Cook Here and Now

Grand Marnier Soufflé recipefrom the CH&N Master Class

Buongiorno,
Here's David's remarkable recipe from the CH&N Master Class.
Thank you David!
Marco Flavio

Grand Marnier Soufflé
Ingredients:

• 2 cups of milk (whole is better, you can use fat free if you want)
• 1 cup of regular sugar
• 1 stick of butter (8 tbsp or 120 gr)
• All purpose flour (half the weight of butter, about 60 grams)
• 7 eggs whites
• 4 eggs yolks
• 4 or 5 oz of Grand Marnier
• 1/8 tsp vanilla extract
• Confection sugar

Prepare all the ingredients, take a soufflé dish (preferably metal), butter it completely, and sugarcoat the inside of your soufflé dish with regular sugar.
Preheat your oven at 410ºF.

Step 1, 2 and 3 should be ready simultaneously

• Step 1: In a pot, mix the milk and sugar, bring to a boil
• Step 2: Beat the eggs white to medium peak (for better you can add a tbsp or warm water and a pinch of cream of tartar)
• Step 3: in a larger pot, melt butter then add flour to make a roux over medium heat
• Step 4: Add boiling milk and sugar to your roux, and steer constantly until the mixture is boiling again.  You have now a sweet béchamel
• Step 5: Take the pot off the stove, wait about 30 sec and add the egg yolks one at a time while continuously stirring
• Step 6: Add the vanilla extract and the grand mariner
• Step 7: Fold the medium peak egg whites in the mixture (no need to over stir)
• Step 8: Pour the mixture in the soufflé dish and sift the powdered sugar (a.k.a. confection sugar) to cover the top with a thin coat
• Step 9: Bake at 410ºF  for about 23 minutes (look at the color of the soufflé, it should be medium brown)

Enjoy immediately!

Tips:
Have your eggs at room temperature before you begin.
Use a very clean metal bowl to beat the egg white. A drop of fat or egg yoke will prevent the egg white from emulsifying properly.
Put a pizza stone or bricks in your oven to prevent temperature fluctuation.
Do not open the oven during cooking; it will generate too much temperature fluctuation and you may end up with a sweet omelet.
You may want to purchase an oven thermometer to really understand how your oven behaves and what is the exact temperature.  You may have to play with it until you find what works...  I know, frustrating, but all ovens are not created equal, trust me...
Serve the top crust first, then dig in the center of the soufflé dish (should be almost liquid), then serve the side and bottom of the dish which should have a different crust. You will enjoy the 3 different parts of a soufflé!
Have a taste of the left over “raw” mixture after you put the soufflé in the oven, it tastes fantastic!!!  It is even better with your fingers!
Tell me what your experience was.

Life is Great!
David

Easter and Passover: Free-range lamb sources

Buongiorno,
For those of you about to celebrate: Happy holidays! For a proper feast, here are a few Bay Area sources for excellent lamb. If you're not near the Bay, don't despair: Most of these places will ship.

Prather Ranch Meat Co.
Their store is located at One Ferry Plaza, Shop #32, on the Embarcadero in San Francisco, or you can find them at the following farmers' markets:

San Francisco Ferry Plaza
Saturday 8am-2pm
Sunday 10am-2pm
Tuesday 10am-2pm

Marin Civic Center, San Rafael
Thursday 8am-1pm
Sunday 8am-1pm

Oakland Grand Lake
Saturday 8am-2pm

Golden Gate Meat
Golden Gate Meat Company
@ The Ferry Building Marketplace
One Ferry Building, Shop 13
San Francisco, CA
415-983-7800

Niman Ranch
Stores all over the Bay Area
Trader Joes carries it, but call first to inquire about availability.

Ciao and enjoy,
Marco Flavio

Cross-pollinate your pantry.

I've always resented the annoying cable TV chefs that introduce an elaborate
dish or a 3-page recipe by saying: "I just go to the market and let the
ingredients speak to me." Yeah, I've tried that. I listened, but usually
what I hear is the sound of garbage trucks whizzing past on the freeway and
children clamoring for Kettle corn. Not quite the perfect ingredients for
the dinner party I had in mind.

When I'm really lucky at the farmers market, the ingredients speak to me in
a language I don't even understand yet. You know how it is: The fog of sleep
has barely lifted when you're greeted by the sight of some vegetable that
seems newly arrived from Mars. The lumpy item is a weirdly luminous shade of
green, smells vaguely of ginger, and hey, is that fur?

No, it's not an alien: it's a local crop of some vegetable that may already
be wildly popular in some other part of the world, and we're only just now
catching on. Cleaned and prepared a certain way, this vegetable may be a
staple of some diet half a world away, just as rice, potatoes or wheat are
in California. It could be the magic secret ingredient for an entire
cuisine, like tomatoes brought from the New World are for us Italians. But
how do we learn to speak its language?

At first I decided total immersion was the way to go. I boned up on cuisines
as far flung as Ethiopian, Cantonese and, obviously, Italian -- and soon
learned that I had to keep an incredibly expensive stocked pantry of elusive
ingredients to make many recipes work. I would use a teaspoon of tamarind
from a jar the size of a Slurpie and let the rest sit for a while. Then
awhile would turn into a year, and my industrial quantity of tamarind would
go into the trash. That was terribly wasteful and unsatisfying. It was like
learning Esperanto: I expended a lot of effort covering the basics of many
cuisines without ever really becoming fluent in any one.

Then I tried learning cuisines the way I learned English: by repeated trial
and (ahem) occasional error. As long as I was constantly changing recipes in
the search of a better one from a worldwide repertoire, I wasn't really
taking the proper time to work up a recipe I could make my own. But before I
could present it to the oohs and aahs of my dining companions, I needed to
give myself time to experiment and make mistakes.

The good news is that it doesn't take as long as you'd think to get your
basics down. All you need to have guests over are three solid dishes. A
great place to start is from what you like, be it sushi, Thai noodles or
French soups. Buy a book, ask kitchen-savvy friends, and go from there.

To build culinary fluency even faster, build from what you already know.
Even in my immigrant eagerness to embrace my newfound home country, I hadn't
completely forgotten the simple guiding principle of my native Italian
cuisine: In the right proportions, a few basic ingredients can transform
into truly complex flavors. So I started mastering some traditional Roman
recipes -- bucatini all'amatriciana, rustic pagnotta, risotto, pizza
margherita -- and noticed how the flavors worked together in different
combinations. Soon I started having many recipes to offer to my guests I
could feel proud of, because I knew they were far more personal and
distinctive than you'd find in restaurants churning out meals to please the
masses.

Like knowing the Latin roots of English words, those basic flavor
combinations gave me a basis to learn from. Once I felt comfortable with the
Roman basics, I started adding ingredients that were completely new to me. I
hit the books to learn about Asian and Latin American ingredients, and
started buying and incorporating them one at a time in the dishes. One of my
recent favorites is a Pacific Rim dish: bok choy and champagne risotto with
lime-poached scallops. Last week I made calzones with sauteed organic mizuna
(Japanese mustard greens) and California-made mozzarella cheese. Not a
common dish in Trastevere, but let me tell you: They're missing out.

So these days when I encounter some utterly unknown ingredient at the
farmer's market, I instinctively begin to salivate -- my tastebuds know
they're in for a journey. Mind you, there will still be some missed
connections and lost luggage along the way, but there's no better way to
initiate a meaningful appreciation of our human differences than through
something as primal as food. The letter of cuisine no longer interests me:
it's the spirit that matters.

Enjoy,
Marco Flavio

Eating: Once more, with feeling

Right about now, people start ditching their New Year's resolutions -- and I say good riddance to all those diets that turn food into a form of punishment. In case you hadn't noticed, it's winter out, and the weather only looks bleaker after a meal that's all nutrients and no flavor. Think about it: If you are what you eat, who wants to be a cardboard-flavored Lean Cuisine? Whether it's piping hot pho from your local Vietnamese place, a (more and more elusive) home-cooked meal, or a piece of heaven otherwise known as 72% dark chocolate, a tasty morsel can add warmth to a bone-chilling day.

Evolution gave us the gift of having to eat frequently: Let's not treat it as a chore. Sure, we all have to watch our waistlines, especially in an edible landscape littered with trans-fats, high-fructose corn syrup and 39 grams of sugar in a can of Coke (that's over 12 teaspoons, in case you never did the math). But that doesn't mean that we must have in the back of our minds a caloric accountant reproaching us for every tasty bite, three meals a day. In a time when fad diets get debunked as fast as they become popular, all good things in moderation sounds like a much smarter idea. In Italy (as in France), we love our health, but we love our food just as much. We rarely give up something completely; we just balance our diet so that every indulgence is permitted, hopefully on a regular basis.

How much we enjoy our food can actually affect what we absorb from it. In a renowned 1970s study, a group of Thai women and a group of Swedish women were fed Thai food. The Thai women absorbed almost 50% more iron from their food. When the experiment was repeated with the same food pureed, the Thai women absorbed 70% less iron then they had when the food was whole. Researchers concluded that looking forward to what you're about to eat prepared the body to absorb more nutrients, increasing the production of saliva and gastric juices.

In these days of strange weather and stranger news around the world, food can provide a reassuring constant. Eating isn't just a reflex but a conscious effort to reconnect with our humanity, when essentials are remembered, flavors savored, vision refocused. We all deserve to enjoy our food. That's what tastebuds are there for.

Especially in winter, my strategy is to turn meals and preparation into a way of detaching from the demands life imposes, and connect to more basic pleasures. First there's a homemade breakfast with cappuccinos for two and hearty bread (my favorite meal of the day: Bring on the world!), then a sit-down break at midday, then espresso when afternoon energies wane, and finally dinner. If it's a particularly bad day, there's a snack at 10. Each meal gets my full and undivided attention. I believe that when we devote attention to what we do, we feel more satisfied and satiated by it. Choosing the best ingredients from what's in season locally, preparing the dishes from scratch as often as time allows, and keeping in mind who's sharing them -- it's all gastronomical foreplay that creates the emotional build-up released in a delightful meal.

And despite what you may have heard, bigger isn't necessarily better (at least in meals).  Binges can be nauseating, especially if you're eating mechanically. It's not about quantity, it's about appreciation. Complexity has nothing to do with it either: Familiarity and fondness bred by time and circumstances is what makes food genuinely heartwarming, not exotic ingredients.

Food is neither a need to be fulfilled, nor something to fear. That's why so many extreme diet resolutions fail -- we don't fail them, they fail us. Energy bars can keep you working, but they'll rarely give you the pleasure of your chosen comfort food when you're down, working late hours, children misbehaving, or just tired of the dark days and cold weather. An extra pound (or three) are not the worst thing that can happen to a person, although millions are spent to convince you otherwise. Just own what you love, and enjoy it. You know all too well how rare these moments of solace can be.

Enjoy,
Marco Flavio

From our January dinner: Braised Chicken Thighs and Legs with Porcini Mushrooms and Gorgonzola cheese sauce

Buonasera,
this was Nick's outstanding recipe from our January dinner.
Enjoy!
Marco Flavio

Braised Chicken Thighs and Legs with Porcini Mushrooms and
Gorgonzola Sauce over Orecchiette Pasta Finished with Truffle Oil

Ingredients:
2 oz dried porcini mushrooms, rehydrated in 3 cups hot water
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
4 each chicken thighs and legs, trimmed of excess skin and fat
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp kosher salt and 1 tsp fresh cracked black pepper
4 cups onion, medium dice
2 cups celery, medium dice
2 cups carrots, medium dice
1/ 4 bunch fresh thyme, more for garnish
1/4 bunch fresh parsley, more for garnish
4 bay leaf
4 cloves garlic, mashed
12 whole black pepper corns
2 cups fruity medium body red wine, Carneros Pinot Noir , more to finish sauce
2 cups reserved porcini liquid, more to finish sauce
chicken stock, more to finish sauce
6 oz mountain gorgonzola cheese, broken into 1/2” pieces
juice of 1 fresh lemon
kosher salt and fresh cracked black pepper to taste
1 lb orecchiette  pasta, cooked al dente
truffle oil, optional

Method:
Rehydrate porcini mushrooms for 30 min, strain and reserve liquid. Rinse chicken and pat dry. Season chicken with flour, salt and pepper, remove excess flour. In a heavy skillet heat oil over moderately high heat until hot (not smoking); brown chicken pieces, transfer to plate as browned.

Reduce heat to moderate and add onion, celery and carrots, sauté until onions are translucent. Add thyme, parsley, bay leaf, garlic and pepper corns; heat until aromatics begin to release aromas.
Top with browned chicken pieces.

Add wine, porcini liquid and chicken stock to cover chicken 2/3. Bring liquid to a boil, reduce  heat to a simmer. Cover and cook for 45minutes, or until tender. (May  be cooked on stove top or in 350F oven). When chicken is tender remove pieces to a plate and cover.

Strain cooking liquid through a fine sieve. Reserve liquid discard vegetables and aromatics. Deglaze skillet with wine, return liquid to pan. Taste then balance mixture with additional porcini liquid and chicken stock. Return liquid to a simmer. Add gorgonzola pieces and mushrooms, incorporate by  gently swirling sauce in pan. Then taste and adjust sauce with lemon juice, salt and pepper to taste.

Reserve some sauce for chicken pieces. Add  orrchetti pasta to sauce and cook until pasta is heated through. Place pasta on a large serving platter, add chicken pieces and sauce. Garnish with thyme, parsley and truffle oil.

Serves: 4

Yes, it's been a harsh winter for California produce.

Buongiorno.
Without a doubt, this has been a difficult winter to eat local and seasonal produce in California. The worst freeze here in decades began January 11 and lasted several days, making $1 billion worth of California crops worthless.  What I've heard from farmers, vendors, and consumers in these past weeks has been very sad. Apparently unaware of the warming trend enveloping the globe, inclement weather brought to our sunny state freezing temperatures that have affected our economy and our meals. Very few vegetables have been spared, and the effects of this freeze will have economic and gastronomic repercussions that may last into summer and beyond.

For a few lucky West Coast farmers the freezing temperatures haven't been all bad: Peaches, cherries, apples and grapes are maturing nicely thanks to the chill. Something to look forward to!

Meanwhile, the cost of locally produced vegetables have gone up as supplies become scarcer, raising local produce to prices you find in parts of the country where produce is mostly imported from sunnier regions in winter. All that fuel doesn't come cheap, and we wind up paying for it with a premium on our produce.

The flavors and textures of frost-damaged vegetables are noticeably inferior to what they are when the weather behaves. Damaged produce may look damaged or stained, the texture will be dry and mealy, and flavors will tend towards the bitter or bland (or both, argh!)

But if consumers feel frustrated by all this, think how tough it is on producers. The people who are the backbone of our agricultural sector in California are migrant workers with very little job security, and thousands of families rely on the incomes from seasonal jobs harvesting and processing produce. For a month, these jobs have been lost to the freeze. What would you do without a month's pay?

At a time like this, I would urge you more than ever to continue buying local and seasonal food. It still has the highest probability of being flavorful, satisfying, and nutritious, since it doesn't spend weeks in transit. At our house we've been enjoying a gratifying variety of squashes, pumpkins, chard, bok choy, mushrooms, blood oranges and kiwis -- none of which (with a little discerning) have failed us -- and we feel great about supporting the people who work hard to provide us with the best the fields have to offer.

In these harder times, I'm realizing that eating according to the seasons isn't just about varying ingredients with the ebbs and flows of time: it means coming to terms with the unpredictability of the world, and finding a way of incorporating it in our lives.

Buon appetito!
Marco Flavio

Here's the breakdown of our current situation, crop by crop:

Citrus fruit
The crop has been decimated by the freezing temperatures, especially oranges and tangerines. You can easily figure that out by going to the markets and paying $1 to $1.49 for a navel orange, only to find it's fairly dry and tasteless. Some crops were picked early and stored, so citrus is still available -- but texture and flavor are highly unpredictable. Before buying a few pounds of something, buy one, taste it, then commit to more. You can also count on the price of orange juice going up soon, as some of our oranges are used for juice along with Florida ones.

There is one saving grace: Although the lemon crop was damaged, a new, undamaged lemon harvest scheduled for March could offset the 80 percent loss of the lemons in the Central Valley.

Avocados
It seems we've lost 20%-30% of our crop, with the possibility of damage to the buds for next year's crop. We'll have to wait and see on this one.

Strawberries
There will be a delay on the current crop. If there's frost damage to the crop, we may have to wait a few weeks for new ones to be harvested.

Winter Vegetables
They've taken the freeze especially hard. We've had extensive lettuce and artichoke losses, and the temperature fluctuations may have altered the flavors. I was talking to an organic farmer from Fresno who explained that some of the affected produce is on the markets now, because they already fronted the costs to grow it, and need to sell it to recover at least some of the money. Buyer beware! As always, taste before you buy ... that's what farmers' markets are for.

Spring Vegetables
Sweet corn, bell peppers, lettuce, cantaloupes and watermelons have been affected. We'll have to wait and see how they develop.

Artichokes
Castroville-area artichokes are gone until March. There may be a few available from other regions, but they too are damaged. The California Artichoke Commission says we'll be getting new ones  mid-March.

Olives
We'll have to see about the damage, but a similar freeze in 1990 cut production by half. I'll ask around, but it all depends on the location of the trees.

Flowers
Flowers that were being grown for Valentine Day have been affected. Most flowers will be flown in or from greenhouses. (Chocolates, anyone?)

Other Crops and Bees
The freeze appears to have destroyed small blocks of tropical fruits such as guavas and cherimoyas grown in San Diego County.

Beekeepers are providing sugar water to their bees to make sure they have enough nourishment to sustain them through the cold weather.

Data is from the California Farm Bureau Federation.

From our January dinner: Moroccan Squab Bastilla

Buongiorno,
this recipe from our January dinner is from Sharif and Korey.
The seasonal ingredient we requested as an entree was any poultry except chicken, free range and organic, whenever possible.

Enjoy,
Marco Flavio

Squab Bastilla

8 saffron threads
3 squabs (about 3 lb total). You can use cornish game hens, if needed.
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
5 teaspoons finely chopped seeded fresh jalapeño chile
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 cup dry Sherry
1 1/4 cups reduced-sodium chicken broth
1 cup water
3 large eggs
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh cilantro
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1/2 cup sliced almonds (1 1/4 oz)
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
6 (17- by 12-inch) phyllo sheets, thawed if frozen, (then unrolled)
1 1/2 teaspoons confectioners sugar

Make filling:
Heat a dry 12-inch heavy skillet over low heat and toast saffron 1 minute, then transfer to a small dish and crumble. Reserve skillet.
Cut off wings from squabs with a sharp small knife and discard, then cut off legs with thighs. Using kitchen shears, cut out backbone and ribs and discard. Cut breasts in half lengthwise with shears. Pat legs and breast halves dry and sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Heat olive oil in skillet over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking, then brown squab in 2 batches, skin side down first, turning over once, about 6 minutes total per batch, transferring as browned to a platter.

After second batch is browned, return all squab pieces to skillet along with onion, garlic, jalapeño, cumin, ginger, saffron, and 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, then sauté, stirring, 1 minute.

Add Sherry and boil 30 seconds, scraping up any brown bits. Add broth and water and simmer, covered, turning squab over once or twice, until tender, about 40 minutes.

Transfer squab with tongs to a platter and reserve cooking liquid in skillet. When squab is cool enough to handle, discard skin and bones and finely shred meat, then toss with 3 tablespoons cooking liquid and cover loosely with foil.

Boil remaining cooking liquid in skillet (without straining) over moderately high heat, stirring
frequently, until sauce is very thick and reduced to about 1/2 cup, 12 to 15 minutes, then transfer to a 1 1/2- to 2-quart heavy saucepan. (Do not skim fat from sauce.)

Whisk together eggs and 1/4 cup sauce in a bowl until combined, then whisk into remaining sauce in saucepan and cook over moderately low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon or heatproof rubber spatula, until eggs just set into very soft curds, 5 to 7 minutes. (Mixture will have the consistency of very soft oatmeal.) Immediately transfer egg mixture to a bowl and stir in parsley and cilantro. Cool to room temperature, stirring occasionally.

Assemble and bake bastilla:
Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 375°F.

Heat vegetable oil in a 10-inch skillet over moderate heat until just hot, then fry almonds, stirring frequently, until golden, 2 to 3 minutes. Drain almonds and cool on a paper-towel-lined plate.

Brush a 9-inch round cake pan with some of butter.
Cover stack of phyllo with plastic wrap and a dampened kitchen towel. Keeping remaining phyllo covered, place 1 sheet on a work surface and brush with butter. Fold in half crosswise and butter again. Repeat with another sheet, buttering, folding, and buttering, then place over first sheet crosswise. Repeat with 2 more sheets, buttering, folding, and buttering, then
placing each sheet on top of the previous one in a star pattern to form a round. (Sheets should not align.) Lift stacked phyllo and gently fit into bottom of cake pan and halfway up side.

Sprinkle almonds over phyllo, then stir squab into egg mixture and spread evenly in phyllo shell.

Put 1 of remaining sheets of phyllo on a work surface and brush with butter. Fold in half crosswise and butter again. Fold in half (to quarter) and brush with butter. Repeat with remaining sheet phyllo and lay over first sheet crosswise. Place over center of filling. Bring edges of phyllo from side of pan up over filling and quartered top sheets.

Bake bastilla until golden brown, 20 to 30 minutes.
Cool in pan on a rack 5 minutes, then invert onto a platter and let stand 5 minutes.

Sift confectioners sugar over top of bastilla, then remaining 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon. Cut into wedges.

Bread: Tastes like home.

Part of me remains tied to a city some 13,000 miles away from where I chose to live my life -- and that part happens to be my stomach. Memories battered by time and distance come flooding back at the table.

That connection is essential. Even with the best intentions, gaps in communication grow, until the time difference and all those miles seem impossible to overcome. Though living abroad is choice I gladly make, I can feel detached, distant, a bit lost, like a bee without a hive.

Anyone who loves food knows it not only keeps you alive, it keeps you social, creating memories and strengthening ties through shared gastronomic bliss.

The one food I miss most from home is bread, not only as the building block of the Italian diet but as a shared point of reference. Yes, (deceptively) simple, (never) plain, (always) thick-crusted, (truly) essential bread. Endless Italian proverbs and sayings revolve around it. My favorite: Non e' pane per i tuoi denti (It's not bread for your teeth) meaning you're telling someone they can't handle something. But my beloved Neruda says it best in his Ode to Bread. (Grazie Pablo: Where would I be without you to explain what matters most?)

Even while Michelangelo was painting the Sistine Chapel, we know he mostly ate rustic bread, some fragrant sheep's cheeses and (quite) a few bottles of hearty red Roman wine from the areas surrounding the city  -- that's when he wasn't risking the the Pope's ire by running off to Florence.

If you've been to Rome and had our rustic pagnotta (loaf) you understand why. Of all the extraordinary food we have in the United States, bread is still rather bland, though getting better. Let's face it: Even when paying $3-4 for a (supposedly artisanal) loaf, the crust is unsatisfactory and the flavor rather mild or yeasty. Perhaps that's to be expected from a culture where sandwiches reign supreme, and pre-sliced bread a paragon of excellence: the greatest thing since sliced bread. Then again, when a loaf is so soft that any attempt at slicing it yourself results in an accordion-like abomination, maybe that makes sense.

For anyone born in Italy or France -- where bread is an accompaniment to every meal and not just a platform for cold cuts -- bland white bread is quite a disappointment. I am cursed with that lineage.
That's why 10 years ago, in a stubborn search for what I craved, I decided: If I can't buy it, I'll make it.

I was determined to bake something that would cover the distance between here and there with its aroma alone ... a different kind of air travel. I'd read Proust's Remembrance of Things Past, which captures the connection between our sense of smell and our memories, and studied enough science to know that most of the flavors we taste comes through the nose (remember having that cold and not tasting anything?) So I was ready to open the floodgates of flavor and memory, yet the how-to was unclear.

Two main hurdles stood between me and the bread I craved. First I had to acquire the technical expertise, and then I had to learn the patience. Guess which took longer? Right in the middle of the process, you have to step away and allow the yeast to slowly break down the carbohydrates and feast on the sugars that releases. The byproduct of the yeast feast is carbon dioxide, which the gluten in the flour catches, making the loaf rise like an air balloon. It's so primal, so simple... and so time consuming.

You can speed the process up by increasing the temperature in the room to help the yeast work faster, or increase the amount of yeast, so that more carbon dioxide is expelled and and the loaf rises more quickly -- but the result won't be the same.

To taste and smell right, I found that my rustic loaves need to rise for about 24 hours (about three rises). They are made from only five ingredients: organic flour, yeast, water, salt, and time. And you can't skimp on any one of those ingredients. Now when I let the yeast loose on the flour, I give it the time it needs to transform the dough from a sticky unmanageable mass into a crackling loaf.

These breads are finally the connection I was missing: From home, to me, to all the friends and neighbors who broke bread with me -- a benefit I hadn't considered at the beginning of what I thought would be a solo quest. Turns out this bread is best with a bottle of Zinfandel, a slice of Point Reyes blue cheese, and other wanderers like me.

This bread came from my roots, but it developed where I live. Maybe it's a little different from the original, but then so am I.

A presto, and eat well.
Marco Flavio

Let's get it right, already: Focaccia with rosemary

Buonasera.
One of my contributions to our December group cooking event was a Ligurian Focaccia col rosmarino (Liguria is the Italian region where focaccia originated). The response was truly enthusiastic -- we're talking crumbs within minutes. Nothing could've made me happier than seeing people appreciate the real thing, and see that the difference between store-bought and home-baked is always evident.

I'm often surprised at the focaccia's popularity, given how doughy, limp, stale or tough the average one is. It's really not too hard to make compared to other Italian or French breads, and when you get it just out of the oven, with the slightly crackling crust, glistening with translucent golden olive oil and coarse salt crystals reflecting the light, well... it's outstanding. The aroma of rosemary permeates the room.

The real focaccia has a couple necessary steps that make a significant difference in flavor and texture, and are usually overlooked in mass-produced versions.

First, part of the dough has to be made of boiled potatoes, not flour. This will contribute a different shade of flavor and tenderness to the dough (unlike wheat flour, potatoes have starch but no gluten).
To take your focaccia to next level, you brush it with oil before it's headed for the oven, and also as soon as it comes out. This adds another layer of flavor, wets the rosemary again to release more herbal aromas, and most importantly makes it look amazing.

This goes really well served with a Shitake or Portobello pate with white truffle oil  -- that's the recipe I gave you last week. Do try them together.

A few months back, I gave you quite a different recipe for a focaccia filled and topped with roasted grapes -- it's back in season, as grapes are all over the farmers' markets. Go check it out!

So get to that kitchen, crank up the oven and share this treat. There's plenty for everyone, even for a holiday party crowd.
Enjoy,
Marco Flavio

Focaccia with rosemary (Focaccia ligure col rosmarino)

This will make approximately a 11'x17' focaccia. I bake it in a cookie sheet with small rims.
It takes about 4 hours to make.

Ingredients

Dough
1 medium baking potato or 1 cup of organic potato flakes and 1 cup of hot water
1 and 1/2 tsp of instant yeast or 2 tsp dry yeast
3 and 1/2 cups of organic all-purpose flour (don't use bread flour)
1 cup water (warm to the touch, but not boiling)
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus a little more to oil the bowl it'll rise in
1 and 1/4 teaspoons salt

To top it
4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons fresh rosemary
1 or 2 teaspoon sea salt, coarse if you can get it

How do I do it?
Boil a quart of water and cook the peeled potato until tender. Mash it finely and reserve 1 and 1/3 cup (tightly packed ) for the recipe.
If using potato flakes, add a cup of boiling water, and mix thoroughly. Set aside to cool slightly.

In a mixer, combine the yeast, 1/2 cup of the flour and 1/2 cup of water and mix well, then let sit for 25 minutes. This will activate the yeast and give it a good start, without the salt slowing it down, so the rise will be slower in the second stage. Cover the mixture tightly and let the yeast go to work in private -- it'll get bubbly in there.

Add the remaining ingredients, and mix them initially with the paddle. After a couple of minutes replace them with the dough hook and work about 5 minutes at medium speed, until the dough is tight and clears the edges. It will stick to the bottom of the mixer, as it will be a little wet. That's OK. If the area sticking to the bottom is very large, like a circle of 5" across, add some flour a tablespoon at a time until it's a little tighter.

Get out your dough, place it in a oiled bowl, and let rise until doubled. This takes about an hour at 75 degrees. Colder rooms will take longer. Don't let it over-rise; it's a slightly delicate dough.

Pull it out of the bowl, and spread it about 1/4 of an inch thick onto an 11'x17" cookie sheet. Push with your fingertips and spread it around to the four corners. It's OK if it's dimpled -- you'll need those, and you'll add more later. Do it slowly, and make sure it's spread out. The gluten structure may make it contract a little. Don't worry: It'll grow and fill the space again.

Spread a thin layer of olive oil on it with your fingers (so it won't stick to the towel covering it).
Cover with a kitchen towel and let it puff up to about double in volume.
It'll take 45 minutes to an hour. After 20 minutes, turn on the oven and pre-heat it to 425.

When it's doubled, wet your fingers with cold water (so the dough won't stick to your hands), and dimple the surface, about 2" apart. Pour the olive oil topping, the rosemary and pepper with the coarse salt. Some of the topping will pool in the dimples; that's what you want.

Put it in the oven. It'll take 20-25 minutes to cook. Keep an eye on it, as it's thin and will brown and dry up fast if you overcook it.When it's a couple of shades darker than cream, with a little lighter browning, take it out and put it on a cooling rack (or leave it in the pan if you don't have one).

Brush it well with extra-virgin olive oil. If you have a really flavorful oil, now's the time to use it. Like all breads, let it cool off slightly, at least 30 minutes for the dough to set. Otherwise it may be too chewy (not in the good way).

This reheats very well, and gets a little crisp. If you're taking it to a party or potluck, you should under-bake it a few minutes. Cook it for 20 minutes in this case, then about 5 minutes at 350 when you're ready to eat.

Enjoy!

 

Shitake, Portobello or Porcini mushrooms pate with white truffle oil

Buongiorno.
After our December group dinner, many of you asked me for the recipe of my mushroom pate. It's a tasty seasonal treat to bring to a holiday potluck and truly versatile, because you can adapt the recipe to make the most of whatever mushroom is in season. In December I used meaty Portobello, and at the November dinner I made it with Shitakes (which I sometimes grow myself, but it's really not necessary). The base recipe comes from back home in Italy, where we use Porcini. A little goes a long way as an appetizer with a nice crusty bread, and really satisfies that winter craving for savory umami flavors. You can omit the truffle oil, but it gives the pate greater depth of flavor: All you need is a teaspoon or two.
Enjoy and let me know how you liked it,
Marco Flavio

Shitake, Portobello or Porcini mushroom pate with white truffle oil
(Pate' di funghi porcini)

Takes about 50 minutes to make and at least 2 hours in the refrigerator to come together (or overnight). It will keep well for a few days refrigerated. Don't whine about the fat: It's a pate.

Ingredients
1 lb. Shitake mushrooms
1/2 an ounce of dried porcini mushrooms (optional)
1 stick of butter, unsalted
1/2 cup of extra-virgin olive oil
2 Bay leaves
3 cloves of garlic
1 cup of dry white white (Sauvignon Blanc works very well)
Salt to taste (start with 1 and a quarter teaspoons; I like almost two)
Freshly-ground pepper to taste (I like to put in quite a bit)

How do I do it?
If you are using the porcini as well, boil exactly 1 cup of water, and soak the dried porcinis in it for at least 20 minutes.
Brush the Shitake mushrooms (do not rinse them in water). Remove the stems, cut of the end where they're attached to the ground and chop them in small pieces with the caps (about the size of a small corn kernels). You can use a food processor if you want, but make sure the pieces don't get too small.

Cook them covered in a skillet with the bay leaves, the drained porcini (keep the water they soaked in) and the chopped garlic for 30 minutes on a low flame. Every now and them lift the cover and add some of the wine and some of the porcini water. The liquids should be all used up before the 30 minutes are up.
After 30 minutes of simmering, remove the lid. If still too wet, let the moisture evaporate: It should look like a thick sauce, not watery at the bottom. Don't burn it.
Turn the burner off and remove the bay leaves.
If you like a finer consistency, chop it finer with an immersion blender or in the food processor before adding the butter.

Melt the stick of butter in the microwave. The butter should not cook, just melt.
Add it to the pate and stir it in vigorously. At this point add a teaspoon of white (or black) truffle oil if you want repeat invitations to the dinner you're taking it to.
Truffle flavor does not like high-temperatures, so add it always at the end for maximum flavor.

Place the pate in a bowl and refrigerate it before serving at least 2 hours, the flavors will meld and concentrate.

Buon appetito!
Marco Flavio