Thanksgiving, Past and Future

This year’s Thanksgiving was, modesty aside, The Best Ever. Naturally I attribute that to two key factors - excellent food, for which I was partially responsible - and a healthy amount of Moet et Chandon White Star and Evolution from the Sokol Blosser vineyard in Oregon - for which I was fully responsible for. Family gatherings can be tense in the best of situation, but loosening everyone up, albeit in a reasonably civilized way, ensured that the final prep, dinner, conversation, desert, and subsequent card games all flowed smoothly if not a little hazily.

This year was the second time in my life that I made the turkey. Now cooking in my house is very daunting as everyone is an amazing cook and thus, a spot on critic. So rather then completely winging it (no pun intended) I decided to stick as closely to a recipe as possible. Naturally, that didn’t fully happen and what turned out was an improvisation of two recipes. One was for the actual brining, which I shall forever do before roasting any poultry, the second for roasting the turkey. I found both on epicurious.com, which has always proved reliable in my experience and usually has very helpful user comments.

The first step, after we bought the 13.15lb (5.9 kg) monster was to wash it thoroughly and remove giblets and organs. I then found a pot large enough to put the bird in so that it would completely submerged in the brine, plunked it in, and improvised the following brine recipe.

Rather then adding a whole three pounds of kosher salt, I added approximately 1 1/2 cups, and while we didn’t have marjoram, I used fresh rosemary instead. This was done the day before to let the Turkey soak overnight, and the whole concoction looked something like this:

The hardest past was probably washing the bird after the brine, because you really do want to do it thoroughly, but it is a large, slippery, unwieldy thing.

As to the actual bird, I decided to improvise on the Porcini Mushroom Turkey with mushroom gravy recipe with fresh baby portobello mushrooms instead of dried porcini.

What that meant was that I boiled approximately 8 ounces of the mushrooms (cleaned and sliced) and using maybe 1/4 of that for the mushroom butter that went under the skin and the rest for the gravy. Thinking back on it, 1 1/2 sticks of butter under and over the turkey’s skin is a bit much, but it made the meat unbelievably juicy.

For the actual bird, my mother had brought homemade chicken stock from her cafe, and I had saved the mushroom broth, so I combined both of those to put in the roasting pan with the bird and the fresh herbs. Luckily there had been a farmer’s market at the Corner Brewery the week before and one of the vendors and been kind enough to give me a ridiculous amount of fresh rosemary, thyme, and sage (alas no parsley or we would have had us a good old Simon and Garfunkel moment) for only five dollars.

There was extra butter, so in addition to putting it under the skin (a very intimate process not for the squeamish) and in the cavity (ditto), I put it over the skin as well instead of the olive oil the original recipe called for.

So as the bird was ‘doing its thing’ roasting in a separate roaster oven we have, I started the prep for the gravy. Again, I substituted fresh portobello’s and used regular onions for shallots. I started the gravy with a blend of the chicken and mushroom stock, and added some pan drippings later once the bird was out and tenting. The sauce was way too much for the 5 of us, however I refrigerated one part, and froze a good 2 cups of it for future use. The part initially saved was used with the last of the turkey breast, sauteed mushrooms, and extra fresh herbs to create a sort of post-Thanksgiving Fettucini Alfredo. I don’t usually much care for cream sauces, but given this had more broth and white wine in it then actual cream, it was surprisingly light and yet still onctueux.

I was told by no less than my father, one of the kindest people I know but with a highly sophisticated palate, that it was the best turkey he had ever eaten, and my mother, who has even more discerning taste buds, seconded this. It was pretty damn good, and though time consuming, surprisingly easy to make. In the future, I would roast it in a conventional oven as I think it lets the skin brown more and maybe try it with a mix of mushrooms to add even more woodsiness and richness to the flavor.

Also on the dinner menu was the wild-rice and chestnut stuffing my mother makes’ every year (unbelievably good, also time consuming but fairly straightforward). I had my dad send me the recipe the first year I cooked Thanksgiving dinner by myself, but have been unable to locate the .pdf file or the recipe online. As suggested by the title, the stuffing involves loads of wild rice and roasted chestnuts, is cooked with chicken broth and celery, flavored with fresh thyme and the rest I will leave to your imaginations. Because the bird was brined we did not stuff it, but baked the cooked stuffing.

Other sides were roasted Brussels sprouts (the only way I eat them), mashed yams, and a lovely cranberry-orange sauce whose recipe was from a girl who works at my mom’s. I’m not a huge fan of cranberry sauce, usually finding them far too sweet, but this one had no added sugar and fresh orange rind, so it had a lovely citrusy, aromatic bitterness.

For desert I made a maple-pumpkin pie, with the best crust recipe I’ve ever found, all from November’s edition of Real Simple.

I made the crust the day before and was really hesitant about rolling out. All previous crusts I’ve used have been with the “pat-in” method, and I’m really no baker. However with my mother’s help, we rolled it out evenly and it turned out flaky, not too sweet, and buttery. I think I’m going to use the recipe next time I make my caramelized onion quiche.

So as I get ready to go back to Berlin (where ironically, I cooked my first Thanksgiving dinner by myself) my brother and I are planning to have a late Thanksgiving dinner for him and some of our friends. It will also be a Festivus celebration (dorks that we are). I suspect we will substitute 2 roast chickens for the turkey as it is hard to find a reasonable sized one, and I will bring canned pumpkin, ready roasted chestnuts, maple syrup and other ingredients from the States. I also suspect we won’t make all the trimmings, but definitely the stuffing and one other veg. Either way, it should be a good time and a fantastic trip.

Food for Thought

I do not usually proselytize, but the article by Nicholas Kristof, "Cancer from the Kitchen" in last week's Times and this Yahoo features piece on toxins in food really got me thinking about focusing on all things organic and local to the extent possible.

Not easy or cheap to do, but perhaps necessary not only for environmental sustainability but also to preserve one's own health. At my mother's restaurant she tries to buy as much as possible from our local farmers' market and butchers. In a country where we are used to eating whatever produce we want, whenever we want it (strawberries in winter, sure! apples and oranges all year round, of course!) it is challenging to get accustomed to the idea that food in season might provide more limited options, but much better tasting ones.

For you local folk, Concrete Media had a great guide on how to be a locavore, a term I find a bit affected but a damn good concept not only for health and environmental reasons, but also to support our faltering economy. Plus the idea of having milk delivered in glass bottles is just so charmingly old-fashioned. . .

Some images from Ann Arbor's lovely farmers' market, Wednesdays and Saturdays :

Housewives, continued and Fall Tulips

I just realized that I wanted to include one tip that I discovered this weekend, thanks to my mother. We had bought tulips (first of the year and my favorite flower for any of you who might care to know...) the day before Thanksgiving and I was worried that they were looking as though they might not last one, much less a few days days.

Well, they are still going strong, as are the Irises I bought yesterday from good old Trader Joe’s. The secret is to put lots and lots of fresh cranberries in the vase along with the water. It not only looks very festive, but the flowers last. I suspect it has something to do with the sugar in the fruit feeding the cut flowers allowing them to last longer.

I also suspect that my inner 1950s housewife is not so inner. Though I would prefer to have more of an inner Julia Child, or, younger, hipper, less felony-convicted Martha Stewart.

Enfin, voila what it all looks like:

I on the other hand am going to go and listen to "Mother's Little Helper" by the Stones to excorcise some of these cheesy ghosts haunting my psyche.

Thanksgiving, dinner parties and the return of my inner 1950s housewife

The past week has been wonderfully busy. Every day involved cooking in some capacity, and Thanksgiving was an exceptionally fun dinner where the Turkey turned out moist (secret to come in a later post), the libations flowed (due in no small part, ahem, to my generous shopping and servings), and everyone in my small family relaxed around the table. Every family has its tensions, weak spots that tend to give way when we all get together but given that this is the only holiday I'll spend at home this year, I'm so glad we were all able to relax into the meal, enjoying each other’s company without the baggage of having to pretend to.

The week also brought out my inner 1950s housewife - while she doesn’t come out very often, she is there, and likes to cook. And bake. A lot. So while there is a lot to share, for the moment, we are both just still exhausted especially given that I had two deadlines for Tuesday and have been surviving on coffee and minimal sleep.

However, I read this lovely article in the Times about neighbors and cooking, and thought I would share this. Sadly in our current community our neighbors, while lovely, all do tend to keep to themselves. So while we all use our back decks for grilling, we very rarely tend to do it together, much less organize elaborate ‘cook-offs.’ Perhaps it is for the best, though given the diversity of our court (Chinese, Bangladeshi, Danish, Latvian, and of course Turkish that I know of) I could imagine it would make for a very enlightening culinary evening. Perhaps something to mull over. In the mean time, here is the article:

“Neighborly Stuffed Cabbage” to be published in the print edition of the paper on December 3.

A la prochaine!

Lazy lunches, lazy bloggers

Well, I will admit that as bloggers go, I have hardly been ideal.

My plan of using this blog as a release, a means to muse about those things that I deeply care about, namely eating and recalling experiences that revolve around the table, got set aside as life became complicated and less then ideal during the past few months. While stress used to always increase my appetite, since my 2os I've found that it leads to the exact opposite: no desire to eat or willingness to cook, and worst of all a diminished sense of taste. But things are on the upswing, and I plan on eating, cooking and writing more regularly.

Today was one of those days where I promised myself that if I finished certain dreaded tasks, I would prepare a nice lunch and take the time to write. As I've successfully been fighting a cold (which dare not become swine flu) I also figured the healthier, the better. Breakfast had already consisted of some raspberries, a handful of walnuts and a banana, after the requisite coffee in bed and mellow Lou Reed to ease into the day. Having worked a few solid hours, I peeked in the fridge and came up with the following. It involved minimum time and effort, but was rather tasty.

My lunch consisted of a mixed green salad with a cilantro/lime/garlic dressing made a few days before, half an avocado with just squeeze of lime juice and salt, a mini faux-salad caprese with some fresh mozzarella, sliced tomato, and healthy swig of extra virgin olive oil, and a small portion of roasted portobello mushrooms with balsamic vinegar. All accompanied by a small glass of a Oregon pinot noir.

Having just written all of that, it does sound like quite a bit, but in fact, it looked like this:

It was also quite light and very easy to make. Most of the lunch considered of cutting and assemblage, but the two recipes I wanted to share were for the dressing and the mushrooms.

Cilantro/Lime/Garlic dressing:

finely mince a small bunch of fresh, preferably organic, cilantro

finely mince a clove of garlic

add the juice of one lime and a roughly equal amount of olive oil to the mixture

add salt and crushed red pepper to taste

whisk or emulsify, taste and add up a teaspoon of sugar if the lime is too tart.

I ended up emulsifying the mixture in a blender, but I imagine that whisking could work just as well. In that case the cilantro and garlic would really have to be very finely chopped.

The dressing was great on a salad, kept well in the fridge, and would also work as a marinade for fish or chicken.

Easy roasted mushrooms with balsamic vinegar:

clean several baby portobello mushrooms

place with the body down on an aluminum covered tray and put in a pre-heated oven at 450F.

allow mushrooms to roast for about 15-20 minutes.

remove the mushrooms and put into a bowl, taking care to preserve the juices from the mushrooms on the tray.

let cool a little bit and then slice the mushrooms in half, add a splash of balsamic vinegar and salt to taste.

Ideally, I wanted to use pomegranate molasses instead of the vinegar, a dish I had eaten at a Persian restaurant in Chicago and dreamed of replicating. Alas we were all out, but la prochaine fois. . .

Merguez Adventures and DC foodie life

Being back in Washington has been surprisingly wonderful, both in terms of enjoying the city and my friends and colleagues who live here. Today was my first day back at work, and I got the surprising (and fantastic) news that I'll be probably posted in Istanbul. Very unexpected, but also exciting.

That being said, DC has offered much, especially food wise. 

First, I found the best Merguez I've had in my life at the tiny Wednesday farmer's market in the Georgetown Rose Garden. For those of you who don't know, Merguez is a lamb sausage from North Africa, well spiced but not necessarily spicy hot. I ate it often in Belgium, but this one was really the best in terms of being spiced properly, not too fatty, and just delicious. It is made by this lovely, half-Turkish couple who own Whitmore Farm in Emmitsburg, Maryland. I just went on their website and it seems like they do some amazing work with animals including the Tennessee Fainting Goat and Silver Fox Rabbits - once I can find a willing driver, I would love to visit the farm, it looks like a lot of fun.

The first cooking was straightforward, pictured below - grilled on a heavy bottom skillet, served with salad and bread, fantastically simple and delicious. 

The second was a dish I improvised this weekend for a friend, which was basically orecchiette with roasted vegetables, mushrooms and merguez. 

I had baby yellow squash / zucchini from the farmers market which I sliced match-stick style, and slow roasted with rosemary and olive oil for approximately 2 hours. 

While the veggies were roasting, I sauteed some baby portabella mushrooms and fresh garlic and stalks in olive oil with fresh rosemary, thyme and basil in a pan until they were just cooked through, and added some added some sliced merguez. At the same time, I cooked some pasta al dente (orecchiette) and added some of the cooking liquid  from the pasta to the sausage/mushroom sauce to make it more viscous. 

I then gently mixed in the zucchini with the sausage mixture, drained the cooked pasta, mixed it all in adding salt and pepper to taste, letting it rest for a few minutes and before serving. 

While I have no photographic evidence to back up the final product, it was very simple to make, reasonably healthy, and, I think, pretty tasty. It paired very well with a New Zealand Pinot Noir, as well as the three other bottles we decided to polish off with it - Napa Chardonnay, a 2003 Spanish Grenache and a sparkling Chardonnay from Argentina. 

Quite a lovely, if not tad lushy, dinner. 

Chickpea stew improvs

Having bought far too many greens (swiss chard and baby beet greens) at the market on Sunday, I decided something had to be done before they started wilting and that that something had to involve chickpeas (garbanzo beans). 

For some reason, I've been mulling over this amazing chickpea stew I had in Assisi, a town in Perugia, Italy, famous for St. Francis. This dish made me redefine how I saw chickpeas and value them beyond "healthy thing" or "thing to be pureed into hummus." It was a simple dish with chickpeas, tomatoes, olive oil, and fresh rosemary sprigs, all baked in individual clay pots to the point where the chickpeas reached a consistency of tender veal and blended with all of the simple but strong flavors in one happy, clean tasting food melange.

My own dish was a less simple and highly improvised. 

Chickpea stew with baby beet greens and swiss chard

Sautee fresh garlic greens in a little bit of olive oil in a non-stick pan or heavy bottomed skillet. Add an entire washed, spun and chopped bunch of baby beet greens including stalks into the pan and cook until greens are wilted and stalks translucent. Add an entire washed, spun and chopped bunch of swiss chard into the mixture in batches until all the greens are just cooked through. Place cooked greens in a separate bowl and put pan back on the stove top. 

If needed, add another swig of olive oil and sautee diced sweet baby peppers (approximately 3-4) and 2 large chopped ripe tomatoes. While the mixture is cooking, empty a can of chickpeas into a colander and wash several times. Add the chickpeas into pan and let simmer on the stovetop for at least 10 - 15 minutes. 

Place the cooked greens mixture and the chickpeas in an ovenproof casserole with cover. Add sliced fresh basil and fresh thyme, salt and red pepper to taste, and another dash of olive oil. Stir gently, cover, and place casserole in a pre-heated oven at 350 degrees. Let the stew cook at least 30 minutes, remove from heat, adjust seasoning to taste and serve. 

The final product: 

I found the dish went wonderfully with this German Pinot Noir (who knew the Germans made good pinot?) and ate it on its own with blackberries and a wedge of stilton for dessert. 

Happy cooking. 

E. 

Transitions - new beginnings and first meals

The past few weeks have found me on the road, in the middle of a move, and finally, somewhat settled. Along the way has been many memorable meals (sadly fewer cooked than planned but posts to come), a few unexpected twists and turns, and a torrent of emotions far too personal (and probably banal) to share. 

Today was my first day alone in my new digs and c'etait pas mal du tout. There is nothing quite like looking around and thinking this is my place where I'm going to live by myself for a while. Yes, me, me, me, but it has been awhile since I've lived alone, and I like it. A lot. 

My parents were kind enough to help me move, treat me to lovely Lebanese mezes at Neyla's (where we spotted DHS Secretary Napolitano and her extensive security detail), brunch at le Pain Quotidien, as well as help me stock my fridge from the Dupont market and Trader Joes. 

Our first dinner in last night was a simple affair, a little homemade fresh salsa/pico de gallo (this time with fresh garlic bulbs and greens and amazing organic cilantro), crabcakes (bought from the crabcake guy at the market), a little ribeye and a large green salad. Not many recipes to share but a great night.

Tonight was my first night hosting, and I had two lovely ladies to entertain. I made some marinated olives  and toasted nuts (recipes below), cracked open some Oberon, and put on Elvis. We had a little girly dance party (much to the great amusement of my neighbors, I'm sure) and Miriam and I will get to spend tomorrow morning together while Liv is at work and the movers are packing them out.

Marinated Green Olives: 

Empty a package of Middle Eastern Green olives in a large bowl, including any juice it is packed in. Add the juice of one lime and one lemon, and cut up 1/2 a lime into small wedges and add to mixture. Chop up some fresh basil and oregeno, and add to mixture. Add kosher salt, red pepper, and dried mint to taste. Add a healthy dash of olive oil, stir, and let marinate at room temperature for at least one hour. 

Roasted mixed nuts: 

Heat a large non-stick pan until it is hot and add your choice of mixed nuts. I added pistachios, almonds, and peanuts. Add kosher salt, red pepper and dried mint and cook while shaking the pan until the nuts are fully roasted and the flavor evenly coated. 

Voila viola. For those of you in town, a tres bientot. For those of you near by, bienvenue!

Road trip reflections, early impressions

This past week has found me and two close friends from Paris on our Great American Road Trip (East Coast version a la francaise). We've already put over 1,000 miles on our rented red Chevy, driving from Ann Arbor to New York City in one fell swoop, then down to Washington, DC, and today back up to Boston. 

The trip has been amazing and unexpectedly quirky, a chance to catch up with friends old and new, en route to far away places like Mexico City and Seoul, and spend lots and lots of time on the road. Lots. New York to DC was the worst stretch thus far as we hit both New York and DC rush hour with a vengeance. Rather, they hit us and the trip took a total of 12 hours. 

We've already had some memorable meals. Rather then going into detail in a fatigued and loopy state (8 1/2 hours of driving today) below are some illustrated highlights with further details to be filled in soon: 

Afternoon beers and crab cakes in Baltimore, in the neighborhood where the best show ever, Homicide: Life on the Streets, was filmed: 

Having the wife a a prominent politician buy me beers in the afternoon at Nathan's in Georgetown because she saw me sitting alone with my paper and elevated bum knees. The conversation improved as the beers kept on flowing. It would have been rude to resist and beer does have a very real therapeutic value in terms of pain killing/numbing:

Dinner at Marvin's with their lovely steak-frites, beers, and noisy but entertaining ambiance:

And finally, eating sushi and sesame noodles with chopsticks in a car today - no I wasn't driving (that would have been impressive) -  but when you stop in Old Greenwich for a quick snack, you might as well go local: 

There are many, many more anecdotes to follow, and the hospitality we have received has been amazing. I'll end with a picture of our Boston friend's cat, as I'm acutely missing my own, and he is quite darling: 

A tres bientot - 

E.

Food and Travel, Memories and Road Trips

To me food and travel are inexplicably, deeply linked together. Whenever I go to a new city, country, region, I try to locate the local food market and wander around, hopefully finding a hole-in-the-wall eatery ordering whatever the people at the next table are eating (unless that dish happens to be still alive or a form of insect - we all have our limits), and going to restaurants my local friends (either old or freshly made that day) say is "The Best." The strategy has served me well as evidenced by many memorable dinners, conversations, and fairly few incidents of the notorious Delhi-belly. On a side-note, Google has informed me of a new Bollywood movie by the same name, one can only hope with a different interpretation of the phrase.

While eating dinner with my dad tonight, we happened to have Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations on, easily my favorite show and probably my dream job. The episode tonight was shot in Egypt, and the Bedouins Tony visited butchered a goat in his honor. It reminded me of a family trip to Turkey about 11 or 12 years ago when we went to the small town, Ulukisla, both of my parents come from. We stayed with my father's Uncle Haci, a spry 60 year old who had a Western-style toilet installed in his house for our visit, no small expense for him and hugely appreciated by my brother and me. 

Uncle Haci, his wife, my grandmother, aunt and family all went out to the vineyards owned by our family, though the grapes grown have just been used for fruit as long as any one can recall. We took the sedan we drove down in and Uncle Haci's small pick-up, which had a lovely little mewing lamb in the back. 

I remember foolishly wondering why we were traveling with an animal, but not thinking too much of it as the entire experience of being in my parent's hometown for the first time since I was 6 months old was intense. I don't think I've ever tasted anything as funny or pungent as fresh goat's milk cheese. Think a liquid tangy slightly chunky chevre. It was served by one of the numerous extended family members' we had met (cousin's cousins, great aunts and uncles galore, half the town seeming to be a relation of one sort or the another) and I would not necessarily recommend it. The yogurt of course, not Old World family reunions.

We got out to the vineyard and set up a picnic spot with blankets, various sides and breads, and beverages. Uncle Haci pulled down an increasingly panicking lamb and I realized that in fact the little lamb was going to be part of the menu du jour. After a brief foray into vegetarianism (probably as part of a teenage rebellion rather than anything remotely related to animal rights or health reasons)  I had been squeamish about meat and didn't even cook my own meat dishes at that point. 

How we change.

At the time, I remember talking a mile-a-minute to my mom in English as my dad and brother joined the menfolk to go behind the trees and do the deed, so to speak. I told her there was no way I was even touching a piece of that meat and just how unfair it was to that poor little sheep. My grandmother, aunt and great aunt quickly realized that I was becoming upset and it caused them merriment to no end. My mother hissed under her breath that this was a huge honor for them to sacrifice a lamb for us, not to mention a further financial burden, and I'm sure said something to the effect of "suck it up or shut up," of course in a far more maternal manner.

I pouted and decided that I would still take the moral high ground and seethe in silence as I watched the expertly skinned meat pieces were brought to us on the bone. My grandmother and great-aunt started cutting the meat off the bone and sauteing onions and some tomatoes in a huge pot on an open fire. 

Once all of the meat had been diced, they threw it in the pot, seasoned it only with salt and pepper and let it cook briefly. Everyone else started digging in as I eat dry bread and started contemplating just how strongly I felt for little the poor little lamb and how good that dish looked.

Of course I caved. And I have to say, it was the best lamb I ever had. 

And now I am getting ready to welcome two dear friends from France and embarking on a 2300 mile road-trip on the East Coast up to Montreal and then back down to Windsor and Detroit. We have a few choice meals planned out including Rayuela for the first-time, my DC favorite Marvins, and Sultan's Kitchen in Boston whose chef Ozcan Ozan wrote one of my favorite Turkish cookbooks with the same title. I want to treat my friends to hot dogs on Coney Island and at Ben's Chili Bowl in DC, wander Boston's Little Italy, and go back to Steve's diner at Middlebury where I spent far too much time on food that was far too good, heavy, and affordable. 

To say that I am excited would be an understatement, and I look forward to seeing some of you on the road, discovering new nooks and crannies, and hopefully even cooking for those kind enough to host. 

A bientôt!

Memories of Barbara and Turkish Macaroni with Lamb

Today I had the honor of attending a Celebration of Life event for an old family friend, who had passed away suddenly in March. 

Barbara was a remarkable woman and at the event, her friends and colleagues shared stories about just what a rich life she led. Among other things, she did many of the original illustrations at the University of Michigan's Natural History Museum, completed a PhD and worked in Women's Studies long before it became an established discipline, and raised two children as a single mom in the 1960s. 

She travelled the world, became particularly interested in Turkey and the Middle East, and was very involved with the Turkish American community in Michigan. An avid gardner, we all received seeds and planters at the celebration per her wishes, and I look forward to the flowers as well as the radishes, lettuce, and endive we'll get to enjoy on her behalf and in her honor. 

I had known Barbara all of my life, and was always touched by how she would always remember what I was up to academically or professionally, and challenged by the thought-provoking questions she would ask. 

Her family had come to eat dinner at the cafe the day after she passed, and came again this evening . While serving a table of 15 is never easy, they were a wonderful group to serve and it was inspirational to see how candidly they celebrated her life while still mourning a great loss.

Barbara would frequent my mother's restaurant and would often call and ask if we had any lamb with macaroni, her son's favorite dish. Even if we did not, it was easy enough to whip up a batch and she would walk in with her immaculately coiffed snow white hair, saucy red lipstick and shift dress, more often then now with an anecdote to share. 

I do not know the exact recipe of the dish, and have promised to not divulge cafe secrets. However, my version of it follows below. It is, like most of my favorite food, simple and comforting. 

In a heavy bottomed skillet saute about 1/2 onion of finely diced onion in olive oil until cooked through. Add about 3/4 lbs ground lamb (lamb is quite fatty, so you really shouldn't need a lot of olive oil in the skillet to cook the onions with, otherwise the dish will become too rich) and cook until the lamb in completely cooked through. Add 1 - 2 finely diced ripe tomatoes, a small spoonful of tomato paste and a small spoonful of red pepper paste, cooking until the tomatoes have wilted into the dish. Season with salt, pepper and paprika. 

Cook your desired pasta in boiling salted water until al dente, drain and return to pot, adding a generous pat of butter to melt in the pasta. We frequently use macaroni at the cafe, but I could see this dish being made with penne or fusilli, or even my favorite, orechiette.

Add the cooked ground lamb mixture to the pot, stirring well until blended through. Serve the dish with a garlic-yogurt sauce and sprinkle with maras pepper and dried mint. 

Dr. Barbara J. Bilge,  August 31, 1931 - March 2, 2009

New Orleans memories, Part Deux

I managed to dig up and scan some of the photos from that trip, eight whole years ago. 

The etoufee or was it gumbo? I can't tell from the picture, I do remember it being very, very good: 

Antoines: 

Walking around: 

New Year's Eve Bourbon Street Shenanigans and our feeble efforts to cook

It really was a wonderful trip and it breaks my heart that much more to know what happened to such a lovely, unique city with such character.