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Archive for the ‘Cocktails’ Category

Chicken Walnut Knishes

I haven’t always been a world famous food blogger. I used to read blogs and food websites during my lunch hour or in the middle of the night just like you. Now that I have literally tens of readers I feel I owe it to them (you) to stay ahead of the curve. So, I’m still cruising the internet as I used to, and one of my old standbys, the “Dining and Wine” section of the New York Times remains a favorite read.

Last week Julia Moskin wrote in the New York Times about a dedicated band of new deli owners who have set out to update what has become a rather dusty fare. I have to make an admission here: as I read the article, I was salivating over the various descriptions of how these folks are changing kosher-style deli into something fresh and new without straying too far from the familiar. Factory produced meat is out, artisanal deli is in. This can only be good news.

Make no mistake: no one is trying to take away your Pastrami. Rather, they are bringing the same “fresh, local, slow-food” sensibility to deli food that chefs in other venues have exercised for a long time. Kosher-style deli food is comfort food – soul food— and it is important that no matter how anyone updates it that the ring of familiarity remains. Just ask anyone (including me) how they feel about Pastrami on Rye (extra mustard) and that sentiment will be confirmed.

I will now proudly age myself by announcing that I grew up in the days before McDonald’s and Burger King became ubiquitous. Yes, they were there, but you had to hunt them down, usually planted like hedgerows near a strip mall, their flashing, spinning signs launched high up in the air, beckoning you from miles away.

Mickey D’s equivalent in my childhood neighborhood was Bernie and Ruby’s Langley Food Shop, which we simply referred to as “The Langley Deli.” My Mom would steal us away to its noisy, air-conditioned, Formica tables ostensibly to treat us to something at the time thought of as good wholesome food (although I assume the treat was really hers.) The Langley was a clangy, hectic, neighborhood place where you could count on running into someone you knew. Facebook with half-sour pickles.

If you have never eaten at a real kosher-style deli, then my best description would be the smell: equal parts air conditioning, mustard, pickle, beef, and black pepper. Throw in a touch of fried potato for good measure and you‘ve got the idea.

The other question, of course, is, “Do you still eat Pastrami?” For me the answer is no. Knowing what I know now about food and health, I won’t touch the stuff. Too much fat and too much salt, the unfortunate cornerstones of any good soul food, no matter what ethnicity. I could eat oatmeal every morning for a thousand years, but I doubt it would clear the childhood Pastrami fat from my veins. I keep praying that scientists will announce some heretofore-undiscovered cholesterol dissolving properties of the Diet Coke that inevitably sat next to my Langley sandwich.

On the other hand, if you tell me that you are hand-roasting Pastrami from organic grass-raised beef, and serving it between slices of artisan rye bread I could be easily tempted. That, it seems, is just what the pioneers of the “new deli” are doing. I just may be taking a field trip to the Mile High Deli in Brooklyn to sample the goods.

In the meantime I was inspired to try my own hand at artisanal deli food. A quick survey of my kitchen revealed that it is, alas, not suited for Pastrami roasting. I decided to try something a bit more humble (read: easy.) How about knishes?

Knishes were traditional party food when I was a kid. The sad thing about them was that no matter where you went, no matter how fancy the party, the same slightly over baked, mystery meat-filled cocktail knishes were passed around. Again, that magic alchemy of fat and salt. Fat little Mikey (that’s me) could toss those back by the dozens.

An Asian friend of mine often makes Chicken Walnut Spring Rolls. I thought the combination would lend itself beautifully to the world of kosher deli, albeit with a touch of complexity provided by the earthy meatiness of Cremini mushrooms, and the caramel sweetness of onions. A kiss of soy sauce would reflect the origin of my inspiration.

The pastry is a classic Pâte Brisée, usually the wrapper for tarts and quiche. Here, sliced into strips and rolled, “pigs-in-a-blanket style” around the filling, it serves up nostalgic flakiness while keeping the knish filling in line and ready for the next Bar Mitzvah. The old cocktail knishes hid their mystery meat under the blanket; this style, open at both ends, is a bit of an exhibitionist.

And best yet, this riff on nouveau kosher-style deli is relatively healthy and guilt free.

Meanwhile, do you think there’s any chance of that cola cholesterol cure coming true?

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Click here for the recipes for Chicken Walnut Knishes.

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Write to me at the email address below with any questions or thoughts you may have. Thanks!

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These are a few of my favorite things...

I’m ending the year with a moment of revelation. I had sidled up to the dessert table at a holiday party, and was licking my chops, surveying the goods. Suddenly I became aware of two women working at the same task and leaned in to hear the whispers between them:

Woman 1: “Everything looks so good!”

Woman 2: (Gasping) “Look at those cookies!”

Woman 1: “Will you share one with me?”

“Will you share one with me?” That’s what caused my moment of revelation—enough that my attention was momentarily diverted from the sugar wafting into my nostrils like a soothing opiate. I realized that this was not the first time I had heard that question while standing before a mountain of sweets. I’ve heard it waiting in line for cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery. I’ve heard it while surveying 31 flavors of ice cream, and then again at the party a few days ago.

This reminds me of a friend who is a playwright. He gets a lot of comments about his work. Comments from the people who help him actually get his plays on stage. Comments from the directors who help him shape the story and bring it alive.  Comments from the actors who speak with a supposed inside knowledge of what their character may or may not really do. Comments from friends like me who make suggestions veiled as silly questions.

I assume though, that his most valuable feedback comes from eavesdropping on audience members in the lobby during intermission. There, he hears truths that people can’t or won’t speak to his face.

That’s what I was doing when I was listening to the two women next to me at the dessert table: eavesdropping, and what I took away was that people want smaller, less intimidating goodies.

Hmmmm. Is this my resolution for 2010? Have I started the “tiny foods” movement? Hardly. But out of respect for a world where people live in a seemingly never ending state of “on-a-diet” I am here to declare that you can have your tiny cake and eat it too.

Here’s my theory: Make everything smaller in size and larger in flavor. Each bite should be a punch in the mouth. A chocolate jab to the right? An upper cut of cheese? Okay, okay, I’m painfully straining the boxing metaphor. Mind you, I’m not counting calories here; this is merely an exercise in taking the intimidation out of the stuff you’ve been told not to eat. I think you get my drift: small bite / big flavor = sated with less.

With New Year’s Eve only minutes away, I propose to use the last night of the aughts and the first morning of the teens as a laboratory to prove my theory.

Ines Rosales and Serrano Ham

My first choice? Easy. A few months ago I wrote about pairing Ines Rosales Sweet Olive Oil Tortas with Serrano Ham. I’ll be breaking the tortas into bite sized shards and wrapping them with paper thin slices of the ham. The tortas are a touch sweeter and a great deal crunchier than the usual melon that accompanies Serrano ham or Prosciutto, and less slippery too. To remove anything intimidating from the mix I’ll carefully peel the fat from the ham. Heresy to purists, I know, but still delicious.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens? Forget those. Gougères are one of my favorite things. For the uninitiated, Gougères are classic French cheese puffs. I’ve decreased the bass and increased the treble: mine are button sized, and instead of the usual sweet, nutty gruyere cheese I found a Double Gloucester cheddar that is almost unbearably sharp—and bearably inexpensive. The sharpness of the cheese will be muted by the rich, eggy pastry; they’re small but they have big, big mouth feel.

Gougeres

Gougères are made from pate á choux—cream puff pastry. Intimidated? Don’t be. Using a Kitchen Aid stand mixer these are so easy to make it’s silly. The added bonus is that if you don’t add the cheese you can use the same recipe to make your own éclairs, cream puffs, and profiteroles. (Ahhh, profiteroles! Another favorite. Watch for an entire blog posting about those soon.)

Don’t forget dessert! Feel free to make those micro cupcakes, but those won’t tempt me. I need chocolate, and will be filling a large bowl with button sized chocolate chip cookies. I’ll be using the plain old Toll House cookie recipe but to give these minis some added punch, I’ll be adding half again as many chocolate chips as the recipe calls for, and adding a jolt by sprinkling an ever so light dusting of instant espresso powder over the teaspoon-sized cookies just before putting them in the oven.

Asiago Cocktail Bread and Eggs

If you’re the type who will be staying up to greet the first dawn of the new decade allow me to recommend Asiago Cocktail Bread. Adding this to your repertoire gives you a yeast-less recipe that can work triple-duty tasks. Toast skinny slices of this cheese infused bread, and you end up with biscotti that can be dipped into glasses of red wine. A smear of onion dip (or just caramelized onions) on the biscotti and you have a no stress hors d’oeuvre that can be piled on a tray. Best of all, skip the toasting step and give folks greeting the dawn a little breakfast nibble by topping thin slices of the bread with a bit of scrambled egg. The untoasted slices give the gratifying starchiness of biscuits, minus the heaviness. (These are really good for those who the sunrise may find a bit “over-bubbly-ed.”)

If you’re wondering which bubbly to buy without breaking the bank, don’t overlook Prosecco, the Italian sparkling wine. Sweeter than most champagnes but much less expensive, Prosecco is very approachable—more so, I think, than the equally inexpensive but much drier Spanish Cava. That’s just my preference. I’m a lightweight and will spend most of the night drinking a non-alcoholic bubbly so you are allowed to take my opinion with a (very small) grain of salt.

Hey: see you next year!

Santè!

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Click here for the recipe for Gougères and click here for the recipe for Asiago Cocktail Bread.

In case you missed it, read my original posting about Ines Rosales Sweet Olive Oil Tortas. More about this next week…

Write to me at the email address below with any thoughts you may have. I’ll be happy to hear from you.

Let me email you when the blog has been updated! Opt in by clicking the biscotti at right or by sending your email address to michael@butterfloureggs.com

"The autumn leaves, drift by the window..."

You want scary? My friends and neighbors the Avatars have invited me to spend Halloween night with them and their adorable twins, Newton and Natick. The invitation came in the form of a favor: would I help with the food and beverage? Turns out they are throwing a Halloween party for the twins’ school mates (including three other sets of twins), their parents, and other assorted adults (of whom I guess I am one.) Boo!

They have dinner taken care of, no more cookies or cakes are needed, and I would not presume to try to one-up Mr. Hershey in the candy department. So what’s left? Adult beverages, of course.

Now, I worry that you’ll think that the Avatars ascribed to me an intimate knowledge of all things alcohol, and have thus asked me to choose a cocktail for the gathering. No, truth be told, I am a rather abstemious guy. The assignment was actually one of responsibility delegated.

Putting on my thinking cap, I pondered my options. What cocktail can I make that will land squarely in that magical intersection where Halloween appropriateness meets palate pleasing refreshment? I’d prefer to avoid drinks that look like blood, body parts, or that use “cutesy” effects like dry ice to reproduce a steaming cauldron effect. I want the cocktail to taste good, quench a thirst borne of an apartment full of screaming sugar-stoked children, and then look holiday appropriate.

As I looked out of my living room window at a big maple tree that had begun to blush with orange foliage I was taken back to another Halloween many, many moons ago.

(If it was that long ago, chances are I still had hair, so I like this story.)

I was bartending in a bustling hotel lobby bar. A blowsy, windswept woman dressed in shoulder-padded assorted animal prints landed on one of my bar stools and said, “Honey, Jeannie needs an Autumn Leaf.” I went with the immediate assumption that she was referring to herself in the third person.

Let me digress quickly to explain that I think all bartenders fall into two categories: those who know their booze from extensive personal experience, and those who know it from extensive study of the “Old Mr. Boston Official Bartender’s Guide.” I fell squarely in the latter group, often with a jarring thud.

So it was that I had to reveal to Jeannie the dirty little secret that I had no idea what an Autumn Leaf was.

Jeannie, clearly a patient, understanding sort, said, “Don’t worry, honey, we’ll use the point system.”

I could feel myself cringe at a suggestion of something called “the point system” as it implied to me a need for some kind of math-on-the-fly. Jeannie, sensing my hesitation, explained that all I needed to do was to get a martini glass ready, and toss some ice into a cocktail shaker. She’d take it from there. I did as I was told as if under some kind of spell.

Once I had complied and had placed glass and shaker in front of her, Jeannie pointed to the ingredients she wanted.

Ah. The Point System. Get it?

And what she pointed to made the drink we have all come to know as a Cosmopolitan but with a dash of orange juice for color. It reminded me of the Cape Codder (or Cape Cawduh as we say up north) which is a Screwdriver with cranberry juice added.

Back to present day (and my current lack of hair. Oh well.) I thought the Autumn Leaf might make a perfect cocktail for the Halloween gathering, but pondered a little update that would lighten its profile: In the intervening years since Jeannie landed on that bar stool, there has been an invention that I think will provide just the change the Autumn Leaf needs. I speak not of the GPS or the cell phone, but of white cranberry juice.

White cranberry juice provides the same slippery coolness as red cranberry juice, but is clear, giving you a blank slate upon which you can paint a cocktail’s palette. If you think that sounds a little highfalutin’ don’t forget that you eat (and drink) with your eyes too. White cranberry juice just lets you make drinks to fit any appealing color-scheme. Want an orange-tinted cocktail for a Halloween party? Bingo!

The dash of fresh orange juice provides a foliage-tinted blush to the White Cranberry juice that actually suits any autumn occasion. Since this is for a party, I’m adding a touch that Jeannie may have found unnecessary: I’m going to sugar the rims of the glasses with orange sanding sugar. The bonus is that the adults can then stick their orange-dyed tongues out at the little ghosts, princesses, and mini-Madoffs scampering around the party.

I always worry that there will never be enough to eat, so I decided to bake a little nosh to accompany the Autumn Leaf—just to tide everyone over ‘till dinner. I’m baking a simple Cheddar Pecan shortbread crisp. They look like cookies, but they have a salty savory crunch that will cut the sugary tang of the cocktails and fill stomachs emptied by wrangling costumed kiddies through chilly city streets to the party.

Now all that’s left for me to do is to figure out a costume. I wonder where I put my Zorro mask?

Click here for my Autumn Leaf and Cheddar Pecan Shortbread Crisp recipes.

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