The great thing about freezers is that they freeze things. And without them, we wouldn't have things like eggo's or ice cream or pancakes on a stick. But, unlike pancakes on a stick, not all food from a freezer is good. See exhibit A:
Exhibit A
Who's responsible for this? A well known company which disperses a wide variety of steaks, seafood and gourmet side dishes. The food is packed on dry ice and shipped around the country. The reason why this ended up at my door step is not important. What is important is this: If this ever shows up at your doorstep, run for your life.
It was bad. It was bad in a way I won't ever be able to forget. I felt a violent emotional reaction to this fish the moment I took a bite. The people responsible for this fish should be taken to Guantanamo and waterboarded. They should be forced to rename it "Self-sabotage by way of fish." The feeling I had in that one bite was like a scene in a movie where some hapless victim is trapped in a cruel plot that the audience is aware of but the hapless victim isn't aware of when somebody, who's supposed to be part of the plot, whispers in the hapless victim's ear, "This is all a set-up. Get out while you still can." In other words people, don't eat fish that comes to your doorstep. Go to the store.
My spice cabinet just celebrated it's one millionth ingredient: Patum Peperium. The name "Patum Peperium" sounds elegantly strange doesn't it? Well, it's not. It's anchovy paste. Why did I buy elegantly strange anchovy paste? Because the spice section at my local Central Market is pretty spectacular and it lures me in every time. Also, because I was making Mario Batali's Bolognese later that night and he's always going on about using only the freshest ingredients.
We all get hammered over the head about good ingredients and using the freshest ingredients. "Always, always use Parmigiano Reggiano" says Mario Batali. "Use really good vanilla" says the Barefoot Contessa. "I make my own toothpaste" says Alice Waters. Sometimes it's easy to dismiss it all as snobby nonsense. Then you take a bite of this Bolognese made with high quality ingredients and you know why. Here's the lineup: farmer's market veggies, Culatello Pancetta, veal and pork (the best you can find), fresh handmade pasta, good olive oil and, of course, Patum Peperium. The result was rather dazzling if I do say so myself. There was a lightness from the pasta dough which soaked up all the flavors of the deep, robust flavor from the Bolognese. It was probably one of the best pasta dishes I've ever made. I did alter Mario's recipe slightly. Mario's version calls for no fresh herbs or anchovy paste. I'm sure his is delicious his way too, but I figured a little extra flavor never hurt anyone.
Here's what you'll need:
1 pound pappardelle, fresh if it's available
5 tablespoons good extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons of butter
1 carrot, finely diced
1 medium onion, finely diced
1 rib celery, finely diced
1 clove garlic, sliced
2 tablespoons fresh rosemary, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh oregano, chopped
2 tablespoons fresh chopped basil, plus 1 tablespoon for garnish
1 pound veal, ground
1 pound pork, ground
1/4 pound pancetta (or slap bacon) ground
1/2 tube tomato paste
1 tablespoon anchovy paste
1 cup milk
1 cup dry white wine
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Parmigiano Reggiano shavings for garnish
Here are the instructions: In a 6-8 quart, heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat the olive oil and butter over medium heat. Add the onions, celery, carrot, garlic, rosemary, oregano and sweat over medium heat until the vegetables are translucent and soft but not browned, about 10-15 minutes.
Add the veal, pork and pancetta and stir into the vegetables. Turn the heat up to medium-high and continue stirring to keep the meat from sticking together. Cook until browned. Add the tomato paste, anchovy paste, basil, milk and wine and simmer over medium-low heat for 1 to 1 1/2 hours. Season with salt and pepper and remove from the heat.
Meanwhile, place a large pot of water on to boil for pappardelle. When boiling, add salt and pasta and cook to al dente.
When ready to eat, the cooked papparadelle should be added to the saucepan with the bolognese and tossed so the pasta is evenly coated with the sauce. Garnish with shaved Parmigiano Regiano and fresh chopped basil.
This is the case of good ingredients doing all the work for you. And it proves the point that to make great food at home, you don't necessarily have to be a whiz in the kitchen. Sometimes you just have to be a really good shopper.
A friend of mine just went through a break up. What do you say to a friend going through a break up? I have no idea. I usually offer tea. I'm better at what not to say. Like this for example: "There's plenty of fish in the sea." Not exactly sage words of wisdom. Maybe she liked her fish just fine. Sure, he smelled sometimes, but he wasn't so bad. Maybe she has no interest in fishing and doesn't want to shop for a fishing pole. Also to avoid, is: "If it's meant to be, it'll be." Again, not helpful. Maybe she doesn't want to throw her life to whims of destiny. The only thing worse than that might be to say "better to have loved than lost, than never to have loved." If anyone ever said this to me, their life may be in danger.
The only thing I know to be good in times like these are two words. "What else?" The best thing you can say, in my humblest, I'm-not-a-therapist opinion, to a friend spilling her woes is "what else?" That way she knows you're listening no matter how long it takes.
So what does this have to do with chocolate mousse? The answer is "nothing" imaginary person. But, in times of need, chocolate mousse can be comforting, soothing, even restorative. Chocolate mousse is what a security blanket might taste like, if you're the type of person who likes to eat blankets. And, it's the blanket I happened to eat the day I broke up with Brooklyn and moved back to Manhattan. Sure, Brooklyn had a ton to offer. He was charming. He had interesting stories. He made me laugh. But, he had complicated neighborhoods. His trains didn't always operate. Cabs wouldn't go there. He was complex to say the least. I needed the strong arms of New York. Someone who would be there at any hour. And Brooklyn couldn't offer that.
The day I broke up with Brooklyn, we had a final fling at Jacques Torres, the chocolate shop located under Brooklyn's bridge. For anyone not familiar with Jacques Torres, the pastry chef that is, he is to chocolate what Julia Childs is to French cooking. They even call him Mr.Chocolate. See. Mr.Chocolate
The outside appearance of Jacques Torres is almost as inviting as what lies inside.
Almost. There are windows which peer into the kitchen where you can watch actual magic happen. It makes Willy Wonka's house look like a low-carb salad bar. There are truffles, cookies, cookies dipped in chocolate, cake dipped in chocolate, hot chocolate. You get it. The day Brooklyn and I broke up turned out to be pretty great because Jacques Torres showed up. Here he is, that wiley fox, making sweet therapy.
And on this special day, guess what he was making? Yep. And thanks to Food & Wine magazine and yours truly, now it's yours.
8.9 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1 large egg
5 large egg yolks
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup water
1 2/3 cups heavy cream
2 1/2 tablespoons Grand Marnier
Melt the chopped chocolate over a double boiler until smooth, stirring occasionally. Beat the whole egg and egg yolks with an electric mixer set on medium-high speed until light in color and thick, about 7 minutes; keep whipping while the sugar cooks.
Place sugar and water in a 1 quart heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium-high heat. Using a candy thermometer, cook to 250 degrees. Remove from heat and pour the sugar syrup down the side of the mixing bowl into the eggs whipping eggs. Continue to whip until the outside of the bowl is warm but not hot, 2 to 3 minutes.
Whip the heavy cream to soft peaks. Fold in the Grand Marnier with a rubber spatula. Fold the egg mixture into the whipped cream. Carefully pour the warm melted chocolate into the mixture. Use a rubber spatula to gently fold in the chocolate until completely incorporated.
It's no beef bolognese (ahem), but it's pretty good.
