Stay at Stove Dad

Family Fish Tacos for Young and Old

Sometime between the present day and the birth of my first child, about eight years ago, I picked up the knowledge that I’m not young anymore. I’m certainly not old, but young? Fuhgeddaboudit, as they say in my home borough.

One of my biggest lessons this ongoing education came a few summers ago, when I paid a visit to Rockaway Beach, to check out their burgeoning food stands. I had read somewhere about the otherworldly fish tacos that were served just off the boardwalk. We drove out to the Rockaways to try them, but could not, for the life of us, find a parking space. While I circled in traffic, Santa Maria took the girls and sought out the tacos. Apparently, I was not the only person in the metropolitan area to have read about them. There was a long line, full of self-possessed, pale-skinned folks. These were mostly bearded men and tattooed women who liked the same kinds of clothing, but more than their fashion choices they had one thing in common: they were all twenty-something.

Santa Maria bravely managed our two very little girls, and finally ordered a few of the tacos. Eventually, I found a parking space, and we met on the boardwalk to eat them. They were good, but not great. They had slices of radish on them, and other neat toppings, but they just weren’t worth the hassle.  Only someone young with a lot of time on his hands would make the effort to eat those tacos.

I knew we wouldn’t be back for them, but I did like the idea of a fish taco. Santa Maria is an expert in making guacamole and fresh salsa, so it wasn’t long before I was serving up fish tacos at home. The kids love assembling the tacos at the table, and the meal is now one of our top favorites, coming to rival that surest-of-sure things, the ever steady Bolognese and pasta.

I use porgy filets, a very cheap fish for the tacos. Porgies have a checkered reputation. According to SeaFoodSource.com,  “The name “porgy” comes from an American Indian name meaning “fertilizer,” a common use for these abundant fish during Colonial times.” I can think of other words for fertilizer that I wouldn’t want to eat. That same source describes the meat as tender and white, but in my experience, I would say they are very oily fish—they certainly spoil even faster than a bluefish, and this has made them hard to find fresh. Any fish that can’t be found fresh is going to get a bad reputation, and I’m sure this is what has kept the price down on these fish. Fortunately, the folks at Blue Moon Fish have them, and they are fresh enough to hold for a day, if necessary. The meat is perfect for a dish like the tacos, where they are served with salsa and other sauces. I love them for this.

Porgy flesh is very firm, and I cut the bones out of the center of the fillet and then cut the fish into small strips. I roll them in flour and then fry them in a generous bit of oil. They brown up nicely, and I put them on a platter.

I warm corn tortillas and put those on the table, along with corn chips with melted cheese (just spread some on a cookie sheet, grate a bit of cheddar over them, and place in a 350 degree oven for about five to ten minutes, or until the cheese is melted). The fish, chips, guacamole, and fresh salsa make a delicious dinner. When I sit with my girls and they start laughing at the end of the meal, I certainly don’t feel old. I would even go so far as saying I feel young, though I know better.

Endless-Summer Fish Tacos

 

Serves 4

Start by making the salsa

• 1 tomato, medium size, diced
• 2 tablespoons chopped onion
• 1/2 cup fresh cilantro, washed and chopped
• 1/2 lime, juiced, or to taste
• 2 shakes Tabasco
• sea salt, to taste

        Stir ingredients together, and enjoy

Next, make the Guacamole

• 1 ripe avocado
• 1/2 lime, juiced
• 4 shakes Tabasco
• 1 sprinkle salt
• 1/3 tomato, diced
• 1 tablespoon diced onion
• 1 tablespoon diced cilantro

        Peel and mash the avocado and combine with the other ingredients

 For the fish: 

• 1 ½  lbs of porgy fillets
• flour for dredging
• salt and pepper
• 8-12 soft corn tortillas

Cut the pin bones (that row of bones down the center) out of the porgy fillet and slice the fillets cross ways, on a diagonal, to make decent-sized strips.

Lay some flour on a plate and season heavily with salt and a bit of pepper.

Heat a generous amount of olive oil in a frying pan on a medium-high heat.

Dredge the fish pieces in the seasoned flour and lay them in the hot oil. Don’t crowd the pan. Cook a few minutes on one side until browned just a bit, and then flip them. Cook on the other side until done, a few minutes more.

Set the pieces of fish aside on a platter and keep warm until you’ve cooked all the fish.

Warm the soft corn tortillas in a pan one or two at a time (depending on how large your pan is) and keep warm wrapped in a dishcloth as you take them off the heat. 

To make the cheesy corn chips.

• Enough corn chips to cover a baking sheet.
• Enough grated cheese to lightly cover the chips.

Place the cheese on the chips and place in a hot oven for about ten minutes, or until the cheese is melted and bubbly.

Place the warmed tortillas, the fish, the cheesy chips, the salsa, and the guacamole on the table. Each diner can make his or her own, with the various ingredients.

Enjoy! 

Weeknight Linguine alle Vongole? It Can Be Done!

I often get asked some variation on the following: “What’s a good fast meal for a quick dinner?” And the answer I’ve always given is to plan ahead. With the right ingredients around, there are many recipe options that can be done in about a half an hour.

Planning ahead, though, has its shortcomings. What if you plan ahead, and then the world doesn’t cooperate. Or what if when you’re planning ahead, you happen to be tired? Or worse, still, full of energy, ambition, and hope? In that case, you might plan on doing too much, which gets me around to how we ended up eating linguine alle vongole on a weeknight.

Now that spring is here, and the folks at Blue Moon Fish are back in business at the Grand Army Greenmarket, I’ve switched into my warm-weather routine of getting flounder, porgy, or clams on the weekends. I planned on having porgies last Saturday (they’re perfect for fish tacos—something I need to blog about here next chance I get because I’m sure you’ll love them, seriously) and linguine alle vongole on Sunday.

The thing I didn’t plan on was being out of the house on Saturday evening. Ironically, I was leading a panel on dads and cooking at the Food Book Fair, and I wasn’t able to be home cooking. I punted and had Santa Maria serve everybody Bolognese and pasta.

So I had the porgy tacos on Sunday and that left the clams for Monday. Linguine alle vongole doesn’t strike me as a weeknight dish, but I’ve learned a new trick that can transform almost any dish into a weeknight quickie. I might sound like an infomercial salesman, but I’m not kidding. Here’s the secret: do the time-shift shuffle and take care of the prep work before it’s time to cook. That way, putting the dish together doesn’t take much time at all.

I washed the clams and parsley and other herbs the night before. Had I peeled and sliced the garlic then, too, I would have saved even more time. When I came home Monday night after working all day and was then facing the GET-THE-DINNER-ON-THE-TABLE-BY-6:30 deadline, I was in good shape.

Linguine alle vongole is a quick dish, provided you do the pre work ahead of time. It was a real treat for a weeknight, and it’s nice to know that such delights can be put within reach of the working man.

Weeknight Linguini alle Vongole

 

• Enough pasta for three to four people
• Three dozen of the smallest little neck, or other hard-shell clam
• One chili pepper or a good shake of crushed red pepper
• Three or four cloves garlic, sliced in half lengthwise and then sliced thinly
• One cup or so of white wine
• A handful of fresh parsley, washed and minced (do in advance)
• A few leaves of basil, washed and chopped (do in advance)
• A few sprigs of mint, washed and chopped (do in advance)

 

        Put a pot of water on to boil

        Scrub the clams well (do in advance)

        As soon as the water boils, salt it and start cooking the pasta, and then proceed to other steps.

        Heat some olive oil in a stock pot.

        Add the garlic and the pepper.

        Cook just a few minutes.

        Add the clams, the herbs, and the white wine and cover.

        Cook until the clams open up, just a few minutes (give the pot a good shake every so often).

Have Faith: Coriander and Cumin Cornmeal Crusted Pork Chops

I didn’t get a chance to post anything here last week because I was very busy with work. I have a couple of freelance articles that have been taking up my time, and I have a few additional professional concerns that haven’t taken up much of my time, but have sapped my mental energy. Then, of course, I have my family, which manages to do both at once—eat up my time and energy. So as I promised, I’m doing a short post on how to feed a family in time of extreme work stress. I will start with the most important point: Have faith that you can do it.

I was recently reading Mark Nepo’s “The Book of Awakening,” and it explained faith to me in a way that suddenly made sense. He talked about a man being thrown into water. If he doesn’t have faith that the water will hold him up (i.e., if he doesn’t believe—and know—that he can swim) he will panic and the water—which by no stretch of the imagination is supposed to be able to support anyone—will engulf him, and he will certainly drown. Of course, there was that gentleman way back when who had so much faith he could walk on water, but I’m just talking about getting dinner on the table, so it’s that much easier.

So if you’ve been cooking for a while, just have faith that you can do it. And if you’ve been reading this blog for a few years, you’ll have a load of ideas at your fingertips: use your freezer, plan ahead, stock your larder.

Here’s a new one: Coriander and Cumin Cornmeal Crusted Pork Chops that I threw together the other night. (In all fairness, if you want a thoroughly vetted, tested, and food-approved recipe, try one of the Cook’s Illustrated ones; they get paid for creating recipes that work—I just do it to survive.)

I always have cornmeal on hand, for my cornbread recipe, and I decided to dress up my standard (read: boring) weeknight pork chops with a bit of flavoring. Maybe it was the alliteration, or maybe it was the aroma, but either way I decided to combine coriander and cumin and dress up my pork chops. I didn’t measure, and I don’t think you should, either. If you’re under pressure at work, with your family, in life, or for whatever reason, don’t sweat the details. Just have faith, and feed your self and your family well.

Coriander and Cumin Cornmeal Crusted Pork Chops

• A good couple of shakes of cornmeal (maybe three or four tablespoons)
• A couple of shakes of dried coriander (maybe a tablespoon)
• A couple of shakes of cumin (about the same as above)
• 1 to 3 pork chops, boneless, depending on how they are packaged (figure 6-8 oz. per adult, 3-4 oz. per child; less if they are picky eaters, which is an easy way to save money.)

Spread the cornmeal on a plate, and add the spices, along with some salt and pepper.

Mix them well with a fork.

Take each pork chop and place it in the cornmeal mixture until coated well. This is not a perfect coat, and much will fall off, and that’s okay. It’s a weeknight, and you are busy, remember?

Heat a cast-iron or other thick-bottomed frying pan on a medium high heat, and add a bit of olive oil.

Place the pork chops in the pan and keep the heat on medium low. Cover the pan, and depending on the thickness, cook for about three to four to five minutes. Don’t worry about browning them at this point. With thick chops, my concern is more about cooking the interior before browning the exterior.

Flip the chops and cook another four or five minutes on the other side.

If necessary, flip them back and brown them on a higher heat.

They are done when the interior temperature reaches 145.

Let them rest a few minutes while you get the rest of your meal—or your life—in order. Here's how it will look:

Ghost Cooking a New Salmon Recipe

I’ve been very busy lately, and, as I mentioned in my last post, this has kept me out of the kitchen and away from blogging. I’ve been eating just fine, though, because I long ago learned how to put good food on the table with a minimum of effort. When I have a second later in the coming week (assuming I can catch a breather) I’ll detail how I pull that off.

In the meantime, I had a chance to play around in the kitchen on Friday night, by doing a bit of “ghost cooking,” which is how I think of preparing a meal when I won’t be there to finish the cooking or enjoy the food. I enjoyed the time in the kitchen. I miss trying new things and cooking for fun. On Friday, I took the opportunity to continue my experiments with cooking salmon. My interest in a decent salmon recipe has a bit of a “Search for the Holy Grail” aspect to it (I’ve experimented before, most recently with this Honey Glazed Soy And Lime Salmon), and I dream of the day when I find a good and easy salmon recipe that will please everyone.

On Friday, I had plans to see an out-of-town brother for dinner. I went with him and my other brother to The Good Fork, an inventive and welcoming little restaurant in Red Hook Brooklyn. I savored a blood-orange margarita, enjoyed salt-cod fritters, and feasted on their “Korean Steak and Eggs.” It was a great night out, and not just for the food—we realized that the last time the three of us got together for a dinner like this was some twenty years ago. That’s kind of hard for me to believe, but it’s true.

While I was going to be out, Santa Maria invited some friends to join her for dinner. She had been planning on making them something—it was a bit of a last minute thing—and I had just the perfect main course for them. The folks at the Alaska Seafood Marketing Institute had recently sent me a few sides of keta salmon to enjoy, and I defrosted one for Santa Maria and her friends.

I wanted to set Santa Maria up with a good dinner for her and her friends. She has been working very hard around the house lately and with her own projects, and she was tired on Friday night (and Nina was sick with a fever). Before I left for the restaurant, I cleaned up the kitchen, threw a couple of potatoes in the oven to bake, washed a head of lettuce, and dressed the side of salmon so Santa Maria could bake it when her friends arrived. It was my little gift to her, to “ghost cook” the meal.

Wild Keta salmon is healthy, but it’s not very fatty. It can dry out easily when it is cooked. The solution I came up with on Friday night was to compensate with butter. Butter, like a good hug, can fix a lot of things. I softened up a few tablespoons, added a bit of diced shallot, diced garlic, lemon zest, salt, and fresh thyme (all things I just happened to have on hand).

I spread the herb butter over the fillet and rested it on a rack in a baking dish. I poured about a cup of white wine (and some water) into the baking dish to try and make a sauce as the fish cooked.  If had had been home to cook it, I would have broiled it, to give it a bit of a crust. And then I would have reduced the pan drippings to make that sauce. As it was, I didn’t want Santa Maria to have to fuss over it, so I told her to bake it. It took about 12 minutes at 350 to cook the fish, and by all accounts everyone enjoyed it. If you try this at home, watch it carefully--depending on how thick your cut of fish is, it may take a few minutes less (or more).

Keep Cooking, Things Will Be Fine: Or How to Make a Broiled Leg of Lamb

If you are new to cooking, let me tell you this: if you keep at it, you will get to a point where you are comfortable trying new things, and you will be happy with the results. And if you are doing an old thing that doesn’t go the way you planned, your experience will give you the confidence to make the right decisions.

I mention this because realized that I might be taking for granted how long I’ve been cooking, and how relatively easy it is for me. I want to encourage you to keep trying. I’m not making any grand claims to greatness, but the food I make around the house—the food I call quite proudly “Rustic Cuisine”—makes people happy, keeps them healthy, and doesn’t break the bank. That’s enough for me.

I had friends over for dinner the other night, and they swooned over the lamb I roasted, loved the mashed potatoes, and adored the broccoli rabe. I was glad to see my friends, and that we all had a good time. They thought it was a big spread, but it was really quite easy, maybe an hour’s work. When I’m at the stove for meals like this, I think of myself as channeling some distant grandmother (probably from someone else’s family) who would whip up something like this a hundred years ago without batting an eye. Of course, life expectancy was shorter back then, but that’s another story for another time.

Usually, a leg of lamb is very easy. Throw some olive oil on it, a lot of salt, a bit of rosemary, and broil it—either on a grill or in the oven—until the thickest part of the meat is about 130 degrees. Because a typical leg of lamb has thick portions and thin portions, some of the meat will come out rare, and the rest of it will come out medium. I’ve made this recipe dozens of times, but things didn’t go as planned on Sunday.

That day, the lamb, which I had taken out of the freezer a day earlier, was not completely defrosted when I started to cook it. It was also a uniformly thick piece of meat, because the other thing about a leg of lamb is that one can feed about a thousand people, and if you only have five hundred for dinner, you’ll have way too much. So this piece of lamb was something I had cut off a larger piece, and frozen for a later date. I didn’t realize until it was time to cook it that it was a very thick piece.

After I had it under the broiler for the requisite time, it was crusty and delicious looking on the outside, but the interior of the meat was still cold. I could tell because my instant-read thermometer was acting like it was broken—the needle wouldn’t move.

I moved the meat down in the oven—so it wouldn’t burn under the fierce broiler— but it still wasn’t coming up to temperature properly. I tested the thermometer in one corner of the meat, and found that that piece—which was a bit thinner—was at the right temperature. But the rest of the leg seemed cold. I hate overcooked meat, especially overcooked lamb, so I was starting to get nervous.  Was it cooking or not? What was going on inside that meat?

I relied on my experience. I cut off the part of the meat that seemed done, and I let it rest on a plate. Even if it wasn’t quite ready, it would finish cooking as it sat there. The rest of the leg, the very thick part, had a great crust on the outside, but I needed to find out what was going on inside the leg. I hacked it open lengthwise, and sure enough, the interior was still raw. Now what to do?

I cut it open fully, so I had two thinner pieces, each of which was cooked nicely on one side, and still raw on the other. I moved the rack in the oven back up close to the broiler, and I put the raw side of the meat under the heat for a few minutes, until it started to brown, but not get crispy. I didn’t want to cook it all the way through, because then it would be overdone.

As soon as it was a bit brown, I took it out, and let it sit on a platter near the oven, where it was warm. In the end, the meat was fine. It was a bit more cooked than I might have liked, but there were enough medium to rare pieces to make everyone happy.

Broiled Butterflied Leg of Lamb

• 1 butterflied leg of lamb (which means the bone has been cut out)
• 1 tablespoon or more of olive oil (I never measure)
• A good shake of dried rosemary for each side of the meat
• Salt and pepper, a good deal of it.

Rub the meat with the olive oil, rosemary, and salt and pepper. If you have time, set it aside for an hour before cooking to bring it up to room temperature.

Layer a backing sheet with aluminum foil (this will make the cleanup much easier) and place the meat on it.

Cook under a high broiler, very close to the flame (top rack of the oven) for about fifteen minutes on one side, or until it is crispy and brown.

Turn the meat over and cook about another ten to fifteen minutes on the other side, until that part of the  meat is crispy and brown.

At this point, check the internal temperature with an instant-read thermometer. If you have a whole leg, with some thick parts and some thin parts, get the meat at its thickest up to about 130 degrees.

This may require you putting it back under the broiler for another ten or so minutes. Ovens vary. If you do this, flip the meat before returning it to the oven.

Once the meat is at the proper temperature, let it rest about ten minutes before slicing and serving.

Notes: This is excellent on a charcoal or gas grill (and the clean up is even easier!) And legs of lamb can run three to six pounds, so they vary quite a bit. To determine how much to cook for how many, allow six to eight ounces per adult, and do the math. Also, a bit of minced garlic can be added to the rub, and if you can plan ahead, marinating the meat in the oil, salt, rosemary (fresh is fine, too) and garlic, is a nice thing to do.

Image courtesy of Zazzle. 

Party Planning: Freezer Lasagna!

This was a bit of a whirlwind weekend. We threw a party for Nina’s birthday, and we did it home style (big Shout out to Oriental Trading, for making the entertainment so easy—we did a carnival theme, and it worked out very well).

With all the party planning, hosting, and cleaning up to do, I didn’t do much cooking around the house. Still, we had to eat, and not being the sort to want to eat out right now, that meant doing the meal home style, too.

Knowing that I needed to conserve my energy for the party, I looked in the freezer for something. On Friday, I mentioned Bon Appetit’s tips for family dinner, and one of their recommendations was to learn to use the freezer. They are so right. If you stock it well, there will never be a day when you go hungry, or worse even, have to order from a take-out menu.

I was lucky to find a lasagna that Santa Maria had made a few weeks ago when she was out visiting her folks. Lasagna is a good dish for families because you can make a bunch at once, eat some that night, and then freeze the rest for another night when you are too tired to cook.

Lasagna is easy. I’m sure if you poke around the web, you can find specific directions, but I’m too tired to write out a proper recipe. Shout out to Oriental Trading, again, for making the party as easy as it was. (If you’re getting the sense that I’m punch-drunk right now, you’re not far off the mark—having kids and throwing a party is a bit like going twelve rounds with George Foreman).

So to make a lasagna, first find your spouse and ask him or her if he or she has one up his or her sleeve (or freezer), and if he or she does not, then do the following:

Boil up some pasta, and cook it to just this side of being done.

Sauté up some mushrooms, long strips of zucchini, and/or any other vegetable of your choice.

Make a pot of tomato sauce or open a couple of jars of your favorite commercial marinara.

Brown up some ground beef with a bit of garlic, or not.

Get a bunch of ricotta assemble thusly:

 

Bottom layer = sauce

Next layer = pasta

Next layer = cheese

Next layer = veggies/beef/or nothing

Next layer = sauce

 

Repeat until you’ve reached the top of your pan.

 

Cover with a layer of sliced mozzarella and some more sauce.

 

Bake at 350 for forty-five or so minutes, until the cheese is bubbly.

 

Eat.

 

If you are making extra for freezing, use a foil pan and do all of the above (including cooking it). Let it cool, then cover with foil, and put in the freezer. When it is time to cook it, put it back in the oven, covered, for about one hour or so (depending on the size of your pan; a large pan may take longer), until it is heated through.

Valentine's Day Recap: The Mystery of Black Cod

In romance, a bit of mystery is a good thing. When it comes to cooking, though, the opposite is true. The fine folks at the Alaska Seafood Marketing Institute sent me a package of Black Cod for my Valentine’s Dinner, and while I thought I knew what Black Cod was good for, I was wrong. I completely botched the dinner.

I knew of Nobu’s famous Black Cod in Miso, and I think I had the rich and delicious fish on my recent trip to Alaska. But what I didn’t realize (though I should have, given the way almost all the recipes for the fish treat it) is that the fish really needs a good marinade, if not a good sauce.

The local seafood that I cook during the summer from my neighborhood greenmarket has spoiled me. I get off easy making that fish—you really don’t have to do anything to it to taste the freshness of the sea.

Black Cod, it turn out, is better known as Sablefish, and Sablefish is most commonly found smoked. The fish is silky and rich and it can stand up to smoking very well. I opted to go in the opposite direction when I cooked it on Valentine’s Day, and as a result, I failed. I put just a bit of honey and lemon and thyme on it, and I broiled it just long enough to get it brown on top and moist in the center. It looked delicious, and after much fanfare I brought it to the table, where Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria all more or less spurned it. The best thing I can say about that meal is that no one—the chef included—ended up crying.

I didn’t give up on the Black Cod, though, and this weekend I make a killer chowder with it. The afternoon was cold and rainy, and the chowder was rich and warm. I got the recipe from the ASMI folks, who got it from Christine Keff, chef at The Flying Fish, in Seattle, Washington.

Her chowder recipe was for any Alaskan whitefish, and I adapted it a bit to accommodate the Black Cod. I stepped up the flavors, adding a bacon, and a touch of smoked paprika. This time, the Black Cod sent Santa Maria into spirals of joy, and there was no mystery about why: The chowder was delicous!

Alaska Black-Cod Chowder

• 2 oz. butter
• 2 Tablespoons vegetable oil
• Half an onion, chopped
• 2 slices of bacon, diced
• 1 stalk celery, chopped
• 1 small leek, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• 1 bay leaf
• 4 sprigs thyme
• 1/8 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1 and 1/2 cups diced tomatoes (canned is fine)
• 2 Tablespoons flour
• 1 cup dry white wine
• 2 cups fish stock or clam juice (I used chicken stock)
• 3 or 4 Yukon Gold potatoes, diced
• 2 cups Alaska Black Cod, cut into 1 inch cubes.
• 1 cup cream
• 2 Tablespoons chopped parsley
• Salt and pepper to taste

Melt the butter in the oil and sweat the chopped vegetables, bay leaf ,and thyme slowly until the onions are translucent.

Add the garlic and the paprika and sauté a bit more

Add the tomatoes and cook for 15 minutes.

Add the flour and cook on low for about 10 minutes, or until the floury taste is gone. Add the wine and simmer until the alcohol is cooked out.

Add the stock or clam juice and the potatoes and season to taste.

Simmer until the potatoes are almost soft, about 15 minutes, depending on how large you cubed your potatoes.

Add the cream and the fish and simmer for about 10 minutes more.

Add the parsley, correct the seasoning and serve.

Serves: 4-6

Note: The original recipe called for four cups of cream. Four cups! I started by pouring one cup in, and it looked about right to me. If you want more liquid, consider adding the extra cream, or—if you care about your health—adding a bit of milk instead. And I had the next day with another big fillet of the fish (cubed, of course) so you can always up the amount of fish you include.

The Eggs Stay In the Picture: An Oscars Guest Post

The Oscars are coming up on Sunday, and while I wish I had something interesting to say about them, the truth is that I get to the movies about twice a year. I can tell you that the latest James Bond film was actually very good, but I don’t think it’s up for an award.

Fortunately, I heard this week from my Boston-based friend in the kitchen Paul Kidwell (who has contributed to this blog before; his most recent post was particularly poignant), and it turns out that he is a big movie buff. He offered the following guest post. Enjoy!

For many who follow movies, this coming Sunday is their Super Bowl as Hollywood's best and brightest are honored at the film industry's annual Oscar ceremony. Movies used to be one of my passions, but growing out of Hollywood's target demographic means two things. You come head on with the demands of home and family that keep you away from the local art house or cineplex, and reach a certain age where you realize that movies are made for your kids and not for you. It has been a while since I paid attention to the movies, although I remember that as a young graduate student in Boston I used to steal away to the old Harvard Square Theatre with my brother to watch double features like "Last Detail" and "Chinatown," or "Take the Money and Run" and "Bananas." There was a time when I could almost recite the entire dialogue in "Chinatown" which I have seen more than 50 times.

Movies have been replaced by cooking in my life and, of course, it makes me wonder about food's place in many of the movies I have seen in years past or the current crop of films that I will never watch. Some of my favorite food scenes include “The Godfather,” where Michael Corleone stakes his claim in the family business by killing Virgil (The Turk) Sollozzo in a little Italian joint after they order dinner. "Try the veal, it's the best in the city," says Sollozzo. Then, BLAM!! An other favorite scene is a very young Jack Nicholson in "The Last Detail" talking about the virtue of Heineken Beer. "It's only the best God-damn beer in the world. President Kennedy drank Heineken." Plus, the movies like "Dinner Rush," "Tortilla Soup," or "Eat, Drink, Man, Woman," all of which have food at center stage. But, my all-time favorite movie food scene, and one that deserves Oscar consideration as best food scene ever is the final kitchen scene in "Big Night."

Two brother restaurateurs, played by Stanley Tucci and Tony Shaloub, put all their resources into creating a night that would finally put their struggling Italian restaurant on the map by preparing a feast for then-famous bandleader Louis Prima. When Prima pulls a "no-show," the brothers are crest-fallen and we assume the restaurant's days are numbered. A visibly forlorn Tucci enters the kitchen and whips up some eggs for his equally depressed brother and waiter (played by Mark Anthony). Few words are spoken, yet the elegance in how he prepares and cooks these eggs, and shares with the other two men is beautiful. Food at its simplest and most captivating, as it nourishes a broken heart and tortured soul. As a pre-Oscar dinner, why not try a frittata with a side salad; and maybe a hot bowl of tomato soup. It’s still winter after all. The envelope please.

Paul Kidwell's Oscar Night Frittata

• 4 eggs
• ¼ cup liquid, such as milk, tomato juice, broth
• ¼ tsp. dried thyme leaves OR herb of your choice
• Salt and pepper
• 1 cup filling, which could include leftover meat, chicken, seafood or a couple of handfuls of cheese like Gruyere.
• 2 tsp. butter OR vegetable oil

BEAT eggs, liquid, herb and salt and pepper in medium bowl until blended. ADD filling; mix well.

HEAT butter in 6 to 8-inch nonstick omelet pan or skillet over medium heat until melted.

POUR IN egg mixture; cook over low to medium heat until eggs are almost set, about 8 to 10 minutes. 

REMOVE from heat.

COVER and LET STAND until eggs are completely set and no visible liquid egg remains, 5 to 10 minutes.

CUT into wedges.

Valentine's Day Surprise: Two New Ways to Cook Salmon

I’m off to cook a Valentine’s Day dinner, and in keeping with tradition I will post about it later. Santa Maria reads this site, and I don’t want her to know what I’m making. Last year I prepared a sage-and-bacon rabbit stew, and the year before that I made I had some suggestions for a bunch of great things, before settling on Mushroom Risotto. This year, it is a surprise, though the big package that arrived from Alaska yesterday, and the murmurings of Nina and Pinta, who this year are in on the celebration, might have given things away already.

In the meantime, I have two great ideas about cooking salmon, which readers of this blog sent me in response to my experimenting with a honey-soy-lime glaze for the fish. The thing I found interesting about these two recipes is that they are quite opposed in their approach. But just like husbands and wives who might look at things differently, I’m sure the results will be equally delicious.

Bill and Teri Winton, from California, roast their salmon on a very low heat:

We cook salmon frequently and I've just discovered the best way to cook it is to roast it at 225!!!!!   It took about 25 minutes last night for 2 6 oz. pieces of fish.  I brushed on a similar sauce before putting it in the oven (on an oiled piece of aluminum foil on a cookie tray).  The slow cooking produces the finest piece of fish EVER.  Try it.  The idea came from a famous Monterey CA chef-John Pisto. 

Lezlie Real from Port Perry, Ontario, Canada, bakes hers a high heat:

Lezlie's Lemon Pepper Salmon

• Spread the salmon with a thin layer of mayonnaise.
• Sprinkle with lemon pepper. I sometimes add dill.
• Lay thinly sliced lemon on top to cover salmon.
• Bake at high heat (approx. 550 degrees F.) until cooked through.

Why don’t you try them and let me know how it goes. In the meantime, Happy Valentine’s Day to all. 

Honey Glazed Soy and Lime Salmon

After spending last week getting ready for, and then enjoying, the Super Bowl, I feel okay mentioning the fact that I read Family Circle magazine (and especially after Santa Maria actually complained that I had spent that Sunday night “drinking beer and sitting on the couch”—What a rare and luxurious experience that was, I tell you!). I’m interested in any publication that can help me make cooking for my family easier, and running my kitchen better (the magazine I’m really looking forward to is Car and Driver & Cooking, if only someone would start it). Family Circle just comes into our house (we must have gotten on a mailing list somehow, and I don’t ever remember paying for it), and I like to flip through it for recipes and suggestions.

The current issue has a a recipe for Honey and Soy Glazed Salmon that caught my eye (It’s here online for free, but you’ll have to jump through a bunch of registration hoops to see it). I cook wild Alaskan salmon for my kids about once a week, but I have yet to find a good sauce to go with it. I cook it straight on the pan, to just this side of done, and usually that’s good enough. They eat it with a bit of lemon, and though they complain, it goes down just fine. The fish is superb.

Still, I'm always looking for a tastier way to cook it. The Family Circle recipe—which has lime, soy sauce, garlic, and honey—sounded appealing. I adapted it for one fillet last night. I was cooking three fillets for the family, but didn’t want to risk that the kids wouldn’t like it. I’m happy with the way it turned out, and will be doing something along these lines again soon.

Pinta, on the other hand, tried it and made a face. She didn’t like it. When I told her that it had honey in it, she made a little joke. “Honey’s sugar and that’s not healthy," she said. "You shouldn’t eat it!” That made it all the sweeter for me.

"Family Circus"  Honey-Soy-Lime-and-Garlic Glazed Salmon

Note: These measurements are for one, six-ounce fillet, serving one person. Increase the amounts proportionally for larger amounts of fish.

• A bit of honey, maybe a teaspoon, warmed in the microwave
• A tablespoon of soy sauce
• A clove of garlic, diced
• Half a small lime, juiced.
• 1 six-ounce salmon fillet

Heat oven to 350 degrees

Combine the honey, soy sauce, garlic, and lime juice in a bowl.

Place the salmon on a baking sheet lined with foil.

Spread about half the sauce over the salmon and place the fillet in the oven.

Bake for about five to ten minutes, then spread the rest of the sauce on the fish.

Place fillet under broiler until crispy on top and cooked through, a few minutes more, depending on thickness of the fillet.