Spaghetti with Fish Sauce

Last October my family and I met up in Chicago for a long weekend. We saw a show, took some tours and, of course, ate ourselves siiiiilly. We even had a few serendipitous moments, like when we found ourselves standing in front of Rick Bayless' restaurant Xoco. 

We had just eaten a few Chicago-style hot dogs but knew enough to find room for some of the best churros and Mexican hot chocolate on the planet.

In addition to its vibrant restaurant scene, Chicago is well known for its many ethnic and cultural neighborhoods. In fact, it boasts the third largest Italian population in the country. It also happens to be the first U.S. city to inherit giardiniera, a pickled vegetable concoction that made its way from Italy in the 1920's. Used as a condiment atop Italian beef sandwiches, it also finds its way onto antipasto platters and pasta dishes.

 
I've always loved pickled, briny things (just ask Tristan - he always kept a big jar of pickles in the fridge for me when we first started dating), so naturally I went gah-gah when I heard about a pasta and fish dish packed with green olives, capers AND gardiniera. It happened one day when I was channel flipping and landed on "My Family Recipe Rocks." Joey Fatone (remember him from N'Sync?) was in Chicago learning how to make the Cannistra family's beloved "Spaghetti with the Fish," where pasta gets topped with an olive oil-based sauce that's loaded with chopped garlic, fresh parsley and lots of salty flavor bombs. The final step involves the addition of white fish, which falls apart and melts right into the sauce as it simmers.

I adjusted the recipe substantially for bolder flavors and, well, more sauce. What can I say but YUM-o. The juicy broth is light and fresh, and if you happen to have any left over, it tastes even better the next day.

Spaghetti with Fish Sauce
Adapted and tweaked from My Family Recipe Rocks on the Live Well Network. 
Serves 4-6.

1/2 cup olive oil
5-6 cloves garlic, chopped
10 large green olives with pimentos, chopped
2 tablespoons capers
Hot water
3/4 cup hot giardiniera*
1 lb white fish fillets (cod, halibut, haddock, etc.)
1/4 cup fresh chopped parsley, plus more for garnishing
1 lb vermicelli pasta
Asiago or Romano cheese for grating

In a 1 1/2 - 2 quart pot, heat the olive oil, garlic, green olives and capers over medium heat for 3-5 minutes. Do not let the garlic brown. Add enough hot water to fill the pot 3/4 full. Add the hot giardiniera* and some salt and pepper to taste. Reduce heat to low and cook for 30 minutes.

Add the fish fillets and continue cooking for 30 minutes more. The fish will slowly flake into the sauce. Right before finishing, stir in the fresh parsley and adjust salt and pepper if necessary.

Meanwhile, cook the pasta in boiling, salted water until al dente.

To serve, top each plate of pasta with a ladle of fish sauce. Garnish with grated cheese and a sprinkling of fresh parsley.

*My neighborhood grocery store only had regular giardiniera so I added some Mama Lil's Peppers for heat (you could also use hot sauce or red pepper flakes). If you don't want the heat, just use regular giardiniera.

An Ode to Sorrel

Have you ever tasted something for the first time and thought, “Where have you been all my life!?” That was me with sorrel.

I wasn’t even familiar with this leafy green until last year when Beryl suggested we plant some in our garden. It tasted so bright and lemony, and I dreamt about turning it into creamy sorrel soup once harvest time rolled around. Well, that time came and went while we were on vacation and the plant bolted. So much for soup.

This year I was determined not to repeat history. I did my research and found that sorrel, which is hugely popular in French cuisine, is often served as a sauce for fish. So I picked our plant clean and melted a heaping bowl of leaves into a just-creamy-enough white wine shallot sauce. Paired with pan fried cod, this immediately shot to the top of the best-dishes-I’ve-ever-eaten list. 

  
While there is some difference of opinion regarding the origins of the word “sorrel” --some say it comes from a French word, others claim Germanic roots -- both origins mean “sour.” The plant contains oxalic acid (also found in rhubarb), which gives it that characteristic lemony, tart flavor. It can be served raw in salads or sandwiches, pureed into soups or pesto, or, in this case, made into a lovely sauce for fish.

My first experience with sorrel was nothing short of a revelation, and in an attempt to make up for lost time (and eat as much of it as possible this summer), I immediately ran out and bought more starts for the garden. Perhaps next year I'll plant an entire patch...

This could get out of hand. 

Fish with Sorrel Sauce 
I used cod but have heard that this sauce tastes magnificent with salmon. Adapted from The New York Times.

Serves 2

2-3 shallots, diced finely
1 tablespoon butter
Glass of dry white wine
1 - 1 1/2 cups vegetable or fish stock
1/2 cup cream
1 bunch sorrel

2 tablespoons high heat oil 
1 pound cod fillets (sole, perch, haddock or trout would also work)
Salt and pepper

In a large skillet over medium-low heat, sweat the shallots in butter until soft and translucent. Add a glass of white wine, increase the heat to high and reduce completely. Add the vegetable stock (if it's a subtle stock, use 1 1/2 cups; if it's strong, start with 1 cup) and reduce over high heat until 1/4 cup of liquid remains, about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, strip the sorrel leaves from their stems. If the leaves are big, rip them into large pieces (there is no need for tiny pieces since the sorrel will wilt down tremendously). Wash and spin dry.

After the broth mixture has reduced, lower heat to low and stir in the cream. Add the sorrel and wilt down completely (it will look like a lot at first but won't take long to melt like spinach). Taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary.

In the meantime, heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Lightly season both sides of the fish with salt and pepper and place in the skillet. Cook until fish flakes easily, about 3 minutes per side.

Divide the sorrel sauce between two plates and top each with a fillet of pan fried fish. Roasted or steamed parsley potatoes make a nice accompaniment.

A Look Back

 New Year's Eve dinner at Tristan's family's home in Arlington, VA

Happy New Year everyone!

I couldn't jump into 2011 without paying a bit of homage to 2010. It was an eventful year of cooking experiments, dinner parties, culinary classes, new cookbooks and a good deal of travel. But one of my favorite parts was going to New York over the holidays. Why? Because I got to spend time with my family and eat some darn good holiday food.

As tradition dictates, we always make an Italian Seven Fish Stew on Christmas Eve. It has a spicy, flavorful broth of clam juice, stock and tomatoes and is chock-full of scallops, haddock, flounder, shrimp, calamari, mussels and clams. The only necessary accompaniment is a loaf of good bread (I strongly suggest making some No-Knead) to sop up all those glorious juices.

Unlike the anticipated main course, dessert on the 24th is up for discussion. This year my mom made mini pavlovas with fresh fruit and whipped cream. Named after the Russian prima ballerina, Anna Matveyevna Pavlova, who toured Australia and New Zealand in the 1920s, the dessert lives up to its muse: light, airy and elegant (the meringue shells were meant to simulate her tutu). 

Christmas morning at our house always begins with a breakfast of Züpfe, the beloved bread of Switzerland. Back in the home country it's eaten on Sundays with butter, honey and jam and perhaps a soft boiled egg. Nowadays, for those of my family in America, it only makes an annual appearance over the holidays.

No two Züpfe recipes are alike and in my humble (and certainly biased) opinion, my grandmother's was the very best. She took great pride in her work and guarded her recipe like a Swiss Guard in front of the Vatican. When she passed away, it took years of experimentation and refinement for my father to develop his version, which, we all concur, is the closest we've ever had to the original.

Our traditional Christmas dinner is unabashedly English-themed: roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. My favorite part, hands down, is the pudding. Similar to a popover, it has a puffed, golden exterior with an eggy, custard-like middle. Back in old England, it used to be a filler dish for poor people who couldn't afford much meat. Also called "dripping pudding," it was made by placing a simple batter of flour, milk and eggs under the roasting meat in order to catch all the savory drippings. Despite its humble beginnings, it's easy to see why Yorkshire pudding has found a place at a New York Christmas table. 

No English meal would be complete without a proper trifle. My mom makes a wonderfully traditional version with sherry soaked cake, layered with egg custard, fruit and whipped cream. If this doesn't say festive, I don't know what does.

I can't think of a better way to end a year than with family, food and friends. I'm already looking forward to repeating it in 2011.

Fish Tacos

I knew a few weeks ago that I would have last Friday off. I also knew a few weeks ago exactly what I’d do with my day of freedom: hit up Salumi’s. 
 
Mario Batalli’s dad, Armandino Batali, owns Salumi Artisan Cured Meats, a little deli in the Pioneer Square district offering top quality Italian meats and cheeses. Since they have especially limited hours (Tues-Friday, 11am-4pm), it’s virtually impossible to patronize if you work full-time on the other side of town. They have a few tables for eating in but the real attraction is their lunchtime sandwiches. I joined the long, snaking line around 11:15am, already late by local standards. After 40 minutes in the rain, I triumphantly left with one Salumi Muffo and one spicy pork & eggplant sandwich under my arm. Tristan was very lucky to have lunch delivered that day.
 
This longwinded account of last Friday’s lunch brings me to the topic of dinner that same night. My gut was leaden with meat and bread and nothing sounded good. I ended up roaming the market aimlessly, empty basket in hand, hoping for inspiration to strike. Then I saw these little hand-made, organic corn tortillas and it hit me. Fish tacos! Perfect.
 
I wasn’t actually exposed to fish tacos until later in life. During graduate school I began assisting cooking classes at PCC Natural Markets, and the first was “Baja Fresh” by Jenny Hurst. The tortilla soup and roasted tomatillo salsa were marvelous but what really blew my mind were the simple, baked fish tacos. After all these years, the thought of them still makes my mouth water. And after a gut-bomb-of-a-lunch, what could be more refreshing than chunks of flaky white fish, crunchy cabbage, diced avocado and radish slices all drizzled with a cooling citrus sauce? 
 
These are messy and delicious. Simple enough for a weekday meal but scrumptious enough for a dinner party.

Fish Tacos
A fresh mango salsa (like this one at Simply Recipes) and/or guacamole would pair beautifully with these tacos. Inspired by Jenny Hurst’s recipe from the Baja Fresh class at PCC.
 
1 ½ pounds firm white fish fillets, such as cod or halibut
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 rounded tablespoon finely minced cilantro
1 cup green cabbage, shredded
1 large carrot, peeled and julienned
2 limes
8-10 small corn tortillas
Cooling Citrus Sauce (recipe follows)
Crumbled Cotija cheese, optional
 
Preheat oven to 375˚F. Rinse fish under cold water and pat dry with paper towels. In a small bowl, mix oil, salt, chili powder and cilantro. Rub fish on all sides with oil/spice mixture; place in a baking dish or broiling pan. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until fish flakes easily with a fork.
 
In a small bowl, mix shredded cabbage with carrots. Squeeze a little fresh lime juice from half a lime over the top, add a small pinch of salt and toss well.
 
Before assembling the tacos, warm the corn tortillas. There are many ways to do this: in the microwave (20 seconds on high heat), in a hot skillet, or wrap the entire stack in aluminum foil and heat in the oven along with the fish.
 
To assemble, break fish into chunks and place down the middle of each tortilla. Top with cabbage and drizzle generously with citrus sauce. Sprinkle with avocado chunks and cotija cheese (if using). Top with a few radish slices. Serve warm with lime wedges on the side.

Cooling Citrus Sauce
 
1 cup whole milk plain yogurt
1 1/2 tablespoons orange juice concentrate, or to taste
Pinch of salt
 
In a small bowl combine all ingredients. Refrigerate until ready to use.

Stock Options

One thing a pantry shouldn't be without is stock. I always have a few cartons on hand for a quick potato leek soup, creamy risotto, or one of my favorite wintertime dishes, Italian beans and greens. All of these come together in a snap with the magic of store-bought broth. But lately I'm feeling haunted by the army of vegetable skins and nubs I throw away without a second thought. Oh sure, I've heard the merits of homemade stock and even encouraged others to have a crack at it. But I never managed to do it myself. For someone who tries to live sustainably and prefers making everything from scratch, I'm quite a hypocrite, aren't I?

This pretense has gone on long enough. About a month ago I was scrubbing and peeling a sizable amount of vegetables when the thought hit me: why not throw the scraps into a Ziploc bag and freeze them until I'm ready to give this homemade stock thing a whirl? Well folks, today is that day.

So I unearthed my gigantic stock pot and began sauteing a mirepoix (onions, celery and carrots). My frozen treasures came next. There were potato and carrot peelings, fennel fronds, mushroom stems, leek greens, turnip ends, Swiss chard stalks, onion skins and leftover celery root. Could it really be this easy? Whole peppercorns, bay leaves, garlic cloves, salt and a generous handful of parsley were added for good measure followed by cold water to cover. My work was done. Now it was up to the stove to patiently turn that motley crew of scraps into liquid bliss.

And did it ever. The apartment filled with the unmistakable aroma of a grandmother's kitchen - anything smelling this good was surely a favorable sign. After straining out the vegetables, I was left with a rich, savory, brown broth, which is waiting patiently in the freezer for its unveiling. I'm thinking miso soup might be first on the docket.

I was so charmed by this experience that I'm ready to tackle homemade chicken stock. And fish bone broth (I've been wanting to make an incredibly indulgent cream of scallop soup for quite some time).

Watch out, I'm just getting started.