Ingredients, for 2, as a nice lunch or light supper:

For the Tuna:

• 12 oz lb tuna, preferably fresh
• Salt
• 2 cloves garlic, slivered
• 2 small sprigs rosemary, left intact but crushed between your fingers
• 1 T lemon zest
• Scant 1 t dried chili flakes

For the Tapenade: (this isn’t a traditional tapenade, in that I don’t include capers or anchovies; I find that the simplicity of    this olive paste is better suited to the dish, producing a cleaner, fresher result.

• 12-16 oil cured black olives
• 2 t lemon zest
• squeeze lemon juice
• small handful parsley
• black pepper

• 12 sun-dried tomatoes, of the sort that is stored in olive oil
• 2 small handfuls pine nuts
• 1/2 lemon

Procedure:

For the Tuna:

1. Cut the tuna into small “walnut size” chunks, as advised by The Zuni Cafe Cookbook. Salt 3 hours in advance, and allow to rest in refrigerator so that the salt can flavor and soften the fish.
2. 1/2 hour before cooking, remove the fish from the fridge and let it come to room temp while preparing the other ingredients it will cook with (zest the lemon, crush the rosemary, sliver the garlic.)
3. Put all the fish chunks and all the other ingredients into a small pot, so that the pieces fit snugly (this will minimize the quantity of oil necessary.) Use 3/4 to 1 cup extra virgin olive oil, or enough to just cover the fish.
4. Uncovered, allow the oil to come to a bare simmer, and gently poach the tuna for 25 minutes. DO NOT ALLOW THE OIL TO BOIL, or you shall find yourself with a bizarre approximation of deep frying. This result, though tasty, will lose all the soft texture and refined excellence of it’s poached counterpart.
5. Let the fish cool in it’s oil, then serve (I like it barely warm for this dish.) In a glass jar, the tuna will keep for a few days in the refrigerate.

For the Rest:

1. In the meantime, while the tuna poaches, run the pitted olives, parsley, lemon zest and juice, and pepper through a mini food prep, or mince finely by hand.
2. Coarsely dice the sun dried-tomatoes.
3. When the fish is ready, carefully spoon a portion into the center of a plate. Sprinkle half the quantity of sun-dried tomatoes around it’s edge, and follow with the pine nuts. Spoon a dollop of the tapenade on top of the tuna. Squeeze 1/4 of a lemon over the dish, sprinkle with pepper, and a few leaves of parsley or cilantro, depending on your preference (I like cilantro for this!)
4. Presto!

• 180 g smoked slab bacon, sliced into small lardons
• 100 g Gruyère, grated
• 2 T olive oil
• 3 eggs
• 250 ml cream
• salt, pepper
• nutmeg

Procedure:

1. Refrigerate the bacon prior to cutting, in order to firm it and facilitate slicing. Cut the bacon into thick strips, and then cut the strips into thin lardons, or rectangles.
2. Place the lardons in a small pot of cold water, and bring to a boil. This process removed the excess curing salt from the meat. Drain thoroughly, and then pat dry. Heat 2 T oil in a cast iron pan over medium heat, and then brown the lardons lightly. The idea isn’t at all to caramelize them deeply, just to color them, as the French say.
3. Drain the cooked lardons.
4. Beat the eggs, cream, salt, pepper, and nutmeg to form a flan filling.
5. Blind bake quiche crust at 180 degrees Celsius, until the edges are colored but the bottom is still white. Remove the beans and then cook at a little more.
   Beat one egg and brush the interior of the tart with the egg wash. Bake a little more, so that the egg will harden as a sealant, keeping the crust firm under the pressure of the filling.
6. Lay the lardons on the bottom of the quiche, and sprinkle generously with shredded Gruyère.
7. Pour in a very little amount of flan, and sprinkle a small amount of cheese over this.
8. Place the quiche on a baking sheet, to facilitate clean up if it ruptures, and bake for about 20-25 minutes in an 180 Celsius oven.

If you have any leftovers, cube them and toss them into warm quinoa! Add pecans and you have a lovely lunch, add chickpeas and you have a one-pot veggy dinner.

Ingredients, for 2:

• 2 sweet potatoes, of the garnet or jewel yam varieties
• 2 small t duck or goose fat
• salt and pepper
• herb of choice, if desired

Procedure:

1. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.
2. Wash and dry the sweet potatoes, but don’ t peel them.
3. Cut into 1/4 inch medallions.
4. Place the duck or goose fat on a baking tray and put in the oven, as it heats, for about 45 seconds, or until the fat has liquefied.
5. Toss the sweet potatoes in the fat. Season liberally with salt and pepper, and whichever herb you’re using. Toss again (I find that hands are the best tool for this.)
6. Arrange the medallions in one layer on the baking sheet, and place on the lowest possible rack in your oven. Bake for about 25 minutes, until the face resting on the baking sheet is golden and caramelized, and the medallions are tender throughout but not mushy. Flip them, and then turn the oven off, so that the residual heat will color their other side, about ten minutes. Serve them warm, no hot, so that the flavors mellow.

• 2oo g flour
• 100 g butter, cold and hard, like certain members of the male gender
• 5 g salt (a pinch)
• 1 egg
• 2 T ice cold water

Procedure:

To Form the Dough:

1. Sift the salt and flour together.
2. Cut the butter into the flour, using either a pastry cutter or your fingertips.
3. Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and add the egg and water, using your fingers to barely mix the ingredients. They won’t really come together. You make that happen by using the “fraisage” technique: grab lumps of the dough, and, using the heel of your hand, drag them across a clean counter, one at a time. Do this just once. The dough will be immediately more supple.
4. Press the two to four bunches of dough fraisé together. They still won’t really come together, which is good. Press the dough firmly into a ball. Wrap in saran wrap and then flatten into a disk.
5. Let the dough rest in the fridge overnight, or store it there for a few days. This dough can be frozen and kept for up to a few weeks, although a fresh batch is always optimal.

To Mold the Quiche:

1. Let the dough warm up a little before use. It will fracture if it’s too cold, and refuse to flake if too warm (room temp is too warm.) You want it barely pliable. Work the dough momentarily through saran wrap. I like to form it back into a ball and flatten it again, in the span of abut 30 seconds. Overworking is your enemy here.
2. Roll out the dough according to galette dough instructions, although you want to leave it about 1/4 thick in this case.
3. Gently roll the dough around your rolling pin, and position over a buttered and chilled quiche ring or tart pan. Use your thumb to gently press the dough into the “corner” between the side and the bottom of your mold, turning the mold all the while with your other hand. The motion should be quick, fluid, and sure. You will learn with practice.
4. Still using your thumb, press the dough gently to the sides of the mold, with an almost imperceptible downward motion. Then, place your thumb atop the mold and press down, rotating the pan. This creates an even lip of crust which is thicker than the bottom. This is the secret to molding an excellent tart crust, which is unfortunately absent from most recipes. The usual specification for “mold the dough into the tart pan” is incredibly vague, I realize, and withholds critical information, leading to tart blunders that forever discourage the home cook. If you’re wondering why my instructions are often novel-esque, it is because I hope to teach the skills of cooking along with providing ingredient quantities.
5. Wrap the molded quiche in plastic wrap, and refrigerate until firm again, while you deal with the ingredients for the filling.
6. Prick the bottom with a fork a few times, and blind bake at 180 celsius, with beans, until the edges are colored but the bottom is still pale. Beat an egg and brush the interior of the crust with it. Add the filling of your choice, and bake until done, about 20-25 minutes.

The variability of ovens, altitudes, and length of cooking for different filling ingredients prevents me from providing a specific time. But this is good: I have found that since I liberated myself from strict adherence to cooking times, the quality of my baking has improved remarkably. In France, pastry chefs never pay heed to times or even specific temperatures. Most things are baked within the realm of 180 degrees celsius, and cooked for 20-25 minutes. Miraculously, this inclusive frame is effective in baking almost anything to golden brown perfection. The moral of the story here is not to feel beholden to pre-specified requirements; cooking is forgiving, baking a little less so, but with practice it is a science than can become increasingly artistic and personal. Rely on your senses more than anything: you can see when a crust is golden. Removing it before this point just because a recipe says you should is useless, and letting it bake more, to a crisp, is a waste. You will smell doneness, and hear the bubbling of  filling that is ready.

For the Mushrooms:

• Wild Mushrooms in Season: 300 g chanterelles, 250 g porcini mushrooms, 300 g black trumpet mushrooms (also known as horn of plenty.) * If wild mushrooms are not in season, substitute 250 gshiitake mushrooms, 250 g cultivated mushrooms, 250 g oyster mushrooms.
• 1 T butter
• 3 T olive oil
• 4 shallot, finely diced
• 1 T chives, chopped
• 1 T chervil, chopped
• salt and pepper

For the Filling:

• 2 eggs
• 2 egg yolks (this custard requires more egg yolk than others to balance the moisture of the mushrooms.)
• 200 ml crème fraîche
• salt, pepper

Procedure:

1. Sautée the mushrooms is extremely hot oil, to evaporate all their water content. Drain them in a sieve.
2. Sweat the shallots, salted and peppered, in butter.
3. Add the mushrooms to the shallots, and continue to sweat. Taste for seasoning: remember that there is no cheese or bacon in this recipe to add saltiness, so a generous amount of salt is required, particularly as dairy (in the form of eggs and cream here) needs to beseasoned rather aggressively. Add the chopped chervil and chives.
4. Whisk the eggs and cream together. Season gently.
5. Lay the mushrooms on the bottom of the quiche, then pour a small amount of filling on top.
6. Bake 20-25 minutes at 180 celsius.

I don’t know anyone worth knowing in this world who isn’t enamored of tart crust, savory or sweet. In fact, I make it a point to discard people upon whom the pleasures of flaky pastry are lost, to keep my distance, for there is something fundamentally wrong with them, something reminiscent of disease, almost. Plus, if you make mini’s, you can call them quickies, as my friend does! I just received a porno call on Skype from a group sex chat, so forgive me if my mind has fallen into the gutter, but from where I stand right now, that seems a rather lurvely bonus.

The following is a recipe for quiche crust, and the instructions for two fillings, both of which derive from my time at Le Cordon Bleu: Wild Mushroom Quiche with Shallots and Chervil, and the classic Quiche Lorraine. Of course, you can fill quiche with anything, but remember this: quiche is a dish of peasant origin. It is practical,  variable, and economical. If you approach the dilemma of how much filling to use with these guidelines in mind, erring on the stingy side, you will do well. I often like to envisage myself in ratty head-garb, torn clothing, and barefoot (with a smudge of dirt on my cheek for dramatic effect) when contemplating such matters. I council you to do the same.  Pour in less custard than you want, and apply restraint when adding the filling. In this way, the  crust will not be drowned, the  tender lushness of the eggs and cream not overwhelmed, and the carefully chosen vegetables, cheeses, and/or meats properly discernible. Quiche is delightful for brunch or lunch, with the addition of a simple green salad.

A Note on Filling Combinations:

Quiche is best when it is simple. A combination of one or two vegetables, an intelligently chosen cheese, or perhaps a a bit of ham comprise a sound formula. And maybe a sprinkling of appropriate herb.  More is not more in this case.

Ideas:

• Quiche Lorraine: Lardons and Gruyere, recipe provided
• Mushrooms and Shallots, recipe provided
• Spinach and Ricotta or Goat cheese
• Leek and Gruyere
• Blue Cheese and Bacon
• Sharp Cheddar and Chorizo with Kale
• Zucchini and Feta
• The possibilities are literally endless, adaptable to any palate, season, hankering, allergy, and availability.

Recipe for Quiche Dough

Wild Mushroom Quiche with Shallots and Chervil

Quiche Lorraine

Serve this polenta with steak or pork, or as the main attraction of a vegetarian meal. Oddly, I really like it cold, too, for lunch the next day. It’s also well suited to being spread on a bakign sheet, cooled until firm, and then roasted and cut into squares or neat little triangles.

Ingredients, for 6:

• 2 cups polenta, not instant or quick cooking. I like Bob’s Red Mill organic.
• 5 cups water
• 3 oz taleggio, rind removed and roughly cubed
• A  large handful of dried morels, rehydrated according to instructions and not-t00-roughly chopped
• 2 T truffle oil (I use black, but you could try it with white,) or more to taste, if desired
• 1/4 Parmesan, freshly grated
• Salt and pepper

Procedure:

1. Revive the morels as prescribed by their instructions, making sure to rinse the recuscitated mushrooms before adding them to the polenta.
2. Bring the water to  boil in a heavy-bottomed pot. Whisk the polenta in a slow and steady stream. Lower the heat to a simmer, still whisking the polenta. Once the mixture has settled at a simmer, stop stirring. Stir only occasionally, to prevent the polenta from sticking, and to check the level of water. Add water if it’s necessary: polenta made with more water will be softer and runnier, more like porridge, while polenta made with less moisture will be heartier, and have more character. The entire process of  cooking should take ony 20-30 minutes.
3. Turn off the heat, leaving the pot on the stove, and add the chopped morels and taleggio. Taste for seasoning, and salt and pepper as desired, keeping in mind that a final dose of saltiness will be added with the parmesan.
4. Stir the polenta a few times, to distribute the morels and melt the cheese.
5. The addition of the taleggio will cause the polenta to become runnier. As the mixture cools to a bit, it will set up.
6. When the polenta is warm, add the truffle oil and half the parmesan. Taste for seasoning.
7. Serve sprinkled liberally with more parmesan.

Ingredients:

• 1/2 cup ice cold water
• 2 cups all purpose flour, unbleached
• 1/2 t salt
• 12 T or 1.5 sticks unsalted butter, very cold, and cut into small cubes

Procedure:

To make the dough:

1. Measure out the flour and salt. Sift together into a medium bowl.
2. Cut up the butter, and measure out the water.
3. Cut the butter into the flour, using either a pastry blender or your fingertips. DO NOT OVERWORK the butter. Stop a bit short of your intuitively determine to be the end; fairly large and irregular and bits of butter should be clearly visible.
4. Make a well in the middle of this mixture, and carefully drizzle in 3/4 of the water, incorporating it into the dough using a fork. If the dough asks for more moisture, provide the rest of the water. The dough ought to be drier than you imagine. If you’re a touch uncomfortable with how little water there is, you’re on the right track: it’s rather incredible how little water is needed to actually coax butter and flour into forming a dough. Flaky dough hinges on the preserving discernable lumps of butter, in maintaining their integrity through chilling (hence the ice water and period of rest in the fridge,) in binding with little water to encourage flake and tenderness, and in working the dough as little as possible. Note than higher altitudes will demand more water, but proceed with caution. It is always possible to add more liquid, but impossible to salvage a bloated, water-logged dough.
5. On a clean counter, use the palm of your hand to “fraise” the dough, one hunk at a time, a term which implies pushing the dough forward and down with the heel of your hand, causing the crumbling dough to bind together, but just barely. Repeat this motion only once or twice, remembering always that success lies in working the dough as little and as quickly as possible.
6. Once you”ve repeated this process with all of the dough, press the hunks together to form a ball. They may not stick to each other entirely, and this is okay. A crumbly dough can be bound and chilled in saran wrap, and will result in exceptionally flaky pastry.
7. Wrap and refrigerate overnight, or for a few days. After this point, the dough should be frozen, and will keep for a number of weeks. This recipe makes two 10 ounce balls of dough, enough for 2 larg galettes. I prefer to divide the dough once it has been refrigerated overnight, so that the dough has a chance to firm up and is less likely to shatter when incised.

To Roll Out the Dough:

1. The dough should be thoroughly chilled, and just maleable. Too soft and you’ve compromised the integrity of the butter, and will find yourself with a dough the sticks to itself ad your work surface. Too firm and you’ll crack the dough. It’s a fine line, and one which you will learn to judge with experience. This is the case with all aspects of tart making, so patience, my little grasshoppers.
2. Rework the dough for about 30 seconds. It should still be in a ball. Then flatten it.
3. On a floured work surface, roll out the dough to a bit less than 1/8 inch thickness. Accomplish this by turning the dough about 25 degrees to the left (or right, as long as you’re consistent) in between each roll, and never roll over the edge of the dough and onto your working surface. Such rotation ensures that the dough is rolled out into an actual circle, as opposed to a misshapen shape. Preserving the lip of the dough facilitates handling and avoids sticking and disfiguration.

Ces petites tartes are very useful in eliciting cries of delight and respect from guests, for garnering rock-star status, and for winning over just about anyone. If you subscribe to the idea that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, this is one to make in the quest for seduction. The idea of a diminutive tart that perfectly straddles the line of sweet/savory might seem a bit more refined that the meat and potatoes approach to gastronomic love, but I assure you these will woo even the most surly male. I have proof of this. Please do not let the insignificant detail of my current solitude discourage your purest faith in my assessment; I have no stake in the art of deception!

Ingredients, for 12 galettes:

• 1 recipe galette dough, for two batches
• 1 small log fresh goat cheese, such as chevron
• 10-12 Turkish dried figs, as moist as you can possibly find them to be
• 1 handful hazelnuts, skins on
• 3 T finely chopped rosemary springs
• Honey, clover if possible
• 2 T butter, melted and cooled
• Black pepper and salt

Procedure:

1. Make the dough the night before you intend to make these tarts, and chill overnight. In a rush, the dough can be made in the morning and baked off in the evening.
2. Cut each batch of dough into 6ths, so that you have 12 balls of dough total.
3. On a floured work surface, roll out the dough to a bit less than 1/8 inch thickness. Accomplish this by turning the dough about 25 degrees to the left (or right, as long as you’re consistent) in between each roll, and never roll over the edge of the dough and onto your working surface. Such rotation ensures that the dough is rolled out into an actual circle, as opposed to a misshapen shape. Preserving the lip of the dough facilitates handling and avoids sticking and disfiguration.
4. Fold the edges of the dough over to form small galettes. Place on two baking sheets, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least an hour, so the dough can set up again. Remember always that it is imperative to keep the dough chilled, so that the butter in the dough does not melt. When the butter melts during baking it provides flaky tenderness to the dough. Overworked and overheated dough that isn’t flecked with firm butter will be soggier and more more brittle than desired. All actions when assembling a tart revolve around protecting this principle.
5. In the meantime, run the goat cheese through a mini food prep. Once softened, add 1T of finely chopped rosemary, a pinch of salt, and a parsimonious dash of pepper (keeping in mind the majority of the pepper will be cracked over the tarts as a garnish.)
6. Slice the dried figs medium-thinly, about 6 or 7 slices per fig, so that they’re just substantial enough to handle. Pull apart any slices that stick to themselves misshapenly, and reserve on layers of parchment paper.
7. Prick the bottom of each galette with a fork several time, and then fill with beans, or the device of your choosing for blind baking. On a mid-lower rack, bake the galettes off in a 385 degree oven until they are golden brown and cooked through, about 20 to thirty minutes, rotating them in the oven when you determine them to be halfway cooked.
8. When they come out of the oven, let them rest until warm or nearly cool.
9. Sliver the hazelnuts in the meantime.
10. Smooth about 1T goat cheese onto each galette. Sprinkle generously with hazelnuts, and brush the lips of the crust with melted butter. Place the tarts on the highest possible rack and broil on low for about 5 minutes, depending on your oven. The cheese should set up a bit, and the nuts should be toasted and fragrant, precariously near burning.
11. Lay a rosette of dried fig slices over each galette, about the contents of one fig. Drizzle a 1.5 t honey over each tart in a crosshatch patter, then sprinkle with the remaining rosemary, and garnish with a few cracks of black pepper.

Ingredients:

For the Latkes:

• 6 medium beets, for a total of about 6 cups shredded
• 3 large eggs, beaten to blend
• 1 medium onion
• 4 cloves garlic
• 6 tablespoons all purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons salt
• 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
• 3/4 teaspoon ground coriander
• 3/4 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
• About 1 cup vegetable oil, for frying

For the Za’atar Sour Cream:

• 1 cup sour cream
• 2 T Za’atar spice mix
• Squeeze of lemon juice
• Sprinkle of salt

1. Shred the beets, onion, and garlic.
2. Mix all the ingredients for the Za’atar Sour Cream (*can be make several hours in advance. Just stir before serving.*)
3. Heat the oil over medium heat in a deep-lipped pan.
4. Gently fold in the beaten egg, salt, pepper, baking powder, cumin, coriander, and flower, until just combined.
5. Form the latkes into flattened pancakes, squeezing the beet mixture to eliminate as much water as possible.
6. Fry them in batches, until copper and crisp on both sides.
7. If you are making many latkes, or just need to make them ahead of time, keep the latkes warm in a 200 degree oven.

Ingredients

For the Latkes:

• 1 Kabocha squash, peeled, seeded, and shredded in a food processor
• 1 medium onion, peeled and shredded in a food processor
• 3 large eggs, beaten to blend
• 10 sage leaves, finely chopped
• 10 garlic cloves, peeled and run through the processor, or finely chopped by hand
• 6 T flour
• 1 t ground cumin
• 1 t baking powder
• 2 t salt
• 1/2 t freshly ground black pepper
• About 1 cup vegetable oil, for frying

For the Pine Nut Yogurt Sauce:

• 1 cup Greek Yogurt, or stained whole milk yogurt if the Greek variety is unavailable
• 6 T pine nuts, very roughly chopped, so that they’re almost still whole
• Squeeze of lemon
• Salt and pepper to taste

Procedure:

1. Shred the squash, onion, and garlic. Salt, and let drain in a large colander set over a bowl.
2. Mix all the ingredients for the Pine Nut Yogurt Sauce (*can be make several hours in advance. Just stir before serving.*)
3. Heat the oil over medium heat in a deep-lipped pan.
4. Gently fold in the beaten egg, pepper, baking powder, cumin, and flower, until just combined.
5. Form the latkes into flattened pancakes, squeezing the squash mixture to eliminate as much water as possible.
6. Fry them in batches, until golden and crisp on both sides.
7. If you are making many latkes, or just need to make them ahead of time, keep the latkes warm in a 200 degree oven.

When I made these latkes, I omitted the bread crumbs, as I have a persistent dislike of gratuitously sprinkled wheat products, but I concede that they might be necessary. I think that whole wheat pita crumbs would be delectable, adding a deeper flavor and more substantive texture than their bleached counterparts. However, plain flour would thicken without altering the flavor quite so dramatically. It’s up to you!

Ingredients:

For the Latkes:

• 3 pounds zucchini, peeled and shredded in a food processor
• 1 small onion, peeled and shredded in a food processor
• 2 large eggs, lightly beaten
• 2 t salt
• 1/2 t dried marjoram
• 1/2 t freshly ground black pepper.
• About 1 cup vegetable oil for frying

For the Za’atar Sour Cream:

• 1 cup sour cream
• 2 T Za’atar spice mix
• Squeeze of lemon juice
• Sprinkle of salt

Procedure:

1. Shred the zucchini half an hour before you intend to cook the latkes. Salt, and let drain in a large colander set over a bowl.
2. Mix all the ingredients for the Za’atar sour cream (*can be make several hours in advance. Just stir before serving*)
3. When ready to cook, squeeze out the remaining water from the zucchini. Shred the onion and add.
4. Gently fold in the beaten egg, marjoram, and pepper, until just combined.
5. Heat the oil over medium heat in a deep-lipped pan.
6. Form the latkes into flattened pancakes, squeezing the zucchini mixture to eliminate as much water as possible.
7. Fry them in batches, until golden and crisp on both sides.
8. If you are making many latkes, or just need to make them ahead of time, keep the latkes warm in a 200 degree oven.

Like many of my culinary adventures, this dessert began as a way to reinvent (or combine, in this case) a classic and elevate it to a more refined, modern, and palatable level. A few years ago, during my first fall in the U.S. after returning from Rio, I began to experience uncontrollable cravings for pumpkin pie. This is not a dessert I had ever had, and I was much disappointed by the alternately cloying and bland specimens I sampled. And they all struck me as having far too distinct a taste of pumpkin, if that makes sense. Last November, while in San Antonio, I was overcome by inexplicable urges to eat cheesecake, another dessert I’d never had before. I ate and I ate, but to no avail. None that I tried were dense enough, sour enough, crusty enough. In an “aha!” moment of epic proportions, I decided to combine my two wayward urges into a single cake. The result was so triumphantly successful, it has become my signature desert. This is much to the chagrin of my French family, who find the concept of
cheesecake most unsavory. My sister, however, who has a persistent fear of large amounts of cheese, is a total convert and now begs me to make it every time she’s in Marfa. My position on the matter is torn: on the one hand, to elevate such a homely and seemingly odd thing as a cheesecake to cult status appears to me a true culinary triumph, a confirmation of the slight of hand that marks kitchen greatness. On the other hand, that I should be defined by a gigantic cream cheese custard is somewhat unsettling. C’est la vie!

Ingredients:

For the crust:

• 3/4 + 1/3 cup graham cracker crumbs
• 3/4 cup medium –> finely chopped pecans
• 1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
• 1/3 cup granulated sugar
• 7 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled

For the Filling:

• 1 can solid pack pumpkin
• 3 large eggs
• 1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
• 2 cups sour cream
• 1 T pure vanilla extract
• 2 T orange juice
• 2 t orange zest
• 1 T Cointreau of Grand Marnier
• 1/2 cup granulates sugar
• 1 T cornstarch
• 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
• 1 1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
• 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• Four 8-ounce packages cream cheese, cut into bits and softened

Procedure:

*Remove the cream cheese and sour cream from the fridge an hour before beginning*

For the Crust:

1. Put the butter in a pot and melt over medium to high heat, taking care not to let it brown.
2. In the meantime, crush the graham cracker in between your fingertips, achieving a consistency that is part fine crumb and part medium crumb, with sizable shards of cracker still intact (about 1/3 inch.)
3. Add this to a large mixing bowl with the granulated and brown sugars, and the chopped pecans. Add the slightly cooled butter and stir. I find it’s best to add the butter slowly. The crust mixture should be moistened but no slick. You may find it necessary to withhold some of the fat, or to add more crumb to dry out an overly wet mixture.
4. Press the crust mixture into a well buttered spring form cake pan, in which the bottom has been inverted. This action points the lip of the bottom platform downwards so that the cake rests on a level bottom which won’t catch the crust and make service a disaster.
5. Cover with saran wrap and pop in the freezer to firm up while you make the filling.

For the Filling:

1. Preheat the oven to 355 degrees.
2. In a stand mixer, using the whisk attachment, beat the first eight ingredients (from the pumpkin to the Cointreau.) Pour out and reserve in a medium bowl, making sure to scrape down the sides of the mixing bowl.
3. Using the paddle attachment, beat the cream cheese until fully softened, about one minute. Add the sugar, and with the mixer on, add the rest of the ingredients. The sugar will puncture holes in the cheese and aerate it, which is desirable only to a certain extent. Mix until everything is combines, but no more, or your cheesecake will be fluffy and decidedly un-New York style.
4. Re-affix the whisk attachment. Pour the pumpkin batter into the cream cheese mixture and blend on high, until combined. You will have to scrape down the sides and the whisk attachment frequently in order to achieve this, and may have to finish the process by hand whisking the batter a bit.
5. Put the chilled spring form pan on a baking sheet, and pour in the batter. There will be a slight excess. Don’t be tempted to add it all; if you do, your cheesecake shall overflow.
6. Shuttle the baking sheet to the oven and bake for 30 minutes, then turn it around and bake for another thirty. If the custard is too wobbly, return to the oven for another five to ten minutes on each side. Use your judgement: differing altitudes and ovens make difinitive bake times impossible and unwise in this case.
7. Let cool completely and then cover with saran wrap and refrigerate overnight.

* A tip on slicing cheesecake: Make sure the cheesecake is just out of the fridge, and as cold as possible. Run a sharp chef’s knife under scalding hot water and slice the cake in half in two fluid motions, making sure to press down and sever the crust. Withdraw the knife out the side of the cake: if you lift the knife upwards you’ll disturb the custard and cause the surface of the cake to become littered with crumbs. Run the knife under hot water again before each incision, and your cheesecake will be cleanly sliced. Return to the fridge immediately after slicing to firm up again, as the heat of the knife will have caused it to soften and melt a little*

Ingredients, for about 32 cookies:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened
• 8 oz cream cheese, softened
• 1/2 cup plus 4 teaspoons sugar
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1 + 1/2 cup apricot preserves or raspberry jam ( I used a mixture of half raspberry and half blueberry. Fantasmic!)
• 3/4 cup loosely packed golden raisins, chopped
• 1 cup Thompson (regular) raisins, chopped
• 1 1/4 cups walnuts (1/4 lb), finely chopped
• Melted butter, for brushing cookies

Procedure:

For Dough:

1. Whisk together flour and salt in a bowl.
2. Beat together butter and cream cheese in an electric mixer with the paddle attachment until well combined.
3. Add flour mixture and stir with a wooden spoon until a soft dough forms. THERE IS NO SUGAR IN THE DOUGH.
4. Gather dough into a ball and wrap in plastic wrap, then flatten, in wrap, into a 7- by 5-inch rectangle. MEASURE!!! Use a measuring tape, seriously. This is the difference between success and failure, between ease and toil. Chill until firm, 8 to 24 hours.

Preparing Dough:

1. Check the dough. It should be firm but not solid, sort of barely pliable. If it is firmer than this, remove from the fridge for quelque minutes. Careful not to let it become soft, though.
2. Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350°F. Line bottom of a 1- to 1 1/2-inch-deep large shallow baking pan with parchment paper.
3. Cut dough into 4 equal strips (in half once, and then each half in half, for all of you who need help out there.)
4. Chill 3 pieces, wrapped in plastic wrap, and roll out remaining piece into a 12- by 8-inch rectangle on a well-floured surface with a floured rolling pin. I eventually figured out that the best way to do this is to sprinkle flour on your work surface and to apply a generous amount of flour directly onto the dough. Don’t work it in, just coat. Then, use the rolling pin to bang the dough a few time lengthwise, and then a few width-wise. This flattens the dough into the desired shape without disturbing its integrity unnecessarily. Then, roll out the dough width-wise only. It will stretch out lengthwise as a byproduct of this action. If you actively roll it lengthwise, it will quickly become too long without becoming wide. Again here, measure as you go along; it’s nigh impossible to shrink the dough back in any direction if you overextend it
5. Transfer dough to a parchment-lined baking sheet and chill while rolling out the remaining dough in the same manner. Transfer each rectangle to the fridge immediately, stacking them as you go, separated by saran wrap or parchment if you ant to air on the side of caution. I just lay those babies directly on one another, though!

Assembly:

1. Whisk 1/2 cup sugar with cinnamon.
2. Arrange 1 dough rectangle on work surface with a long side nearest you. Spread 1/4 plus 1/8 cup cup preserves evenly over dough with offset spatula, to be fancy, or the back of a spoon. I like spoon/fingers combo best.
3. Sprinkle 1/4 cup plus rounded T mixed raisins and a rounded 1/4 cup walnuts over jam, then sprinkle with 2 tablespoons cinnamon sugar. Disperse the goodies evenly over the dough: don’t try to be clever and only fill the middle line. Also, yes, it looks like an abominable amount of sugar as you’re sprinkling it, but use it all.
4. Roll dough tightly into a log (I folded it twice.)
5. Place, seam side down, in lined baking pan, then pinch ends closed and tuck underneath. This step is imperative. Otherwise, the deliciousness will ooze out all over the baking sheet, and your cookies shall be sadly barren. What would Bubbe say to that?
6. Make 3 more logs in same manner and arrange 1 inch apart in pan.
7. Brush logs with melted butter and sprinkle each with 1 teaspoon of remaining granulated sugar. With a large. sharp knife, make 3/4-inch-deep cuts crosswise in dough (not all the way through) at 1-inch intervals. (If dough is too soft to cut, chill until firmer, 20 to 30 minutes.)
8. Bake 25 minutes. Flip pan around, and bake another 25, or until golden.
9. Cool to warm in pan on a rack, about 30 minutes, then transfer logs to a cutting board and slice cookies all the way through. Indulge!

I tried so hard to make this post more serious, so that you may understand that I do more in life than contemplate my next source of spit-swappage. But alas, my brain is so cramped from attempting college essays that it is obstructed. I have tried in vain to inundate it with various forms of mental ex-lax (Russian literature, my favorite cookbooks, The West Wing, and dinner parties), but it’s no go, if you know what I mean. So then I changed my tact, and waited for an event of notable hilarity to befall me. Considering that I haven’t written in a week, you can only imagine how well that worked out. So, a rather idiotic recounting of mes derniers jours:

My finger has withered into a necrotic stump. Oh yes, where once it was round, now it is square. I wonder if human extremities have the same regenerative powers as lizard tales? Will it grow back, or will I forever have un doigt plat? Who knows?

I remembered how much I hate the following sayings:

• Gorgeous Gams

• Flowing Locks

• Little Girls’ Room

I’ve realized the following: I have no game. The concept of flipping hair and batting eyelashes, of mascara and nice clothes, escapes me. The art of seduction is one that I am good at in the most unconventional sense, and quite by accident. Because as I said, I have no game. But, apparently, I have no game to such an extent that it bypasses lameness and falls squarely into the realm of endearment. Weird, I know. Rien n’est simple pour moi.

I bought some new playthings: two Alice Waters cookbooks (which usually act as a mental stimulus for me) and a vintage Le Creuset pan that I scored on ebay (thrifty Jew skills being in my genetic repertoire, and all. But I got the schnoz too, in case you’re wondering. No good trait goes unpunished!) Did you know that schnoz is a real word, recognized by spellcheck even? Awesome!

When I received said “flame” enameled pan, who should be at the post office but my lovely cooking companion? Eh oui. He is sandy brown and golden delicious, and I should probably marry him and have some beige babies tout de suite! Here is why:

1) When I got to work a few days later, he remembered my pan, and asked me if I’d cooked anything in it. You see? He and I play well in the sandbox together. He is a dear X a million, and possibly the only human being who doesn’t think I’m freakish for collecting pots and pans!

2) When I let down my hair, he told me it looked particularly beautiful. I blush… or is that my wretched Rosacea?

3) In my infinite wisdom, I wore a turtleneck to work. It took about five minutes for all that woolly goodness to kick in, and then I became radioactively red. As usual, he and I were bantering across the bar. When I felt the heat creep up my face I exclaimed, surprisingly: “I don’t know why I’m so hot.” Another of the kitchen staff countered that: “it’s because he’s here.” Oh Lord God! I had to excuse myself while, in a superhuman feat, I turned even more red.

4) This was followed by a story about how he got into the Guinness Book of World Records on the basis of having the largest (hand motion to indicate penile region) in the world. This one I will not deign to comment about. If the infantile efforts of the kitchen to get us together aren’t arrested immediately, I suppose I shall have to punch somebody.

5) At family meal, he asked permission to sit with me (as he always does), and when I crossed my legs he commented that my shoes were quite spectacular (they are new, and he is right.) He also mentioned that he took my advice on making the restaurant’s ratatouille with less oil while I was in New York, and that he found it superior… And that he had wished I was there to try his creation. I am in love!

6) Last night, I didn’t get to sit down to dinner, and we were both distraught. He’d made ratatouille, and I performed my honorary taste test before he went home, as is my custom. And then he popped the question, and I gave him my number. The time had come. He has invited me to jaunt over for a ratatouille session, a sort of “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours!” As an educational experience, bien sur!

This can lead nowhere good. J’ai peur!

Ingredients, for 2:

• 8-10 Brussels sprouts
• 4 T raisins (the Thompson variety are the best)
• 12 pecans
• 2 T plus 2 t apple cider vinegar
• 1 T plus 1 t walnut oil
• 2 lg pinches fleur de sel, lots of pepper

Procedure:

1. Cover the raisins in hot water to plump them.
2. Peel outer layer of leaves (2 per sprout). Remove base and slice as thinly as possible on a mandoline, vertically, so that the individual slices are held together by the core. Of course, if the prospect of Carpel Tunnel is agreeable to you, by all means do this manually!
3. Mix the vinegar, salt, and pepper. Let sit for a minute to allow the salt to dissolve, then add the oil and pour over the shaved sprouts.
4. Let this marinate for about an hour, so that the harsh cabbage flavor has time to soften.
5. Just before serving, crumble the pecans and sprinkle them over the salad. Add the plumped raisins, toss, and enjoy!

I am back at work, and for the moment all is well. Except for the body building mammoth that has replaced me as bus boy (he, at least, is of the appropriate gender to satisfy the job description. But that’s truly the only good thing I can say about him.) He’s a brain damaged brute, a study in stupidity of literally gargantuan proportion! I assure you, he can have absolutely no more brain cells than are necessary for survival on the most base levels of this earth. He’s like a throwback to Neanderthalish times, and an inbred specimen at that. But, as if his sheer idiocy isn’t offensive enough, he’s also a molester. Indeed, he’s taken to covertly fondling the small of my back with his steroid-swollen digits. Ah, good times… But then, get this! If I accidentally brush against his derriere (which is about every five seconds, given his hulking frame), he let’s out these gurgling reclamations, as if I’ve violated his delicate constitution. Honestly!

On the plus side, my little German is not so little anymore. Yes yes, I am happy to report that during my sojourn in New York, he turned 18! I shall not be jailed after all! No, I kid, I kid! In fact, I feel that I can no longer deny the truth. I’ve tired of artificially constructing crushes just for the sake of diversion. There is an incestuously small pool of candidates in Marfa, an oddly mixed bag that I have plundered already, if you’ll excuse the indiscreet innuendo. I’ve dallied with all those worth dallying avec, so il me reste plus rien. And honestly, I needn’t go incurring the wrath of beastly large German mothers for no reason. It’s a pointlessly hazardous task.

But then there is my kitchen cohort, my foodie friend. My love for him is pure and true. And paralyzed. You see, he transcribes recipes from the restaurant’s cookbooks onto crinkled little scraps of paper to take home with him. I do that! When a certain satanical French broad from le resto jaunted off to Paris and asked if he wanted anything of Froggish origin, he replied: “some fine dark chocolate!” I swoon, I swoon, truly I do. And when I returned to work, he wasted no time asking me about New York. No, we got right to the important things and swapped soufflé stories! I didn’t make that up just because it’s a nifty alliteration; it’s actually true! “You and I, we’re the same!” I long to tell him, but I cannot. Perchance it is because he is exactly the same shade of brown as a former fling of mine that crashed and burned rather dramatically? Or maybe it was ill-fated from the start, from the moment I walked in on him aux toilettes during my first day? I mean, how many successful relationships have their origins in bathroom invasions of the number two kind? Indeed, encounters the render the great philosophical question: “did you make?” superfluous are not really the stuff of romance!

Also, I mandolined my finger while shaving up a salad of Raw Brussels Sprouts in Apple Cider Vinegar and Walnut Oil with Plumped Raisins and Pecans. I am tender and wounded, and if I had a driver’s license I’d vroom vroom off the the ER, but since I do not, I am praying fervently that the powers of flexi band-aids will somehow do the job. For that salad, it was worth it though!

Double also, my rodent infestation has become unbearable. Though I killed Hitler, little Adolf seems to have had a family. Mere Mussolini? Sister Stalin? Papa Pinochet? Who knows? They’ve gotten into my sacred stash of baking goods, which is an unpardonable offense, so I leave you with information that I am booby-trapping ma maison with Catchmaster mousetraps (no, really, that’s what they’re called!) It seems I am not above mass murder myself. What irony!

A bientot!

There are three kinds of quinoa available: heirloom red; heirloom black; and the more common beige variant, which isn’t refined at all, but naturally white, so fret not!  In my experience, the red kind is visually more appealing, provides more bite, and tastes far more distinctly like quinoa. I prize the beige variety’s ability to soften fully, to “melt” and form a still pleasantly toothsome but thoroughly comforting bowl of food. Beige quinoa is also more receptive to absorbing other flavors than its crimson counterpart. Try this dish both ways; each have individual merits to suit different moods and predilections.

Ingredients, for 2:

• 2/3 cup beige quinoa.
• 4/6 cup boiling water.
• 1 avocado.
• Large handful Nori seaweed, cut into cubes.
• 1 T black sesame seeds.
• 2 T plus 2 t ponzu.
• 4 t sesame oil.
• Few drops of Sriracha or Chili oil, if desired (in my experience, the spiciness is interesting, but it detracts from the fundamental character of the dish and prompts a need for re-seasoning).

Procedure:

1. Place Quinoa and sesame seeds in small pot. Toast lightly for about 45 seconds, then cover boiling water. Once the water has come back up to a boil, cover and let simmer for 15 minutes.
2. During this time, cut up the Nori. I like to do this by stacking the sheets, cutting long strips, and then trimming these into squares (if you make this dish a lot, a reservoir of cut Nori can be kept in an airtight container in the refrigerator).
3. Mix the ponzu and sesame oil. Depending on the quality of the ponzu you buy, you may want to add a squeeze of fresh lemon juice or a dash of soy sauce to reinforce the acidity and saltiness.
4. At the last minute, cube the avocado.
5. Remove the quinoa into a serving bowl. Stir in the dressing, and taste. I’ve found that the ratio of ponzu to sesame oil is very personal, so don’t adhere to my recommendations just for the sake of blind obedience.
6. Stir in 3/4 of the nori and the avocado. The incorporated seaweed will soften and become earthy and less reminiscent of the sea.
7. Top the dish with the remaining nori, which will provide a delightful crackling texture, and serve. I like to eat this with chopsticks.

*Variation: Replace the sesame seeds with 2 T sunflower seeds for a more discernable crunch!

I wished I lived in Vermont, surrounded by undressed trees. The world was too difficult, too wonderful, and my inability to engage in its wonder insupportable. The ceaseless demands of the world I knew ached me, the allocation of my time towards empty tasks draining my infinitesimally small reserve of energy. I wanted to hide in the woods, to seek solace in nature, to find solitude. Forests are infinitely more forgiving than people, after all. I idolized Robert Frost. I understood the depth of his sadness, his comprehension that the human individual is impenetrable. My face was suffused with a terrible sadness, my eyes belying of tragedy. I loved humanity in a way that was consuming, and because it was a love unrequited, it consumed me indeed. If my affection was ever returned, it must have been mutely effused, for I never knew of it. I poured over the more somber of Frost’s poems, held on to the broken notion that if I could only secret myself away in the woods, some literary genius might be born of my pain. I had given up and felt I would end up as he had…gone. And at a very young age.

This is my second winter in Marfa, and I’m still here. And, blessedly, I’m no longer tempted to place a question mark after that statement. I never did make it to the barren woodlands. Instead, I found an arid desert sanctuary. The winter frosts no longer excite me: they just raise my electricity bill and lower my body temperature! I long for the heat of summer. I yearn to throw off my wooly and cumbersome layers, for the hemorrhagic bleeding of my soul stopped long ago, and I’m no longer at risk for terminal bruising. The trees have indeed shed their leaves, but they don’t look naked to me anymore, just stoic. It’s a wonderful world after all.

And for the culinarily devoted, a little recipe to get you through the cold night: Quinoa in Ponzu and Toasted Sesame Oil with Black Sesame Seeds, Nori, and Avocado. This is quite possibly the most soulful dish I know. If you find yourself in an especially reflective mood while languishing in it, don’t be surprised.

Ingredients, for 3 or 4:

• 1 Duck for roasting, preferably a French Barbary.
• 2 Butternut Squash.
• 3 large Navel oranges.
• 2 Handfuls of thyme.
• Grand Marnier Liqueur or Cointreau.
• 2 T olive oil.
• Gros sel gris de Geurande, fine milled sel gris,pepper.

Procedure:

1. Remove lungs, kidneys, heart, and neck from the cavity.
2. Holding the duck over a sink, pour a kettle of boiling water over the bird. This helps to loosen the fat from the animal.
3. Dry the bird meticulously, then rub with Grand Marnier or Cointreau, about 2 T, I think.
4. Season the cavity of the bird with salt and pepper, then season the sides of the bird aggressively, pressing the salt crystals and pepper into the skin to form a light crust. Let the bird rest this way, uncovered, in the fridge overnight to help dry it out.
5. Preheat the oven t 400 degrees F.
6. Zest and juice one of the oranges. Stuff the cavity of the duck with the quartered rind of the juiced orange, and as much thyme as you can shove in there. Sprinkle a bit of the zest on the duck’s breast, then reserve the juice and most of the zest.
7. Using a sharp knife, carefully score the skin of the duck, particularly on the breast and thighs. This will permit the subcutaneous fat to drain successfully, creating a burnished and crispy skin.
8. Place the duck in the middle of the oven, in a dish that holds it somewhat snuggly. Let it roast at this temperature for forty-five minutes, remembering to flip it around halfway through (not onto it’s breast, but just so that it’s facing the opposite side of the oven, so that both left and right breasts are evenly cooked). Also, drain the fat from the pan periodically to avoid having the duck fry. Reserve the fat if you wish: duck fat is extraordinarily good for you, good for sautéing up potatoes, and indispensable for making Confit de Canard.
9. In the meantime, dispatch the remaining 2 oranges into suprêmes and reserve.
10. Peel the squash and cut into medium-thin rectangles (accomplished by slicing the halved butternut vertically, and then crosswise into approximate rectangles).
11. In a large bowl, toss the squash flesh with 2 T olive oil, a hefty dose of thyme flowers, fine salt, pepper, the remaining orange zest, and a splash of orange juice.
12. After forty-five minutes, turn the oven down to 300 degrees F and leave the duck to cook for another two hours, until it is falling off the bone.
13. Arrange the squash in one layer on a baking dish, and place in the oven, on a lower rack, for the last 20 minutes of cooking.
14. When the duck is ready, remove from the oven. Turn the oven back up to 400 degrees and let the squash continue to cook for ten minutes, until the flesh is lightly caramelized, while the duck rests.
15. Using the tines of two forks, shred the duck meat away from the carcass. Mix it with the reserved orange juice, and check for seasoning.
16. Arrange he butternut squash on a plate, mound the duck delicately in the center of a plate, and scatter with the orange segments. Tada!