Stay at Stove Dad

Slow-Roasted Pork Shoulder for the Whole Gang

On our recent trip to the New Jersey shore with my extended family, I took responsibility for cooking for the gang a number of nights. In cooking for a big group, there’s always the issue of balancing cost and flavor. Sure, I’d love to serve rib eye steak to everyone, but I’d also like to be able to send my kids to college. The more mouths, the bigger the bill.

Over the years, I’ve learned that a slow-roasted pork shoulder comes in handy at times like this. It is a delicious and cheap cut of meat that’s easy to cook and is perfect for a big group. The only thing you need is some time. It can take about five hours to cook, but most of that time is unattended, leaving plenty of opportunities for swimming and hanging on the beach.

This recipe uses a simple spice rub and mesquite chips to give the meat a killer flavor. I first made it in July of 2004, when we were in a rambling home in Cape May. Mark Bittman wrote it up in the New York Times Dining section that week, and I was inspired to fire up that home’s superb gas grill. I cooked that shoulder all day, and I’ll never forget its salty, spicy, and sweet flavor. My mother’s comment sealed the deal for me. “It’s so fatty,” she said. “Yes,” I said, “It is.”

This time, at the run-down home on Long Beach Island, I was working with a gas grill that looked like it had survived a few hurricanes. Or maybe it had been blown in by a Nor’easter. It had three burners, but the controls were a bit shaky and its thermometer looked about as reliable as certain famly members of mine. I couldn’t get the temperature down to the low 300 degrees the meat is supposed to roast at. The grill’s thermometer kept creeping up past 400 degrees.

I tried turning the burners off. I thought about opening the top, but that would let the smoke out. I was getting close to being a disaster, but then I realized that the grill’s thermometer couldn’t be trusted. Maybe its 400 was really 300. When I was roasting those sublime chickens a few nights before, it told me that the temperature in the grill was 500 degrees. Thinking back on the way the chicken cooked up, I realized that the it probably hadn't been that hot in the grill. And, “What the hell,” I thought. “I’m on vacation.”

I let that meat cook for about five hours at what the grill was calling 400 degrees. I didn’t trust it, and the meat confirmed my judgement; it turned out fine. The truth is the pork shoulder is a forgiving and durable cut of meat, which, by the way, are the same qualities that make a good spouse, in case you're out there looking.

Other than the amazing flavor, the best thing about the dish is its cost. I fed about fifteen people for less than $27 dollars. The meat was about $17; and the rice and beans and salad I paired it with couldn’t have cost more than $10. Down in that part of Long Beach Island, one entrée at just about any restaurant runs more than $30, so I knew I was coming out ahead. 

Slow Roasted Pork Shoulder for the Whole Gang

• 2 teaspoons salt
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 2 teaspoons black pepper
• 2 teaspoons cumin
• 2 teaspoons mild chili powder, like ancho or New Mexico
• 2 teaspoons paprika
• 1 pork shoulder, about 5 or 6 pounds
• Mesquite chips for grilling.

 

Soak the chips in water for about a half hour before cooking.

Mix together the dry ingredients and rub the mix all over the pork shoulder, working it into all the nooks and crannies.

Using a gas grill, heat all burners for about fifteen minutes to clean grill (this is a rental-house tip).

Turn off two of the three burners, or do what is necessary to get the heat inside the covered grill down to under 300 degrees.

Put the chips in a tinfoil pan and set it over the burner that is on.

Place the meat on the cooler side of the grill and cover. Keep an eye on the grill to make sure the chips are smoking (and if they’re not, don’t sweat it), and that the heat in the grill is under (or around) 300 degrees.

The pork is finished when the internal temperature reaches 190 degrees. This will take four to six hours. I could only get portions of the meat I cooked at the shore up to about 180, and it was fine. I think the longer it cooks, though, the more tender it will get.

I let the meat sit for about ten minutes after I took it off the grill, then I hacked it into small bits. I served it with rice and beans and a salad, but it would work well in tacos or in a sandwich. This, I believe, is the kind of meat made into pulled pork, for example. You really can’t go wrong with this cut.

For an online version Bittman’s recipe, click here. 

Shore Special: Rental-House Wine and Herb Grilled Chicken

I’m back from vacation, full of good memories, tanner than I’ve been all year, and, yet, just nearly as tired as any other day. It was great to be at the beach, and great to see family, but I tend to get very little rest because I suffer from an unfortunate condition: I have a bad case of  “Needing to Do Things the Right Way.”*

So, when my wife and kids got to the beach before me and put the towels and toys down too far from the water on a day when the tide was going out, I picked everything up and moved it four feet. Only after I did this, did I realize that no one but me cared.

The condition intensified around mealtimes. If I didn’t get involved, I would have been eating tuna casserole, pizza, or hot dogs and hamburgers (the latter of which we did eat the one night I didn’t cook, and even then I had to take my burger back to the grill and finish it, but that’s life in a big family).

We were about eleven heads in the house. I say “about,” because some of those heads belonged to small children, and some belonged to teenagers. Sometimes the teenagers ate like small children; other times, they brought their friends to dinner.

When I was a boy, my father—who was a lawyer and had his own practice—would complain mightily about the break up of Ma Bell. After the telecommunication giant lost its grip on the country’s phone system, he wrestled with buying new equipment each year, was constantly frustrated with his phone bills, and generally had a hard time running the communication aspect of his business. The way my grown siblings and I talk to each other makes those days look like a model of efficiencey. All we do is cross wires when it comes to talking about important things, especially dinner.

One night, when I was planning on grilling a pair of chickens for eleven, I was told (after much back and forth) that my nineteen-year-old niece and her college roommate and her boyfriend, would be coming for dinner, too. One chicken feeds about four people, and I was planning to stretch the chickens by serving my three-bean salad. But I figured there was no way the two chickens would feed all thirteen, especially when I learned that the boyfriend was a football player.

I almost panicked, but then I took a page from Tamar Adler’s book “An Everlasting Meal.” In it, she often throws an egg into a salad to make it a meal. All I needed to do was to boil some eggs (I cooked nine), slice them in half, and serve them with the chicken, three-bean salad, a plate of tomatoes and red onions, and a large romaine salad. My mother, wise to the ways of feeding many with little, insisted that I serve bread, too. She was right, and we had plenty of food. It helped, too, that the football-player boyfriend was a punter, with a normal appetite, and not a lineman, with an outsized one.

I had always found it vexing to cook chicken on the grill because the legs would burn and the breast would come out raw, or vice versa, but I was excited to make these two birds because of an amazing recipe I found in the current issue of Cook’s Country magazine. It suggested butterflying the birds, which allows them to cook flat on the grill, and it solved all my problems. The chickens practically cooked themselves, and the act of butterflying the animal was as easy as peeling a carrot. Anyone can do it. Just flip the bird so it’s back is up, and cut with a knife or scissors along one side of the backbone. You can either cut along the other side of the backbone, and remove it, or you can leave it attached (which if you’re feeding a lot of people can be a good idea). With the bird laying flat, press on the breast to break the breast bone and have the bird flatten out further. If you are confused, look on the Internet; there are many videos demonstrating the technique.

The recipe called for marinating the birds in wine, thyme, lemon, olive oil, garlic, sugar, and parsley. Cook’s Country magazine is very thorough—they are masters of doing things the right way—and the recipe writer tested all kinds of wine, and all kinds of methods for marinating and cooking the birds.  He suggested using a blender to make the marinade, claiming that the blades would release the flavor of the herbs. He may have been right, but he didn’t take into account a rental house that lacked such standard kitchen equipment as a blender (the house lacked a whole lot of other things, but that’s another story; let’s just say “location, location, location,” was all that mattered as it was about fifty yards from the beach).

I did my best to follow the recipe writer’s intentions, but in addition to forsaking the blender, I forgot a key step: poking holes in the chicken so it absorbs the marinade. But, their thoroughness means their recipes really work. They’re built to withstand bad rental houses, dysfunctional families, and anything else that might stand in the way of culinary perfection.

It didn’t matter that I chopped everything by hand (and didn’t really measure anything) mixed up everything in an old Pyrex bowl, threw the marinade on the birds and tucked them into zip lock bags for a couple of hours. The marinade was so good, Santa Maria said she wanted to drink it. The chicken was well worth the effort. Sometimes, it pays to do things the right way, even if the right way isn’t the “right way” at all.

Shore Special: Rental-House Wine and Herb Grilled Chicken

(serves 8 to 13, depending on sides and appetites)

• 3-4 cups dry white wine (cheap is fine, so long as you would drink it on its own)
• 2 or 3 lemons, juiced
• More than couple of good “glugs” of extra-virgin olive oil (about 6 tablespoons)
• 1 head of parsley, chopped
• 1 bunch of fresh thyme, chopped
• 3 tablespoons brown sugar
• 5-6 garlic cloves, chopped
• 1 heavy teaspoon fresh pepper
• 2-3 tablespoons salt
• 2 whole chickens (about four pounds each), butterflied.

Combine the wine and other ingredients in a bowl and whisk together.

Put the chickens in with the marinade and mix around.

Put each chicken in a gallon Ziploc bag and pour the marinade around each one, evenly.

Marinate the chickens in the bags in the refrigerator for two hours or longer. 

Using a gas grill, heat all elements to high for about fifteen minutes.

Make sure the grill is clean.

Turn off all but one of the elements, and put the chicken, skin side down, over the cooler part of the grill.

Reserve the marinade.

Cover and adjust the grill so it’s about 400 degrees in the grill.

Cook covered for about 50 minutes.

Pour some of the marinade on the chicken.

Flip the birds, and move closer to the heat if possible.

Pour some more marinade on them.

Cook for another 15 minutes or so, or until the internal breast temperature is about 165 and the thigh, too.

If possible, let rest for about ten minutes before serving.

Cut into pieces and enjoy.

Note: For those who really like to do things right, the Cook’s Country recipe is available online. A trial subscription is required.

 

*(Credit to identifying the “Right Way” condition goes to L. Rust Hills; see “How to Do Things Right: The Revelations of a Fussy Man,” for example.)

 

 

Three-Bean Salad Recipe

Recently, I had the far-too-rare-these-days chance to see old friends not once but twice in one weekend, and I was delighted. The first occasion was a friend’s barbecue, and I knew that was going to be fun. My friend is a great cook and he kept everyone happy with fish, hot dogs, and burgers off the grill. It was a perfect summer evening.

The second occasion was a trip to the beach the following day, and culinarily I knew that it was going to be a bit trickier. The words “Pot Luck” tipped me off. For me, “Pot Luck” means “Cook or go hungry.” It’s hard for me to trust that a bunch of other folks are ever going to be able to feed me properly, especially when that bunch of folks is so loosely organized that it can barely settle on which beach to go to.

After much back and forth, we agreed on Jacob Riis, and I took matters into my own hands when it came to the food. I made enough three-bean salad to feed an army. I’m not sure how I settled on the idea for a three-bean salad, but the idea came to me, unbidden, shortly after I heard those words “Pot Luck.”

I got started a few days before the trip to the beach. I looked through Bittman’s “How to Cook Everything.” I checked “The Food 52 Cookbook.” I scanned the Internet. Strangely, I couldn’t find a half decent recipe for a three-bean salad. I found lots of odd but apparently popular suggestions to use canned green beans. Talk about a horror.

I decided on kidney, garbanzo (chick peas), and black beans, and, in the interest of saving time, I figured I could get two cans of each and be done with the salad in about ten minutes. Then I looked at the price of the organic beans: $1.72 a can at my coop. What the?

So I bought dried beans in bulk to save money. Later did the math on what I saved: about $6. It took me two hours to cook the beans (more on that in a moment) so I saved $3 an hour. Perhaps it is not really worth it by a simple dollar measure, but I couldn’t wrap my head around paying more than $10 for the beans alone. I would have felt silly about being so thickheaded, but the home-cooked beans were a revelation. They were incredibly delicious, and they would have been worth it at three-times the price.

The kidney beans and the black beans held their own, but it was the chick peas that settled it for me. I never really liked canned chick peas, finding them kind of bland and slimy, but my home cooked garbanzo beans were so nutty tasting and flavorful, I could have eaten them plain, as a snack.

I wasn’t sure about quantities, and, after some further research, decided to cook a cup of each, which gave me a huge bowl of beans. There seems to be no end to the discussion of how to best cook beans. Presoak? Salt? No salt? I was momentarily nervous, but then just decided to wing it. I cooked each cup with three cups of water, and I just cooked them until they were done. The kidney beans were ready in about forty-five minutes, and the garbanzo and black beans took longer. I realized it’s not even necessary to measure the water. Just keep them covered and drain them when they are done. They should be soft but not falling apart, with a little crunch to each one. Stir them a bit as they cook. It’s not hard. You can do it.

I added chopped red pepper, red onion, and cilantro, and I was finished. For a dressing, Santa Maria (an expert in these things) suggested plain white vinegar, olive oil, and salt and pepper. She was right on the money. The salad was tasty and delicious, and it fed more than six adults, with leftovers for my lunch the next day.  

Three-Bean Beach-Day Salad

• 1 cup dried Black Beans
• 1 cup dried Garbanzo Beans (chick peas)
• 1 cup dried Kidney Beans
• 2 whole red bell peppers, diced
• 1 whole head of cilantro, diced
• 1 large (or two small) red onions, diced

Rinse the beans carefully.

Using three pots (or working sequentially) cook the beans—each variety at a time—in about three cups of water. Cover, bring to a boil, and turn down to a simmer. Stir them occasionally to keep any from sticking to the bottom of the pot. Add more water if necessary. Drain them when cooked (break into one or two with a fork or knife and look at its inside—it should be moist all the way through, and not yet at the point where it’s collapsing and turning to mush). It will take anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours for each pot of beans. You can do this the day ahead of time.

Cool the beans and combine them in a large bowl.

Add the other ingredients, and dress to taste with olive oil and white vinegar. Salt and pepper to taste.

Note: the salad stores well, either dress or undressed, for a few days. 

Father's Day Feast: A Guest Post

Paul Kidwell, a working father, home cook, and devoted reader of this blog (who has also contributed to it previously—see here for his holiday creamy mushroom bruschetta story) wrote me recently with a Father’s Day story. Here it is:

I think every father wants his child – particularly his son - to take on some of his characteristics, interests or personality traits. And while I think I am a decent role model for my son, and it wouldn’t be a bad thing if he took after some parts of me; I definitely want mostly that he become his own person. There is; however, a particular area of influence where I have made my mark in his life and I am grateful that he has followed me into the kitchen where I prepare meals for my family.

I cannot recall when I first interested him in cooking, but I remember he was a little boy, barely able to reach the kitchen counter without the aid of a stepstool. As a self-professed “man-with-a-pan,” I have been cooking at home for 30 years, so I figured it was inevitable that at some point he learn to share kitchen utensils with his Legos, Power Rangers, and a myriad of sports equipment; and take his rightful place beside me as we made our way through countless meals and recipes. Over the years he has graduated from benign whisking and mixing together ingredients, to more serious cooking tasks such as handling the sauté pan, hand mixer, and my all-time favorite kitchen gadget, the immersion blender. Perhaps his greatest maturation as a home cook came about two years ago when he was 18 years old and took over the summer grilling chores from me.

Honestly, I’ve never been enamored with the whole barbecue/grilling phenomenon and, as a man, I know that statement calls into question my Y chromosome, and is nothing short of espousing sacrilege or blasphemy. I am not a fan of warm weather and anytime the temperature rises above 60° Fahrenheit, I begin to wilt quicker than Scarlett O’Hara in front of Rhett Butler. Happy to pass along those skills to my son, who on this Father’s Day* will be putting them to good use.

For this year’s Father’s Day I have eschewed tradition that can include a gift I don’t need or a restaurant meal I don’t want, and asked my son to prepare a Father’s Day meal for me, my wife and his grandmother. I think he is up to the challenge; however, to ensure that he not walk alone on the high wire without a safety net below, I have volunteered to be sous chef to his chef de cuisine and have already helped with the menu. My plan is watch in the wings as he prepares not just a meal, but a memory that – whether it’s edible or not – will be everlasting, and one that I will forever savor.

*Father’s Day comes on June 17 this year around the nation, but in my home it was celebrated last week and in some other homes the date is flexible, too.

Here’s what he’ll be preparing:

Grilled seafood kabobs
Grilled asparagus wrapped in prosciutto
Rice
Key lime pie

 

And here are the recipes.

Grilled Shrimp-Scallop Kabobs

• 1/4 c. lite soy sauce
• 1/4 c. vegetable oil
• 1/4 c. white wine
• 1 tsp. sugar
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• 2 dashes hot pepper sauce
• 1 dash of black pepper
• 1 (2 inch) strip fresh orange, lemon, or tangerine peel
• 1-1.5 lbs. sea scallops
• 1-1.5 jumbo shrimp
• 1 lb. baby bella mushrooms
• 2 large onions chopped in “kabob-able” chunks
• 2 red/yellow peppers chopped in “kabob-able” strips

Combine first seven ingredients in small bowl. Pour over seafood and veggies, and let marinate 1 to 8 hours. Thread marinated seafood and veggies on skewers. Grill until seafood is done.

Grilled Prosciutto Wrapped Asparagus

• 2 pounds asparagus spears
• 14-16 slices of prosciutto
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• black pepper

Preheat grill for medium-high heat. Trim ends off of asparagus. Cut prosciutto slices into strips. Place half of one slice onto each asparagus spear. Add minced garlic to olive oil and brush each spear with oil. Season with black pepper and place onto grill and cook for 4 minutes, turning occasionally. Remove from heat and serve.

Coconut Rice

• 2 cups Thai jasmine-scented white rice
• 2 cups good-quality coconut milk
• 1 3/4 cups water
• 2 heaping Tbsp. dry shredded unsweetened coconut (baking type)
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1/2 tsp. coconut oil, or vegetable oil

You can easily prepare this dish in a medium-sized pot, but save yourself a bunch of trouble and invest in a rice-maker. They are not expensive and you will have it forever.

Place rice, coconut milk, water, shredded coconut, and salt in the pot and set over medium-high to high heat. Stir occasionally to keep rice from sticking to the bottom of the pot and burning.

In about 10-15 minutes the red light indicator will pop off and revert to the start position. Thjis means the rice is done. A few final stirs to fluff up the rice and top with a half-cup of shredded coconut and quarter cup of chopped scallions.

Key Lime Pie

 

• 2 (14-ounce) cans condensed milk
• 1 cup key lime or regular lime juice
• 2 whole eggs
• 1 cup sour cream
• 2 tablespoons powdered sugar
• 1 tablespoon lime zest

I’ve made this pie myself and sometimes I make the crust and other times I buy a pre-made graham cracker crust. Not sure if I can tell the difference and will not expect my son (or you) to make the crust from scratch.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

In a bowl, mix the graham cracker crumbs, sugar, and butter with your hands. Press the mixture firmly into a 9-inch pie pan, and bake until brown, about 20 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow to cool to room temperature before filling.

Lower the oven temperature to 325 degrees F. (My brother who is a trained chef told me to do this. Not sure I understand why, but have followed his instructions in savant-like fashion.)

In a separate bowl, combine the condensed milk, lime juice, and eggs. Whisk until well blended and place the filling in the cooled pie shell. Bake in the oven for 15 minutes and allow to chill in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours.

Once chilled, combine the sour cream and powdered sugar and spread over the top of the pie using a spatula. Sprinkle the lime zest as a garnish on top of the sour cream and serve chilled. 

Memorial Day Surprise: Limes in my Dhal

Santa Maria's company, ParentEarth.com, makes videos about food and families, and this past weekend we traveled to her alma mater to give a talk during reunion weekend. It was called “7 Secrets to Transforming the Way We Eat -- in Our Kitchens and in Our Country,” and my half of the talk featured many of the cartoons I’ve posted here, along with many of the tips I’ve mentioned, including the following: "Secret Number 2: Keep a Fully Stocked Larder."

So, you can imagine my surprise and chagrin this morning when, back at home and halfway through my favorite dhal recipe, I had to stop cooking because I was short two key ingredients. The only ginger I could find in the fridge was a shriveled piece that looked more like a witch’s knuckle than anything I could cook with (the bit of green mold was a nice touch). And I was fresh out of lemons.

Santa Maria was out on a bike ride, so I frantically texted her. She picked up the ginger, but the coop didn’t have any lemons. There must have been a memorial-day run on lemonade. Or maybe it has been the warm winter and early spring that has caused a shortage. Apparently, the weather has caused massive troubles for Good Humor, which, the Wall Street Journal is reporting, has run out of its famous Toasted Almond Bar for the whole summer. Because of the high demand during the warm spring, their whole supply is gone. 

But I wasn’t going to let global warming stop me from making my dhal. Luckily, I had limes on hand that I could substitute, and they worked just fine. I used them same way as the lemons, but took them out a bit earlier to keep the soup from getting bitter. 

Red Lentil Dhal

• Olive oil
• 1 onion quartered lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise 
• 2 bay leaves 
• One 2 inch or so cinnamon stick 
• 2 teaspoons (or more) of minced fresh ginger 
• 3 cloves of garlic 
• 1 dash of cayenne pepper 
• 2 cups small red lentils, about a pound, rinsed
• 1 lemon, halved and juiced (seeds removed) or a lime!
• 3 or 4 cups of chicken stock 
• 3 or 4 cups of hot water  
• 1 teaspoon salt 

Heat the oil in a heavy sauce pan

Add the onion, bay leaves, and cinnamon stick

Saute until the onions are translucent

Add the garlic and the ginger and the cayenne

Continue cooking another few minutes

Add the lentils and stir to coat them with oil

Add the chicken stock and the water

Add the lemon juice and the squeezed halves of the fruit

Add the salt

Bring to a boil

Reduce to a simmer

Cook for about a half hour, until the onions mostly break up and the lentils more or less dissolve. If it looks like it needs more water, add some. 

Notes:

This freezes remarkably well. It is best served with rice. To make it more fancy, caramelize some onions to go on top, along with some plain yogurt, and some chopped cilantro. 

 

Pumpkin Custard Recipe Good for a Weeknight or a Dinner Party

As I mentioned earlier this week, I’ve been on a lucky, dinner-party streak. For a recent gathering of friends at my house, I had the good fortune of being solicited by McCormick Gourmet. They’re doing something called the McCormick's Dinner Party Chain, which involves encouraging people to dine together. Now, that’s just the kind of thing I’m all for. If you want a chance to win your “dream dinner party,” you can click on their Facebook page, for a chance to, er, spice up your life (sorry, but I couldn’t help it). The company was also kind enough to send me a few gift cards, salad spoons, other kitchen implements, along with a massive, rotating spice rack, to get my own dinner party going.

My first course was an action-packed spring salad (I’ll get to that later in the week) and the entrée was my favorite sage-and-apple pork roast with a white-wine sauce. The dessert was the masterful work of Santa Maria, and that’s where the spice rack came in handy.

She’s perfected a spicy pumpkin-custard recipe that has four distinct advantages. First, it’s amazingly delicious, a smooth and scrumptious mix of pumpkin, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and cloves. Second, it’s very convenient—she makes it with regular milk, and not the condensed stuff (which may or may not be in the back of one’s cupboard; fresh milk, on the other hand should always be in the fridge). Third, it’s healthy, as desserts go—think of it as a pie without the piecrust. And it can be made with kids (that's Pinta, above, helping her make it).

Of course, the trick when having a dinner party is to smother it with whipped cream. This, of course, may negate that third advantage, but it’ll make everyone happy. 

Crowd-Pleasing Pumpkin Custard Dessert

• one 15 oz. can pumpkin
• 2/3 cup 1% milk (or whole or skim)
• 2 eggs
• 1 t cinnamon
• 1/2 t nutmeg
• 1/4 t ginger
• 1/4 t cloves
• 1/4 t salt
• ¼ cup sugar

Combine all the ingredients in a 9-inch pie or tart dish. Or use individual ramekins. This will probably make about twelve, three-inch ramekins.

Bake approximately 30 minutes in oven at 350 degrees.  Let cool 10-15 minutes. Garnish with whipped cream.

A Sauce for the Apple and Sage Pork Roast!

As much as I feel like I never get to see my friends lately, it seems like I’ve fallen into a lucky groove of dinner parties. Two weeks ago, I an old friend invited Santa Maria and me to a one, and we enjoyed great company and even better food. The hostess made dish with boiled potatoes, chicken breast, prunes, and an out-of-this-world, super delicious sauce, which got me to thinking.

I’m very happy with the cooking I do, but I generally forego a fancy sauce and instead rely on a basic technique and exceptional ingredients to make the meal as tasty as possible. Still, there are times—such as when hosting a dinner party—that a good sauce can elevate a dish from the ordinary to the extraordinary. My friend said she made the dish straight out of the “Silver Palate Cookbook,” and she was surprised that I didn’t own a copy.

The way that dish tasted, I think I should pick up a copy. But in the meantime, I have managed to improvise. Recently, I hosted a dinner party of my own, and I was making my old standby, pork shoulder with apple and sage. It’s a failsafe, delicious dish, but I’ve never been able to perfect the sauce, until now.

As I put the pork roast together, I increased the amount of apple, mixing two different types together for a nice visual effect, and when I put the roast in the oven, I poured a bit of white wine and water into the base of the small roasting pan. This way, as the roast cooked, and the fat from the pork dripped down into the pan, it would make its own sauce.

As the roast cooked, I was careful not to allow the bottom of the pan to dry out. Once or twice I added a bit more wine, and, sure enough, when I took the roast out of the oven, I had my sauce.

At serving time, I took the meat off the apples and put it on a cutting board. I poured the liquid and all the apples into a frying pan, and I reduced it a bit before spooning it over the slices of meat on each diner’s plate. Without any effort, I had that elusive, dinner-party-worthy, sauce. 

Sage-and-Apple Pork Roast Recipe with White Wine Sauce

 

• 2 applew, washed, cored, and sliced
• 1 bunch sage, washed
• 4-6 cloves of garlic, to taste
• One 2-3 lb boneless pork roast
• Salt, to taste
• White wine

 

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

Slice the garlic into thick pieces, and with a pointy knife, stab a bunch of holes in the top and sides of the pork roast. Put the garlic slices along with bits of sage into the holes.

Salt the meat.

Lay the apple slices on the bottom of a roasting pan (for a piece of meat this size, I use a small ceramic pan) in roughly the same area as the size of the pork roast.

Lay a few sage leaves over and under the slices.

Perch the pork roast on top of the apples. 

Pour a mix of white wine and water into the pan so the bottom of it isn't dry.

Put the meat into the oven and roast for about 30-45 mintues. Make sure the pan doesn't dry out. You don't want anything to burn in the pan. Add more wine as you go along, if necessary.

After about 30 to 45 minutes, turn the heat down to 350, and continue to roast until the meat is 150 degrees internal, about an hour to an hour-and-a-half total.

Let the meat sit for ten minutes before slicing and serving.

Pour the apples, sage, and liquid into a frying pan, and reduce slighly on a high heat.

Pour a bit of the sauce over the meat, along with a few apples.

Enjoy!

 

Lazy Burgers and Good Times

My sister came over for dinner on Friday for a lazy but beloved meal—hot dogs, baked “French fries,” and a Romaine salad. I’ve rued the fact that kids’ sports, birthday parties, dance lessons, and the like can drive friends and family apart, but this was a rare time when one of those things could drive us together. At this time of year her son plays soccer in Brooklyn, so there was a good chance that the stars could align. I texted her that afternoon, and sure enough, by the grace of the B-61 bus schedule, she could come over.

The Friday hot-dog meal is one—for obvious health reasons—that I try to limit to no more than once a month. This is harder than it looks. The meal makes everybody happy. I’m happy because it is so easy and my kids are happy because they’re kids, and they love hot dogs (it doesn’t hurt that the first ones they ever had were from Bark, so they really like them). It’s a no-brainer, except for one small thing: I’m not actually that fond hot dogs. They’re okay, but once a year, and not once a month, would be fine with me. I think it’s the convenience that tastes so good. So on Friday, I decided to make burgers, too.

I bought a pound of grass-fed ground beef, and I knew it would be more than enough for an extra guest. My girls don’t like burgers, which really confuses me (don’t all kids like burgers?), but I can live with it. It’s not like they need a fatty mass of beef (or pink slime), for that matter. My sister was excited to have a burger cooked by me, but I thought that was silly. I wasn’t really making anything special. I just started with good ingredients and took a light touch.

I added a tiny bit of chopped onion (about a quarter of a small one) and some salt. That was it. I mixed those things into the beef, and made six small patties from the pound of meat. I was careful not to over cook them, and I topped Santa Maria’s and my sister’s burgers with cheddar, and I put blue cheese on mine. I might have been being lazy, but it sure felt—and tasted—good.

Lazy Burgers

• 1 lb. grass-fed ground beef (or if you have the wherewithal, ground your own meat)
• 1/4 of a small onion, finely chopped
• salt and pepper, to taste

Mix the ingredients with your hands and form into small patties (or any size you prefer)

Fry in a pan or on a grill a few minutes per side, until cooked the way you like them.

Add cheese after you flip the burgers, if you want.

Serves 2-4, depending on appetites/sides/etc.

Image courtesy Madigan Made (who has a tasty-looking blue-cheese burger write up if you're feeling ambitious).  

Oysters and Wine Turn a Simple Dinner into a Party

I knew that having children would change my life, but I didn’t expect it to lay waste to my friendships. Trying to get together with old friends, even those with children around the same age as mine, takes, in the words of one old friend who I ran into on the subway the other morning, “precision planning on par with the military.” When my girls were infants, it was hard to socialize, but being tired, overwhelmed, and befuddled hardly compared to the endless roundelay of soccer practices, dance lessons, and birthday parties that seem to dominate everyone’s schedule these days.

Still, as I discovered on Saturday, it’s possible to turn an ordinary dinner into a quick party, and all it took was a couple of bottles of wine and some oysters. 

Santa Maria was out for the day and evening at a bridal shower, and I was on my own with Nina and Pinta. That morning, I was craving company, and because it’s been some time since I’ve seen my brother and his family, I called him up. Luckily their son didn’t have anything going on that afternoon, and they came over for an early dinner.

I served flounder (basically, this recipe minus the sauce), roasted potatoes (basically this recipe, minus with baking potatoes and no rosemary), and a romaine salad. And, with the flick of my wrist, I turned that simple dinner into a party by adding a first oysters, cheese and crackers, and olives.

The oysters made the meal, and they are an easy and elegant way to elevate any evening with friends or family. Don’t be scared of opening them. They couldn’t be any easier to open if they had a screw top. Here’s how you do it (for an old video of me opening some, click here).

• Wash the shells carefully, to remove any mud or grit.
• Make sure the ones you want to eat are tightly closed; any that are open are dead and should be discarded.
• Put the oyster curved side down on a solid work surface, such as cutting board, and hold it place with a folded dish towel (I skip the towel, because I routinely cook with gloves on to protect my hands from eczema).
• With the narrow end of the shell facing you, work the tip of the oyster knife into the shell, twisting a bit, until the shell “pops” loose.
• Slide the knife under the shell and cut the muscle on the top, then run it around and cut the muscle on the bottom, being careful not to spill the liquor out of the shell (that’s one of the best parts).
• Serve on a bed of ice or a gently folded dish towel, anything to keep the shell level and stable.

We had a couple of simple bottles of wine with the dinner and the oysters: a 2011 Kermit Lynch white, and a 2011 Graffigna Centenario Pinot Grio. The Lynch, which my brother and his wife brought, was soft and easy on the tongue (literally and figuratively) and the Graffigna, which had been sent to me by the company, was crisp and refreshing. They both went down easy, the kids all played together, and I got a chance to catch up with my brother and his wife. The evening was a delight. I'd even say it changed my life—It made me realize that all I really want to do is cook for my friends and family.

Olive-Stuffed Lamb: The Rest of the Story

Just like going to therapy, going home is always full of surprises. Take the olive-stuffed lamb I was going to cook for Easter. My mother was kind enough to buy a leg, but the leg she bought had the bone in it. I was surprised as all hell to see a knobby and sinewy shin buried inside the slab of meat I was planning on to rolling up and cooking.

But there it was, and I had to cut it out. Years ago I worked in a fish market and I prided myself on learning to fillet all kinds of species, from blues to fluke (flatfish are particularly delicate). I never learned the devilishly tricky shad, but few do. Though this gave me a good knowledge of the anatomy of various sea creatures, let me tell you, a fish bone is nothing like a lamb bone.

I hacked away with my mother’s knives, which we probably last sharpened before the dawn of the agricultural era, and I was confused. I followed the bone and carefully separated the meat from the flesh, but I came upon a joint. I worked my way around that, and, eventually, I had a boneless leg. I also had a giant bone, which I saved to show Nina and Pinta, who were asleep when I was doing this.

I needed to marinate the meat overnight, and I wanted to get finished. But, the leg I had was shaped slightly different than what I was used to. It was kind of a cross shape, and then it dawned on me: a butterflied leg of lamb. I’d heard that term before, and now I knew why.

I flopped the meat one way, and then another, and finally figured out how it might roll up. I covered one side with the olive-and-herb mixture, and tied it off with cooking string. I let it sit overnight, wrapped in foil and the paper it had come in.

The next day, I was flummoxed again. It looked to be too long to fit in a roasting pan, so I improvised a bit, putting it on the diagonal. I poured a bit of water in the bottom of the roasting pan to keep it from smoking.

I roasted it for ten minutes at 450 degrees, and then poured the wine over it and turned it down to 350 degrees. I’m spending a lot of time on this lamb dish because it was so good. The moment I put it in the oven, the house filled with an intoxicating aroma of thyme and rosemary. As soon as I turned down the heat and put the wine on, I went out for a walk with Santa Maria. That’s another nice thing about the dish—no active labor once it’s underway.

It came out of the oven a little over an hour later. I wanted to check the internal temperature, but I couldn’t find an instant-read thermometer in my mother’s kitchen. It looked done, so I left it to sit for about ten minutes.

When I started carving it, I knew it was going to be amazing. The very thick center turned out pink and juicy and the ends were a little more well done. All of it was tender and savory, with the olives and the thyme and the lemon leaving a great flavor on the meat.

But perhaps the most very nice thing about the dish is that it makes mouth-watering leftovers. I ate it for dinner last night with an arugula salad and some bread and cheese, and I ate it today for lunch. That’s the end of it for me, but I know I’ll be making it again soon.

If you try it, let me know how it goes. A friend on Facebook saw the recipe posting last week, and she made it in a toaster oven (and then on the stovetop). She said it was fantastic, so I don’t think there’ll be any surprises.

Here’s how it looked halfway through eating it. Doesn't it just make you want to run out and make it now?

And here’s the recipe again, in case you missed it. Don't be afraid--you can do it!

Olive-Stuffed Boneless Leg of Lamb 

• 1 ¼ cups Calamata or Gaeta olives (½ pound) pitted and coarsely chopped
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• 2 teaspoons thyme leaves plus 4 thyme sprigs
• 1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil
• ¾ teaspoon finely chopped rosemary, plus 4 rosemary springs
• ¾ teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
• One 4½-pound leg of lamb—boned, butterflied and trimmed of all visible fat
• Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
• ½ cup dry white wine

In a food processor, combine the olives with the garlic, thyme leaves, olive oil, chopped rosemary and lemon zest. Pulse until a chunky puree forms. Spread the lamb on a work surface, boned side up, and season with salt and pepper. Spread the olive paste all over the lamb and roll it tightly lengthwise into a roast. Tie the lamb with kitchen string at 1-inch intervals. Wrap tightly in plastic and refrigerate for a least 6 hours. Let return to room temperature before roasting.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Put the lamb on a rack set in a roasting pan and season with salt and pepper. Tuck the rosemary and thyme springs under the lamb and roast for 10 minutes. Reduce the oven temperature to 350 degrees and pour the wine over the lamb. Roast for about 45 minutes, basting twice; the lamb is done when an instant-read thermometer inserted in the thickest part registers 140 degrees for medium.

Transfer the lamb to a cutting board, cover loosely with foil and let rest for 10 to 15 minutes. Meanwhile, pour the pan drippings into a bowl and spoon off the fat. Discard the strings and cut the lamb into thick slices. Pour any lamb juices into the pan drippings, spoon them over the meat, and serve.