Sunday, November 4, 2012

The Hungry Dog goes to Italy: Rome

The Spanish Steps.
Part 1 of 3.

A few weeks ago, we returned from Italy, and since then I've been struggling to pull a post together. Returning to real life has been difficult. When something you've looked forward to for a long time is suddenly behind you, you have to readjust your mindset. Daily life can look pretty boring in the afterglow of a great trip.

While you wipe away your tears of sympathy, I'll fill you in on our travels. Of the three places we visited, Rome was our favorite.  I'd heard mixed things about the city--its detractors said it was crowded, hectic, loud, and dirty. Turns out those things don't bother me. In fact, I felt much more comfortable there than on the precious streets of Florence or in the idyllic hills of Chianti, where we were largely surrounded by wealthy tourists.

We stayed in Rome on both the front and back ends of our trip, in two different places. At the beginning, we stayed in Trastevere, a lively neighborhood packed with restaurants and shops. At the end, we stayed in a funny little hotel in the Trevi/Tridente area. Although the lodging was nothing special, the location was preferable, as it was within walking distance to lots of sites and accessible to the metro.

We did enjoy exploring Trastevere, though. Here's the view of the street below our apartment, which was located along the Tiber River. Vespas were everywhere and everyone was riding them! Women in skirts and high heels. Little kids with their schools bags clinging to their parents' backs. Men in suits.


Next door to our place was a little grocery store which kept us in espresso, wine, bread, meats, and cheeses. Here's the front window.


Our first major site-seeing was the Vatican museum, which we found impressive (did you know they have a  modern art collection, including works by Salvadore Dali?) but also upsetting. The museum is filled with art and antiquities worth hundreds of millions of dollars and everywhere is gold and marble. Meanwhile, out front, old women are literally begging for crumbs, change, anything. Am I the only one that thinks there's something wrong with this picture?

Social injustices aside, the Vatican does have at least one thing going for it even to an atheist like me: the Sistine Chapel. I wish I could show you some pictures, but you're not allowed to take any. You're also not supposed to speak inside the chapel, but of course people do, so mostly what you hear are peevish guards hush-shouting, "SSHHHH. QUIET PLEASE." It was not lost on me that they assume the rude talkers are English speakers, which seems to be unfortunately accurate.

Here's the front of the Vatican museum. Not too shabby.


Our next order of business was the Spanish Steps (pictured at the top of this post), which we loved, and the nearby Trevi Fountain. Though packed with tourists, the fountain was an undisputed favorite for both of us.

It's HUGE.


Here's a closeup.


Rome has fountains everywhere. It was one of the things I discovered I loved most about the city--how many there were, how beautiful I found them, and how well they have survived.   In Piazza Navona, there are three fountains, the most famous of which is the Fountain of Four Rivers by Bernini. Not a great picture, but this is a view from one side.


We also greatly enjoyed the Pantheon. Did you know that when it rains, the water that comes in through the 27-foot oculus drains quickly through tiny holes drilled into the slightly slanted floor? That's some crafty design work.

It was hard to get a shot of the front of the temple...it's just so enormous. That, combined with my well-established mediocre photography skills, resulted in this being my "best" shot. Sorry.


The Colosseum, Roman Forum, and Palatine Hill were also among the highlights of Rome. No matter how many photographs I've seen of these sites, seeing them in person is overwhelming. Although much of the original architecture is gone, it's incredible to see how much remains, in spite of the effects of time, wars, pillaging, people, pollution, and natural disasters.


Here's the floor of the Colosseum, where they kept wild animals and gladiators.


 Constantine's Arch.


 Roman Forum.


And here's a small thing I liked: Throughout the city, there are water fountains from which you can drink clean spring water. Like much of what the ancient Romans built, they continue to endure. We came across this one on Palatine Hill and filled up our bottle.


Sightseeing makes you feel like you've accomplished something, but to me, one of the best things about traveling is just wandering. We walked and walked and walked, because we like to, and because taxis are not easy to come by, and because the metro is limited. Plus, when you're eating multiple plates of pasta each day, plus gelato, plus wine at lunch and dinner, plus balls of mozzarella the size of your fist, you'd better walk so you can fit into the airplane seat on the way home.

We walked down little alleys, where we saw restaurants on every corner, preparing for patrons.


And chestnut roasting stations.


Beautiful buildings at every turn.


We walked to Campo di Fiori, a big piazza lined with restaurants and shops and filled with merchants selling flowers, pastas, wine, and cheese.


We discovered the smaller Piazza Farnese, where we stopped for prosecco and snacks one day. Pretty much everywhere we went, we found that when you order a couple of drinks, they bring out a stream of complimentary snacks. At Cafe Farnese, where we stopped to rest our feet and people-watch one afternoon, we got potato chips (a surprising Italian staple)...


 Arancini (fried risotto balls stuffed with mozzarella)...


Mixed bruschetta...

And little sandwiches.


People have asked us what was the best thing we ate on our trip. Let me tell you: the food was good everywhere, at fancy places, holes in the wall, odd little sandwich shops. On this trip, I confirmed what I long suspected: Italians have the best food. French people, Chinese people, Spanish people--you put up a good fight but you can't compete with the Italians. As someone without a speck of Italian blood, I feel I can say this without bias.

One day, for lunch at a plain old restaurant we stumbled upon, I had radicchio involtini stuffed with ham and smoked mozzarella.


 Followed by spaghetti with tuna amatriciana.


While the husband started with tomato and mozzarella salad.


And then rice and mussels.


Then espresso.


We had a standout dinner at a Sicilian restaurant called Le Gensola--so delicious that at the end of our meal, we made a reservation for the following night. Over the two nights, we shared, among other things, swordfish involtini with eggplant caponata; ravioli with sea bass, grey mullet roe, and sage; tagliolini with porcini and shrimp; and tuna polpettini with tomatoes.  We also had an excellent meal at Il Gabriello,  where I had the best rigatoni carbonara, period. We also tried grappa for the first time, which the husband declared could power a lawn mower.

Throughout our trip, we embraced a common practice of something the Italians actually call Happy Hour. This usually entails paying a modest fee for one drink and lots of snacks. Our last night in Rome, we made our way off the beaten path to Gusto, a wine bar frequented by locals after work. For 12 euros, you could have one drink of any sort and unlimited access to their buffet. At home, I hear "unlimited buffet" and I head in the opposite direction, picturing warming trays, that weird sterno smell, and desiccated food I probably didn't want to begin with. At Gusto, I sipped my Aperol spritz and ate fried Castelvetrano olives stuffed with mozzarella, arancini, grilled eggplant and zucchini, farfalle with cherry tomatoes, artichoke frittata, and couscous with chicken. Happy Hour indeed!

We had some great pizza in Rome. Among the best was at a little shop near the Vatican that my brother-in-law recommended called Bonci's. You walk in, point to what and how much you want, which they then cut with scissors. You can get as many kinds as you like. They weigh the pizza, throw it all in the oven, and when your order is up, you stand outside and eat. While we were there, we saw businessmen, police officers, and any number of locals stop in for a quick lunch.

We also had some good pizza at Obika, a mozzarella bar. We had eaten there once before for dinner (prosciutto with burrata; arugula with bresaola, cherry tomatoes, arugula, and fennel; and pasta with smoked swordfish, buffalo ricotta, and hazelnuts) and it was good enough to fit the bill for a late lunch one day when we found ourselves in Campo di Fiori again.

Pizza with prosciutto, arugula, and mozzarella.


On our very last day, we found a perch at the top of the Spanish Steps. There's a church up there.  It's very, very pretty.


But instead of going to the church, we went to a nearby bar, where we sat on a patio and looked down at the steps and all the people, just like us, enjoying this beautiful city on a warm October day.


 I drank my last Negroni for awhile.


I felt sad to leave, but I don't need to throw a coin into the Trevi Fountain to know I will return.

Rome at night.
Next, we went to Florence.

Saturday, September 29, 2012

A delicious and simple almond cake


Bring this to your next potluck: My cousin, Jen, brought this delicious almond cake to a little gathering we had not long ago and it was the hit of the party. It's super dense and sweet and almond-y and vanilla-y and you'd swear it has marzipan in it, but it doesn't. You could dress it up with a little chocolate sauce or whipped cream, or eat it with coffee for breakfast, which I did, happily.  Next time I'll throw some raspberries in. But just as written, it's a simple and delicious cake and there's a good chance you have all the ingredients on hand.

I underbaked mine a little--I took it out after 25 minutes and it really could have used another few. So, do as I say and not as I do--follow the recipe.

Almond Cake
1 1/2 c + 2 T sugar
3/4 c melted butter
2 eggs
1 t almond extract
1 1/2 t vanilla extract
1/2 t salt
1 1/2 c flour
2-3 T sliced or slivered almonds

Preheat oven to 350. Butter a 9" round cake pan or springform pan.

Blend 1 1/2 c sugar with melted butter. Whisk in eggs. Add extracts, then salt and flour. Spread batter (it will be thick) in pan. Sprinkle with remaining sugar and almonds. Bake for 30-35 minutes. Test after 30--cake should be just done, still gooey but no raw batter.

***

Ciao! We leave for Italy this week.  The husband and I are desperate for a vacation, it's been a year since we--or at least I--had a week off. And now, two! I intend to spend them eating, drinking wine, looking at art and ancient ruins, admiring the people, and practicing some pretty terrible Italian.

I hope to have some good photos and stories to share with you when I return, because goodness knows everyone wants to hear about someone else's vacation.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

The one where I discover tonkatsu


I've been in a major cooking rut the last few weeks. Months, really. There's no excuse for it, not with all the wonderful summer produce around. For some reason, I've been making the same things over and over again. The short list includes Chicky Teri, Spaghetti with Shrimp and Arugula, various pureed soups, and the assorted quickie dinners that are the best friend of the home cook: pan-roasted salmon with steamed green beans, grilled flank steak with romesco.

I did make one new, great roast chicken--a Spanish roast chicken, with chorizo and little potatoes--of which I neglected to take a single photo. That post will have to wait for the encore presentation. But overall, I've been relying on old recipes, whose grocery lists and directions are etched in my mind.

Finally, though, I felt like doing something new: tonkatsu.

Tonkatsu is the Japanese idea of Western food, according to this article. The Japanese enjoy these little breaded cutlets, dipped in tonkatsu sauce (reminiscent of BBQ sauce) in their Denny's restaurants and are often surprised when visiting the States to not see tonkatsu on the menu.

My friend Stacie posted about this awhile ago, and I often order it as part of bento boxes at Japanese restaurants. But somehow, I'd never made it on my own. Part of it was a faint resistance to breading and frying pork. Now, writing this, it seems like an absurd claim. But, also, tonkatsu ("ton" is pork, "katsu" is cutlet) is often pounded thin. I have no meat pounder. This always seemed an obstacle.

I overcame this so-called barrier to my tonkatsu enjoyment by placing each cutlet between two pieces of plastic wrap, then giving them some good whacks with my cast iron skillet. I wasn't able to get them too thin, but it helped. I think in the end, they were about 1/2" thick.

The recipe is simple. I actually combined, sort of, the directions in the links above and it all worked out just fine. I made four cutlets; we ate two four dinner and the next day, we had them for lunch. The husband's was packed tidily in a tupperware, snuggled between a scoop of rice and mound of bright green broccoli. I started to feel the need to buy some real bento boxes.

I think I can safely say the rut is over.

  
Tonkatsu
4 boneless pork chops, about 1/2"-3/4" thick
1 cup (more or less) panko
1/4 c. flour
1 egg, beaten
vegetable oil for frying
sliced green onions, optional

Tonkatsu sauce
1 T. soy sauce
2 T worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup ketchup
1 t. brown sugar
1 t. dijon mustard


Directions: Make tonkatsu sauce by whisking all ingredients together. Set aside.

Pound pork cutlets to desired thickness. Season both sides with salt and pepper.

Set up your assembly line: place flour on one plate, beaten egg in a shallow dish wide enough for dipping, and panko on a third plate. Heat enough oil to cover the bottom of a skillet (I used my non-stick) over medium heat.

While the oil is heating, prep cutlets: coat in flour, shaking off the excess; dip in egg (letting excess drip off); and roll in panko, pressing crumbs in. Place chops in pan. You should hear a sizzle, but be careful that the oil is not so hot that it will burn the panko before the pork is cooked. For my cutlets, which were medium-thick, they cooked a total of 8-9 minutes, flipping once, and were perfectly done. The thinner the cutlet, the quicker they'll cook.

When the cutlets are golden brown and crispy, remove to a plate lined with paper towels and let sit for a minute. Sprinkle with green onions and serve, with tonkatsu sauce on the side for dipping.

Friday, August 17, 2012

Pink lemonade bars


Somewhere, it's hot. Not here, but probably wherever you are. If so, these gorgeous and inventive little bars deserve a place at your summer picnic. They really do taste like pink lemonade!

What makes them pink? The simplest raspberry puree stirred into the lemon layer.

This was another winner from Smitten Kitchen. The only slight glitch I had was that stirring in the flour left me with some lumps, which I then spent quite a bit of time trying to squash without overmixing. But, maybe my flour was lumpy to start. I'm not sure. Does flour just get lumpy out of the blue?

Lumpy or no, these delighted all I foisted them upon.  Something about the pink, I think.  Even the men got giddy.

***

Happy birthdays: Two very important people were born today and to them I wish the happiest of birthdays. First to the huz, then to Stacie. I'm lucky to be married to one and count the other as a lifelong friend. I wish you both wonderful years ahead.

***

To Rome, with love: And Florence and Tuscany too, in a few weeks. Recommendations? Shoot them my way.

Saturday, August 4, 2012

When the cat's away...

The husband has ventured to the midwest for a few days for work, leaving me and Sophie to our own devices. It's reminded me of the couple of years I lived alone, pre-husband. Back then I had Frances, who was around the age Sophie is now.  A girl and her dog is a tough combination to beat.

Soph has gotten to sleep on the bed while I've been been free to watch whatever idiotic  television I feel like. I've also been able to eat weird solo food, as my friend Liz and I call it. Cooking for one is not necessarily fun or exciting, but it frees you up to do whatever you like, without thought of how balanced or pretty it is. You can also eat things your partner doesn't love. Like eggplant.

This week, right before the husband left, we got our produce box. As if the stars were aligned, it contained one lovely, flawless eggplant, swaddled in a paper towel to keep its beautiful purple exterior from getting nicked. I pulled it out of the box and cradled it happily. "I'm going to eat this whole eggplant myself," I said, beaming, to no one.

I had big dreams for my eggplant baby but in the end, what I did was neither fancy nor involved.  I sauteed the diced eggplant in a pan with some olive oil. After it softened, I threw in some chopped, seeded heirloom tomatoes and minced garlic, salt, and pepper. I let that cook down for awhile. Then I added a handful of pitted kalamata olives and a sprinkle of parsley. Finished it with a dash of red wine vinegar.

I tossed this with cooked farro, scooped some into a bowl, and topped it with a dollop of ricotta. There was also a final grating of parmesan, which came after the photo was taken.

I have to tell you, this was a very good dish. I would eat this dish in a restaurant!

Who knew weird solo food could also be so delicious?

Monday, July 9, 2012

Blackberry upside-down cake


Here's another one I made ages ago and never got around to posting. Luckily, blackberries are still in season!

This cake reminded me of this cake, combined, say, with a clafoutis. Actually, you know who compared it to a clafoutis was my friend, Stacie, who I gave some to one day when she stopped by. Stacie knows that the answer to, "Do you want a piece of this cake?" is always "Yes," never "I'm on a diet" or "I just had dessert." What the hell do any of those things have to do with eating a delicious piece of cake? When offered, you eat it. Goodness knows life may throw enough unpleasant surprises your way; if you get an unexpected piece of cake, you eat it.

Here is a top view.


I had a little trouble getting the powdered sugar (which was my own addition--a cake needs something to finish it off) to stick. It just kept melting into the berries over and over, even when the cake was perfectly cool. So, I think the cake ended up getting sweeter than it should have, but I'll be the first to admit it didn't bother me. Have we discussed my raging sweet tooth?

You can find the recipe here, and like so many others, I have no doubt this would be divine with an array of other berries. The raspberry is King Berry in our house (the way the almond is King Nut) but I enjoy the blackberry and I can certainly dig the blueberry too. In the summertime, you just go with the flow.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Summer in San Francisco

Summer in San Francisco is the worst, and if you don't believe me, here is a series of pictures I took a couple of weeks ago as we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. Remember, this was mid-June.


No, that's not rain, it's fog. See how people have their lights on?


As you're driving across the bridge, you just have faith that it's all intact because you really can't see more than a few feet ahead of you. Someday, it might not be there, and I guess then your number's up. 


I don't mind the fog, for the most part--like the hills, it's an oddity of San Francisco that I tend to like more than dislike. It makes the city unique. When I go places that are flat and warm, I enjoy them, but I also miss my city a little.

But sometimes we have to get out, see the sun, get some vitamin D. On this particular day we headed up to Marin where instead of being smothered by fog we got bathed in sunshine. Marin is beautiful, dry, sunny, and blue skies.


We had sandwiches and Arnold Palmers outside Cowgirl Creamery and even Sophie enjoyed some nibbles or two.


On the way home, we were all in a good mood.


In the evening, rejuvenated but also a little drained from time in the sun, I threw together a pasta I've been making a lot recently, because it's both delicious and quick. I know I didn't invent this, but I still think of it as one my "my" pastas. If you like shrimp, it'll be up your alley. If you don't, well, you're out of luck.


Spaghetti with shrimp, arugula, and tomatoes

1 lb.spaghetti
1 lb. shrimp, peeled and deveined
2-3 cloves of garlic, minced
olive oil
1 15-oz can diced tomatoes
pinch of red pepper flakes
a few handfuls of arugula
grated parmesan, for serving

Bring water to a boil. Meanwhile, heat a few tablespoons of oil in a big frying pan over medium-high. Season the shrimp with salt and pepper and add to the pan. Cook for 3-4 minutes, turning once, until just done. Remove from pan with a slotted spoon and set aside.

Lower the heat slightly. Add the garlic and cook briefly until it's fragrant. Add tomatoes, red pepper, salt and black pepper to taste. Scrape the bottom of the pan to pick up any shrimp bits. Bring to a simmer, then turn down to medium-low. Cook for 10-15 minutes, until slightly reduced.

Meanwhile, cook the spaghetti. When it's done, set aside a little of the pasta water. Drain the pasta and add to the sauce, along with the shrimp and as much arugula as you like. I like a lot. Toss, adding some of the pasta water if you want to get the consistency you're looking for. Check for seasoning, then serve in shallow bowls with grated parmesan.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Belated strawberry rhubarb crisp


Oh dear. I'd better post about this soon before rhubarb disappears from the grocery store shelves completely.

The truth is, I made this at least two months ago but just hadn't gotten around to posting about it. And, I must apologize, because you could have been making this lovely crisp for the last few weeks. It really is one of the better crisp (crumble?) recipes I've ever made--and I've made a lot of them.

The secret is, naturally, in the topping. Ina blends in quick-cooking oats--who would have thought? It turns the mixture into a crumbly cookie-like thing--you'll have to try it for yourself.  At the moment, as I'm poised to run into the kitchen and fix a slap-dash dinner, I have neither the time nor the adjectives to do it justice. All I can say is, I was taking a spoon to the baking dish for days after I made this (in the morning or afternoon with only the dog as my witness), and the topping somehow retained crunch.

My only edit was to reduce the orange juice just a shade--I was a little short on fruit and was worried it would be soupy. It turned out to be a good call. The crisp was the perfect amount of juicy without being runny.

Make this and I promise at least one person will fall in love with you.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Creamy zucchini soup, with two sides


Part 1: Although the husband isn't always wild about it, I'm prone to making lots of pureed soups. He prefers soups with some texture, which I understand. But, pureed soups remain on the menu chez Hungry Dog. As long as I have a few key ingredients on hand--a vegetable (carrots, zucchini, broccoli, or asparagus will all do nicely), an onion, a Russet potato, and some broth--I can turn out a decent soup.

I am fairly sure I have described my method somewhere before, but in case I haven't, it's this: melt some butter and oil in a pot over medium-low. Add a chopped onion and some salt and cook until soft but without browning. Add a peeled, diced potato and cook for a couple of minutes. Add some minced garlic, if you like, and cook another minute. Then add your chopped vegetable of choice--in this case about four zucchini--add enough broth to cover without drowning, and cook until all the vegetables are tender. Blend, salt and pepper to taste, and, if you like (which I do), add a splash of cream or half and half. You don't need much and  it really brings the consistency from pureed vegetable (a la baby food) to something silky and more adult.

With green vegetables, one of the downsides of soup-making is losing the vibrant color, which is why I don't salt until the end. However, I also have another trick, which is to stir in a few handfuls of spinach (in this case fresh, but you could used frozen, defrosted spinach) right before you puree. It brightens up the whole pot.

This kind of soup is great on a weeknight, as I nearly always have all the ingredients in my pantry. However, what I often don't have is good, fresh bread. So when I made this soup a few weeks back, I was pleased to realize I had buttermilk that needed to be used up. Buttermilk cheddar biscuits to the rescue!


Really not bad for a last-minute dinner and it went over well with the husband, in particular the biscuits. He is a Kentucky boy, after all. Aside from fried chicken and jam cake, biscuits may be the quickest way to his heart.


Part 2: Sadly, biscuits go from being fluffy and light the first day to all but leaden the next. I'm not sure why scones seem to survive another day but biscuits don't--perhaps someone can enlighten me. I did choke one down the next morning for breakfast (what a trooper!) but when lunch rolled around and I pulled out my leftover soup, I was once again in need of something to go alongside.

As you know, I take deep satisfaction from being able to use up leftovers, particularly now that I eat lunch at home most days. I'll eat all kinds of curious combinations for my solo lunches, and this time my rummaging had particularly fine results.

I had an odd amount of salmon leftover from another dinner--not enough to be anything on its own, but too much to even give to the dog, who would not appreciate its $18-per-poundness. I also had half an avocado to use up (incidentally, I've been obsessed with avocados recently, eating several a week. More on this in another post.) Plus some radishes and a single slice of bread that I had rejected the night before but the next day I determined was good enough to eat if toasted and spread with olive tapenade, which I also found in the fridge.

I give you: salmon, avocado, and radish tartine with olive tapenade.


Beautiful, right? Not exactly dippable, but it still elevated the soup from leftover to lovely.


For any of you that actually come to my house for dinner, rest assured, I serve our guests brand new, never-before-seen food purchased just for the purpose of hosting you. No need to fret that the pasta I'm serving you is the reincarnation of last night's pot roast, although that really isn't a bad idea. But even I have limitations of thrift when it comes to entertaining.

For my own lunch and my own pleasure, though--this little reinvention was just the ticket.