Ben Cooks Everything

I didn’t take any pictures or anything, because it’s really not a part of the project, but over the weekend I made the recipe for Parmesan Cream Crackers from Bittman’s last Minimalist column (check the video), and the bloggers were right about them: delicious, easy, super impressive. Lots of “you MADE these?!” comments. And it really only takes 20 minutes, baking time included.

Update: turns out these Parmesan Crackers are in HTCE, as I discovered last night. I can’t believe I thought crackers wouldn’t be in the book; they are anything, after all. I’ll probably do it again because it was so easy, so I’ll try to get some photos next time (some people have pointed out that the crackers I made this weekend don’t count for the project, but these people were mostly my brother/roommate Jonathan who really just wants me to make them again so he can eat them). I think the best part of this realization is that I’ve now been thrust into baking without having to think about it. I’m afraid of baking, and I was planning to put it off for as long as possible. But this shit was easy!

Also, as far as I can tell, this means that Bittman comes up with ideas for the Minimalist column by picking up a copy of How to Cook Everything, choosing a recipe, punching up the intro, and sending it to his editor. How badass is that?

Flaky, Buttery, and Easy to Make [Bittman’s Bitten blog]
Recipe: Parmesan Cream Crackers [nytimes]

No one knows for certain the origin of the term “Arroz con Pollo” or even what language it comes from, but many etymologists believe it means “Hot Ham Water.” Today, it is used to refer to a chicken and rice dish which, again, no one knows the true origin of.

We do know this: It’s easy, and it tastes great. I’m sick of writing that already, but it seems to happen a lot in How to Cook Everything. Anyway, this one’s easy: sautee some onions in olive oil, add rice and coat with the oil, throw in some heated up stock and a pinch of saffron (tastes good; turns it that nice yellow), bring to a boil, turn down the heat, cover, and let cook for something like 30 minutes. It’s done when the rice is done, and it takes as little effort as it sounds.

This is a winner right here. You may remember me mentioning my mom’s recipe for rice, and that’s similar in that you take onions, sautee in some butter, add the rice and sort of toast it a bit like you do here, then add stock and simmer it (covered! no peaking! my mother shouts from inside my head) til it’s done. I dare say that this is a better way of doing the same thing, as the chicken gives up even more flavor than just stock. It’s certainly more convenient in that way, though there’s no accounting for nostalgia, which usually just trumps everything else. So while I’m not throwing away Reva’s rice recipe just yet, this is certainly a similar method that yields similar, more chickeny results. Pictures to come.

Remember the rule about starting with bacon always ends in delicious? Well this further supports the argument.

You’re supposed to begin with pancetta, actually, but I had slab bacon left over from the Beef Daube recipe and so I used that. Also, Anna was eating with me, and she doesn’t eat red meat aside from hot dogs and bacon (I’m no vegetarian, but if I were, I might have to make the same allowance; I back it fully). I assumed this meant that she ate pancetta as well, what with it basically being bacon without the extra step of smoking (I think), but apparently not. “What about bacon and hot dogs don’t you understand?” I’d like to point out that while we were by the butcher counter of Whole Foods having this discussion, Anna downed a free sample of skirt steak. Just saying.

Anyway, back to the carbonara. This dish is something I’ve loved since I visited Italy in 2007 where I had it for the first time. Pictured below, this was an eggy, oniony, herb filled, bacon flaunting pasta dish that I could not believe actually existed. Bacon. Eggs. Pasta? Yes. Please. Eating it while watching the sun set over the Italian Riviera did not hurt things, but I digress.

I’ve made my own carbonara before, using this recipe from the Paupered Chef. It’s a delicious one, and it’s not very hard. Great because it uses only four ingredients and pays off in the flavor department. A little bit goes a long way, too, as it’s one of the richest pasta dishes I’ve ever had. Seriously, this is a dish that adding cream to would probably lighten things.

Bittman’s recipe is much much more simple, and I have to say, I thought it tasted better. You can make it in the time it takes for the pasta to cook–not for the water to boil, mind you, but the actual ten minutes or so it takes for the linguini to finish. Take a warmed bowl. Beat three eggs. Throw in half a cup of pecorino romano (preferably) or parmesan, some salt, pepper, mix that up. Throw in the browned pancetta (or bacon) and its juices, throw the pasta on top, and mix together. You can add a little cooking water to thin it out if you need to. Otherwise, that’s it. Serve. The hot pasta cooks the egg just enough to thicken it a bit, and the egg and bacon juices just coat the pasta and it becomes something much greater than the sum of its parts. No, it wasn’t the same as the batch that I had in Italy, but it was pretty damn good nonetheless. And it’s not so bad for you, as long as you only make it once a decade or so.

I will say this, though: only make what you’re going to eat on the spot. The recipe is easily halfed, quartered, what have you, but it reheats into a dried out shell of its former self. Of course there is still bacon, so yes, I will eat microwaved carbonara. But it’s not the same.

So, today I’m throwing the doors open on this fledgling food blog/personal journey/shrine to Mark Bittman. Welcome!

I hope you’ll enjoy following me on this crazy project of mine; hopefully I can learn a lot and pass along some of the knowledge, saving you all some legwork. If you don’t already have a copy of How to Cook Everything, check out the right sidebar and follow the link to get one for yourself. Trust me, you need it. You’ll see. Already have it? Grab a copy of Bittman’s latest, Food Matters, a Pollan-esque manifesto. With recipes!

If you have any questions, requests, comments, or other thoughts to share, please leave it in the comments or, if you like, shoot me an email: ben.fishner@gmail.com. Now let’s get started…

Well, it was Sunday, my usual brunch date wasn’t available, but I wanted some eggs. Seemed like as good a time as any to delve into the breakfast chapter. I was going to make The Best Scrambled Eggs recipe, but my roommate and brother (same person) started complaining that he didn’t like scrambled eggs. Which I had never heard of before (from anyone, let alone my own brother), but whatever, I’m flexible.

So, Bittman says that baked eggs are special, that there’s something about the texture that’s not quite like any other kind of egg. They’re “endlessly adaptable,” too, which is always great. Basically, you butter a ramekin or some such small oven safe dish. Crack an egg into it. Salt, pepper, throw in a 375 degree oven for 10-15 minutes.

Bittman says it’s twelve if your oven is right on the money (which I think mine is not–I need an oven thermometer). Anyway, when it comes out, it’s kind of like a fried egg on top and a soft boiled egg on the bottom, with a poached egg-like consistency in the middle. Timing is definitely the hardest part here, but I could see this being really really handy if you were cooking for a lot of people; they’d all be done at the same time and to the same doneness. I guess I’ll have to start having brunch parties?

Bittman! National Public Radio! I could only be more psyched on this if there were Muppets involved: the man himself was on NPR plugging his new manifesto of a cookbook, Food Matters. Listen here. Agricultural revolution, minimalist style.

He discussed his eat more vegetables, eat less meat approach, its effect on your body and the environment, and then started talking crazy about savory oatmeal with soy sauce. Serious Eats tried it out. Now I want to.

Fact: Any recipe that starts by browning slab bacon is going to end well. It’s science.

As far as I can tell, I’ve made seven meals, not sure how many recipes (I should really get a spreadsheet going), but still not a single dish with red meat. I had a feeling this might happen; I am a chicken man and have been for as long as I can remember. Well, after a sale at the store left me with 2 lbs. of boneless chuck roast, I decided it was time. Weather was cold, to say the least, and so I decided a stew of some sort was the way to go. Enter HTCE’s Beef Daube, what Bittman says is a Provencal style stew.

So, you start by browning the chopped-up slab bacon (are there two more beautiful words in the English language?) until the fat is rendered and its pretty crispy. Then you remove it, trying not to munch it all up while it sits on the countertop. Brown the beef (cut into chunks) in the bacon fat. Then you remove the beef, set that aside as well, and throw in diced onions, carrots, celery, smashed garlic, rosemary, thyme, and orange peel. I didn’t have celery because Fairway in Red Hook did me dirty, and I didn’t have thyme, but this wasn’t the end of the world; I just upped the carrot/onion and rosemary proportions a bit and carried on. So you sautee those veggies and aromatics (it’s gonna smell really REALLY good) ’til they soften and then add a bit of red wine vinegar and a cup or so of red wine, bring it to a boil, put the beef back in, lower the heat and cover it.

Let that go for an hour or so, then throw the bacon back in. At this point, if its drying out, add a little chicken stock or just water. Give it another 15 or so or turn off the heat (it reheats really well) and finish it before serving.

Beef Daube turns out to be exactly what I was looking for. Served over some egg noodles, it was filling, soothing, warming, a delectable Sunday dinner. Time consuming, yes, but super easy. The hardest part was chopping up the veggies. I think my favorite part was that the flavors didn’t exactly melt together; they went well, of course, but there was the distinct flavor of orange peel, rosemary, onion, bacon, each waiting to be picked out by the observant eater.

Chicken: who needs it?

This was the first template recipe of Bittman’s that I mastered. I call it a template because, like the Five Minute Drizzle Sauce, once you master the technique, you can mix it up in an infinite number of ways. It’s a special recipe to me, because even though it’s one of the most ordinary meals known to man, if you can master making your own tomato sauce, your kitchen self confidence will see a tenfold boost. At least. Even more than when you make your own stock.

Originally, I made this out of the HTCE spinoff book, How to Cook Everything: Quick Cooking, which is a fantastic sort of training wheels version of the book. Anyway, basically you sautee some onions and garlic in olive oil, throw in some canned tomatoes, let it cook for a while, throw in a bit more olive oil toward the end to thicken it up, and you have a nice simple tomato sauce. It’s not gonna change the world, but it takes no longer than reheating a store bought jar and it tastes a lot better.

From there, it’s your call. I like mine with some carrot cooked along with the onions and garlic. This makes it a bit sweeter, and if you grate the carrot in the shreds just sort of melt away into the sauce. I also usually add tomato paste after I add the can tomatoes; it makes it a bit thicker and saucier. You like olives? Throw some in. Anything goes, really. In addition to all the improvisation you can come up with, there’s a list following the recipe with something like 20 quick spins on the template. They pretty much all look good.

This week I thought I’d play with it beyond my usual two “variations” of grated carrot and tomato paste. I started with adding lemon zest in the sautee phase (though maybe I shoulda done this when I added the tomatoes. Anyway, I added the zest and skipped the tomato paste. Not on purpose. I just forgot. I also put it through the food processor so it was a little smoother and less chunky.

Then towards the end I added some pitted olives and half a jar of capers. The additions made the sauce a lot tangier than usual. It was pretty good; next time I won’t omit the tomato paste (I like it thick!) and my olives, which were the mild green kind, were not optimal. Next time, Kalamata or something nice and salty like that.

Maybe the best part is the quantity; there’s always some left over and it keeps pretty well in the freezer. So the next time I want tomato sauce, I’ll just defrost, add some tomato paste (it’s never too late!) and be good to go.

Alright, first things first: the beet salad was Melanie’s idea, nowhere to be found in HTCE (though there’s a similar recipe I’ve made top priority), but such an eye-opening culinary experience that I had to include it in this post. But more on that later.

It was inauguration night! We had a new president! One we can respect, admire, look to for guidance in these trying times! Our long national nightmare was finally over, as the shirts they were selling in Union Square read. That calls for a celebration, right? And the proper food for an inauguration is clearly shellfish.

Melanie, David and I left work, took the train downtown, grabbed our groceries (and some booze) and continued on to my place. First, Melanie got the beets we bought at the store roasting in the oven. I’d never prepared, or eaten (as far as I can remember) a fresh beet. Canned beets did not do any favors for the reputation of the beet in my mind. But hey! I try new things! I’m adventurous! And I trust Melanie in the kitchen (she pulled a similar move when she made that braised cabbage dish during our Potato Nik/Top Chef night). She seems to know her shit. Anyway, beets take a long time to roast, like 45 minutes or more, so we got those going right away, along with the rice. Stupid brown rice takes so long to cook. But I’m trying to make myself acquire the taste for it, per Bittman’s words of wisdom.

Then we watched an episode of Summer Heights High, ate some cheese and crackers, and had a drink. It’s important not to wear yourself too thin, you know?

After happy hour, I got started on the shrimp. Take 3-4 bunches of scallions. Cut 3 of the bunches in half or thirds, and blanch them for just a minute or so. Chop up the remaining bunch, and set it aside. Take the blanched scallions and a clove of garlic throw ’em in the food processor with some of the cooking water and a little salt (I also added a little bit of red pepper flakes) to make a kind of scallion paste. Heat your pan, add some neutral oil, and throw in the shrimp. Sprinkle it with some salt and pepper. I kept the heat pretty low (though still sizzling), because overcooked shrimp is no fun at all. Careful, it cooks really fast. After a minute or two, throw in the scallion mixture, mix it all up, and let it finish cooking. At the very end, throw in the chopped scallion, and you’re good to go. This turned out to be fast, delicious, and not only healthy but made me feel full without being stuffed silly. As far as I am concerned, that is the hat trick.

Meanwhile, the beets were done. Melanie peeled them, sliced em up, hit them with some salt, pepper, red wine vinegar, soft goat cheese, and I think some olive oil (Mel, let me know if I missed any of that, I was in shrimptown while you were doing all this). Oh, and walnuts, which were an inspired choice. Anyway, like I said before, this was nothing short of an eye-opening experience. Never again will I avoid beets on a menu. I can now call myself a fan of (fresh) beets. Note: if you ever want me to try eating something I don’t think I like, just slather some goat cheese on it.

Oh! One last thing that I think everyone should know: Bittman says, in the intro to the shrimp section that you should always buy frozen shrimp. Not only is it cheaper and longer lasting, Bittman says that most of the shrimp at the fish counter is shipped frozen and defrosted in the supermarket. What a scam!

Chicken wings are the greatest. The meat is usually on the cheap side, you can eat a ton of pieces without getting too full (although I usually end up that way), the spiciness combined with the cooling blue cheese and celery… it all adds up to something that’s usually bar food but I think makes a fantastic main course. I decided to do the Smokey Lime variation in the book, which Bittman wisely suggests serving with Avacado Yogurt sauce. For vegetables, I got Bok Choy at the store and made Bittman’s Quick Bok Choy.

The chicken wings, you separate into three parts if they didn’t come that way (Whole Foods sells them separated in two parts already, but then you don’t get the tips and it costs more). Save the tips–little triangular pieces that have pretty much no meat on them–for stock if that’s your thing. Toss in some salt, pepper, a little olive oil, and roast them til they’re done and a little brown. Then you toss them in the pimenton-chili powder-lime juice mixture, throw them back in the oven for a few minutes, and you’re good to go. It took a little time–maybe an hour in total–but was pretty foolproof. How’d they taste? Hot, smoky, little tang from the lime, just perfect. They were a little bit overdone in my opinion, but this is another magical thing about chicken wings: even a little dry, they’re still totally delicious.

While the wings were roasting, I whipped up the yogurt sauce in the food processor. So easy: avocado, cup of yogurt, clove of garlic, lemon juice, salt, pepper. You probably don’t need the food processor (or blender) for this at all if the avocado is nice and soft. Didn’t really taste like much on its own, but combined with the wings it was really rich and gave that soothing sensation you usually get from blue cheese, with a lot less fat and calories. Avocados: is there anything they can’t do?

Meanwhile, the bok choy recipe is bomb. You heat some garlic in neutral oil, throw in the bok choy stems, let them cook til they lose their crunch, then throw in half a cup of water or stock and let them cook til most of the liquid’s evaporated. At the last minute you can throw in the leaves if you like; these just have to soften, really, not cook like the stems. Using my own stock took it to the next level, and if you like bok choy (you probably do), you should try this method out.

Too easy. Overall, this was the perfect Friday night dinner.