G3 weekend highlights: grilled mackarel, marrow bones, M.I.A, buffalo burgers

We, the ladies of G3, spend a lot of time in the kitchen; readers of this blog know this well. We also spend a lot of time online. At some point most Mondays, one of us writes the other two to ask “eat anything good this weekend?” We’ve been having a version of this conversation for nearly a year and a half now, and we thought we may as well invite you behind the scenes and follow yesterday’s chatty summary of our weekend eats. [Scroll down for recipes and more photos.]

Shana:

Happy Cinco de Mayo, ladies. I just had pozole at le dog — it’s only there today and tomorrow. Pretty delicious - I recommend it. I also sampled some posole at zingerman’s this weekend, which was much more unctous and spicy — and was made with tomatillos rather than tomatoes.

Any good eats this weekend? Here’s my rundown:

Friday night we feasted, but in a simple, I-live-in-a-tiny-apartment-with-no- dishwasher” sort of way. First course was marrow bones like Maria and I ate them at Prune — so easy! so delicious! Main course was bucatini with clams and mussels in wine, garlic, parsley and crushed red pepper. Little chocolate souffles for dessert.
Roasted marrow bones

Saturday was too many mint juleps at the Kentucky Derby party, followed by dinner at Zola. We split octopus, a salad, and a lamb shank, and ran into my therapist. Splendid.

Last night I made larb chicken salad from Hot, Sour, Salt, Sweet (the book, not the blog), and a green shrimp curry with shrimp (TJ’s, frozen), eggplant, and cherry tomatoes. My typical (loser) method is prepared curry paste and coconut milk and stock and veggies and protein. This time, I used a prepared green curry paste, but doctored it up with lots of ginger, garlic, lemongrass, tumeric, and cilantro — really brightened up the flavors.

In all, a pleasing parade of dishes.

Maria:

Indeed! That’s quite a Friday night line-up. Where did you get the marrow bones? Ours was grilled burgers — portabello and stilton for me and John, plain for the kids, and these oven-roasted fries I’ve been making lately that are quite good if not up to the deep fried standards of the Jeff.

Saturday we had a little antipasti plate of red leicester, city goat, smoked trout from Tracklements, cornichons and olives, followed by home-made angel hair with a little pesto from the freezer, and then a grilled pork loin marinated in garlic, mustard, sage and olive oil with some asparagus in balsamic vinaigrette on the side.

Sunday after the Burns Park run we went to Zola (that kind of weekend, I guess) and did a four-way share of the salad sampler (egg, chicken, tuna — all delicious), a waffle, a Kobe burger and fries. Although this may sound odd, every one was deeply satisfied. A basic margarita pizza for dinner with buffalo mozzarella and, to celebrate Naomi’s run, I made chocolate pots de crème — not perfect, although very tasty. I think maybe I let them cook too long. Shouldn’t pots de crème be a little jiggly? Mine were quite solid — almost fudge-like. I’m inspired to try again though.

Lovely image of apple blossoms by Maria

Shana:

Marrow bones were from sparrow. So ridiculously cheap — 3 of them for 3.50.

That all sounds delish. The pots de creme at eve sometimes were fudge-like. I always thought it was because they were too cold. Maybe overcooked . . .

Maria, does Naomi know about M.I.A.? I was thinking of loaning you guys her new cd for the post-dinner dance parties chez vous:
http://www.last.fm/music/M.I.A

Maria:

I don’t think she knows M.I.A. — I’ll pass it on tonight.

I did read later that it’s best to take the pots de crème out of the fridge about half an hour before serving. Maybe that’s the secret.

Anne:

M.I.A. is playing in Detroit on Thurs. I wish I could go but I think it will be too late and I have all these meetings Friday morning.

We ordered from Lotus Thai on Friday night. I don’t know why I order from them. Maybe it is better if you eat there. We had summer rolls (totally blah) tom yong however you spell it spicy soup (ok) and thai salad (icky and cost $6.50!) and pad thai (eh).
Kind of a disappointment.

Sat we were going to cook/bbq but then it was really windy and got cold so we ended up going to Grizzly and I was really wanting a buffalo burger but they didn’t have them. I swear I had one there before and said from now on I will always order this. Did they have them at one time? Where did I have the awesome buffalo burger? Anyway I ended up having this pear and ricotta ravioli and I ordered the spring greens soup but they forgot to bring it and then they brought it later after the ravioli but it was cold and the ravioli was just warm. But the taste was still good and I ate most of it. Lenny got a Caesar salad with tons of anchovies, which was a good thing and their lettuce is always super fresh. But he also ordered the mussels and he was kind of saying they had a strange taste and then I started eating them and agreed and we told the server and she didn’t charge us for the mussels or the soup and said call if Lenny got sick, and he did get sick yesterday so that kind of sucked. We called and they said they did stop serving them. I guess that stuff happens.

Luckily Lenny recovered enough by end of day so we could carry out the Sat plan. We got a whole mackerel from Monahans and I stuffed it with lemon slices and parsley and tarragon and sprinkled w/lots of sea salt and drizzled w/ olive oil then we tied it back together and grilled it. We also did asparagus on the grill, and roasted potatoes, and wild mushrooms (the morels were too much - it was like $10-12 for just one little container of them at Produce station) and fiddlehead ferns sauteed in butter and olive oil.
Anne’s grilled mackarel

So one out of 3 good meals - at least the best one was the one we made ourselves.

Maria:

This reminds me of one of my favorite food moments of the weekend. I was buying buffalo milk mozarella at Trader Joe’s and one of the overly chatty cashiers said “if you like this, you’ll LOVE our buffalo burgers.” No I won’t! They have nothing to do with each other. She also told me that the really great thing about them was “they’ll fit on ANY bun.” Fancy that.

This is a good email. We should blog it.

Recipes
Maria’s oven fries
Shana’s roasted marrow bones

More from Shana’s Friday dinner:

Bucatini, mussels, clams

Finis - almost

Little chocolate souffles

Girl Food

Growing up, we had special meals on nights when my dad was away on business. The one I remember most vividly was kielbasa, sliced and pan-fried; noodles with butter and cottage cheese (sounds gross, but is delicious — trust me); and raw carrot sticks on the side and maybe some dill pickle spears to snack on. At the time, I thought this meal and ones like it were special treats for us kids. Now that I’m older, wiser, and more seasoned in the kitchen, I realize that this was quick comfort food that my mom served us because she was parenting on her own for the night. And because my dad would never have eaten the stuff.

This was my first lesson that the appetite of a grown man is, well, different from mine. Lest I be accused of sexism of the belly, let me profess my love for a juicy triple at Krazy Jim’s Blimpy Burger and my adoration of the Chicago Dog at Red Hot Lovers–boy food if I ever knew it. I have even been known to polish off a Reuben sandwich and fries at the Fleetwood Diner after the bars have closed. Let me also say that I have loved boys who were vegan (ok, one boy–it never went anywhere) and once had an unrequited crush on a dedicated vegetarian. I have been on dates where I order the braised short ribs and the guy orders salmon. I even eat marrow bones, for chrissakes. Brothers and sisters, I am equal opportunity when it comes to matters of appetite.

While I won’t be an essentialist about gendered ways of eating, I can’t ignore where I came from and what I observed growing up–nor can I ignore the difference between what I cook for myself versus what I cook for the fellas. While my brother and I devoured our kielbasa and noodles with cottage cheese during our formative years, as we grew older, our appetites diverged. A cross-country and track runner, I stuck with the lean, white meats. Lunch was typically a turkey sandwich on marble rye, some pretzels, fruit, and some cookies; dinner was a grilled chicken breast, rice, vegetables. Josh, an offensive lineman on our high school football team, might also eat grilled chicken, but he’d eat about 4 chicken breasts, plus pasta, plus salad, plus bread, plus whatever else was in sight. He ate bowls of chicken noodle soup for breakfast and about two lunches a day. And to this day, my father, a man who easily logs more hours a week at the gym than I do in a month, and who recently came to terms with the fact that, at age 58, he will never be a linebacker (his words, not mine), still orders an extra order of grilled chicken when we eat out. (At home, my mom always knows to prepare extra for him.)

Yes, there are times when I love excess, but when I’m cooking for myself, I’m likely to prepare something a little lighter, eat smaller portions, keep things a bit more simple. Not because I’m in the thrall of the diet industrial complex–any reader of this blog should know that I love good food too much for that–but because sometimes a girl just needs to eat girl food, in girl-sized portions.

Spicy Chickpeas with Ginger (Deborah Madison, Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone)

3 T vegetable or canola oil
1 onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 T (or more) grated ginger
2 t ground coriander
2 t ground cumin
1/4 t ground cardamom
14 oz canned tomatoes (if whole, puree them a bit in the blender or food processor)
2 15 oz cans chickpeas, rinsed
juice of 1/2 lemon

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring frequently, about 12-15 mins, until golden. Lower heat and add the garlic, ginger, spices, some salt and pepper to taste, and the tomatoes. Cook 5 minutes until well combined, then add the chickpeas. Simmer until liquid is the consistency you like, at least 10 minutes. If you want it to be brothier, add some water. (I like it pretty thick.) Season with lemon juice.

Taking a cue from Kate at 4 Obsessions, whose recent post about a favorite rice bowl dish inspired this one (”If you are feeling fancy you can drizzle it with a little sesame oil and sprinkle on some sesame seeds, but really, if you were feeling fancy, you probably wouldn’t be making this”), I’ll offer some ways to fancy it up. You can garnish with some chopped cilantro or parsley if you like, but you needn’t do so. If you have some yogurt in the fridge, I’d stir it until smooth, and add some lemon juice, salt and pepper, garlic, and some cumin and cayenne (or other hot flavor), and then spoon this over the chickpeas. If you have some bread, toast a hunk of it and use it to scoop up the chickpeas and yogurt–or you could easily serve this with rice or other grains. If you’re serving it to a carnivorous boy, you could sneak in some chunks of chorizo. Or you could just serve him three bowlfuls to your one.

One thank you, two meals and three books

I’m spending a lot of the time these days at my house and in the car to and from daycare working on counting. It usually goes like this. One, two, eight. Eight is very popular. Sometimes it’s “one, eight, two, eight, seven, mama say twelve now, say twelve.” And so, in this numerological spirit, here’s my counting exercise for the week.

One Thank You:

A special thank you for Warda for hosting a beautiful lunch in the sun. A chance for good food and good conversation.

(And just for Warda, I will risk my rusty French)

Un remerciement spécial à Warda pour accueillir une belle déjeuner au soleil. Une chance pour la bonne nourriture et la bonne conversation.

An International Menu With Local Flavor:

• An array of crostini-type bites with pesto, sun-dried tomato and brie, by Shane of Fruitcake or Nuts
• Lamb tagine with cous-cous so fluffy they floated above the plate, by our hostess Warda of the 64 Sq Foot Kitchen
• An Uruguayan I think it was Uruguayan — blogger women, correct me if I’m wrong — dish whose name I’ve forgotten that resembled a savory bouche-de-Noel; filled with bechemal, tuna and sardine paste, by Gina-who-does-not-yet-have-a-blog (but will, I am confident)
• Salad of local greens and fennel by G3’s own Shana
• A loaf of olive bread from Avalon Bakers and a bottle of Sex, brought by yours truly, who didn’t have time to cook that weekend
• Mango tart, by Christine of Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet. And Umami. She — I suspect some obsessive tendencies here — complained a lot about the tart cracking. The rest of us ate with great pleasure.

Two meals worth considering:

A dinner that’s quick and easy enough for Friday after work but feels pretty special:

Risotto with a tomato-saffron broth, topped with seared scallops. I had never made a tomato broth before. It was a very pleasing process of sauteeing some onions and saffron, adding garlic and tomatoes (both fresh and canned) along with a little fennel seed and orange zest. I let this meld for a few minutes, added a couple of cups of chicken broth and let simmer for half an hour before passing the whole thing through a chinoise. Delicate and flavorful. Pour a nice puddle of it around the risotto and lay some scallops on top. (I wanted monkfish but none had arrived at Monahan’s that day).

A dinner that’s fast enough to prepare between a toddler’s dinner and his bed time, but impressive enough to serve to friend’s on a Saturday night:

Fennel rubbed, grilled pork chops (there are some nice Berkshire, heritage chops for sale at Sparrow’s these days) with a lemon-sage vinagrette, courtesy of Bobby Flay (olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, honey, shallot and a bunch of fresh sage given a whirl in the blender), served with braised fennel (suggested by Shana and guided by Molly. Listen well to the recipe’s advice to “gild” the fennel before popping it in the oven; it’s well worth the wait). We started with some individual goat cheese souffles suggested by The Kitchen Diaries and finished with some expensive dark chocolate. Very nice indeed.

Eight Three books you might want to spend some time with:

The Taste of Country Cooking: 30th Anniversary Edition . Edna Lewis, Knopf, 2006.

I wasn’t expecting to like this. I know Southern cooking is like all authentic American, and I’m as big a proponent of regional foodways as the next earnest food-blogger. But, really, even though I lived for a while in the South, I’ve never quite cottoned to its food. Sure, I can eat fried chicken and biscuits as happily as any other Yankee, but greens in pot liquor (licker?), grits, and all manner of smothered foods? Pass the baked beans and brown bread, please. But Edna Lewis’ prose is so charming and evocative of a lost time when life was lived close to the seasons and food marked each important event of the year, that I was entirely seduced. I’m threatening my family with fried shad with roe and ham with heavy cream for breakfast. I’m getting out my five gallon pot to raise some biscuit dough over-night. And I am definitely, definitely starting my next Christmas morning with a little snort of bourbon.

Chez Panisse Vegetables. Alice L. Waters. William Morrow Cookbooks; 1996.

A book that will be helping me make my way through the farm share this year. Just what you would expect. Reverence for the integrity of the ingredients, some simple preparations that are more about basic skills than recipes, and the occasional flight of Chez Panisse fancifulness that makes you think “not in my kitchen, not in this millennium.” Because it showcases vegetables, and vegetables have a somewhat intractable vegetable nature to them, there’s a lot less of those flights than in some of the other C.P. books I’ve looked at. This one works well for the home cook. I think the next few months are going to have some gratins in them. Alice likes gratin.

Simple French Food. Richard Olney. Wiley, 1992.

Like Chez Panisse Vegetables, this was a recommendation from Matt Morgan. I was prepared to love it and thought I’d be spending some time hunkered down with it in my favorite reading chair and then in the kitchen. My verdict, after two attempts? Unreadable. Uncookable. Not simple. Very French. Nothing that leads me into the recipes. Still. I suspect that I am the problem, not the book. I’m simple-minded. I want stories. I want to become part of a whole world or way of living through my cooking. This books seems much more rigorously about the food. Maybe I’m just not ready for it. Or for lettuce custard. Or for Sauteed Lamb’s Hearts and Liver A La Provencal. Seriously, I do think it’s probably a good book. Just not a very readable one.

Say twelve now. Say twelve

Sifting the web

Image taken by Flickr user Crysti and used under a Creative Commons license.

Something that a number of the blogs I frequently read do very well, but which I almost never do, is sift the web. When all else fails, link!

Watching

Ann Arbor Foodie Nation at Concentrate — a nicely produced video about the food scene here in the Deuce, featuring interviews with owners of eve and Logan:

Listening

Food in the Library’s mix of music about food @ foodinthelibrarydotcom.muxtape.com/ . Viva Cibo Matto!

Eating

Way too much junk food, thanks to my discovery of the BTB (formerly Big Ten Burrito) Cantina on South University. Last week saw me there twice. In a row. BTBC is in a great space above Charley’s, and offers the same menu as the classic BTB. The space is awash in natural light and the fare is cheap and good enough. Yes, it caters to the undergrad palate, and yes, it has some arcade games, but it’s easy on the librarian(ish) wallet and the deep red/birch color scheme they have going on is pleasing. As for the burritos? Completely passable.

Reading

This post about fava beans @ The Kitchn

In Defense of Food, which I’m dubbing the Reader’s Digest of The Omnivore’s Dilemma

Accounts of kitchen and home remodeling at luckyavocado. You must check out this tangerine.

Clean and Green

It must be spring. I’ve been cleaning the closets and raking the perennial beds and thinking, half-heartedly I admit, about things like juice fasts and detox regimes (they always seem like a good idea in the morning, but by 7 p.m. or so a glass of wine and a hunk of cheese look pretty darn appealing). I’m really drawn toward clean, clear tastes right now, a little palate-clearing between the rich flavors of winter and the sensory riot of summer.

In this spirit, we’ve been going green. There are quite a few greens in the Saturday market right now. I think they’re all still green house or hoop house, but they taste mighty fresh and crisp after a couple of months of gnarly old root vegetables (enlivened by the — very, really — occasional guilty pleasure of imported berries. I know they’re not Right and not Good. But in late February, they’re pretty good). So the past couple of Saturdays have brought big bags of spinach, arugula, and salad mix into the house, followed by the need to figure out what to do with them. In case you’re in the same boat, here’s a couple of things to do with them that feel virtuous but still pleasurable, in keeping with spring feelings of both renewal and celebration.

As you’ve probably gathered if you check in on this site with any regularity, Maria’s household is pretty serious about its pizza eating. But even there, we’ve wanted to lighten up lately. This one was very simple — crust spread with a mix of fresh ricotta and mozzarella cheeses from Zingerman’s (be a bit sparing with the cheese), a handful of crisped pancetta and a sprinkling of crushed red pepper — the panel of tasters later decided that a heavy scatter of red pepper might have been better. While the pizza bakes in its hot, hot, hot-as-you-can-get-it oven, wash (and stem if necessary) a bunch of arugula and toss it with a little lemon juice, black pepper and coarse sea salt. When the pizza comes out, drizzle it with some olive oil and scatter the greens on top. Let the whole thing rest and meld a bit while you finish cleaning up and put some music on. Slice and eat.

Also in the spirit of warmer days and new life, this little beauty of a recipe from The Sustainable Table, a new-to-me site that, while not lovely, is full of great recipes for using up the farm share. Loyal readers take note, that’s a poached egg on top. At last. It MUST be spring; I’m actually doing new things.

Warm Lentil Salad (adapted from Sherri Brooks Vinton and Ann Clark Espuelas)

Serves 2, with some left-over.

A heaping cup of lentils du puy, rinsed and picked over
5 strips bacon, diced
1/2 medium yellow onion, finely diced
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 t dry mustard
1/2 cup dry white wine
3 splashes Worcestershire sauce
1 t white wine vinegar
1/2 T Dijon mustard
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup olive oil
2 T chopped fresh parsley
Some bitter greens (I used a mix of arugula and spring greens)
Eggs — number dependent on size of appetite

Place the lentils in a medium pot, add water to cover by 3 inches, and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, until the lentils are tender and some have begun to burst open, 20 to 30 minutes. Drain.

While lentils are cooking, place the bacon in a heavy-bottomed skillet over medium heat and fry until crisp. (If this is being cooked for an adults-only dinner, this step should be undertaken after children have been put to bed or are distracted outside; otherwise, the smell of cooking bacon pulls them magnetically into the kitchen and the bacon supply is severely reduced.) Remove the bacon and reserve. Add the onion to the bacon fat in the pan and sauté until translucent. Add the garlic and dry mustard and sauté 1 minute, until fragrant. Add the wine and reduce until thick and syrupy, about 5 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat.

Add the Worcestershire sauce, vinegar, Dijon mustard and salt and pepper to taste, and whisk to combine. Slowly drizzle in the oil, whisking constantly to make a vinaigrette. Add the lentils and parsley to the pan and toss to coat with dressing. Add the reserved bacon. Set aside and review several online guides to poaching eggs. Poach a few and feel pleased with yourself while still internally pledging to keep the whites more together the next time around. On a plate or shallow pasta bowl, lay out a bed of greens, then top with the lentils. Slide one or two poached eggs on top. Very nice with a glass of Cotes Du Rhone and some baguette.

And of course, one of the great benefits of this light fare is room for dessert. Lest you think it’s all green stuff around here. This cake from Nigel Slater is all gooey and chocolate-y and really, really brown. There were some, um, rather a lot of, eggs involved. And a great deal of butter. Heart-stoppingly (in more ways than one) good. Dark chocolate is healthy, right?

Kitchen Meditation

I don’t know about your houses, but in mine it’s pretty hard to slow down. Up sometime around 6:30, an eleven year old (who spends a looooonng time choosing music to get dressed by and then a longer time getting dressed) to get out the door by 7:40, a two and half year old to get fed and clothed and out to daycare (all the time proclaiming “no school today! It’s a snow day!” — this in fifty degree weather), three lunches to make, two adults to get prepared for work and on their way — and if we’re lucky spend fifteen minutes on stretching and sit-ups — by 8:30 at the latest. That’s just the morning. Then somewhere between 5 and 9 or so there are two kids to retrieve, a lot of mouths to feed, a dog to love, often a run to be squeezed in and the usual badgering (of the eleven year old) into practicing piano and doing homework and cajoling (of the willful two year old) into the bathtub and then pajamas and bed. (In case anyone is following toddler fashion tastes, you might want to know that matching pajamas are GROSS, the skeleton top now needs to be worn with the elephant bottoms. Or else.) Oh, and there are multiple stories to be read, and long hair to be brushed, and dishes to be washed. You get the picture.

But, still and all, sometimes, sometimes a slow moment sneaks up on me, and I sink into it, and notice that the evenings are starting to be marked by that long, low light, and that the perennials are about four inches higher than they were this morning, and that shallots really are the prettiest shade of purple-pink and that while there’s a whole lot dust bunnies breeding under the stove, maybe it doesn’t matter so much when the daffodils are starting to open.

Risotto is good for that. It requires a lot of stand-and-stir and if you bother to take a couple of deep breaths in the midst of that and look out the kitchen window, you might find yourself slowing down too. I’m a long-time risotto maker; I’ve turned out pot after pot of it for the past fifteen years or so, and I feel like I’m still getting it right. I started with Marcella Hazan’s basic risotto from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking. I learned a few things on trips to Italy — for instance, it was served more, um, soupily, there than I had imagined. I got it wrong a few times — undercooking and not getting rid of the chalky center — and I picked up a few more tips from The Zingerman’s Guide to Good Eating (the importance of keeping the broth hot so the rice doesn’t cool down in the cooking process). I’m still getting it right, but it’s pretty good.

Last night’s was especially pretty good, and one of those nice meals that happens when there’s nothing in the house. I suspect that for most people reading this blog, “nothing in the house” is probably a pretty ridiculous statement — as it is for me. Because you’re always picking up some olive oil, or a nice hunk of cheese or some risotto or something, well, just in case. You know, just in case there’s nothing in the house. You are, aren’t you?

Last night, the nothing in the house included some meaty turkey broth in the freezer, a stray shallot, and a packet of dried wild mushrooms, as well as the even-present risotto. A good beginning. Put on some music, send the boys up to the bathtub, pour out a little wine for cooking, a little wine for sipping, pet the dog, take that deep breath and slow down. Pretty good indeed.

Turkey and wild mushroom risotto

(If you use dried mushrooms, you’ll want to start them soaking in boiling water an hour or so ahead of time)

About 2T of olive oil and 1T of butter; vary proportions according to taste

1 chopped shallot

1 1/2 cup arborio rice

1/2 cup or so of white wine (red is fine but gives you a darker risotto)

A good handful of interesting mushrooms, dried or fresh, sliced.

Quite a bit of broth. A quart might do, but I’m always more comfortable with 6-8 cups. I get anxious about running out.

To finish: 2-3 T butter, 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, salt and pepper.

Put the broth on one of the back burners of your stove and bring it to a lively simmer. Control the heat so it stays on the simmer but doesn’t start boiling away.

Put the butter and olive oil, in a wide, heavy-bottomed pot (I used to use my Le Creuset 5 quart dutch oven but have switched loyalties to an All-Clad 6 quart), and warm over medium-high heat until the butter is melted. Throw in the shallots and saute briefly until they turn translucent. Add the risotto and cook for about a minute, just until the grains begin to turn from opaque to translucent. Pour in the wine and stir until it’s mostly cooked off. At this point, I like to add the mushrooms and give them a little time to settle into the rice — maybe another minute or so. Still stirring.

Now you start the process of adding broth. I add something like a half cup at a time. You’ll need to jiggle the heat a bit from medium-high to medium and back again to keep the risotto moving along but not drying out too quickly. On the nights the risotto turns out best, I go about five minutes between additions, but that does make for more time at the stove. So maybe add some broth every three or four minutes. A word on stirring here — I spent about ten years of risotto-making thinking that the risotto Must Never Be Left Unattended — but in fact, if you’re a little liberal with the broth and give the pot a good stir, you can wander off long enough to, say, bring a sippy cup of smoothie and a glass of wine to the boys in the tub, help with an algebra problem or set the table. Just don’t get distracted. You really do need to be back every five minutes or so.

After about twenty minutes of add-broth-and-stir, you’ll want to start tasting to see if you’ve got the desired texture. You’ll probably hit it sometime between 25 and 35 minutes. Turn off the burner, beat in really rather a lot of butter and Parmesan cheese, taste and season with salt and pepper. I like to add a generous last ladleful of broth, cover, and let rest for a few minutes. A good time to round up the household, wash a dish or two or just wander out and see how the lamb’s ears are growing.

3 Simple Dinners That Look Ahead to Spring

Was it really 70 degrees yesterday? Was I really wearing flip-flops this weekend? Did I haul a load of winter clothes to the storage bins in the basement?

Yes, yes, and yes. What seemed impossible a bit ago is now really happening: everything is sunshine and green and yellow and fresh and new.

I have a bowl of meyer lemons in the fridge and dreams of lemon tarts in my head.

I’m ready for you, radishes. You, too, asparagus. Get ready.

In the meantime, here are some dishes–suggestions about putting good things together rather than formal recipes–that have come out of my kitchen lately that reflect this long- anticipated change in seasons.

1) Chicken, green olives, orange, pimenton

Mix together some pimenton (smoked Spanish paprika), salt, and coarse black pepper. Sprinkle all over some chicken breasts (from chickens that have had a good life, the best education, wireless internet access, etc.), coating them well. Sear them on both sides in a frying pan with plenty of olive oil. Take them out, and add some chopped shallots to the pan juices. Add some sherry vinegar and reduce a bit. To this add chopped and pitted green olives with fennel from Morgan and York - or any good green olive will do. Warm through, and add the chicken breasts back to the pan. Then tuck in some orange wedges, and put the whole thing into a 350 degree oven till the chicken is done but still juicy.

Be very happy with the results.

2) Pork chops and gremolata, braised fennel

Cut some fennel into wedges and sautee in olive oil until brown. Add a cup of white wine, some fennel fronds, and salt. Add some thyme if you have it. Simmer for about 15 minutes until the fennel is soft and fragrant.

Coat the pork chops generously with salt and pepper. Heat olive oil in a pan and fry on each side for about 5 minutes. Don’t overcook ‘em.

Chop up some parsley, garlic, and lemon zest.

To plate the dish: arrange fennel on the dish, top with pork chop, and sprinkle the pork with the parsley-garlic-lemon mixture.

3) Seared scallops w/ hoophouse greens

Sear some scallops that you’ve generously salted + peppered (a theme emerges!),

grab a handful or three of hoophouse greens that you picked up at the Farmer’s Market from ace local farmer Shannon Brines,

make a little Vietnamese dressing with lime juice, fish sauce, brown sugar, and sambal.

Arrange scallops and greens on the plate, douse with the sauce, and serve:

Taste. Think of spring. Rinse. Repeat.

Interview with Matt Morgan of Morgan of York

Old and New Faces of The Big Ten Market

Our conversation with Jean Henry got us interested in learning what other observations folks around town who work with food and wine might have to say about the local food scene, about the climate for small businesses in Ann Arbor, and, of course about what they’re cooking for dinner. Matt Morgan, of Morgan and York was kind enough to spend some time talking with us about good food, good business and good consumer practices:

Could you talk a little bit about your philosophy in developing Morgan and York and how you see your niche in the Ann Arbor food scene?

What Tommy York and I set out to create was a small shop that did both food and wine retailing well. By that, we were looking to have a discriminating selection of products– not the biggest selection, but products chosen for their special characteristics. Then we needed to properly take care of those products, and deliver them to people with great service. When we started out, we saw Zingerman’s doing a terrific job with the food, and that VC had knowledgeable wine staff, but no one was doing both. When you consider that food and wine are inexorably connected in European food traditions, it makes sense to offer both.We also wanted to represent small producers. The Costcos of the world don’t care about small family wineries or cheese-makers — they can’t make enough pallets of XYZ product to feed the monster. On the other hand, we (small retailers) are not important to companies like Coke, Kraft, or Kendall-Jackson. There’s a natural balance in small, quality-oriented retailers representing small, quality-oriented producers.We see our niche as picking great products and bringing them together in a way that makes sense aesthetically, and providing service based on sharing our enthusiasm for food and wine.

I’m particularly interested in how you balance your obvious commitment to local products and purveyors and to making available quality products from around the world. Could you talk about this a bit?

That’s a great question. The answer stems from the philosophy that I outlined above.We are primarily in the business of selling imported food and wine. Many of these products come from well-established producers and regions where their products, or products like theirs, have been made for centuries. There’s an enormous amount of cultural wealth and history reflected in that, and in many ways our local food industry is still maturing. There are unique and interesting foods and drinks coming from our part of the country, and the best offer a sense of place — something special not easily replicated in an industrial food factory elsewhere.Our job is to pick local products of very high quality, put them out for sale next to the best wines, cheeses, etc of Europe, and get people to take them seriously. Whose eggs we sell, or what wine from Michigan we offer is critically evaluated by our customers — people who have traveled and had the chance to try some of the best food and wine in the world. By putting our (Michigan’s) best foot forward, by showing that these local small-producer products compare favorably to their old world counterparts, we can help build the strength and reputation of our small producers.

How’s business? Can you comment in general about how you see the climate for small businesses in Ann Arbor, particularly food and wine businesses?

You really want the answer to this? It’s a long one, and it includes my thoughts about some bad trends in business, retail, and our culture in general that are finally being bucked by the consumer.

Business is good. You can always hope for more business, especially because it translates in to selling more of those small producers’ products, and more opportunities for your people, but we can’t complain. Our customers are taking good care of us in a tough time. I think the food and wine business in Ann Arbor is well-served. Some people have opined that it is over-served, but I’m not sure. I do think there’s a lot of pressure on people who don’t provide anything special for the customer, and we will see some of those places go away.Times like this can be good for the long-term health of businesses that provide high quality and good service. I see people getting away from amassing things, and focusing on enjoying life with their friends and family. In addition, much of America is having health problems related to over-consuming industrial foods, including factory farmed, hormone-filled meat that didn’t exist when our grandparents grew up, and garbage filled with high-fructose corn syrup. People are craving real food, high quality stuff, and they’re tired of being treated like cattle by demoralized staff in the big-box stores. As a society, we are realizing that the financial bottom line is not the whole picture, and that just because we can pay less for more junk, maybe that’s exactly what we don’t need — low quality food, outsourced jobs, and low-paid, indifferent service. It’s all related, and people are beginning to understand that when you pay less, you always get less, even when it looks like you’re getting more.An example of what I’m talking about is this Aussie shiraz wine my wife and I used to buy ten or eleven years ago for $8 a bottle. Pretty OK stuff from a biggish producer. Well, the US dollar is now worth half what it was worth then, but lo and behold, open the paper on Sunday and you can find someone selling that ’same’ wine now for $8 a bottle. What in your life is the same price that it was ten years ago? People should be asking why these things are so cheap, and the answer is that they are being cheapened to meet a price.Businesses that follow the model of cheapening products, lowering the quality of their staff by paying less, dumbing things down to the lowest common denominator — those are the businesses that are going to suffer, because people will only put up with that trend of something being lower quality, with lower service for so long.I encourage the people of Ann Arbor to patronize businesses that treat them well and sell good stuff. That way those shops will be there to enjoy in the future. Vote with your dollars, and spread the word.

What sort of things are you cooking and eating at home?

We’re really excited for the new growing season to begin in Michigan. We belong to a CSA (Needle Lane Farms) and get fresh organic produce from them every week. A box of Beverly’s produce and our copy of Chez Panisse Vegetables makes life more interesting. One of my favorite recipes is Alice Waters’ recipe for braised chard. It’s so easy and simple and the results are heavenly.Cookbook wise, I’m really excited about an older one– Richard Olney’s Simple French Food. If you haven’t checked it out, you should — he was brilliant and opinionated, and almost always right, which makes his writing interesting. Many of the criticisms he had about food in America are still valid today, 30 years later.Beyond that, I’ve been telling everyone about this great new (to me) way to roast meat– the Jamison lamb we sell, for example. Alton Brown (yeah, the guy from TV) suggests cooking roasts at 200 until they hit an internal temp of 118, then you take the meat out, turn the oven up to 550, and when the internal temp on the meat stops rising, put it back in long enough to brown (~10 minutes.) We usually season the meat first– garlic, rosemary, salt, pepper and olive oil, but that’s about it. Fantastic, comes out fully rested, and always perfectly cooked.As far as wine, we’re really enjoying the Beaujolais crus — the wines from the really good parcels in that area. Most people think of Dubeouf’s Nouveau, which is really inexcusably bad — the worst face of industrial winemaking. The crus, on the other hand, especially from the small producers, are really satisfying wines that are great with food. When the weather breaks we’ll be grilling more and popping open some dry rose and muscadet, for sure.

What are some of your favorite Ann Arbor food spots?

My family all like Le Dog for soup and sausages in the summertime, especially. Logan does a great job of ‘haute cuisine,’ with friendly service. Eve’s small plates are good, and we always have good food and service at Pacific Rim. Sorry if I left anyone out– I have to confess we don’t eat out too often– we love to cook, and we have a small child, so that keeps us home more than some. Does Ypsi count? Taqueria la Fiesta is a favorite.

Are there any new developments in the works for Morgan and York that you’d like to share with us? Ever think about doing a Morgan and York cookbook?

We did just launch a ’shoppable’ web store– we’re showcasing a limited range of items, but you can place online orders, which is new for us.We’d love to open another store. My wife is from Sydney, Australia, and we keep joking about a branch location there. We’re looking at doing some remodeling on the current location, but at this point it’s still under discussion.A cookbook is an interesting idea. I should discuss that with Tommy.

You can find Morgan and York at 1928 Packard in Ann Arbor. Right by the big Cheese, cheese, cheese sign. Phone is 734.663.0798. Stop in. Good advice and good samples as well as a great selection — and maybe a recommendation about what to eat with roasted lamb and braised swiss chard tonight.

Still Odds and Ends

But better. Definitely better.

(leftover baby spinach and arugula from Easter dinner; some hoop house leaf lettuce from last week’s farmer’s market; leftover feta cheese and Caprese tomatoes from Easter bagel brunch; left-over Easter eggs from, well, Easter; a slice and a half of Michigan bacon discovered in the freezer, diced and crisped; a handful each of arbequina olives and roasted red peppers because they’re almost always in the fridge; mustardy vinagrette)

And definitely, definitely better. Hang on. Hope is on the way.

How Not To Cook Dinner

Stay up well past your bedtime.

Put in a full day of work the next day, and then head straight to Cardio Karate, where you punch, jab, block, and round-kick your way into exhaustion.

Do not go home directly to shower and make dinner. Instead, go to not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR markets to pick up your food for the week. (Because tonight you really do need cream cheese from Zingerman’s, English peas from the Produce Station, pork chops from Sparrow Market, and organic raisin bran from Trader Joe’s.) Go home and put away the groceries. Rather than cooking up something from the ingredients you just brought home, notice half a head of raddichio that should have been eaten last week, feel really guilty, and decide to start experimenting.

Chop and fry some applewood smoked bacon. Put aside and wipe out that pan. Rifle through the fridge, stealing tastes here and there of said bacon. Heat up olive oil in the pan and add some chopped shallots. Then . . . uh . . . add that sad radicchio, and sautee until soft. Realize that you still have no idea what you are cooking.

Spot some open but past-drinkable Pinotage on the counter and decide to add that to the pan. Bring to a boil and simmer until nearly all liquid has evaporated.

Taste.

Get depressed.

Add salt.

Realize that you should probably put a pot of water on to boil, because dinner must just end up being buttered noodles. When the water boils, drop in some penne with a shrug. Really–what do you have to lose?

Open a can of plum tomatoes, chop a few, then several more, and throw them into the radicchio mixture. Warm through for 7 minutes, stirring occasionally. Toss in the crisped bacon — well, what’s left of it.

When the penne is done, drain and add it to the bacon-radicchio-tomato-shallot sauce (?) and combine. Dish some out, grate some parmesan cheese on top, open a bottle of wine, and promise yourself not to make a habit of such desultory dinners.

Go to bed a little hungry and incredibly exhausted, yet plan tomorrow night’s menu (pork chops with braised fennel) before your head hits the pillow.