Mushroom and Artichoke Flatbread with Fresh Basil, Sharp White Cheddar and Truffle Oil.

Like most folks, I’m a huge pizza fan, and I like all kinds. Deep dish, or thin crust, Brooklyn style, hand tossed, pan pizza, grilled pizza, white pizza, home made pizza, Domino’s pizza, I really don’t discriminate. Sure I’ve had some awful pizzas in my day, being that much of a fan, but I’ve definitely had more winners than losers.  I do have a hands down, favorite pizza which is Luigi’s pizza in Akron, Ohio.  They have been making their “pizza pies’ since 1949.  There’s also this “pizza” type deal that I experienced on a trip to France back in ’97, in the Alsace region, called tarte flambé, which is basically a thin flatbread topped with creme fraiche, lardons of bacon and gruyere cheese cooked in a wood burning oven that induced a kind of out-of-body food experience for me. Completely different from Luigi’s “pizza pie” but equally as daydream inspiring, and drool inducing…

Anyhoo, I really enjoy making pizza at home, as I really love the meditative vibe I get into while making it, it’s also a pretty quick meal once you get the oven hot enough.  You also control everything that goes into it, but what’s best, is that there’s never any leftovers.  You can serve it as a fancy app at a dinner party, (as long as you have someone willing to play host and entertain guests as you’re rolling dough, and getting hot and messy), as a nice dinner, or best of all, a late night treat.

I’ve experimented with my own doughs and yadayadayada, which is cool, but to be honest, I just don’t have a lot of time to do that anymore, and frankly, Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s and my local supermarket, already make wonderful raw doughs that are every bit as good as mine.  I don;t have to make them a day in advance, there’s no additional mess, and no need for having starters taking up valuable real estate in my fridge overnight.

After constant experimentation over the years, this is one of my favorites, the Artichoke Mushroom flatbread.  I like to call it flatbread, because I think of pizza as being “Italian”, and this is definitely not your typical red sauce, pepperoni based pie.  It’s firm enough for the slices to hold their shape while eating, and the ingredients are atypical, but that’s my schpeel.  At the end of the day, my wife and kids will still call it “pizza“…

Mushroom Artichoke Flatbread

1 package of fresh pizza dough, divided in half -(I use Trader Joe’s)

1 C marinated artichoke hearts, halved

1 C mushrooms, sliced  (I like shiitakes, but button, or any fresh mushroom would work)

10 pitted kalamata olives, halved

2 garlic cloves run through a garlic press

10 slices of sharp white cheddar

4T extra virgin olive oil

½ t dried oregano

¼ C Fresh basil chopped

¼ C feshly grated Romano cheese

dash of red pepper flakes (optional)

salt and pepper to taste

Truffle oil to taste

Cornmeal for dusting

Flour for rolling

• With a baking stone placed on the middle rack of the oven, set oven at 500.  (If convection is an option use convection.)

• Using a generous amount of flour and a rolling pin, roll out one half of the dough to desired thickness, or as thin as possible.  Set the other half aside.

• Move dough to a wooden or metal peel dusted with cornmeal, and using the tines of a fork, dot the top of the dough generously to prevent air bubbles from occurring, avoiding the outer edge as to retain a crust.

•  Drizzle olive oil and smear crushed garlic all over top of dough.  Season with salt and pepper, then layer 5 slices of cheese, trying to avoid overlaps.

•  Add artichoke hearts, mushrooms, and kalamata olives, keeping in mind that less is more.  You don’t want to weigh down the dough with two many ingredients.  Scatter the toppings so that you could imagine, a few of each on each potential slice.

•  Dust with dried oregano and red pepper flakes if using.

• Using peel, carefully slide pizza onto hot baking stone, and bake for 7-8 minutes if using convection, 8-10 minutes if not, keeping an eye on it as not to burn, and rotating ½ way through for even cooking.

•  Once pizza is golden brown on the edges and cheese is bubbling, remove from oven and immediately scatter basil over top and grate fresh romano.  Slice using a pizza cutter, transfer to a serving dish, and sparingly drizzle truffle oil over top and serve hot.

• Repeat using the second half of the fresh dough.

Sunday Gravy

I don’t have an ounce of Italian in me, and I’ve yet to go to Italy.  I’m a Hungarian/Polish/Texan hybrid, born and raised in the Midwest, so most of the Italian food I make I either learned from cookbooks or from Italian trained chefs cooking in Italian restaurants.  But the best Italian recipes I have in my arsenal I learned from Italian-American friends whose families graciously invited me to family meals of passed down regional recipes from their homeland and adapted them using American products and also to fit American tastes.  Another thing I love about Italians is the same thing I love about the North Africans, and the Poles and the Jews and Germans and the French and just about every person who’s culture I have been lucky enough to experience, by having been invited to share a meal with.  Some recent immigrants, some third, fourth and fifth generation immigrants, but what we all have in common is a love of family and traditional food, and sharing a meal together is something across the board that brings us back to the real world, no matter how dynamic or stressful our lives have become.  The pleasure of sitting around a table and sharing a meal is something passed down through the millennia but unfortunately it’s something few of us have time to do on a regular basis anymore, including myself, so I try to be aware of that and consciously set aside the time.  This recipe is one of those recipes that takes a good afternoon to make, and is a nice large amount that goes a long way, so it is perfect for getting everyone together.

Prior to my days of cooking professionally, I voraciously read cookbooks and invited myself over to relatives’ or friends’ houses for dinner, only to show up early and ask if I could watch how they prepared the meal.   Early on, my dad pulled a few strings and somehow got me into the kitchen of one of the exclusive restaurants in town to “observe” the chef, which introduced me to my first real kitchen experience.  The chef was gracious, passionate and hilarious.  I fell in love with not only the smells and tastes, but also the energy, the camaraderie, the testosterone, and of course the excitement in the air as everyone had their own job to do as they set to prepare for that evenings’ rush.  Needless to say I was hooked immediately.

Previous to my “observation” gig, I had an Italian American friend, and fellow musician, in Los Angeles who was a wonderful home cook.  He was a busy guy too, trying to hustle his way in the music business, but he had learned two of the most basic and salient of all Italian recipes, passed down through generations: pasta and sauce-or as he and his family so oddly referred to it as “Macaroni” and “Gravy”.  They actually called it Sunday Gravy because at their house, traditionally it was something that was made every Sunday, the one day when the whole family was guaranteed to sit down together for dinner.

Macaroni wasn’t the elbow stuff I’d grown up with that was solely used for “mac-and cheese”, it was in fact egg noodles, mixed by hand and run through a hand cranked pasta machine, which one needed a countertop with a nice lip on it as to be able to tighten up the clamp that held the machine in place.  He had one size to cut the noodles, which was angel hair, and it made the most beautiful pasta I’d ever had.  The Sunday gravy was a hearty red sauce simmered with pork chops (what?) that at the time seemed like it could feed an army.  The best part about this ordeal was that the recipe had a built-in timer that would determine when the meal would be ready: you made the sauce and while the sauce was cooking, you made the pasta, and once the pasta was done-the sauce was done and it was time to eat!  The second best part of the ordeal was the pork chops simmering in the sauce the whole time!

Here’s the recipe that’s very true to the original.  I use boneless pork ribs instead of bone-in pork chops, and I add a bit more garlic for a slightly more savory sauce. Also, the leftovers are perfect for freezing, and the sauce actually is great to have on hand for late night-post gig pasta meals.

Sunday Gravy

2, 28 oz cans on diced tomatoes in juice

2, 28 oz cans of sauce

1 small can of paste

2 pork chops bone in (or 1 package of boneless pork chops)

5 cloves of garlic sliced

1 onion chopped

¼ cup of parsley chopped

¼ C extra virgin olive oil

2 bay leaves

¼ C Romano cheese, grated for garnish

Salt and pepper to taste

To make the sauce, heat up olive oil in a large saucepan or pot.

• Add garlic, onion and chopped parsley, season, and toss until garlic becomes fragrant, about 2 minutes.

•  Add pork, season and toss with garlic and parsley, until seared on all sides.

•  Add tomato product and stir until well combined.

• Add bay leaves, season with salt and pepper, bring to a simmer and reduce heat to low for 45 minutes to an hour.

Once sauce is done, take out pork and put on a serving platter, grate fresh Romano cheese over top, and keep warm.

Also, grate fresh Romano cheese over the pot and let a thin veil melt on top of the sauce.

Serve family style by bringing the pot and pork to the table and let folks ladle sauce onto their own pasta plates.

Chicken in the style of “Perfetto”

In Barberton, Ohio, on Manchester Road, right outside of Akron, there’s a little unassuming building with no windows adjacent to a tobacco shop. Driving by, one might not even notice, but it could be an old juke-joint, night club like the ones that still exist in the more depressed parts of town, or it could be an old shady bar that’s changed hands over the years, while still pedaling to the same neighborhood rubber-worker families, but it’s neither.  Inside is a fourth generation family owned and operated Italian restaurant called Casa Mimi, run by the Perfetto family and named after it’s founder “Mimi” Perfetto.  I practically grew up in this charming little piece of Barbertonian-Italian history as it was one of my parent’s favorite places to eat.  It was always the go-to place for first communions, bar mitzvahs, childhood birthdays, out of town guests, or just plain old Sunday suppers, when Mom didn’t feel like cooking and cleaning up the mess.  It’s not one of the trendy Italian eateries that we’ve all grown accustomed to, and the interior AND the menu has basically stayed the same since I can remember from going there as a kid in the 70’s-dark maroon drapes, dimly lit, some walls are mirrors made to look like reflective marble, and the focal point of the main dining room is an audacious landscape painting of Mt. Vesuvius that spans the length of the room.  In the corner is a faux-stone cherub fountain complete with plastic ivy leaves that seems to have been cycling water forever, but don’t let the gaudy, recent, red, white and green stripes on the exterior and outdated decor on the interior fool you-Love it or hate it, there’s some wonderful, timeless and filling, Italian food to enjoy at Casa Mimi’s.

The menu has basically stayed the same for the last 40 years, and there’s no need for it to change now.  The food here reminds me of the 70’s family run, neighborhood American-Italian eateries that used to be around way before all the homogenized Macaroni Grill and Olive Garden types took over with the strip malls and ruined not only our childhood landscapes, but our perception of American Italian food.  Walking into Casa Mimi is like walking back in time. It’s like walking into one of those old restaurants you see in a Mafia flick where some poor sap mafioso wanna-be has his last meal before getting whacked. The food here is unabashed, heavy and rich and the menu includes all of the classics you’d expect.  But there are some things that they have on the menu that are unique to this establishment.  One of them being their own marinated eggplant which is a secret recipe (I tried to get it a few times to no avail). Large chunks of squeaky, vinegary, garlicky eggplant, saturated in olive oil and dotted with red pepper flakes and dried oregano-pungent, spicy, savory and indulgent at the same time.  A perfect accompaniment for their crusty, broiled garlic bread, dusted with paprika.  But one of their signature dishes is a chicken dish called “Chicken Perfetto”.  A dish very reminiscent of Chicken Francese (which they also have on the menu) but this dish is different with the addition of mushrooms and a thicker, more viscous lemon sauce. If Casa Mimi has one thing going for them it’s consistency, which to me is more of a key to success than a lot of things that seem to have infiltrated the ideals of the restaurant world these days. The Chicken Perfetto is the exact same gloriously rich flavor profile of 3 generations ago, with it’s velvety lemon sauce, but I still haven’t been able to capture the exact magic at home.

So, if you can’t get to Barberton, this recipe is as close to the real thing as I’ve been able to get.

For the Chicken:

2 boneless, chicken breasts sliced in half lengthwise, and pounded out.

2 slices of white bread.

3 eggs

1/4 C milk

seasoned flour

# T grated romano cheese

Salt & Pepper to taste

In a bowl, whisk the eggs, milk, salt and pepper and grated cheese together.

Dredge chicken in flour and dip into egg mixture.

Heat a sauté pan with Canola oil on medium high and sauté chicken on both sides until golden and just cooked through about 3 minutes per side.

drain on paper towels and set aside.

Do the same for the 2 slices of bread-basically making a savory French toast.

For the Sauce:

4 cloves garlic minced

1 C chicken stock

1/2 C white wine, plus another 1/2 C for deglazing

2T olive oil

3 T butter, plus 2T

3T flour

Mushrooms

Red pepper flakes

Salt & Pepper

3 dashes of Worcestershire

Juice of 2 lemons

1 lemon’s worth of zest

Heat a sauté pan over high heat and add olive oil, sauté mushrooms until they give off their moisture and that reduces, seasoning with salt and pepper.

Add 1/2 C wine and continue to cook until wine is absorbed, then set aside.

Melt 2T butter in a sauce pan and add the garlic and pepper flakes.  Sauté until the garlic becomes fragrant, then pour in the lemon juice and zest and reduce by half.

Once reduced, add the chicken stock, remaining 1/2 C of wine, Worcestershire, salt and pepper to taste and whisk.

Let this reduce slightly.

In a small pan, make a roux by melt the remaining 3T butter until foaming then add 3T flour and whisk until incorporated. cook for about 3 minutes and slowly add to the pan with the lemon sauce, whisking briskly.

Once all the roux has been incorporated turn heat down to medium and simmer for 3-5 minutes. The sauce should have a velvety consistency.

Add mushrooms and chicken to the lemon sauce pan and heat through.

Serve by placing a slice of the savory French toast on a plate, shingled by a chicken medallion  and spoon sauce over both generously.

Grilling in the rain

There’s something very comforting about grilling in the rain.  It probably stems from being a little kid, watching my dad withstanding the elements in an overcoat, kitchen tongs in hand, working feverishly over a large open flame grill, his silhouette engulfed in a cloud of savory smoke, his ever present glass of cab placed precariously beside him, preparing the centerpiece of the family meal.  Us kids inside, cozy in the kitchen, watching mom working at an equally feverish pace, preparing the starches and vegetables, sautéing, roasting, whisking together a dressing, or composing a salad, cookbooks splayed out on the counter.

I guess I inherited that manly trait of my dad’s, to weather the storm and man the fire when it comes to dinner.  Grilling is one of my favorite ways of cooking.  Grilling during the summer is pretty much the cream-of-the-crop to most grill aficionados, but for me, as the days grow shorter, the idyllic notions of grilling become more persuasive. There’s something romantic about roughing the elements in order to put food on the table…maybe it comes from our ancestral past, the cave man cooking over an open flame, with one eye on the meal and one eye on the darkness beyond the campfire- both protector and provider.

Now I get it.  It’s the one time of day for a man to enjoy his solitude (and an adult beverage) and not feel guilty about it, and it doesn’t matter if it’s rain or shine.  No dinosaurs, predators or rogues to defend against anymore, but the trait has been passed down.  Just a man alone with his halcyon thoughts, the delectable hiss of the grill, the warmth of the flame, and a glass of IPA or a Napa cab close by.  Maybe the sounds of rain drizzling off the brim of my hat, or the velvety muffled silence of a fresh snow fall-either way, it’s all good.

Most days I man the grill and the sauté station as well, running inside to sauté garlic, or test the done-ness of vegetables, and refill an empty glass, then running back to the grill in time to flip my wares to acquire those alluringly delightful, aesthetically gratifying, (albeit unnecessary) perfectly, crosshatched grill marks, which is a continuous study in timing and preparation.  It all needs to come together at the precise moment and once it does, everything is right in the world.

It doesn’t get much more basic than this, the old proverbial “meat-and-potatoes”, but somehow, it never does get old, and when life gets crazy and you need to come back to center and recharge both mentally and physically, grilling in the rain is some good medicine.

Grilled bone-in ribeye with worcestershire, garlic butter, garlicky spinach and baked potato.

The Wedge Salad with White French Dressing

Growing up in Akron, Ohio, this was a restaurant stalwart, a wedge cut of iceberg lettuce, garnished with bacon, bleu cheese, tomato and hard boiled egg, and finished with a velvety white French dressing; sweet, creamy and savory, all at the same time.  The Wedge salad with white French dressing oozes old school, mid-western, fine dining that has become a dying artform.  I’m definitely dating myself, but I’m old enough to remember that when I was a little rug-rat, dressed up in my Sunday best, I was able to witness the days of dark wood paneled dining rooms abuzz with restaurant pushcarts, commandeered by maître d‘s, refined looking master waiters in tuxes, going from table to table, flambéing Crepes Suzette, whisking worcestershire and dijon together in shiny, copper pans over open flames for Steak Diane, or efficiently emulsifying olive oil, anchovies and garlic with the tines of a fork-the basis for Caesar salad-in large, wooden salad bowls. At restaurants like D’Amico’s in Medina, Foley’s and the Diamond Grille (which is still open) on West Market, the Wine Merchant in the Valley, Iacomini’s on West Exchange, and Little Joe’s Pub and Lanning’s in Bath, the Wedge salad was a beautiful thing, as was the service and ambiance.  Some newer restaurants with a nod back to the old halcyon days have re-discovered and revamped the Wedge and brought it back to its former glory.  To me it is quintessential Northeastern Ohio eating: A large, chunk of iceberg lettuce, drizzled with the French inspired heavy, creamy dressing and all the garnishes.  The perfect salad to precede a steak dinner with a steaming baked potato-still in the jacket, accompanied by a pewter lazy susan with all the accoutrements.

The dressing used to be extra heavy, being made with mayo and sour cream, but this recipe has all the flavor and richness while a little lighter, as it’s made with an aioli base.

White French Dressing

1 egg
1 egg yolk
1.5 C canola oil
salt
pepper
1/4 yellow, Spanish onion, diced
3 T white vinegar
3T honey (or more to taste)

Splash of Tabasco

In a food processor, pulse the onion a few times, then add eggs, vinegar, s&p, and pulse until blended.
Then add the oil in a thin stream until emulsified.
Add honey and blend until incorporated, and a dash of Tabasco.

It definitely should have some sweetness to it, but also the bite of the onion.

I like to update the salad garnishes slightly different from the traditional way.  I use, diced crispy, pancetta, hard boiled egg, tomato and feta cheese crumbles in lieu of bleu.

It’s also a great vegetable dip and really awesome to dress a sandwich with.

Steak Frites: Grilled Filet with Garlic Worcestershire Butter, and Parmesan Truffle Fries

Sometimes when you have a meal that really hits the spot, do you wonder why you ever eat anything else?  Ha! That’s what I say just about every day, but seriously, this is one of those meals.  What could be better than house-made parmesan truffle fries and grilled filet mignon with garlic, worcestershire butter?  This is a plate of savory heaven.

It sounds simple, but it’s amazing how often this can be a let down out.  From over truffling, to soggy, tasteless frites, to a poor, chewy cut of meat, or just un-seasoned blandness.

The trick for the frites is to blanch/fry and start with Russet potatoes.  Blanch them in hot oil first, at 325, rest, then another quick fry at 350 to make them crispy on the outside and pillowy on the inside.

Here’s my recipe:

Garlic Worcestershire butter

4 T butter

1 Clove garlic, through a press

2 t Worcestershire

salt and pepper

1 Filet mignon, seasoned

Pomme Frites

3 medium sized russet potatoes, peeled, and cut into batons.

1/2 Gallon Canola oil

Sea salt

Truffle oil to taste

3 T grated Parmesan cheese

In a large pot, heat oil on medium high heat, using a candy thermometer, measure the heat until 325.

Once at the proper temp, slowly immerse your potato batons into the hot oil and cook for 6-8 minutes, monitoring the temp-you don’t want it to go too high or remain too low for very long. You need to adjust it so that it remains at 325 for as much of the time as possible.

After 6-8, minutes, using tongs or a mesh strainer, scoop out the potatoes and drain on paper towels or a brown grocery bag.

Bring oil temp up to 350.

Heat the grill until hot.  Grill steaks to just before medium rare, put on a plate and cover plate with tin foil while finishing up the frites and butter sauce, to let the meat rest.

in a small sauce pan, melt the butter until foaming, add garlic and season.  As garlic sizzles, add in Worcestershire and whisk until well blended, then take off heat.

now you can immerse the blanched potatoes back into the hot oil and cook for 3 minutes or until golden brown.  Strain on fresh paper towels or a brown bag, and season with sea salt.

To serve, slice steak and shingle onto a warm plate, heap frites onto plate as well.  Drizzle frites with truffle oil, sprinkle with a bit more sea salt, and dust with grated parmesan.  Lastly, using a spoon, generously drizzle butter sauce over sliced steak.

Hot Buttered Apple Cider with Bourbon

St. John, USVI, December 1992, it wasn’t a normal Caribbean feeling day.  I had just got back from a rather chilly sailing excursion as a foggy, winter storm rolled in over the islands.  After we left the boat, I bellied up to the bar on the top floor of a local restaurant, over looking the harbor and feeling chilled and exhausted, I ordered a John Courage ale to pick me up.  The bar tender looked at me and said, “I’ll get you the beer, but you look you need something else, and I’ve got just the thing”.  I was all ears and and a few minutes later he emerged from the small kitchen with a steaming mug of a caramel colored, frothy, spicy, deliciousness which was exactly what I needed.  It was over the top delicious.  I thanked him, grabbed my cup, threw my hood up over my head and found a spot next to the open air window to sip my drink and watch the winter storm settle in all around us, enjoying what was a most perfectly comforting and invigorating cup of island exoticism which I never forgot, while listening to the cool rain hitting the surf.

I’ve spent years trying to re-create that one off drink I had in that little island bar, and had found a few recipes that were close, but just not quite there until Saveur magazine had a rum issue a few years back and in that issue I found a hot buttered rum recipe that came awfully close.  I tweaked it a bit, and now I’m satisfied that this is as close as I’ll ever get to whatever that magical concoction was.  I got goose bumps on the first sip.

8 oz Apple cider

shot of Rum or Bourbon

3/4 # butter, softened

1 C brown sugar

1/4 t ground cinnamon

1/4 t ground cloves

1/4 t nutmeg, freshly grated

1 scraped vanilla bean worth of seeds

pinch of salt

With an electric mixer, blend butter and sugar until fluffy, add spices, salt, vanilla  and chill.

for each cup, add 8 oz of hot cider to 1 heaping teaspoon of butter spice mixture. top with booze and whisk until incorporated.

The Denny Sandwich

Sometimes, breakfast just makes everything better…

and that includes “The Denny Sandwich”, pictured above.

I’ve always looked to my dad, “Denny”, for inspiration in life, but especially cooking and eating as most of what I learned about food and wine, in the beginning, I learned from him.

My dad is a real man’s man-a classic, unapologetic carnivore, and I wouldn’t want him any other way.  He’s responsible for turning me onto the sandwich in the picture above. My Dad is also very generous, and does not mind paying for the best.  He works harder than anyone I know, and plays harder than anyone I know, and though he goes out all the time, sometimes he just doesn’t like ordering from the menu.  Much to my horror, and usually, to the waitstaff’s bewilderment, he’ll put the menu down and start off his order with, “I’ll tell you what I’m hungry for..”,  then proceed to invent his own dish right on the spot, sometimes mixing and matching items from the menu, but sometimes not…

Years ago we were on a family vacation somewhere and we were all out to breakfast, ordering the usual breakfast of eggs done a certain way, or pancakes, or French toast, and my dad straight up orders a bagel, a side of cream cheese and a double order of bacon.  Nobody seemed to pay much attention, but when the food came out, my dad proceeded, nonchalantly, to make in front of us, what’s gone down in the annals of our family vernacular as the “Denny Sandwich”.  Not only were all of us staring at his creation in complete amazement, and envy, but I think for the rest of the trip, we all ordered the Denny Sandwich at breakfast and to this day, it still pops up at family breakfast outings.

I make mine at home, and the pic above is one of my homemade ones.

Here’s the recipe:

1 bagel, toasted

Philadelphia Cream Cheese (no reduced fat, fat-free, whipped, or foofy kind with vegetables or fruit in it)

6-8 slices of thick-slab cut, cooked bacon.

Make sure you have the above three ingredients, then proceed to build your own Denny Sandwich, and if needed, use the photo as a guide.  Good luck, and if building in public be prepared to be stared at-looked up to by many, as well as looked down upon by some, but you will be the envy of the civilized world for a few moments…

Labor Day Tapas!

I really enjoy small portions with various flavors and textures, that’s why I really love tapas, mezze and antipasti.  It not only lets you eat lighter, but it also allows you to sample so much more of what a cuisine or restaurant has to offer, without over eating, or if you’re out, over ordering, or worse, ordering the wrong thing.  My parents traveled, and entertained a lot when I was young, and though I didn’t travel often with them, I was introduced to foods that they had while traveling, or while entertaining international guests, foods that were hard to come by in rural Ohio. Tapas was one of the things I really enjoyed as a kid, because it was like a little party at the table with so many colors and scents, and you could choose to eat what you wanted, then come back later and try something else, and that made it interesting.  My mom introduced me to a classic tapas cookbook that I still use today:  Tapas, The Little Dishes of Spain, by Penelope Casas, published in the late 80’s.  I found an inexpensive, used copy at amazon.com, as my old one fell apart from using it so much.  It’s an unbelievable collection of recipes from the author who traveled all over Spain, like I would, coaxing recipes from local tapas bar chefs, and when they wouldn’t comply, she would re-create the recipes on her own, as close to the original that she could.

This recipe is something that I should make more than I do.  Not just because it’s humble and delicious, but because it’s so easy and goes with just about anything.  It’s even good on it’s own with a glass of wine!  It’s a rustic potato salad in garlic mayonnaise.  I’ve never been to Spain, but there’s a tapas restaurant in Boston that’s one of my all-time fav places to eat, called Taberna de Haro, and it’s run by a husband and wife team-He’s a chef from Spain, she’s a chef from the states and together they have the epitome of the “If I ever had my own restaurant..” restaurants.

The menu is amazing, but this isn’t on it. It’s served to you compliments of the house if you’re bellied up at the bar with a drink, waiting for your table, which is pretty much the norm, because it’s a TINY place and there’s always a wait-a good sign!

Rustic potato salad in garlic mayonnaise

3/4 # potatoes

1/2 C mayonnaise, preferably homemade

3 cloves garlic put through a garlic press

3T chopped Italian parsley

s+p to taste

Boil the potatoes for 15 minutes with the skin on, covered.

Turn the heat off, and leave the potatoes in the pot covered for another 15 minutes until tender.

Peel the potatoes with a knife and chop into a 3/4 inch dice.

In a bowl, combine the mayo, parsley, garlic and s+p.  Fold in the potatoes while they are still warm, and mix with your hands until everything is distributed properly.

Some of the smaller chunks should breakdown and add a velvety consistency.

Let sit at room temp for about 20 minutes so the flavors can meld.

This also gives you time to cook other tapas!

Oven Baked Greek Shrimp and Feta

Alright, here we go, One of my fetishes is a cookbook fetish.

But the good news is, is that it is a rewarding one.  With cookbooks comes good home-cooked food.  I’m a cookbook collector and have enough that at some point, it validated me purchasing a large, beautiful, all-too- expensive, wooden bookcase with french doors to house them in…and it’s full.

Before my twins came along, I actually had time on my hands at some point, and LOVED going to old used bookstores to peruse old, no-longer-in-print cookbooks.  A few of my most cherished cookbooks are in fact, these particular kinds of books.  I’ve acquired a few through various means:  Old favorite restaurants, who’ve since closed their doors, but happened to publish a cookbook before they did; Heirloom hand-me-downs from my grandparents and great grandparents, or other family members, and in the case of this particular recipe below, dumpster diving.

Well, dumpster diving at my parent’s house, but dumpster diving nonetheless.

You see, I inherited my cookbook fetish from my mother, Phyllis or as we call her Fifi, and her cookbook collection actually DWARFS mine.  At my mom’s house you can pretty much find a cookbook or a cooking magazine in most any room of her house, which isn’t a bad thing, as my parents are very food-centric and much of what I learned early on was by watching, cooking and enjoying food with them.

My mom actually had too many cookbooks at one time and to make room for more, she decided to part ways with a few old, less-used cookbooks while keeping her old stalwarts, and those ended up in the trash one day, along with the dingy, grey covered, gem “Greek Cooking”, by a real-life Greek person and not in print since the late 70’s. The book cover is absolutely nothing to look at, as the dust cover had long since been discarded and all that was left was a dingy, grey, burlap covered, cardboard cover, and inside was not much better.  Back in the 70’s they actually printed cookbooks with black and white pictures of food, and these weren’t great looking photos of food to begin with.  But my initial reaction to dig further into the trash for more coffee-table worthy books was thwarted when, after a quick page flip, I randomly opened the book to the recipe, “Oven Baked Shrimp with Feta”.

Although I’ve never been to Greece, I spent a lot of my childhood hanging out with a Greek-American family in my town who were close family friends.  They had three boys who were a little older than me but we became very close and spending time with them and eating with them are some of the happiest memories of my childhood.  Their mom, was and still is a world class baker, so much of the food was sweet as well as savory.  It was the dinners that I enjoyed so much, as they were just like the ones I was used to having with my family, with lots of meat-and-potatoes meals devoured with animated dialogues and passionate debates, except at my Greek friend’s house, the conversations had the extra twinge of exoticism by being mostly in Greek, which can sound even more intense than I was used to.  Especially since the only Greek I knew were some of the more ribald colloquialisms that boys from different cultures always seem to find the most useful and teach one another…

Anyhoo, I have always had a deep appreciation for Greek food and culture, and this one neglected treatise has become one of my favorites due to it’s unabashedly simple but alluring recipes having been published way before the new current wave of ostentatious cooking culture planted it’s reality-show-inspired roots.  What it lacks in scientifically broken down strange emulsions, sexy, high-def photos, and an equally sexy, dentally enhanced, though questionably talented chef-starlet, it makes up for in uncomplicated, rustic, authentic and delicious food, complete with awkward, vintage, plain-old-boring photographs of food and not-so-exotic looking out-door celebrations.

This recipe is actually verbatim from the cookbook, as why mess with something that is perfect?

Serve over pasta, or as I prefer, in bowls like soup while passing around some crusty bread-you won’t need silverware.

Shrimp and Feta

3T Lemon juice
2# Shrimp, peeled and de-veined
1 yellow onion, chopped
4 Garlic cloves, minced
1/3 C Extra virgin olive oil
1 28 oz. Can San Marzano plum Tomatoes, hand crushed
½ C White wine
½ Chicken stock
2T butter
2T Ouzo
1t oregano, dried
2T parsley, chopped fresh
½# Feta crumbled

Oven @ 375
Pour lemon juice over shrimp
Sauté onions and garlic in oil, add tomatoes, wine and stock and simmer uncovered medium low for 15 minutes
Sauté shrimp in butter in separate pan, add ouzo, ignite and toss until flames subside
Mix shrimp and herbs into sauce
Put feta on top and put in oven for 15 minutes until cheese browns slightly and sauce is bubbling.