Tag: italian

After seeing this completely and totally awesome page for minestrone linked off of wikipedia, I felt it was my patriotic duty to make minestrone. After all, I do live in Las Vegas, and anybody who lives here knows that italian restaurants outnumber any other kind of restaurant by a factor of approximately thirty-seven to three. I especially liked the basic assumption- that you can pretty much just buy seasonal vegetables, completely at random, throw them all together, and make some soup. I mean, you basically don't need to know how to do anything. How could this possibly go wrong?

So I went to Sunflower Market, since they sell local produce, and bought twelve of every vegetable they had. If you could screw up minestrone, I was going to figure out how. I came home, got a big stock pot out, and started my soffrito- a fancy word to say I rendered the fat out of some bacon and then threw in some onions, leeks, and shallots.

I also didn't have pig trotters or marrow bones or anything like that, so for thickening I waited until my 'soffrito' was pretty much sweated, then threw in some flour, like a roux. Then I spent TWO. HOURS. cutting up vegetables and throwing them in. I cubed the turnips. I chopped up the zucchini, summer squash, celery root, spinach leaves, potatoes, and carrots. It looked like I was carving up the grisly aftermath of a war against the vegetables, a war which I handily won. All of it drowning in six cans of chicken broth and a pitcher of water, with a sprig of rosemary (I fished that out after everything started smelling like rosemary), a bay leaf, and a parmesan crust. Then, because I was pretty much throwing in everything I had, I put in two cans of kidney beans and a cup of orzo. By this point I was in such a rut that I might have diced my children and thrown them in, had they wandered into the kitchen.

It cooked for HOURS. Three and a half hours. I felt like a witch, sitting there and stirring my massive cauldron of stuff. And then something magical happened. It started to smell like delicious.

So, basically, you'd have to try way harder than I did to screw up minestrone.

I have always made my own bread crumbs for this recipe. In my opinion the larger crumbs work better than the small size of a prepared bread crumb. You can use any flavor of bread (white, wheat, french bread), day old bread works great, as does the heel of the bread. If you would like to use a prepared breadcrumb rather than crumbling up some bread you might consider using some panko style crumbs

Creamy Spinach

• 2 package (10 oz each) frozen chopped spinach
• 1 package (8 oz) cream cheese, softened
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1/4 teaspoon salt

Topping

• 2 tablespoons butter, melted
• 1 cup small bits of torn up bread (about 2 slices)
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon pepper
• seasonings of your choice. (I use 2-3 tsp Italian Seasoning).

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Cook the spinach according to the package directions and drain well. Combine the spinach, cream cheese, butter, and salt. Pour into a greased or buttered 8in by 8in baking dish.

Topping: Pour the melted butter over the top of bread crumbs. Use a fork to stir well making sure to moisten all of the crumbs. Add in the salt, pepper and seasonings. Spread out evenly over the top of the spinach mixture.

Bake uncovered for 30 minutes or until lightly browned and heated through.

(Note: If you double this recipe, bake it in a 9 in by 13 in dish following the same cooking time.)

Oh, that little ubiquitous display in the produce section of the grocery store. You know exactly what I mean- the really expensive-seeming meat and cheese display, where markets display their largesse and where seemingly only the rich and epicurean seem to shop.

I've long lusted over this section, as it seems to have the most concentrated stink of adventure in the entire grocery. Seriously, even more than the cultural foods. On one weekend, our curiosity was so potent that we had to take the dive and grab ourselves a hefty chunk of diversity.

As Americans, we tend to be less curious about cheeses than our friends overseas. I'm guessing a few too many folks who watched Pepé Le Pew get mistaken for limburger as children grew up frightful about the entire variety cheese concept. Wake up, America. You're missing out.

In the center of the cracker tray above is a container of Greek-style hummus, a Middle-Eastern favorite made of garbanzo beans and tahini (which is essentially sesame-seed butter). Hummus is fantastic. If you're not eating it, you're missing out. This particular variety was strongly flavored of pepper, garlic, and lemon juice.

The triangular wedge on its own platter is Brie, a relatively familiar French cheese. The white coating on the outside is mold, but don't let that put you off- soft, spreadable Brie is fantastic with or without this part, but definitely has a bit more zest if you take it altogether. Brie is a cow's-milk cheese, and is nutty-flavored and delicious.

The other plate has a few pieces of summer sausage, as well as some folded pieces of Italian salami, cured in oil. Off these meats, we played a few different cheeses.

In staying with our American/British roots, there were some slices of hickory-smoked cheddar, probably the most familiar cheese in the States. Cheddar is named for the process by which it is made- stacking the cheeses until the bottom ones are pressed firm. As a result, it is a sturdy and strongly flavored cheese.

The small white-yellow strips of cheese are Gruyere, a Swiss cheese (but not 'the' Swiss cheese, which is known as Emmenthaler). Like Emmenthaler, it is a bit waxy, and is very delicately flavored- I was a bit put off by it, because the flavor was not apparent when combined with other ingredients.

Possibly not showing in the photo above were some slices of Havarti, a Danish cheese often impregnated with dill. This tasted almost exactly like Emmenthaler, but with a much more pleasing texture. It's enough to make me swear off the Swiss cheese for good.

Finally, there is a small container of goat's cheese, or chevre. This has a very strong flavor that is somewhat gamey; we ended up not eating very much of it. But I did use it later in the Greek night lamb recipe.

Don't let fear get you down. Eat the cheese. Learn to experiment. Live a little. You only get to do it once, after all.

Romano's Macaroni Grill 2001 N Rainbow Blvd Las Vegas, NV 89108

Teleolurian It must have been a busy night.

When we got to the Macaroni Grill, we faced the usual line-out-the-door setting that you get when you decide to go to a popular restaurant on the spur of the moment. Since I wanted to review the food, I decided to forego showing off my crayoned press pass and instead settled in for the half-hour wait.

In recent years, the Grill has gotten quite the menu facelift. Dining here is now more in the vein of classical Italian signature dishes and less of an upscale Olive Garden; however, the prices are still decent, with most dishes in the $10-$20 range.

Upon reaching our table, the server informed us that they were out of bread dishes and wine glasses, finding us some tumblers for drinking the house Red. Luckily, I'm not a bouquet snob, so I used the wine for fuel as I wrote scathing commentary ("she's just using you for your bed") on the paper tablecloth. With a communal bread plate, oil and balsamic vinegar, and an unspoken no-double-dipping rule, we sat around and chatted while our dishes came out.

For me, it was chicken scallopine ($9.49)- a bit heavy, but absolutely superb. The lemon-butter sauce didn't wimp out on the lemons, and the capers were heavily drenched and therefore delicious. Tender was the chicken, and tasty; the leftovers were even rather tender the next day (something you don't get in, say, a country steakhouse).

Savory Masochist

Ding dong the traditional dish is dead. Wait. no. I just didn't get one.

After we got our red wine in tumblers and tore off a few chunks of bread, I decided to go with a build-your-own pasta deal. Macaroni Grill offers these little checklists that you insidiously mark as if you were building your own Frankenstein. I decided on a Penne, with Tomato Cream sauce, and Sun Dried Tomatoes, Roasted Red Peppers, Pine Nuts, and Chicken. It was pretty good, although I can't say as I would get it again. It's my own fault really, for just hitting rand when I was looking at the menu. Oh well. The company was good and we hadn't had a date night in near a decade, so it made up for my pasta. After that, we wrote some generally strange things on the table paper, and we were off! to another crazy adventure.

Oh, I would write a longer review, however Tele pegged most of it in his.

Queen of Tarts
Okay, so when Macaroni Grill opened they had food that was so-so. In recent years the flavors had been stepped up and they redeemed themselves, until...that fateful night. If we offered to do the dishes I think they might have allowed us to do so. They were obviously understaffed being the day after Christmas, but no bread plates and no wine glasses wasn't the end of it. When the SM put in his original order it included artichokes. The waiter had to come back and let us know that they were out of those too. Apparantly not only did we need to do our own dishes, but we needed to go do our own grocery shopping for the ingredients before arriving at the resturaunt. Crazy!

Usually if I am at an Italian place I automatically order manicotti (if its Mexican then it is a bean and cheese burrito enchilada style), but I am trying to branch out a bit. So, on this evening I ordered Chicken Cannelloni (Hand-rolled pasta stuffed with oven-roasted chicken, melted cheese and spinach, then baked in an Asiago cream sauce. Topped with tomato sauce) for $9.99. The dish smelled and looked wonderful. I immediatly dug in and ate one out of the three stuffed pastas. Half way through the second shell I started to wonder "Where is the chicken?" I am a "recovering vegitarian" (as Tele calls it) so it really didn't bother me that I couldn't taste it or find it until I realized I am paying for chicken I can't find. Must find the chicken. So I tore apart the third shell in search for chicken. I eventually found a small sliver of shredded chicken. If this was Iron Chef the plate wouldn't have gotten high marks for the "theme ingredient" being the dominant flavor. Overall the taste of my dish was excellent, but I was dissapointed that with the name Chicken Cannelloni the chicken was not easy to find in the dish.

I have not given up on the Macaroni Grill yet because I must say that there bread rocks (mmm, bread), but I hope to never have the lack of service that we had that night again.

One sushi bar ingredient I have a love-hate relationship with is kappa, known in English as the cucumber. Apparently, the Japanese term is based on a river goblin, named Kappa, who has a fondness for cucumbers. Nice circular logic, there; if I were going to name members of my family for the things they ate, I could name my daughter Random Scraps Of Paper and my wife Tasteless Vegan Filth. But I digress.

Cucumbers aren't exactly my favorite sushi ingredient, mostly because the fresh taste and crispness seems somehow wrong inside something made of raw fish; it tends to make me think I just bit willingly into a bone left in by some sadistic itamae, getting revenge for me not pointing my chopsticks towards magnetic north when I put them down on my plate. But in cucumber salads or sunemono, they come into their own.

Looking at online recipes, I saw an awful lot of recipes that include sake and rice wine vinegar. Since I'm too lazy to drive to Chinatown for one ingredient, and my children don't really need any extra sake in their diet (says the woman; personally, I believe that drunk children are sleepy children), I decided to play with the recipe a bit. And by 'play', I mean get retardedly creative.

I like rice wine vinegar, and I use it in an awful lot of foods. In fact, it's my second favorite vinegar upon God's slightly fermented green earth. However, I do hold true to the belief that the Japanese would have never invented rice wine vinegar if they'd had the miracle that is balsamic vinegar. I'd gush and all, but I believe the Masochist detailed his unending love for the purple here.

Now, people who know stuff about cooking, like to complain, and have way too much time on their hands to search the internet for blogs may interject that "balsamic vinegar is nothing like rice wine vinegar", on the basis that the first is sweeter, thicker, and much more complex. Thanks. Gee, I didn't know that. Of course balsamic and rice wine vinegar are different. Read the previous paragraph.

However, there is a very important factor here- the differences mean that you can't adulterate balsamic vinegar with salt and sugar in the same proportions as rice wine vinegar and end up with a similar salad topping. In fact, Italian cuisine purists might even argue that to adulterate balsamic with anything at all is akin to blasphemy, like some massive malediction called down upon Vatican City.

Luckily, I'm Protestant.

After cubing two cucumbers and mixing them with alfalfa sprouts (no mung beans... darn), I contemplated the balsamic like some sort of scrying pool. And the oracle revealed to me that mixing the vinegar with one third its volume in sugar and microwaving to combine was, as it were, All Good. And there was a tiny amount of salting and peppering, but not enough so as to offend the NeoRomans.

For a final flavor kick, I put about two tablespoons of sesame seeds on foil and put it under the broiler on high for about four minutes, just to toast them for salad purposes. And you know what? I thought it was superawesome. Our resident Tartologist thought it even better the next day (today).

So maybe I'm crossing roads that aren't meant to be crossed. The point is, make do with what you have, be aware of subtle (or blatant) differences, and always smile like a killer when someone else takes their first bite.

Zabaglione. It sounds like a post-modernistic WWII dictator running about the house screaming of Germans and meatballs. (note: I can make fun of Italians, because I am, in fact, Italian) But in reality is an Italian custard that is many times used as an appetizer or a component of many of the fabulous and artery assaulting desserts that make up Italian post meal cuisine. Notably, this is a side component of quite a few Tiramisu and Zuppa Inglese recipes. Although its not the real way you're supposed to make Tiramisu, just a faster way.

My personal favorite is to make this custard in ramekins and top with fresh berries, as a breakfast or dessert concoction. Of course, there are hundreds of ways to bastardize this custard, substituting Auslese or other German Eiswein, Sherries, or Ports for the Marsala. you can let your imagination run wild.

(Dammit. Every time I write an article I try to put as much schtick as I can into it, but it always inevitably falls back down to a hum drum cooking article. I could emulate tourrettes and just stick a random obscene word in the sentences somewhere I guess. Maybe I'll write a filter.)

Anyway, back to the custard at hand.

To make Zabaglione, one needs the following stuff from your local grocer (or, if you live in Vegas, your local 7-11):

• 5 egg yolks
• 1 whole egg
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup Marsala

Easy, no?

1. In a batter bowl, whisk the egg yolks and the egg together with the sugar, beating until it turns a lemony yellow color.
2. Whisk in the Marsala, until fully combined.
3. Microwave (?!) for 30 seconds.
4. Whisk
5. Repeat steps 3-4 until it is desired thickness.

But it has raw eggs! I'll die!

If your eggs aren't pasteurized then you just may. But if you're living somewhere that doesn't have pasteurized eggs, you may want to move. Or at least get checked out for tapeworms.

Microwave?! BLASPHEMY!

True, Microwaves are evil. They are the incarnate of Lazy Americans(tm) everywhere, and they usually botch things up like no tomorrow. However. This prevents you from having to make it the old fashioned way, using a double-boiler (or a glass bowl on top of a boiling pot of water, my favorite). You can still make it that way, just be careful it doesn't cook too fast, otherwise you'll have an omelette. And a nasty omelette at that.

It is dark here!

You and your custard have been eaten by a grue.

That about sums up Q&A. I hope I've enlightened you, the viewer, to a world not unlike that of custards. Perhaps someday we will be privy to a custard takeover and have to bow to custard, and when that day comes, you can say you helped birth the enslavement of the human race. Until then, custard will remain our friend as ...

GOOD EATS

swanky music plays

(GOOD EATS is copyrighted somewhere by Food Network or Alton Brown, and because I love them like family, I hope they don't get mad)

Pasta, in general, can be found in decent quantity for tremendously cheap prices; exactly what you'd expect for something that is essentially one step removed from bread. I suppose the original idea was to combine angel hair with Immensely Chunky Mushroom pre-made sauce; however, using my plus three diplomatic skills, I was able to make an argument against it (angel hair has a pretty delicate texture. Why destroy it with a thick sauce?)

My approach was simple. After cooking to desired tenderness (at least removing all traces of al dente), I added some butter, milk, pepper, and garlic. Exact quantities? About half a stick of butter and a quarter cup of milk to half a package of pasta. I'm a bit overboard on things like garlic, pepper, and garlic pepper, so feel free to experiment. After draining and adding these ingredients, I put it back over medium heat and moved it. Like a washing machine. Those noodles weren't going to scorch on my watch. When the butter had disappeared, I proclaimed it done. Loudly.

The sauce was perfectly thin and absolutely divine. My only regret was that I only had half a stick of butter; if I could double the quantity of butter and milk I might have generated a bit more sauce. As it was, it was just perfect enough. That's what you get for spending time around italian friends.

I abhor recipes; they teach you to follow rote instructions and not to experiment. Here, however, is something Tele-approved and much more flexible. Allow me to present the UNRecipe (thanks, minipulator) for what I generated:

• X packages angel hair pasta
• X sticks butter
• X/2 cups milk
• Spice Combo In my case, garlic and pepper. Try basil/thyme (tiny amounts), white wine/bouillon powder, or garlic with 2X tablespoons of olive oil replacing X/2 sticks butter.

Mix over medium heat until awesome. Serves {2,4}X.

Balsamic vinegar is a flavored vinegar traditionally served with italian meals and is rumored to have originated sometime during the middle ages.

There are only two true regions where Balsamic vinegar is made today, Modena and Reggio Emilia. If the Balsamic you're buying says its from somewhere else, I wouldn't get it!

Since vinegars are very closely related to wines, their age makes a distinct impact on their flavor and consistency. Younger Balsamics (1-5 yrs) will be very thin and have a light sweet taste with the acidity of a red wine vinegar, whilst more aged Balsamics (12-80+ yrs) will be thicker and have a consistency more akin to a syrup. Also, older Balsamic vinegars usually lose most of their acidity in lieu of a higher sugar content and much sweeter, smoother taste. Some people even consider these as an after dinner finish, they pour a small glass of a usually 12-18yr Balsamic and drink it straight, somewhat like Port wine is used!

Recommended Usages

Balsamic vinegar (depending on the age) can be used for every course of every meal of the day, if you so desire. The younger varieties lend themselves well to breakfast dishes, soups, salads, as a dipping sauce for breads, pastas, chicken, portobello mushrooms... well, you get the idea. The older of the Balsamic family can be used for any of the above, but is also good as a topping for ice cream, desserts (Panna Cotta!), cupcakes, or as an after dinner finish (as above).