: place beans in water to cover, bring water to a boil, turn the heat off, let sit covered for 2 hours. This is the soak part of the recipe (I suppose the idea of “quick” is relative). Then you add a bit of salt, pepper, and let the beans simmer, tasting every 15 minutes until they are done. I also added a bit of stock to the cooking liquid as the water evaporated, after one of Bittman’s suggestions. It took over 2 hours for the beans to finish cooking, but most of them went into the freezer with cooking liquid to cover so that they’ll be ready to go when I need them down the line.

So, what does everyone think I should do with the beans now that they’re done?

P.S. Bittman’s list of 5 beans to always keep on hand (p. 413): white beans, black beans, pinto/kidney beans, chickpeas and lentils.