Pasta with Oxtail Ragu

When I came home from the store the other day and announced excitedly that they now carry oxtails, Nick looked at me like I was crazy. And maybe I am, but this cheap, tough cut is much loved by Italian cooks and professional chefs alike. Mario Batali claims that it's the most flavorful part of the cow, so I just had to give it a try.

Because oxtails are tough, bony little critters, they require a braise. In this case, the braise was turned into a ragu, which is a thick, hearty pasta sauce. The stuff they sell in jars is not really ragu--it's tomato sauce. A ragu is a thick, chunky sauce that usually includes a mirepoix and and good bit of wine, but generally no ground beef. Also, it's generally cooked long enough to be considered a braise.

At this time of year, I just love to braise anything and everything, so you'll be seeing a lot of it around here. Braising makes the house smell wonderful for hours on end, and sitting by the fire on a cold night and enjoying those smells is just lovely.

I also love that you can make a braised meal and have the kitchen sparkling clean by the time the meal is ready. This makes braised dishes ideal for company, especially because the meal can even be prepared the day before, and if anything, it actually gets better.

I served this ragu with some homemade tagliatelli, but it would also be delicious incorporated into a simple lasagne. This amount of ragu is enough to lightly sauce four servings, or heavily sauce 2 servings of pasta, possibly with some left over. In the instructions below, I've written for enough pasta to serve 2 people with good appetites. If you would like 4-6 servings of pasta, use 400 grams of flour and 4 eggs.

Pasta with Oxtail Ragu

• 2 1/2 pounds oxtail, cut into 2-4 inch pieces
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 1/4 cup canola oil
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 small parsnip, peeled and chopped
• 1/2 small fennel bulb, chopped
• 1 can (15 ounces) plum tomatoes
• 2 cups dry red wine
• 3 small rosemary sprigs
• 3 sprigs oregano
• 3 cloves garlic
• 1 cup chicken stock or water
• 200 grams all-purpose flour
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 teaspoon of a combination of chopped fresh rosemary and oregano
• Pinch red pepper flakes
• Balsamic vinegar*

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.
Trim the oxtail of excess fat, and remove silverskin, if possible. Season with salt and pepper, and dredge in flour, shaking off the excess.

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a 6-quart Dutch oven. When the oil shimmers, add the oxtail and brown on all sides. You will most likely have to do this in batches; add more oil to the pot as necessary. Transfer the oxtails to a plate.

Add the onion, parsnip, and fennel to the pan and saute over medium heat until soft and browned, about 7 minutes. Add the wine and increase the heat to high. Boil until reduced by about a fourth, about 5 minutes. As the wine reduces, scrape up the brown bits from the bottom of the pot.

While the tomatoes are still in the can, cut them into pieces with a pair of kitchen scissors. In a piece of cheesecloth, tie up the rosemary, oregano and garlic. Add this herb sachet and the tomatoes to the pot. Put the pieces of oxtail back in the pot.

If necessary, add enough water to come most of the way up the pieces of meat. Bring to a boil, cover, and place in the center of the oven. Cook until the oxtail is very tender and beginning to fall off the bones, about 3-4 hours. Check the meat halfway through the cooking time. If the liquid is no longer coming at least half way up the side of the oxtail pieces, add the chicken stock or water.

While the ragu is braising, make the pasta:

Mound the flour in the center of a large wooden board, and sprinkle it with the salt. Make a well in the center and add the eggs. Using a fork or your fingers, beat the eggs together, then, continuing to use a swirling motion, begin to incorporate the flour, starting with the inner rim of the well.

As you expand the well, keep pushing the flour up to retain the well shape. This takes some practice, and if the eggs break through the wall of the well, all is not lost--just try to combine the eggs and flour as well as you can.

 

When half of the flour is incorporated, the dough will begin to come together. Start kneading the dough, using primarily the palms of your hands. Once the dough is a cohesive mass, set the dough aside and scrape up and discard any dried bits of dough.

Lightly flour the board and continue kneading for 10 minutes, dusting the board with additional flour as necessary. The dough should be elastic, very smooth, and a little sticky. And seriously, this really takes 10 whole minutes--do not try to slack on this part, just find a Zen place and knead away. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and allow to rest for 30 minutes at room temperature.

To roll out the pasta, divide it into 3 pieces (if you're using 200 grams of flour). Make the first piece into a flattish shape and cover the rest. With your plain roller set to the largest setting (lower number), pass the dough through once. Fold like a book (one flat piece in the back, and two pieces folded over on the sides so that they almost meet in the middle) and pass through again. Fold like a book and repeat 2 more times. After the last time, send the pasta through as is.

Then, put the roller on the next smallest setting and pass the dough through. Continue to do this on smaller and smaller settings until the pasta is the right thickness (I like a 6 or 7 on Kitchenaid stand mixers). Lay the dough out on a flat surface and cover with a towel so that it does not dry out, and repeat with the remaining lumps of dough.

When all of the pasta is laid out flat, switch to the fettuccine-cutting roller, and pass the pieces of dough through, one at a time. Sprinkle the dough with a little bit of flour so that the noodles don't stick together; cover with a towel so they do not dry out. 

 

When the meat is ready, remove the pot from the oven. Transfer the oxtail to a plate, and discard the herb sachet. Skim the fat off the surface. If the remaining liquid is not very thick, (ragus are very thick sauces), place the pot over a burner and boil until reduced to the proper consistency.

If you would like a fancier presentation, either use a stick blender to puree the sauce, or strain out the vegetables and puree them in a food processor; return to the pot. If you would like a more 'rustic' presentation, just leave the vegetables as they are.

When the sauce is the proper consistency and the meat is cool enough to handle, pick the meat off the bones and return to the pot. Let the meat warm through before serving. Add the red pepper flakes. Taste for seasoning, and add salt, pepper, and more red pepper flakes as needed. This dish is very good with a great deal of pepper.

In a large pot of boiling, salted water, cook the pasta until al dente, about 2-3 minutes. Drain the pasta and divide amongst the serving vessels of your choice. Spoon the ragu over the top of the pasta and serve. 

*The balsamic vinegar does not have a quantity listed, as I added a few drops only to my own portion. I thought that the dish needed some acidity, and I thought that balsamic would be just perfect, but too much vinegar could have ruined the dish for Nick. For the whole pot, you'll likely want to use about a 1/2 teaspoon. Start with that and taste for flavor; add more if you like.

Note: As I mentioned above, this dish can be better on the day after it's made. Making it the day before is also advantageous because you can skim the fat off the surface of the sauce, and when you pull apart the pieces of meat, you'll be better able to remove the extra fat.

Texas-Style Barbecued Baby Back Ribs

Last week was a major fatty-fat week. We ate, and we ate, and we ate some more. So this week, we were going to be healthy. Chicken breasts and vegetables, fish and plain rice, no cheese before dinner, fruit for dessert. That's why we bought ribs at the grocery store.


Well, we meant to be healthy. There's always next week.


We used to use a recipe for bourbon ribs from Epicurious, but as it calls for apple butter and apple cider, it's really more of a Fall-ish desert. Daniel Boulud had the answer, though, in the form of his Texas-Style Baby Back Ribs. Now, there's really nothing barbecued about these ribs. They're not slowly cooked and smoked over low, indirect heat after being rubbed with a variety of spices. These ribs are in a barbecue-style sauce, but they're not even supposed to see the grill. What can I say?-- he's French.

And honestly, we're not worried about authenticity. We actually like recipes that call for braising ribs because it results in succulent, falling-off-the-bone-tenderness. In order to accomplish this with dry heat, we would have to cook the meat at a very low temperature for a very long time. This wasn't appealing on this particular day for a number of reasons, so we figured we would braise the ribs and finish them on the grill.


Daniel's recipe had all of the elements we were looking for--a yummy sauce, no seasonally inappropriate ingredients, a wet cooking method, a cooking method that didn't require having the grill on for 5 hours, etc. We figured we'd throw the ribs on the grill for a few minutes at the end and we'd have just what we were looking for.


Now, one of the best things about eating ribs is the fact that it's perfectly acceptable to eat them with your hands. Everything is better when eaten with the hands--crabs, cake, etc. So we wanted a side that was also finger-friendly. For a veggie we came up with green beans, which are another post, and oven fries. Meat and potatoes, we love you.


Our all-time oven fries are the Bistro French Fries from Epicurious. They're tasty without being too unhealthy, and the best part is the way they're tossed with garlic and parsley when they're fresh out of the oven. The sharp tang of the garlic with the soothing green of the parsley are the perfect counterpoint to the crispy brown exterior and fluffy warm interior of the fries. They've become a part of the regular rotation in our house, and if you try them you'll see why. I especially love them with some apple cider vinegar.

Texas-Style Barbecued Baby Back Rib

(Adapted from Daniel Boulud's Braise)

For the Ribs:


-2 racks (about 4 pounds) baby back ribs, each cut in two pieces.
-1 onion, peeled and halved
-1 leek, white part only, split in half and cleaned well
-1 stalk celery
-1 carrot
-3 juniper berries
-1 tablespoon coarse sea salt or Kosher salt
-1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper


For the Rub:

-3 tablespoons smoked Spanish paprika

-1 tablespoon cumin seeds
-2 teaspoons regular oregano or dried Mexican oregano
-1 tablespoon black peppercorns
-2 tablespoons packed dark brown sugar
-2 tablespoons chili powder
-2 teaspoons garlic powder
-2 teaspoons onion powder
-2 teaspoons dry mustard
-Finely grated zest of 1 lemon




For the Sauce:


-1 large onion, peeled and diced
-4 garlic cloves, peeled and minced
-1 jalapeno pepper, finely chopped
-Splash of chili sauce, to taste
-1/2 cup Worcestershire sauce
-1/4 cup molasses
-1/4 cup cider vinegar
-Small pinch freshly grated peeled fresh ginger root
-1 teaspoon coarse sea salt or Kosher salt
-3/4 cup espresso or strong coffee
-1 tablespoon canola oil, for searing the ribs




Place the ribs in a large pot with the onion, leek, celery, carrot, juniper berries, bay leaves, salt, and black pepper and pour in enough water to cover. Bring the water to a boil, lower to a simmer, and cook for 30 minutes. Using tongs, transfer the ribs to a plate and pat dry.


Strain the liquid in the pot through a fine-mesh sieve. Return the strained liquid to the pot, bring it to a boil, and cook, skimming the fat from the surface occasionally, until the liquid has reduced to 2 1/2 cups. This might take a lot linger than you would anticipate--as much as 45 minutes. Remove from the heat.


To make the rub, grind all the rub ingredients together in a spice grinder. Rub 2 tablespoons of the mixture over the ribs.


To make the sauce, combine all the sauce ingredients with the reduced poaching liquid.


Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 300 degrees.


In a large cast iron skillet or Dutch oven over high heat, heat the oil. Add the ribs (in batches if necessary) and sear until browned, 5 to 10 minutes. Add the sauce and bring to a simmer. Cover the pot, transfer it to the oven, and braise until the ribs are meltingly tender, about 1 hour 45 minutes.


Carefully remove the pot from the oven and transfer the ribs to a plate. Preheat the grill.


Reduce the sauce until it is the proper consistency for barbecue sauce and slather it on the ribs.


Cook the ribs quickly over the flames--just enough to caramelize the sauce without burning. Remove from the grill and serve, with extra sauce on the side if desired.

Bistro French Fries with Parsley and Garlic 

(Adapted from Epicurious)

-4 medium russet potatoes (about 2 pounds), roughly peeled
-1 teaspoon peanut oil
-1 teaspoon canola oil, more if fries are not coated
-1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
-3 garlic cloves, minced
-Coarse salt




Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 425°F. Cut potatoes lengthwise into 1/3-inch-thick slices, then cut lengthwise into 1/3-inch-wide strips. Submerge potatoes in large bowl filled with hot water and allow to soak for 10 minutes.


Remove the potatoes from the water and pat dry with paper towels. Combine potatoes and oil in large bowl; toss to coat well. Divide potatoes between 2 large parchment paper-lined baking sheets; spread in single layer. Bake until potatoes are golden brown and soft in the center, turning and rearranging potatoes frequently, about 50 minutes.


Transfer potatoes back to the bowl. Toss with parsley, garlic and coarse salt.

Unseasonal Pan-Roasted Veggies, Seasonal Fresh Peas

For various reasons, including a Romesco obsession and a trip to California's Central Coast, we hadn't made a 10X10 meal in a long time.

We had been really really excited about the Daring Cook's May challenge, which was enchiladas with a verde sauce. We had fully intended to turn the pork shoulder that had been languishing in the freezer into some delicious Mexican-y goodness, but, again, for a number of reasons, it just didn't happen. The shoulder was therefore begging to be used, and of course, Susanne Goin had the answer in the form of Spiced Pork Stew with Polenta, Root Vegetables, and Gremolata.

I really do realize that I keep whining about how I'm over the whole braised meat thing for now, but it was an atypically cold day, and a stew really did sound perfect. Plus, I had had polenta on the brain for no good reason, so this sounded perfect. I love you, Susanne.

We didn't love the pork stew, but it was probably my fault, or what we call 'user error.' And, of course, I had another major Polenta Fail. I'll get this stuff right someday, I swear. My family has gotten to the point that they think that even when made properly, it can't be that great. Can it? But a lot of food people say that it can be that great, which is why I'm determined to get it right, much to my family's chagrin.

This time, it was another watery, flavorless gruel.

That's why we gave it googly eyes. Everything is better with googly eyes.

The one thing that I really loved about this meal, though, were the 'roasted' vegetables. Because they were root vegetables, they didn't seem very springy, but they've revolutionized my thinking when it comes to the preparation of hearty veggies.

Here's how I will in the future cook root vegetables (an adaptation of Susanne's recipe):

(It means a bit more active time than coating vegetables in oil and throwing them in the oven, but it's still easy, and it's well worth it.)

Pan-Roasted Root Vegetables with Gremolata

(By Suzanne Goin)

• Zest of one lemon
• 1 teaspoon minced garlic
• 1/3 cup chopped fresh flat leaf parsley
• 1 lb. carrots (preferably organic with the tops attached), peeled
• 2 medium turnips
• 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 TBSP fresh thyme leaves
• 2 TBSP unsalted butter
• 1 cup 1/4 inch-thick slices shallot
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 1 bag parsnips (if they're not sold in bags where you live, then about 6 medium ones)

Place the lemon zest on a cutting board and chop it coarsely. Place the garlic and parsley on top and chop the whole mixture together until it is very fine. This is the gremolata. 

Slice the carrots and parsnips into 1/2 inch slices cut on the bias. Clean the turnips, cut off the tails, and trim the stems. Cut small turnips in to halves or quarters, and if they're larger, cut them in half and then into 1/2 inch wedges.

Using 2 saute pans so that the vegetables are not crowded, heat the olive oil over medium-high until shimmering. Divide the carrots, parsnips and turnips between the pans and season with 1 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon pepper, and the thyme. Cook 10-15 minutes, stirring often, until the vegetables just start to caramelize.

Add the butter and shallots and saute another 10 minutes, tossing often. If the vegetables are becoming too brown without softening, reduce the heat. The vegetables are finished when they're nicely caramelized and tender.

Toss with the gremolata before serving.

Spring-Time Peas

• 2 teaspoons olive oil
• One small onion, diced
• 1 lb fresh peas, shelled an rinsed
• 1/2 tablespoon butter
• Salt
• Freshly ground pepper

In a large saute pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and saute until soft, and almost caramelized. This will take 15-40 minutes, depending on how well you like the onions cooked. If they start to dry out or burn, add some butter and reduce the heat.

When the onions have reached the desired stage of doneness, add the peas and saute until tender, but still a little pop-in-the-mouth crisp, about 5 to 8 minutes. Toss with the butter (you can use more if you like, but we were trying to be healthy.) Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Pollo all'Americano--Chicken Stew with Polenta, Celery Root, and Sage, and a Brownie Redemption

I will not be defeated by brownies. I've tried Alton Brown's recipe, Cook's Illustrated's recipe, a Saveur recipe, and Thomas Keller's recipe for brownies, and every one of them has resulted in a fail. After this last spectacular failure, I was determined to once and for all conquer this unassuming dessert.

I had enough ingredients available to once again attempt Thomas Keller's recipe, and because the problem seemed to be with me as opposed to the recipe, I decided to go Ad Hoc.

This time, I decided that I would let the batter rest for a while, as is all the rage with chocolate chip cookie dough these days. This, I hoped, would help with the seeming lack of cohesiveness of ingredients that I experienced last time. Not wanting to poison my friends and family, I figured I had better let it rest in the fridge.

This, of course, meant that when I took it back out, it was rock solid and was therefore not about to be poured into a baking pan. Genius.

So I put the bowl of batter on top of the oven while it was preheating, but I kept envisioning melted and ruined batter. So I took it off. It was taking too long. I put it back on. I took it off.

Eventually, it was somewhat spreadable, but still had a fudgy texture. Good enough; it had to go in the oven. "Wow," Hunter said, "How did you manage to get brownie batter to be like fudge?"

"Shut up."

So far, brownies seem to exist just to torment me. But you know what? After only a short time in the oven, it became obvious that the brownies were going to develop that crackly, crispy crust that I so love and desire in my brownies. That flaky exterior is one of my favorite brownie attributes, and I have never yet been able to achieve it. Every time I've slid a pan or brownies in the oven, whether they be homemade or (gasp!) boxed, I say to them, "You better get crusty this time, damnit."

And they never listen. At best, I get maybe a square inch of cooperation, so I could have wept for joy when I saw this:

Nonetheless, Nick continued to say, "They're burning. They're going to burn. But they'll still be raw in the middle."

"Shut UP."

So it's true that they were a tiny bit chewy/overcooked around the edges, and while the middle was cooked just right, for whatever reason, the bottoms were a bit chewy, as well.

These brownies have chunks of chocolate in them, which, in the first batch, became little pockets of molten chocolate. That didn't consistently happen this time, perhaps because the batter was cold, but it didn't really bother me. Plus, perhaps I got my long sought-after crust because of the temperature of the batter. If anyone ever reads this and knows the answer, feel free to let me know.

So, overall, they were not the perfect brownies, but they were pretty good. My Dad argued that they're not cost effective and perhaps not worthwhile on that basis, but I argued that while a box of brownies may have been a quarter of the price, and it may have tasted almost as good, these brownies are less likely to give you cancer. He conceded the point, and he did admit that these were worthy of a Brownie Redemption.

Before all this brownie madness, however, we had some dinner. I had worked the night before and was therefore feeling relatively unmotivated, so I sought out a relatively simple recipe. Mario Batali's Chicken Stew with Polenta, Celery Root and Sage fit the criteria, so I went to the store.

What's that? I was just whining about how I didn't want to eat a wintery, chickeny, stew thing? True. In my defense, it was a really cold day, and I do admit that I can be rather contrary.

Nick won't go to Whole Foods with me because the crowded isles filled with non-paying-attention people make him want to punch someone. I can usually handle it, but I knew it was a bad sign when I walked up to the front door and noted that there were no carts. 'Okay. Deep breath. You can do this.'

Well, there was no celery root to be found, but I thought that it was rather brilliant of me to get some parsnips and fennel instead. Close-ish, right?

And then there were no whole chickens. Because I'm lazy, I had ideally hoped to get one of those packs of chicken that have been cut up into 'serving pieces' the way I was supposed to have done to a whole chicken, but that was not going to happen. So I had to get all mad scientist and buy the separate chicken pieces in order to make a whole chicken. Somehow, this way, it didn't seem like much chicken, so I figured I'd get a couple bone-in thighs. Well, they only had huge 'family packs' so I guess we'll just have to do our chicken and chorizo thingy later this week.

They also didn't have fine cornmeal or quick cooking polenta, and I've heard that the pre-made tube-packaged polenta is not really worth bothering with. I had some cornmeal at home, but it didn't say whether it was fine or not fine, and I couldn't really tell. I thought about sending it for a spin in the food processor the way some recipes will instruct you to make superfine sugar out of regular sugar if you're unable to find the superfine stuff, but that was just getting too complicated, and I was feeling way too lazy.

My solution was to attempt the polenta with the cornmeal I had on hand, but bring some couscous in case I achieved a Polenta Fail. The problem, though, was that I've never made polenta, so wasn't really able to judge what constitutes a Fail. Polenta can be a rather scary and fabled culinary objective, although less so than souffles, which are on the List of Things Leah Can't Make. Molly of Orangette writes amusingly and eloquently of the Polenta Dilemma.

It's true--it does require a lot of stirring, to which Nick and his sore arm can attest. Mario says that you can bring some water to a boil, dump in the cornmeal, and stir until it reaches the consistency of "molten lava," whatever that is. Well, it was soon obvious that it was not as magically simple as he makes it out to be, so back on the heat it went.

The description 'molten lava,' while poetic, is not very helpful, so when I got tired of dealing with the stuff, the polenta went into a pan to cool, as instructed. In retrospect, the consistency was correct for normal polenta, but not for polenta that was to be cut into squares. Or maybe it just didn't get cool enough. I don't know.

The solution was to leave it as un-cubed polenta and use it as a bed onto which we would nestle the braised bits. Those braised bits started off as chicken pieces dredged in flour, which were seared until golden.

The veggies were then cooked until golden, and 2 cups of red wine, a cup of Mario's standard tomato sauce, and 8 sage leaves were added to the pot.

Okay, I confess--I used a jarred sauce rather than Mario's sauce. My Dad was rather scandalized, and my Italian grandmother would have been ashamed of me, but in my defense, this is some of the best pasta sauce I've ever tasted. Numerous times, I've attempted to make my own tomato sauces, and while they've been pretty good, none of them have been as good as Classico's Fire Roasted Tomato and Garlic. I swear they're not paying me to say that.

This all simmered for a while and was then plated on top of the polenta and garnished with some parsley and lemon zest. While the meal was very good, it could have been tastier had I salted it better. As I've mentioned, I've been rather scared of salt lately and have yet to achieve the happy medium between tastelessness and mouth-puckering saltiness. Mario didn't even mention adding salt to the polenta, but I added a bit anyway. I'm glad I did, but it wasn't nearly enough.

So while the lack of salt lent the dish a rather bland taste, Nick and I were also a little bit bored with it because it tasted like just about every other braised dish with meat, wine, and vegetables. We therefore concluded that there's something to be said for the 'deconstructed' approach. For example, Hunter was impressed by the fragrance of the raw parsnips, but in the finished dish, there really could have been any root vegetable in there. If we make this again, perhaps we'll take a Keller-esque approach and cook the parsnips separately.

So overall, we had fun making this meal, it was delicious, and, best of all, I almost conquered those pesky little brownies.

This is how we'll make this stew if we ever make it again:

Polenta with Chicken Stew with Root Vegetables and Sage

(Adapted from Mario Batali's Pollo all'Americano)

• 5 cups water
• 1 cup quick-cooking polenta or fine cornmeal
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• salt and freshly ground black pepper
• one 3 1/2 to 4 pound organic chicken, cut into serving pieces and skinned, rinsed and patted dry
• 4 bone-in skinless chicken thighs, rinsed and patted dry
• 6 TBSP olive oil
• 1 large sweet yellow onion, diced
• 4 large parsnips, peeled and diced
• half of one small fennel bulb, diced
• 2 cups red wine
• 1 cup jarred, good quality tomato sauce
• 8 fresh sage leaves
• 3 tablespoons minced fresh flat-leaf parsley
• 1 tablespoon lemon zest

In a large sauce pan, bring the water to a boil. Add the polenta or cornmeal and reduce heat to low. Stir almost constantly (as you would a risotto) until the polenta achieves a pudding-like consistency; salt to taste while cooking. It will probably take an hour to an hour and a half to cook the polenta.

Season the flour with salt and pepper and place in a large bag or Tupperware container. One at a time, add the chicken pieces and shake to coat evenly with the flour. Pat off excess and set aside.

In a large Dutch oven, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat until almost smoking. In batches, without crowding the pan, brown the chicken pieces. If necessary, wipe out any burnt bits from the bottom of the pot.

Add more oil if necessary, and sauté the parsnips and fennel until golden.

Add the wine, tomato sauce, and sage leaves, and return the chicken to the pot. Bring to a boil and reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until the thighs are cooked through, about 35 minutes.

Remove chicken pieces to a plate and briskly simmer sauce until it is reduced to a thick sauce; season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Return chicken to the pot to re-warm if it has cooled.

Spoon 1/4 of the polenta onto each plate, and top with a thin sliver of butter. Place a piece of chicken on the bed of polenta, and spoon sauce over. Sprinkle with parsley and lemon zest, serve immediately.

Possible alternative: First, preheat oven to 425 degrees. Peel and dice parsnips into 3/4 inch chunks, and toss with olive oil and salt on a baking sheet. Roast until parsnips are tender and browned, about 20-40 minutes, depending on the parsnips. Add to the stew 10 minutes before the end of cooking time.

Brownies

(adapted from Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc at Home)

• 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup unsweetened alkalized cocoa powder
• 1 teaspoon Kosher salt
• 3 sticks butter (3/4 lb), cut into tablespoon-sized pieces
• 3 large eggs
• 1 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 6 ounces Ghiardelli (or a similar brand) semi-sweet chocolate chips

Stir together the flour, cocoa powder, and salt.

Melt half the butter in a small sauce pan over medium heat, stirring occasionally. Put the remaining butter in a medium bowl. Pour the melted butter over the butter in the bowl, and stir to melt. The butter should look creamy, with small bits of unmelted butter, and be at room temperature.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, mix together the eggs and sugar on medium speed for about 3 minutes, or until thick and very pale. Mix in the vanilla. On low speed, add about one-third of the dry ingredients, then add one-third of the butter. Continue alternating butter and dry ingredients until they are incorporated into the batter. Add the chocolate chips and mix to combine.

Put the batter in the refrigerator for at least a few hours, and up to a week. When ready to cook the brownies, preheat the oven to 350 degrees, and allow the brownies to sit at room temperature until they are spreadable. Butter and flour a glass or metal 9x13 inch baking pan.

Spread the batter evenly in the pan and bake for 40 to 45 minutes, until a toothpick poled into the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs attached to it. If the pick comes out wet, test a second time, as you may have hit a chocolate chip, which will be molten.

Cool brownies in the pan, on a rack, until they are a bit warmer than room temperature. Cut into squares and serve.

Braised Chicken with Saffron Onions, Couscous, and Dates

So I recently decided that I need to stop farting around, and finalize the list of 10 cookbooks. I had decided to drop Tyler Florence's Real Kitchen because while I liked the savory aspect of some of the desserts, the rest of the book was just not too interesting.

Sunday Suppers at Lucques is a book that is frequently highly praised, so I figured I'd check it out. The library doesn't have it , so I went out on a limb and bought it sight unseen. I am so glad I did, because SSaL is full of exactly the kind of food I feel like eating right now, and the recipes are involved enough to keep me interested without overwhelming me.

I use little post-it tabs to mark the recipes that I would like to make in a book. This is Sunday Suppers at Lucques:

It almost seems silly to have those little stickies there, as almost every page is marked.
This was Tyler Florence's Real Kitchen:



Obviously, not so interesting.
This means that it's time for a random recipe. What did the random number generator say?


Page 141, Summer Squash Gratin with Gruyere and Salsa Verde
This recipe sounds great, and I was planning on making it anyway. It sounds like it will be perfect with some grilled meat or fish. Please come soon, summer.



I also decided to add Mario Batali's Italian Grill to the list, rather than his Babbo cookbook. I like the Babbo cookbook, but I was finding that the list could really use a book with quick, practical recipes that aren't dumbed down. We love to grill, so the Italian Grill looks perfect.



For Italian Grill, the random number generator says that it likes page 75: Foccacina with Coppa and Apricots. I won't explain what it is because I'll be making it later, but it sounds awesome, and it's something I wouldn't have necessarily picked without the number generator.


I decided that the inaugural recipe from Sunday Suppers at Lucques would be Braised Chicken with Saffron Onions, Couscous, and Dates because it is unfortunately still winter, so I liked the idea of braising.
Plus, the meal was overall economical because I already had some saffron and it sounded light and bright enough to counter the end-of-winter doldrums. Also, Nick wasn't sure what time he'd get home and a braised meal can be held indefinitely.


The night before cooking the meal, the chicken legs were rubbed with paprika, cilantro, freshly ground cumin and coriander, a crushed chile de arbol, fresh thyme, and garlic. Okay, I used just chicken thighs. And I thought that I had coriander seeds, but it turns out that I didn't.



I did, however, have cumin seeds, so they were toasted and ground. The freshly toasted and ground cumin seeds were about a billion times more fresh, potent, and savory than the ground coriander, so I was actually quite sad that I didn't have the right ingredients.


Because my car was in the shop to prevent it from blowing up, I couldn't just run out and get what I needed. Like fresh thyme. Wow, I suck. I have no idea how I managed to not get fresh thyme, but I'm just all-around lame so far on this recipe.

Nonetheless, the spice rub smelled fantastic. Unfortunately, it also made the fridge smell, so by the time I cooked the chicken, I was almost tired of it.

I'll stop my whining and tell you about the preserved lemons that I also made. Actually, I won't tell you much about them because it's top secret until March 14th.

I will tell you that Meyer lemons were blanched in boiling water for 4 minutes. The recipe said 5 minutes, but they were really small lemons.



When they were cool enough to handle, they were to be cut in wedges and tossed with kosher salt. I cut them in pinwheels, though, because I thought it would be prettier. Hopefully the pinwheel shape won't result in too much maceration.

They were then crammed into a jar and covered with lemon juice. This jar will sit on the counter for 5 days, at which point some olive oil will be added, and they'll go in the fridge for up to a year.

Maybe less if I decide they're nasty. You see, I've never had preserved lemons before, so I don't quite know what to expect. I should probably test them before giving them to my family in order to make sure I'm not going to give anyone botulism-laced lemons. It will be an anaerobic environment in there, after all.

The next day, I started by searing the chicken thighs. The chicken thighs were removed to a plate, and some bay leaves, sliced fennel and onion were sauteed...

Speaking of fennel, Suzanne Goin mentions in her book that she uses fennel rather than celery when she makes a miropoix. This was a revelation to me, because the celery in miripoix has always bugged me. First of all, it just doesn't taste that great. Also, I buy a whole bunch of celery only to use a few stalks, and the rest of it frequently goes bad because it's not very good for the bunnies to eat. The fennel solution is just brilliant because I prefer the taste, and I've lately always had it around. Nick wasn't as impressed by this as I was, but I still think it's pretty cool.
...So when the fennel and onions were soft, tomatoes were added, then white wine and sherry, then chicken stock and cilantro, and the thighs were returned to the pot.


The chicken thighs went in the oven for an hour and a half, and the onions for the saffron onions were sliced. In the meantime, the saffron was toasted. Suzanne Goin cautions you not to burn the 'precious' saffron. I won't burn it, I think to myself. And I have the perfect amount to use half tonight and half for the meal I'm planning for Tuesday.

What's that smell? Oh. Burnt saffron.

So I started over, and when the saffron was properly toasted, it was combined with some olive oil and butter. The onions were added, along with a bay leaf, a crushed chile de arbol, some fresh (ahem) thyme, and some salt and pepper. Despite the addition of the other spices, the saffron in the onions still caused them to smell like plastic to me.


Yes, I think that the most expensive spice in the world smells and tastes like plastic. I keep trying it in the hope that my taste buds will have changed, but no luck so far.


The onions cooked until they were soft and sweet, and in the meantime, I made the date relish by slicing dates and tossing them with olive oil, lemon juice, cilantro, parsley, salt and pepper.



When the chicken was meltingly tender, the sauce was reduced and the couscous was prepared. Goin tells you to strain the vegetables out of the sauce, but we decided that we would be "rustic" and un-Frenchy and leave them in.

We also decided to use regular couscous as opposed to the Italian couscous that Goin suggests, because Whole Foods didn't have the recommended 'fregola.' Next time, however, I would love to hunt down some Italian couscous, as Goin says that it has a nutty flavor that would have been just perfect with this dish.


When the couscous was cooked and over-salted (sorry, Nick!), it was plated with the onions on top of the couscous, the chicken and its sauce on top of the onions, and the date relish on top of the chicken.



How was it? Lovely. All of the flavors combined in a way that made the whole more than the sum of its parts. Perhaps most surprising was how perfect the date relish was. I hadn't been sure that I would like it, but it rounded out all of the other flavors and added a spark of freshness. Nick felt that the saffron onions were a bit overpowering, and I thought they still tasted like plastic, so maybe we'll leave out the saffron next time. I might also cut back a bit on the paprika.


Overall, this meal made me very excited to try some more recipes from this book.

Braised Chicken with Saffron Onions, Italian Couscous, and Dates

(From Sunday Suppers at Lucques)

• 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon cumin seeds
• 2 tablespoons coriander seeds
• 6 chicken legs with thighs attached
• 3 cloves garlic, smashed
• 1 tablespoon thyme leaves
• 2 tablespoons sliced flat-leaf parsley
• 1 chile de arbol, crumbled
• 2 teaspoons bittersweet paprika
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 cup sliced onion
• 1 cup sliced fennel
• 2 bay leaves
• 1/4 cup chopped San Marzano canned tomatoes
• 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
• 1/2 cup white wine
• 1/3 cup sherry
• 4 cups chicken stock
• 1/4 cup cilantro leaves
• Italian couscous (recipe below)
• Saffron onions (recipe below)
• Date relish (recipe below)
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Toast the cumin seeds in a small pan for a few minutes, until the seeds release their aroma and are lightly browned. Using a mortar and pestle (or a spice grinder), pound them coarsely. Repeat with the coriander seeds.

Place the chicken in a large bowl with the smashed garlic, thyme, parsley, crumbled chile, cumin, coriander, and paprika. Using you hands, toss the chicken and spices together to coat the chicken well. Cover, and refrigerate at least 4 hours, preferably overnight.

Remove the chicken from the refrigerator 30 minutes before cooking, to allow it to come to room temperature. After 15 minutes, season the chicken on all sides with 1 teaspoon salt and lots of pepper.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.
Heat a large sauté pan over high heat for a minute or so. Swirl in the olive oil, and when it's shimmering, place the chicken legs, skin side down, in the pan, and cook 8 to 10 minutes, until golden brown and crispy. (If your pan is too small for all the legs to fit, brown them in batches so you don't overcrowd them.)

Every so often, swirl the oil and rendered fat around the pan. Turn the legs over, and reduce the heat to medium. Cook 2 minutes on the second side. Arrange the chicken (in one layer) in a braising dish. The chicken legs should just fit the pan.

Pour off some of the fat and return the sauté pan to medium heat. Add the onion, fennel, and bay leaves. Cook 6 to 7 minutes, stirring often, until the vegetables are lightly caramelized. Add the tomatoes and cook another 5 minutes, stirring and scraping with a wooden spoon. Add the sherry vinegar, white wine, and sherry. Turn the heat up to high and reduce by half. Add the chicken stock and bring to a boil.

Add the cilantro and pour the broth and vegetables over the chicken, scraping off any of the vegetables that have fallen on the chicken back into the liquid. The liquid should not quite cover the chicken. Cover the pan very tightly with aluminum foil and a tight-fitting lid, if you have one. Braise in the oven 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

To check the chicken for doneness, remove the lid and foil, being careful of the steam. Pierce a piece of the chicken  with a paring knife. If the meat is done, it will yield easily and be tender but not quite falling off the bone.

Turn the oven up to 400 degrees.
Transfer the chicken to a baking sheet, and return it to the oven to brown for about 10 minutes.

Strain the broth into a saucepan, pressing down on the vegetables with a ladle to extract all the juices. If necessary, reduce the broth over medium-high heat for about 10 minutes, to thicken it slightly.

Place the hot couscous on a large warm platter. Spoon the saffron onions over it, and arrange the chicken on top. Ladle some of the juices over the chicken, and top each leg with a spoonful of date relish. Serve the extra broth and date relish on the side.

Italian Couscous

• 2 1/2 cups Italian couscous, or fregola sarda
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil over high heat.
Add the couscous and cook 8 to 10 minutes, until tender but still al dente.
Drain the couscous, return it to the pot, and toss with the butter, parsley, and a pinch of pepper. Taste for seasoning.

Saffron Onions

• 1 teaspoon saffron threads
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 5 cups sliced onions (about 1 1/4 pounds)
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 chile de arbol, crumbled
• 1 teaspoon thyme leaves
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Toast the saffron threads in a small pan over meduim heat until they just dry out and become brittle. Be careful not to burn the saffron. Pound the saffron in a mortar to a fine powder. Dab a tablespoon of the butter into the powder, using the butter to pick up the saffron.

Heat a large sauté pan or Dutch oven over medium heat for 2 minutes. Add the olive oil, remaining butter, and saffron. When the butter foams, add the onions, bay leaf, chile, thyme, 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, and some pepper. Cook 8 to 10 minutes, stirring often as the onions wilt. Turn the heat down to low, and cook another 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onions are soft and sweet. Taste for seasoning.

Date Relish

• 1/2 cup Deglet Noor dates
• 2 tablespoons super-good extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons sliced flat-leaf parsley
• 1 tablespoon sliced cilantro
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Pit the dates, and slice them thinly lengthwise.
Toss the dates with the olive oil, lemon juice, parsley, and cilantro. Season with 1/2 teaspoon salt and some pepper.