Balance the scales with a quick shrimp pasta dish

Ah, the week of reckoning. I don’t know about you, but the last week in December brings about hope and regret in equal measure. 

Let’s start with the regret. It can be as simple as “Why did I eat that? Why, oh, why did I eat that? Or so much of it?” Those dastardly scales tell the tale. This is possibly the easiest regret to remedy. It’s an age-old formula: Eat less. Exercise more. Let’s see how we can complicate that by spending more money on a new diet book (the hope part) and then recall how we already overspent (the regret part, piled upon the first regret part.)

Then there are the other regrets. I stopped counting the things that didn’t happen that I had hoped for this year. Well, that’s how the cookie crumbles, I say to myself as kindly as possible. These are not so easy to remedy, but there is no currency in hashing them over. So, I am going to take a very deep breath and think:

Things are no more imperfect this week than they usually are; I am just pulling out the scales—and I don’t mean the ones I step on most mornings. If am hard on myself all year long, I can have a really good beat-myself-up fest at the end of the year just for good measure. This year I don’t want to give in to that.

I have decided to focus on hope. I’ve revised the way I think of that, too. I’m trying not to hope for specifics, such as a huge influx of cash (oops, I’m always hoping for that). Instead, I guess you could say, I’m hoping for more peace. Wherever the chips fall, please God, let me be at peace with it. That is not to say that I won’t peddle as fast as I can to try for the things I need and want, but I would like, just for once, to be satisfied with and grateful for whatever comes of my efforts.

That narrows my new year’s resolutions to one. So much easier to keep track of one.

As for the eat less, exercise more bit, that’s not so much a resolution as a way of life. It’s kind of ongoing, and I am always trying to recommit to it. So, in that vein, I offer you a recipe for a quick, easy pasta with shrimp that is also very healthy. You can make it:

During a snow storm

When you have not gone shopping again, but have stashed some shrimp in your freezer, and manage to have some olives, too.

When you have leftover shrimp cocktail from your New Year’s Eve party

When you convince yourself that the skinny strands of angel hair pasta will make you skinny too

When you really can’t think of what else to make and have almost no time in which to make it

When you are trying to counter balance all the unhealthy meals you just consumed (you could even buy whole wheat pasta if you want to be a good doobie)

Angel hair pasta with shrimp, tomatoes and olives

Serves 4

Since shrimp arrive in our markets frozen, you should buy them that way and defrost them yourself (overnight in the refrigerator or in a bowl of cold water for 15 minutes) unless you are certain you will be cooking them on the same day you purchase them. A stash of shrimp in the freezer can help with a last minute dinner dilemma, too. (You can skip the fennel in an emergency, but try not to.)

To determine how many pounds you need, look for a number, which is more meaningful than a “large” or “jumbo” label. For example “U-15” stand for “under 15,” which means fewer than 15 per pound; “10/15” means there are between ten and fifteen shrimp per pound. This knowledge puts you in the driver’s seat when you are deciding upon the size you want.

A quick homemade tomato sauce is much more satisfying than that tired old sauce from a jar, and it tastes a lot cleaner and fresher too. Buy good quality whole tomatoes like San Marzano (I like Bella, which I buy locally) and break them up in a bowl with your hands. Don’t get me started on those cans of ‘crushed tomatoes.”  I don’t like them one bit because the are dense and heavy and will not give you the clean and lovely taste of tomatoes that a good can of plain ol’ San Marzanos will.

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 fennel bulb, trimmed, quartered lengthwise and cut in thin slices

Salt

Pepper

1 large clove garlic, thinly sliced

1 can (28-ounces) whole, peeled tomatoes, crushed in a bowl

1 pound angel hair pasta

1/3 cup pitted Kalamata olives, coarsely chopped

12 very large peeled shrimp, cooked or uncooked, cut in half on a sharp diagonal

1/4 cup chopped parsley

1. In a large (12-inch) skillet with deep sides, heat the olive oil over medium heat until it shimmers. Add the fennel, season with salt and pepper, and cook until it begins to soften but does not brown, about 3 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for another 30 seconds. Stir in the tomatoes and cook at a gentle simmer for 10 to 12 minutes, until the sauce thickens slightly.

2. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook the pasta for two minutes, until it is tender but still has a little bite. Drain in a colander.

3. Add the olives and shrimp to the tomato sauce and stir over medium heat. If you are using cooked shrimp, cook until hot through, about 1 minute. If you are using uncooked shrimp, add them and cook a little longer, until they are opaque in the center. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper if needed.

4. Toss the sauce with the pasta and divide among four shallow bowls. Sprinkle each with chopped parsley.

p.s. the sauce is really good as an omelet filling or with scrambled or poached eggs, if you have any left

Never too late for a gluten-free bûche de noel

It’s the eleventh hour so what on earth am I doing fiddling around with a fancy cake for Christmas? I had this lofty idea that I would make a yule log with a twist, something that people who can’t eat gluten can feast on that screams “guess what? holidays are happening now.” In case they haven’t noticed.

On the way to thinking up this cake, I also wanted to revise a recipe that feeds way more people than I will be entertaining ever again at one time. In my whole life from now on. Unless I lose my mind.

I am postponing that until New Year’s Eve when every year I agree to help cook for forty of someone else’s closest friends. Yes, I am very stupid. It fits in with my ambivalent personality. And in the end, I always enjoy it. And it’s at Catherine’s house, so I don’t look around and say why are you people here and when are you leaving? I fully relish the company.

But back to the yule log. As I plunged in, a voice in the deep recesses of my mind spoke to me: “Elaborate pastry is very time consuming.” Then I started to panic about all the things I need to do this week. I also remembered that elaborate pastry is made up of many components. And if I didn’t have to figure out several recipes and then take pictures so you could see the end point, it really would be do-able. In fact, now it’s done-able (new word) and in my freezer ready for whipping out to surprise whoever happens to be at my table in the next two weeks. (I’m still working on that plan.)

Chocolate whiskey truffles: a Christmas memory

Whenever I catch a glimpse of this dainty Chinese bowl tucked behind other odd and pretty things in the back of my cupboard, I think of Nane Bernard.  Holidays inspire sentimental walks down memory lane, so bear with me as I wax nostalgic about a special couple and my first real chocolate revelation. That revelation came from a handful of chocolate truffles in the very bowl pictured here, a Christmas gift from Nane, the wife of my chef-mentor Eugene Bernard.

A young Jersey girl in the seventies had a limited lexicon of taste to draw upon in the chocolate department. There were milk chocolate Hershey bars or chocolate-with-almonds Hershey bars. Or possibly my favorite: Chunky bars. Wow. Things were a lot simpler back in the day. In addition, there was fudge. Starting at about the time I was eleven, thanks to an indulgent aunt, my cousins and I made fudge incessantly to satisfy a raging pre-adolescent sweet tooth. None of this had prepared me for a bite of a real chocolate truffle.

After much moaning and pleading, Chef Bernard paid a visit to our restaurant kitchen to pass on the secret of heaven on earth in the form of chocolate. Chocolate for grown-ups.  I was sworn to secrecy, promising to keep the formula from Certain People who may have tried to use this special recipe to their own advantage and to my detriment.  Thirty years later, I think it is safe to say that the secret is out, and you shall have it, dear readers.

The recipe may seem long, but it takes almost as much time to explain how to make these as it does to make them. (Okay, that’s an exaggeration)  The point is: don’t be discouraged; take it in steps and there are three of them:

1) Make the filling

Pour hot cream over the chocolate

Stir in a gradually widening circle

Gradually add soft butter

Slowly stir in the whiskey

Stir until creamy and refrigerate 

Scoop with a small cookie scoop or pipe onto a cookie sheet with a 5/8-inch tip and then form into balls

3a) Coat them in cocoa OR 

3b) coat them in a thin layer of untempered chocolate and then roll them in cocoa. This gilding the lily third (b) step saves you the trouble of tempering chocolate (which you must do if you want it to look shiny and free of streaks and gray spots) and also achieves a thin shell coating that keeps the creamy centers from drying out and prolongs shelf life for a couple of weeks. The cocoa covers up the untempered  chocolate, so problem solved.

Spread a pool of chocolate on a dinner plate and add 5 to 7 truffle centers

Place your outspread hand over the truffles and move it around in a circle to coat the truffles

Drop them on a cocoa lined baking sheet. Shake the pan to coat them with cocoa.

Bernard’s Chocolate Whiskey Truffles

Recipe can be doubled or tripled. If you are making these for gifts you will be sorry not to have at least doubled the recipe, as I am now.

Chocolate needs to be chopped in small pieces in order to melt evenly. If you can find these chips of real 60% to 70% bittersweet chocolate  (NOT the same as Nestles chocolate morsels) it beats having to chop it from a block. If you do have to chop it, use a serrated knife.

For the centers:

12 ounces bittersweet chocolate (60 to 70% cacao), finely chopped

2/3 cup heavy whipping cream

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature

3 tablespoons whiskey

For the coating

12 ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped

Flavorless vegetable oil

About 1 cup  Dutch process unsweetened  cocoa powder

To make the centers:

1. Bring 2 inches of water to a boil in a saucepan that will accommodate a heatproof bowl. Turn off the heat and leave until needed (see step 2.) This is a makeshift (and effective) double boiler. Place the chocolate in the heatproof bowl.

2. Bring the cream to a simmer over medium heat in a small saucepan (or in a Pyrex measuring cup in the microwave.) Pour it over the chocolate and, with a rubber spatula, begin stirring the cream and chocolate together in a small circle at the center of the bowl. Gradually widen the center to incorporate the cream. If bits of chocolate remain, place the bowl over the hot water in the saucepan and stir for 30 seconds. Remove the bowl and stir gently off the heat. Repeat if necessary, until the chocolate is melted. This back and forth on and off the heat allows the chocolate to melt gradually and keeps the mixture creamy.

3. Add the soft butter in tablespoon size pieces and stir until smooth. Add the whiskey one tablespoon at a time, stirring after each addition until incorporated.

4. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 50 to 60 minutes, stirring from time to time, until the mixture is firm but not hard.  You will use a small ice cream scoop or melon baller to shape the truffles. If you wish to use a pastry bag, refrigerate the chocolate for less time, until the mixture is a consistency of soft, creamed butter.

To shape the truffles:

1. Line a baking sheet with parchment or wax paper.

2. To use a scoop: When the chocolate is firm (like malleable clay), dip a melon baller, or a small ice-cream scoop in hot water and scoop the chocolate into scant 1-inch balls. Set them on the parchment-lined tray, and if necessary, use the tips of your fingers to press them into truffle-like balls. They do not need to be perfect rounds. (The heat of your palms will warm the chocolate too much, so use your fingers.) Roll in cocoa powder or refrigerate for about 30 minutes and proceed to the next phase if you want to coat them with a thin layer of chocolate first.

3.To use a pastry bag: When the chocolate is creamy (like soft butter) load it into a pastry bag fitted with a 5/8-inch tip. Pipe out the chocolate into 1-inch blobs. If they have little candy-kiss peaks, lightly press them down. Refrigerate for 20 to 30 minutes and when the chocolate is firm but not hard, shape into uneven rounds with the tips of your fingers. Roll in cocoa powder or refrigerate for about 30 minutes and proceed to the next phase if you want to coat them with a thin layer of chocolate first.

To coat the truffles with untempered chocolate (for a crisp outer shell that preserves the creamy center)

Hint: keep one hand clean while working with the chocolate.

1. Heat the oven to 200 degrees F, or the lowest setting.  Place a dinner plate in the oven to warm. Line a baking sheet with parchment and with a fine-meshed strainer, sift a thin layer of cocoa powder over it. Load the strainer with more cocoa and set it next to the baking sheet.

2. Melt the chocolate in a heatproof bowl over hot water. Stir in about 1 tablespoon (or a little more) vegetable oil to thin the chocolate slightly. The oil helps create a very thin chocolate coating that adds a subtle crispness to the shell when you take a bite of the truffle. (You can re-use leftover chocolate in baking.)

3. Spread a shallow pool of chocolate (about 1/4 cup) on the warmed plate and place 5 or 6 truffle centers on top. With your outspread hand, use a circular motion to roll all the truffles at once in the chocolate. Carefully place each one on the cocoa lined tray and sift some cocoa over the top.  Repeat with all the centers.  If the chocolate on the plate starts to harden,  use your clean hand to return the plate in the oven for about 30 seconds to warm it.

4. When all the truffles are coated and dusted, shake the tray back and forth to completely coat them, sifting them with more cocoa if necessary. Leave to set (10 to 20 minutes), and store the truffles at cool room temperature in a tightly closed tin. They will keep for up to 10 days. The also can be frozen, wrapped in several layers of parchment and then a heavy duty plastic bag, for up to 2 months.

5. Sift and reuse extra cocoa powder. Pour leftover chocolate onto a piece of waxed paper, let it harden and use it in baking.

Santa should be so lucky

Footnote: Special thanks to the maker of literally tons of truffles Terry Spencer, wherever you are, for the oil in chocolate trick. 

Kiss the cook: give the gift of preserved lemons

If you want to make someone happy, give her a jar of preserved lemons.

Make sure that said person is also a cook. If she is not much of a cook, you will not make her happy. You will perplex her. She will wonder, what the hell am I going to do with this little jar of sunshine? She will stick it in the back of her fridge where it will take up important real estate for months, perhaps even years. Then she will chuck it and feel guilty because she didn’t really appreciate your gift. On top of that, she will be reminded every time she sees that little jar taking up important real estate that she is a lousy cook. I predict she will feel tinges of guilt about that too, consciously or unconsciously.

So make these. They are very easy and if you start tomorrow, they will be ready right after the holidays when we return to the sanity of eating good, clean food, but need something to perk it up from time to time. Like tuna salad. Or add to any Moroccan recipe like David Lebovitz's tagine. Paula Wolfert's books are full of enticing recipes that use them, too.

Just be certain to carefully choose the recipient of your precious jar of these beauties. A person you love who has reverence for food. That's you, too. Give yourself a jar and a hug. Happy holidays!

Preserved lemons

Preserved lemons have a deep, intense lemony flavor that goes in a completely different direction from the zesty sourness you expect from a fresh lemon. You may have seen giant, fancy jars of these with whole lemons in salty brine. Those lemons are almost quartered (the bottom of the ‘flower’ cut stays intact) but practically speaking, you might as well cut them in quarters. The quarters are easier to get into the jars and more importantly, easier to retrieve from the jars as you need them (with a clean fork, never fingers) than the whole lemons. It is helpful to use jars that have “shoulders” so that the lemons stay submerged in liquid. I found a mesh bag of organic lemons at Whole Foods last week—you will be eating the rind, so use organic.

For 3 (pint-size) jars

9 small organic lemons for the jars, plus about 9 more extra lemons for juice

About 1 cup coarse Kosher salt

3 bay leaves

3 sticks of cinnamon

A few whole cloves

1. Scrub the lemons and cut off the stem (pointy) end if it is very prominent. Quarter the lemons.

2. Place a heaping tablespoon of salt in the bottom of each squeaky clean jar. Cram in some lemon quarters to fill the bottom of the jar and sprinkle with a rounded tablespoon of salt. Continue to layer the lemons with the salt. If you want to be fancy, add a bay leaf, a cinnamon stick and a few cloves to each jar. Press down on the lemons so that they release some juice. Eventually they will soften and be easier to press down. By eventually I mean about a week or so. Top off the jar with lemon juice so that the lemons are completely submerged in brine.

3. Close the jars and let stand at room temperature overnight. The next day, open the jars and press down on the lemons to encourage them to release more juice. Close the jars and tilt them a few times to begin to dissolve the salt. Repeat this routine for about 5 days; then store them in the refrigerator. Top off with more lemon juice as needed. The lemons are ready to use when the rind softens. This will take 3 to 4 weeks.


Note: The most taxing part of this recipe is squeezing the lemons for extra juice. If you have an electric juicer, it will go a lot faster. In any case, use lemons at room-temperature and roll them back and forth vigorously before squeezing them, or zap them in the microwave for about 10 seconds.

To use:

Remove a lemon quarter from the jar with a clean fork. (Remember, fingers contaminate!) Scrape out the pulp and rinse if necessary. Cut in strips or small dice. One quarter adds a lot to normal, everyday tuna salad, or use them in a Moroccan tagine. You could also add them to this chicken dish from the Boston Globe. They are not listed in the recipe because this would leave too many readers scratching their heads or being annoyed because they don’t have any, but I suggest using 2 to 3 quarters (depending on the size), cut in small dice.