Porcini & Chicken Pot Pie

Recently, I was having a rash of flat-out bad days. I burned a batch of meringues. I tried to make mayonnaise, but it never emulsified (beating a single egg-yolk in a stand mixer is never a good idea). I was feeling sick and tired, frustrated with some lingering writer’s block and winter blahs. The feeling was akin to one I had often while growing up in Massachusetts. We lived directly on the coast and on the stormy wintry days the entire town was cast in grey: the sky, the churning water, the bare-armed trees. I’m dancing around using the word oppressive, mostly because since I moved away, I look back on that moody climate affectionately. In exchange for enduring the bleak weather, we were rewarded many beautiful, cerulean summers—but it was during the inclement days that I forgot about spring. Once I put my failed mayo in the trash (all that canola oil gone to waste!!), it was a challenge to remind myself that not all cooking results in disappointment; not all days have to be cold and grey.

The winters in Portland are not nearly as mean, but I couldn’t help remembering one ritual that got me through those grey days. After trudging home from school, I used to rifle through the freezer and pull out a Marie Callendar pot pie. You know the kind—the one with the tiny cubes of carrots, the unnaturally bright-green peas, the cornstarchy gravy. I’d puncture a hole in the plastic film, pop it in the microwave, and wait impatiently for the film to steam up and the buzzer to sound. The first bite was always the best: digging my fork into the pie, the savory steam fogging up my glasses and melting away the day’s blahs.

I no longer own a microwave and it's been a long time since I’ve had a Marie Callendar pot pie, but I wondered if that trick still worked. I’d never made a pot-pie before from scratch, and this recipe works off my memory alone. I had the most fun incorporating the dried porcini. In November, I went hunting for them for the first time. If you've ever eaten fresh porcini, you'll be acquainted with their slightly woodsy flavor. However, I've always appreciated how that woodsy taste intensifies when you dry them. Some mushrooms don't hold up well in storage, but porcini has the rare advantage of maintaining its assertive musky earthiness once dehydrated--a boon to any recipe in need of a little something extra. You can grind them with salt to sprinkle over soft scrambled eggs, or add them to a cream sauce to serve with linguine. In this instance, I reconstituted the porcini in hot water, and then used the leftover liquid as a mushroom broth to give the pie that homey savory flavor.

As for the pie itself, I didn’t use any cornstarch. I made a simple roux with butter, flour, and boullion. Then I chopped a little of everything in my fridge, including some spring vegetables like fennel, leeks, new potatoes, peas, and sweet carrots. I used puff pastry for the top, which required no effort other slicing a couple of steam vents. Really, it was a pretty lazy evening in the kitchen.

This is what comfort-cooking is all about. It's about that first bite, when the scrape of your fork releases a plume of hot steam. It's about taking a little time out of the day to forget about everything else outside of the kitchen. My verdict: this trick still works.

Porcini & Chicken Pot Pie

The porcini is the star of this pie, and the chicken can come from a leftover roast, or you can omit it completely. Porcini loves to be paired with spring herbs and vegetables, like thyme, leeks, and fennel.

Ingredients:
1/2 cup   dried porcini
1 cup boiling water
1 Tbs. olive oil
1 Tbs.   unsalted butter
1 Tbs. flour
1/2 cube chicken boullion
1/4 cup whole milk, plus 1 Tbs. reserved for brushing
1/2 bulb fennel, thinly sliced
2 medium carrots, choppedmedium
2 new potatoes, thinly sliced
1 leek rinsed, the course outer leaves removed, thinly sliced
1/2 cup string beans, fresh or frozen
1/2 cup frozen peas
1 1/2 cup cooked chicken, chopped or cubed
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 Tbs. chopped thyme (from 3-4 sprigs)
1/2 teas. sea salt
2 small bay leaves
2 pinches ground nutmeg

Pepper to Taste

2 5x5 squares of puff pastry, thawed if frozen*

Directions:
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter two medium-sized ramekins or crock pots, (I just used two durable cereal-bowls). Set aside.
2. In a small bowl, cover the dried porcini with boiling water. Let steep for 20 minutes, covered. Strain to remove any grit, making sure to reserve the liquid. Rinse the porcini if there is any grit, and chop them finely.
3. In a wide skillet over medium heat, add the olive oil. To this add the fennel, carrots, potato and leeks. Cook this until the vegetables begin to soften for about 5-7 minutes, then add the chopped garlic, string beans, and frozen peas. Stir and cook until all vegetables are fork-tender (but not mushy), about 10 minutes.
4. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a saucepan or medium-low heat. Add the boullion to the butter, using a wooden spoon to break it up. To this, add the flour, and once the mixture turns into a bright yellow paste, begin to slowly add the heavy cream, whisking to incorporate. Add the reserved porcini broth, whisking again to incorporate. Bring to a gentle simmer, until the roux has thickened the broth significantly, about 10 minutes.
5. Add the cream mixture to the vegetables, stirring to coat them evenly. Add the porcini and the cooked chicken, stirring again to coat.
6. Divide the filling evenly into two ramekins.Tuck into each dish a small bay leaf, then sprinkle with a pinch of nutmeg. Top each ramekin with a square of puff pastry, pressing the dough gently on the edges of the dishes to secure them. Brush the tops with 1 tbs. of cream, and cut two steam vents in each pie.
7. Place the ramekins on a baking sheet, and bake for 45 minutes, until the pastry is golden and puffy. Serve immediately. Serves 2.

*I use store-bought puff pastry, but if you're feeling ambitious, this is one of the best recipes I've found for it. 

Leftovers.

I had intended for this post to be a sexy one. I planned to write about the braised lamb shanks I made a few weekends ago. Not only would they sound sexy, but they would look sexy too... It's not that they weren't delicious. Simmered for several hours in ruby port, the shanks were spiced with anise and cloves. The meat easily slid off the bone, and I dug out a little of the marrow to spread on toast. After sopping my third slice of bread in the juice, I left the rest to finish the following day. Then I fell in love with a decidedly unsexy-looking salad. Like rice pudding or all of those "everything-but-the-sink" dishes, I always find my affections drifting back to the humble plates. They are less photogenic, but no less satisfying--and that is really what I'm more concerned with at the end of the day. What is sexier than satisfaction?

I come from a long line of cooks who like leftovers. My mother always made more than enough for our family of four, much of which fed us the duration of the week. Based on recipes I’ve seen from her side of the family, my grandmother is the same. If you’ve ever read “How To Cook A Wolf,” it’s easy to see why; it’s not energy-efficient to cook in single-portions. I do not have a toaster oven, and my oven is electric, so whenever I do use it I try to maximize what goes into it. While roasting a chicken, I put a few sweet potatoes on the rack below (or better yet, sliced them & toss them in with the chicken). If I’m going to braise lamb shanks for several hours, I might as well make a few. Yes, it’s a lot of food, but it relieves my electric bill. Best of all, I get to reap the delicious rewards.

This is my favorite kind of cooking—no recipe involved, no running to the store, no fussing over ingredients. I realized I had no couscous, but there was a vat of quinoa from a few nights before. I mixed the quinoa with lemon zest, cinnamon, and cardamom—shredded some parsley while I toasted some slivered almonds. I shredded the leftover lamb shanks, dressed it with tangy yogurt and threw in the last of the good prunes I bought in Dublin. It took about 15 minutes to assemble, and then I was out the door. 

The salad ended up being even better for me than the lamb shanks in their first incarnation—the nuttiness of the quinoa was especially nice with the toasted almonds, while the tangy yogurt dressing cut the richness of the spiced lamb. It tasted like a light prelude to Spring, a dish on the cusp of winter and the warmer months. It's right up there with the return of the blue jays in my window, the sun setting after 7 pm, and the crocus buds. I'm already counting down to next weekend, when the farmer's market reopens! 

TAGINE-SPICED LAMB QUINOA SALAD

Couscous would be superb in this salad, but the nuttiness of the quinoa is what makes this salad interesting. Using leftover lamb kebabs are a nice alternative to stewing the lamb shanks for hours, but I’ve included an easy braising recipe below. This salad would be just as good without any protein, too.

Ingredients:

2 cups quinoa

2 cups chicken or vegetable stock

2 cups cooked shredded lamb (see lamb shanks recipe below)

1 tsp. ground cardamom

1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/2 cup good extra virgin olive oil, some reserved

1 lemon juiced, and zested (about 2 Tbs. juice, 1-2 Tbs. zest)

1/4 cup plain whole milk yogurt

1/4 cup chopped red onion

1 14 oz. can chickpeas, drained and washed

1/4 cup chopped dried prunes

1/4 cup golden raisins

1/2 cup toasted almond slivers, some reserved

1/4 cup chopped scallions

1/4 cup parsley, with some reserved for garnish

salt & pepper, to taste

DIRECTIONS:

1. Put quinoa, broth and a pinch of salt in a 2 quart stock pot. Bring to a boil, stir, and then reduce heat to low. Allow the quinoa to cook for 20 minutes, until fluffy and tender. Cool slightly, about 5 minutes.

2. Transfer the quinoa to a large mixing bowl. Add the cardamom, cinnamon, and lemon zest and toss to mix. Add the shredded lamb, red onion, chickpeas, dried prunes, golden raisins, almond slivers, scallions, and parsely.

3. In a small bowl, whisk together the yogurt, olive oil, and lemon juice. Pour this over the salad mix, tossing to combine.

4. Taste, and adjust seasoning with salt & pepper.

5. Serve warm or cold, garnished with a drizzle of olive oil, chopped parsley and the reserved toasted almond slices. Enjoy! Serves 6-8 as a first course, or 4 as an entrée.

Anise-Braised Lamb Shanks

Ingredients:

2-3 lamb shanks (enough to fit comfortably inside an 8 qt. dutch oven)

1/4 cup  olive oil, 2 tbs. reserved

2 1/2 Tbs. White Pepper Rub *

1 yellow onion cut into 1 inch pieces

1 carrot   chopped into 1 inch pieces

1 celery chopped into 1 inch pieces

1 small leek chopped into 1/4 inch slices

2 garlic cloves minced

1 1/2 cups ruby port

1 qt. chicken or vegetable stock (preferably homemade)

1 star anise pod

3  whole cloves

1 bay leaf

1/4 tsp.   dried chili pepper flakes

Directions:

1. Pat the lamb shanks dry with a paper towel, then sprinkle the White Pepper Rub all over the lamb. Massage the spices into the muscle, this will keep the shanks from getting too tough.

2. Heat 2 Tbs. of olive oil on Medium-High heat in a wide 8 quart dutch oven. Braise the lamb shanks in the dutch oven until browned and carmelized on all sides, about 15 minutes. Transfer the shanks to a medium-sized mixing bowl.

3. Add the rest of the olive oil to the dutch oven. With a wooden spoon, scrape at the browned bits at the bottom of the pan. Once the oil is hot, add the onion, carrot, and celery. Cook until soft and the onions are just turning translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic, and cook for about 1 minute.

3. Add the ruby port to the pan, scraping again with the wooden spoon at any carmelized bits at the bottom of the pan. Let the ruby port come to a simmer and reduce by half, about 10 minutes. Add the chicken broth, and allow that to come to a boil before simmering for 30 minutes. At this point, the broth should have reduced and the sauce will be slightly thicker. 

4. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Return the shanks and all reserved juice in the bowl to the dutch oven. Add the star anise, whole cloves, bay leaf, and red chili pepper flakes. Cover with the lid of the dutch oven.

5. Bake the lamb shanks for 2 hours, until they are fork-tender. Your kitchen will smell fragrant and unbelievable by this point!

6. Serve immediately, or allow to cool completely before transferring to the fridge. The lamb shanks will keep for up to 3 days. Serves 2-3. 

* A quick recap of the White Pepper Rub:

2 tsp. White peppercorns

12 Black peppercorns

1 tsp. Fennel seeds

1 tsp. Coriander seeds

5 whole cloves

1 Cinnamon Stick, 2 inches in length, broken in half

2 tsp. Dark brown sugar

1 1/2 tsp. Fine-ground sea salt

Grind the first 6 ingredients in a spice grinder. Transfer to a small bowl & mix with brown sugar and sea salt. Keeps for a month in a small airtight container.

Birthdays Are A Time For Cakes.

On Friday I went to Powell's for Molly Wisenberg's book reading. She's the author of Orangette, one of my favorite sites and resources for good recipes. Anyhow, congrats to Molly on the publishing of her first book, I hope it will be the first of many.

In other news, today is my birthday, and I'm happy to report that that this slice will be my first of many.

Orange Honey Sorbet

There’s something very soothing about the way citrus appears with a bright vengeance every winter. It’s winter’s lagniappe to us, after our palettes have grown tired of the root vegetables and hardy greens that persist during the colder months. I ought to be writing more about brussel sprouts and beets, which are brilliant in their own right, but today I’m pining for summertime. I imagine eating a perfectly ripe peach on the stoop of my apartment building with the fondness reserved for first kisses, and all is right again with the world.

Silly me. There is still much to be appreciated in the winter outside of wistful daydreaming. For me, that ambrosia comes from heirloom navel oranges. There is such a wide variety at the market now: minneolas, blood oranges, tangerines, those pocket-sizes satsumas. All of them are captivating, but the heirloom navels seem to me the perfect combination of tart & sweet, and have that stunning bright orange color when you slice into them. It’s a little bit of a shock against the overcast sky (and I’m sure even more so for those on the east coast buried beneath a foot of snow). As a nice bonus, they also have none of the web-like pith which plagues other varieties. This makes it very easy for me to eat a half-dozen in one sitting like I used to do after little-league soccer matches. In fact, as I type I’m making a chimpanzee face with one of the leftover peels wedged in front of my teeth. A good orange has this effect on me.

I wanted a light recipe that showcases the brightness of the oranges, and my friend coming over for dinner that night was vegan, so I chose this sorbet. The recipe stems from a back-issue of Bon Appetit, and showcases the clean acidity of the oranges, boosted by the spicy sweetness of honey. Of course, I had to doctor it a bit. I used agave instead of sugar to create the simple syrup—adding to taste. The result was just as soothing as the oranges themselves, a nice pick-me-up in the dead of winter. Even though today has been unusually warm and sunny, almost a summer’s day in its own right, I tested the sorbet’s time-traveling effects by helping myself to the last few scoops in the freezer. As the last spoonful loomed, I was just as sad to see it go as that perfectly ripe peach.

ORANGE HONEY SORBET

adapted from Michael Psilakis' recipe

Remember that juicer I rhapsodized about a few weeks back? Here’s a recipe where it comes in handy. However, if you’re a luddite or don’t mind the extra elbow grease, a hand-reamer and a couple of friends will get the work done in no time.

2 cups water
1/2 cup clover honey
2 tablespoons finely grated orange zest
1 tablespoon chopped peeled fresh ginger
2 cardamom pods
2 whole cloves
1 small bay leaf
3/4 cup agave syrup
2 cups chilled fresh orange juice ( from about 6-8 navel oranges)
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Directions:
1. Combine the water, honey, orange zest, ginger, cardamom pods, cloves, and bay leaf in a 2 qt. sauce pan.
2. Bring to boil over medium-high heat, stirring frequently. Boil until the syrup thickens some and the mixture is reduced to 2 cups, about 12 minutes. Discard bay leaf; cool syrup completely.
3. Strain syrup into medium bowl. Add the orange juice, the lemon juice, and agave syrup to taste. Transfer to ice cream maker** and process according to manufacturer's instructions. Transfer sorbet to container, cover, and freeze until firm, at least 6 hours and up to 3 days.

**If you don’t have an ice-cream maker, don’t despair. You can transfer the sorbet to a wide Tupperware, and every two or three hours, stir the sorbet with a fork. Do this three times, until it reaches a slightly fluffy snow-like consistency. If you do this only twice, you’ll have a coarser consistency, in which case you’ve made granita, which is equally delicious!