I daydream a lot about cooking during the week, especially when I’m on the train. Its rhythmic click-clack, the morning fog, and a warm cup of coffee are just the right combination for daydreaming about things I want to cook. During the week not so many of those dreams become reality, but during the weekend I break out of my daydreams and actually head into the kitchen.

Last week Elizabeth David’s book Italian Cooking kept me company on my train rides to and from work. Ms. David is one of my favorite food writers of all time. Eloquent, elegant, humble, and humorous are all words I would use to describe her writings. Her recipes are less like instructions and more like suggestions. I’ve made quite a few things from her various cookbooks over the years, and I find they turn out best not when you follow her words and ingredient lists exactly, but rather when you use it as a starting point and utilize your own knowledge and creativity to complete the dish.

Her Polpettone recipe (Italian meatloaf stuffed with hard boiled eggs and cheese) is no different. I have an odd love of loaves of meat, and typically turn to Paul Prudhomme’s cajun meatloaf whenever the craving strikes. Moist, spicy, and with a wonderful texture, I am not sure it can be improved upon (except by using rolled oats rather than breadcrumbs — a personal preference that results in a more tender meatloaf). So, when I decided to make Ms. David’s Italian meatloaf, I fused her suggestions with Prudhomme’s technique, and added spices and other ingredients as I saw fit. The result? Fantastic! Don’t get me wrong, I am not abandoning my beloved cajun meatloaf, but this Italian version is different enough that I can definitely make space for both in my repertoire.

Polpettone: Italian Stuffed Meatloaf
Inspired by Elizabeth David

olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 large carrot, peeled and finely chopped
5-6 cloves garlic, minced
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 t. salt
1 t. black pepper
1/2 t. white pepper
1 t. dried sage
1 t. dried marjoram
1 t. dried oregano
1/4 c. catsup
1/2 c. milk
1/3 c. chopped parsley

4 eggs, lightly beaten
1/3 c. rolled oats
2/3 c. bread crumbs or stuffing mix
1 1/2 lbs ground beef (15% fat or higher is best)
1/2 lb ground pork

2 hard boiled eggs, chopped
2 oz. ham, minced
3 oz. grated provolone

Preheat oven to 350.

Prepare vegetable mixture:
Heat about 2 T. olive oil in a large saute pan.  Add onions and saute until softened.  Add the carrot, saute for another minute, then add the garlic and red bell pepper.  Saute the mixture until vegetables are softened, about 3 minutes longer.  Add salt, black pepper, white pepper, sage, marjoram, and oregano, mix well, and saute another minute or two.  Add catsup and milk, mix well, and cook for about 3-4 minutes until mixture starts sticking to the pan.  Remove from heat, fold in the chopped parsley, and set aside to cool.

Prepare meat mixture:
Mix the raw eggs, oats, bread crumbs, beef, and pork in a large bowl.  Using your hands, mix until everything is well amalgamated.  Add the cooled vegetable mixture, and combine well with your hands.  Divide the mixture into two roughly equal parts.

Shape the loaf:
In a 9×13 glass pan shape half the meat mixture into a flat loaf about 6 inches wide, 12 inches long, and about an inch high.  Sprinkle the hard boiled eggs, ham, and provolone evenly over the meatloaf, leaving about a 1/2 -1 inch border at the sides.  Now working with the other half of the meat mixture, take small handfuls, flatten it between your hands, and place atop egg mixture, creating ‘patches’  of meat to enclose the filling.  Take care to enclose the sides with meat mixture so no eggs or cheese will leak out.  Once you’ve used up all the meat mixture, smooth with your hands to make a compact, neat loaf.

Bake at 350 for 25 minutes, then raise heat to 425 and continue to bake until meatloaf is done, about 35 minutes longer.  Allow to stand for 10 minutes after removing from oven.  Slice into 1-2 inch pieces, and enjoy!  Serve on its own or with some spicy tomato sauce alongside.

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I have dined alone quite a lot in my life.  Besides being a bit of a loner by nature, I spent the year after graduating from Wellesley traveling around Europe, during which time, I dined alone a lot.  Sometimes I had an apartment that I could cook in and I would dine alone there; other times my home was a hostel or a hotel or a friend of a friend’s couch, meaning I ate out a lot.  I might even go as far as saying I am a pro at dining alone.  It doesn’t phase me one bit to walk into a restaurant (nice, dive, mid-range, whatever) and ask for a table for one.  One might even say I feel a bit empowered by it.  I even got good at requesting a table for one in many different languages — eine person, bitte; una persona, por favor; une personne, s’il vous plait; sola persona, per favore; een persoon, alsjeblieft…

In the last few years I haven’t dined alone that much.  When I do dine alone, it’s because Steven has to stay late at work or is out of town.  Most nights we eat together, either at the table or on the couch watching Lost or Stargate on one of our laptops…  When I am cooking for both of us, I am fairly adventurous, but tend to stick to the tried and true.  If I am trying something totally new and different for the very first time, I tend to wait for a night when I will be alone because, well, I feel best cooking something entirely new just for myself, you know, just in case…

I picked up some marinated sliced pork belly from the butcher in Bissendorf the other day, along with some entrecote steaks, ground beef, salami, and frankfurters.  Everything but the pork belly went quickly.  Having never cooked pork belly before, I was a little bit at a loss of what to do with it.  One day went by, then two, then three, then four…  today I finally decided that I needed to cook the pork belly or throw it out.  Steven had to stay late at work tonight too, making this the ideal evening to try my hand at pork belly cooking…  Not really knowing what to do, I decided to cut the pork belly slices into large-ish pieces (2 in wide, 2-3 in long, 3/4 in thick or so), and fry it like I would bacon until it was crisp and nicely browned.  Perhaps it’s not the best or most elegant preparation of pork belly, but it is at least a good place to start.So, I fried up the marinated pork belly and served myself a good-sized portion over spicy sauteed zucchini, green onions, shallots, and napa cabbage.  And you know what, it was sooooooo  delicious!  Sort of like…. mega-bacon.  I am pretty sure I lost the nuance of the meat by frying it for so long, but like I said before, at least it was a place to start.  Now I am not so intimidated by the large pieces of skin-on pork belly sold at the butcher….  I am ready to roast.

So one more thought on dining alone — as much as I love dinner company, I also look forward to dining alone.  If you’re at a restaurant, a solo meal gives you time to think.  At home, a solo meal can be a canvas for experimentation (as well as giving you time alone to think).  Do you eat alone often? by choice? do you experiment? cook a comfort meal?

Still Hungry?  Try one of these:

- Glass Encrusted Pork Chops

Bärlauch Roasted Chicken
Adapted from The River Cottage Meat Book

1 3-4 lb chicken
7 T. butter, room temperature
1 small bunch wild garlic (bärlauch), finely chopped
~ 1 T. finely chopped parsley
salt and pepper
1/2 c. chicken stock, wine, vegetable stock, or water

Preheat the oven to 425.

In a medium bowel, mix the butter, wild garlic, and parsley until well combined.  Add a healthy dash of salt and a few grinds of fresh black pepper.

Place the chicken in a roasting pan.  Remove any trusses from the chicken, gently pull the legs away from the body a bit, and enlarge the cavity so that hot air will be able to circulate all around and into the chicken.  Rub the chicken all over outside and in with the herb butter.

Place the chicken in the middle of the hot oven.  Roast for 30 minutes, then turn the temperature down to 350.  Baste the chicken with the juices that have run off.  Pour the stock, wine, or water into the bottom of the roasting pan (not over the chicken).  Roast for an additional 35-40 minutes, until the juices from the thigh area run clear.

Turn off the oven, and open the oven door a bit.  Let the chicken rest for 20 minutes.  Remove from the oven, and carve directly in the pan, letting the pieces fall into the juices.  Serve, and enjoy!

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Back in the US, nettles are my favorite wild food.  Here in Germany, it’s bärlauch, also known as wild garlic or bear garlic.

On Sunday Steven and I rented a car and went for a hike near the small town of Coppenbrügge, which is nestled at the end of a 13 mile long tree-covered ridge.  The first mile was pretty grueling — it was steep! — but once we reached the top of the ridge, the terrain was gentle.  The views of the Niedersachsen countryside were pretty spectacular; there are many rapeseed farms around here, and currently the fields are full of glorious, bright yellow blooms.

Besides the view, the other remarkable part of the hike was the wild garlic — for miles and miles the forest floor was thickly covered in it!  At first I wasn’t sure if this green plant with broad leaves was the bärlauch I’ve heard so much about, but after a while, the smell made things pretty clear — wild garlic has a strong smell, but it’s sweeter and less pungent than regular garlic.  It’s strong, but not overt.  My guess is you will know it when you smell it.

When we got home, it seemed entirely appropriate to make a bärlauch roasted chicken for dinner.  Simple and hearty, it was the perfect post-hike meal.  I served it alongside spicy butter-fried zucchini, crusty bread, and a glass of dry white wine.

Bärlauch is plentiful these days, but it’s new to me and I don’t really know that many things to do with it.  if you have ideas or have cooked with it before, I’d love to hear about it!

Still Hungry?  Try one of these:

- Simplest Tomato Sauce with Roasted Onion, Shallots and Garlic

- Wild Blueberry Muffins

- Summer Squash and Roasted Tomato Timbales

Sundried Tomato and Fennel Sausage

1/3 c. dry packed sun-dried tomatoes
1/2 – 1 T. olive oil
4 T. cold water
2 t. fennel seeds, freshly ground
3 garlic cloves, finely minced
1/2 T. fresh thyme, finely minced
1 1/2 t. salt
1/2 t. white pepper
2 lbs pork shoulder, well chilled

Place the sun-dried tomatoes in a bowl, and cover with boiling water.  Allow to soften for 15 minutes, then drain and finely chop.  Place chopped tomatoes in a small bowl, then mix with the olive oil, water, fennel, garlic, thyme, salt, and pepper.  Set aside

Cut the pork into smallish cubes, about 3/4 inch or so.  Pass through the coarse plate of a meat grinder.  Place pork in a bowl, then using your hands, mix in the tomato and fennel spice mixture until well combined.  Pass meat mixture through the coarse plate of the meat grinder one more time, then place in a bowl and refrigerate for at least two hours or overnight to allow the flavors to blend.

Shape into patties and fry, stuff into casings, or simply saute the loose sausage.   Enjoy!

Alternatively, if you don’t have a meat grinder, if you ask nicely, most butchers will grind the meat for you in their shop.  Or you can simply start with ground pork, adding 1/4 c. or so extra chopped fat from slab bacon or pork belly

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Sometimes you find an ingredient that just inspires you.  Usually for me it’s not something that’s exotic or expensive, but rather something that is of such high quality or is so fresh that you want to run home and cook something with it *right now*!

Such were the dried tomatoes I found at a small salumeria in Como, Italy this past weekend.  Steven and I went down for a long weekend and pretty much ate ourselves silly with amazingly delicious Italian food.  The highlight was an under-the-stars dinner on the terrace at Al Giardino (on Via Monte Grappa, if you happen to be in the area) in the outskirts of Como — fresh burrata, handmade pasta with fresh spicy sausage, breaded and fried lamb chops, a chocolate and pear tart, and oh the red wine!

But back to the tomatoes.  These dried tomatoes are perfectly pliable, deep rusty red, and highly aromatic.  Personally, I find more uses for dry packed tomatoes than tomatoes packed in oil, though both have a time and a place.  Once I got back home, I started thinking of ways to use the tomatoes… tomato cream sauce, polenta with dried tomatoes, egg custard with dried tomatoes and herbs… and then my mind drifted to sausage — I do live in Germany, you know :).

Making sausage is really much easier than one would think, especially if you just make patties or use it as bulk sausage.  Most of the time when I buy sausage links, I end up taking it out of the casings anyway, so when making my own, I rarely bother with the stuffing step.  If you don’t have a meat grinder, then things are even easier!  Just ask your butcher to grind whatever meat you purchase there in the shop.  If possible, start with a cut of meat rather than buying pre-ground pork, as you are more likely to get the meat to fat ratio correct with a cut like a picnic shoulder or boston butt.  Then just mix in the seasonings, and you have bulk sausage.

And one last note, definitely don’t skimp on the fat when making sausage — an 85/15 or 80/20 meat to fat ratio is ideal.  Less than that and your sausage will have a grainy, dry texture.  And really, if you’re going to go to the trouble of making sausage from scratch, shouldn’t it be as tasty as possible?  And speaking of the taste of this sausage — it’s fantastic!  Herby with a hint of savory sweetness from the tomatoes, and just the right amount of pepper — delicious at any meal!

Bulk Sausage

Breakfast Patties

Still Hungry?  Try one of these:

- Homemade Greek Orange Sausage (Loukanika)

- Wintertime Tomato Sauce

- Simplest Tomato Sauce with Roasted Onion, Shallots and Garlic

Homemade Turkey Stock

1 turkey carcass, plus any skin
8 large garlic cloves
4 stalks of celery, broken into 3-4 inch pieces
10 – 20 sprigs parsley
1 onion, cut into quarters or eighths
2 – 3 carrots, cut into 3-4 inch chunks (optional)
cold water

Remove as much meat as you can from the turkey carcass and set aside for another use.  Break up the carcass and pack snugly into a large stock pot (10 qts is an ideal size, though make do with what you have — I used one 5 qt pot and one 2 1/2 qt pot).  Peel the garlic cloves and add to the pot along with the celery, parsley, onion, and carrots if using.   Pour cold, clean water over the mixture to just cover the solids.  Bring to a boil then reduce heat to a tremulous simmer and cook for no fewer than 4 hours.  Skim white foam and gunk off the top of the stock as it appears.  If liquid level drops below the solids, bring a kettle of water to a boil, then add more water.

Strain mixture into a large bowl, discarding the solids.  Stock will keep for up to a week in the refrigerator, or up to 3 months in the freezer.  Enjoy!

Serving suggestion:  Ladle homemade stock over cooked brown rice and bits of leftover turkey, along with some dried sage.  Heat gently and serve warm.

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Somehow I ended up with a large turkey carcass in my refrigerator at the close of yesterday evening.  Funny, since Thanksgiving was not at my house, and I was not in charge of cooking the turkey.  No, Steven and I spent the day at my sister’s place in San Francisco along with my brother in law and his whole family who had flown in from as far away as Hong Kong.  There were twelve of us in all, though two are under three feet tall and prefer juice boxes and toy cars to fine wine and kitchen gadgets.

My sister and I don’t always see eye to eye on food, especially when it comes to vegetable selections.  She always suggests asparagus, and for 11 months of the year, I tell her it is out of season.  She then tells me that it’s asparagus season in South America or somewhere of the sort.  I protest some more.  Then she usually wins.  Actually, I’d say she always wins :).  In fact, it has sort of become the running joke in the family, and the words ‘asparagus’, ‘high horse’, and ‘soapbox’ are playfully thrown in my direction.

But anyhow, at the end of the evening after helping with cleanup, Alisha informed me that I was to take the turkey carcass home (along with about 10 pounds of other various leftovers – I’m not exaggerating — 2 1/2 qts of stuffing, 1/2 qt of mashed potatoes, 1/2 quart gravy, 1/2 pint of cranberry sauce, leftover cocktail shrimp, home cured gravlax, a dozen dinner rolls, and at least a pound of sliced turkey breast).  OK, it was more like, “this all is going to get thrown away if you don’t take it home with you”.  I couldn’t in good conscience let all of that delicious and lovingly prepared food go to waste, so I packed up a super-sized dogie bag and headed home with plans for turkey stock and all other sorts of leftover creations.

Making stock is not an exact science, it just takes a while.  If you’re not in a hurry, it’s a great way to spend a lazy weekend morning, and by following a few basic procedures, you will inevitably end up with homemade stock that is far more delicious and much more fresh tasting than anything you buy at the store.  Some stock tips are:

- break the bones into smallish pieces and pack snugly into pot; you will use less liquid and hence have less stock, but it will be more flavorful
- use good quality vegetables in the stock; they needn’t be perfect, but if it’s on it way to slimy, don’t use it as you will taste the rank flavors in the stock
- don’t add any salt until the end of the cooking time, and only add it if necessary.
- skim the stock often, at least every 10 minutes or so at the start of cooking, then less frequently later on
- resist the urge to stir the stock — the end product will be more clear the less the stock is disturbed

Happy stock making!

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Pie Crust with Rendered Bacon Fat (aka Bacon Grease Pie Crust) (aka the BEST pie crust ever)

1 c. rendered bacon fat
2 1/2 c. AP flour
1 t. salt
1/2 t. sugar
4-6 T. very cold water

Measure bacon fat and then freeze either in plastic wrap or a platic cup/bowl for approximately 1 hour.  Remove cold fat from freezer, then cut into 1/2 inch cubes.

Sift flour, salt, and sugar into a mixing bowl, then cut bacon fat into flour mixture until it resembles coarse pea-sized pebbles.  Gradually mix in 4T of water, mixing with a fork until dough just comes together.  The dough is ready if you pinch a fingerfull together and it does not crumble.  If necessary, Add more water, 1T at a time until dough reaches desired consistancy.

Place dough onto a clean cutting board, press together, then split into two balls.  Wrap each ball in plastic wrap, flatten, and refrigerate about 1 hour (or longer).

Remove dough from refrigerator, place on a lightly floured cutting board, then roll out into a 12-inch circle (about 1/8 in thick) (Hint: often I will place the plastic wrap or a piece of wax paper over the dough while rolling it out so it won’t stick to the rolling pin).  Transfer to 9-inch pie pan, and trim the edges if desired.

Repeat with second dough ball, and either use immediately, refrigerate for up to 2 days, or place dough between 2 sheets of parchment paper, roll up, wrap in plastic wrap, and freeze for future use.

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Oh.  My.  God.  This is the best pie crust I have ever tasted!  So flaky.  So moist.  And oh the hint of bacon…

In preparing for our move to Germany, I have been going through the cupboards, the refrigerator, and the freezer trying to use up all those things that I bought ‘for future use’ that I have never gotten around to using (ummm, 6 types of dried seaweed for example!) or have been saving because it’s too good to throw away (namely, rendered bacon fat from all that lovely farmer’s market bacon I’ve been buying most weeks — no matter how much bacon I buy, Steven and I seem to go through it with gusto!)

Looking through my refrigerator, I realized I had not one, but TWO pint jars filled with rendered bacon fat.  I think it’s great to cook with, but really, am I going to use 4 cups of bacon grease between now and when we’re leaving at the end of december?  probably not.  So, I decided that rather than throwing away all that good, organic fat, I would perform a culinary experiment I’ve always wondered about (and that there is frightfully little information on the internet about) — a homemade pie crust made with rendered bacon fat!

So, I went to my typical go-to pie crust and adapted it to use rendered bacon fat.  And oh, it was delicious!  Besides the hint of bacon, the most remarkable thing about the crust is how incredibly flaky it is.  This is due (I believe) to freezing the fat beforehand and not overmixing.

Note though — this is not a neutral pie crust!  I wouldn’t recommend using this crust for sweet pies (though it *might* be good if you wanted to make something like this).  No, this is meant to be used as a base for savory pies, quiches, and tarts (imagine spinach pie, onion tart, tomato quiche).  I think it lends itself particularly well to vegetable pies;  it has a hint of smoky meatiness that pairs well with a zingy, fresh vegetable filling.

I used this crust to make a fold-over spinach and tomato tart.  Instead of placing pie crust in a pie pan, I transferred it to a baking sheet, sprinkled on some grated swiss cheese, then layered sauteed spinach with garlic, oven roasted tomatoes (homegrown, thank you very much!), some leftover cooked squash, some fresh oregano, and more swiss cheese, leaving about a two inch border of crust.  Then, I folded the crust over, brushed it with an egg wash, then baked it at 375 for about 30 minutes until it was golden brown and the cheese was bubbly.  Delicious!!!

And one final note, I looked up the nutritional information about rendered bacon fat versus butter, and calorie and fat content-wise, they’re not that different.  So, even though this feels totally decadent, it’s really no worse than a regular butter or lard crust.  And it is oh so tasty…

Still Hungry?  Try one of these:

- Flammkuchen (Onion, Bacon, and Creme Fraiche Tart)

- No-Knead Wheat-y Rye Bread

- Creamed Swiss Chard with Bacon