Skillet Doux

Farmer's Market Bounty

I finally stopped by the main Baltimore farmer's market for the first time on Sunday morning, and ho boy, is it a doozy. We'll be revisiting this subject sometime soon, but for now, a little dinner assembled from the bounty we brought home with us. Nothing fancy about the recipe, but when you have produce this good, the best thing is to just stay out of its way.

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Dominic Armato 2 pints fresh fava beans, shells on 1 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil 2 strips bacon 2 cloves garlic 6 sea scallops salt & pepper paprika 1 Tbsp. butter 1 small shallot, minced 1 ear corn 1 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil 1 Tbsp. balsamic vinegar ½ C. sweet miniature tomatoes 1 Tbsp. basil chiffonade 2 slices crusty bread extra virgin olive oil

Seared Scallops with Summer Vegetables and Bacon-Balsamic Vinaigrette

Serves 2

Sourcing quality ingredients is, of course, always integral to a dish's success, but there are some dishes that particularly depend on stunning produce, and this is one of them. If you don't have beautiful fresh corn, tomatoes and beans, save this one until you do. In particular, make sure you can get some really tiny, candy-sweet tomatoes. I think they're particularly key.

Once you start cooking, the dish requires your total attention and comes together very quickly, so you want to assemble your mise en place like you would for a stir-fry. Don't turn on the heat until you have everything prepped and assembled in little bowls, ready to go.

To prep the fava beans, blanch them in boiling water for 5-6 minutes until they're very slightly undercooked, then shock them in a big bowl of ice water to stop the cooking. When they're cool, shell them, save the beans and toss the shells. Slice the kernels off the ear of corn, combine them with the favas and set them aside in a prep bowl. Slice the strips of bacon the short way into thin little matchstick slices. Peel the two cloves of garlic. Slice the tomatoes in half and combine in a prep bowl with the basil chiffonade. Get your shallot minced up and put it in a small dish with the tablespoon of butter. Brush the bread with a little olive oil and grill it or toast it. I had it oiled and sitting in the toaster, ready to hit the button. Rinse the scallops and then use paper towels to pat them as dry as possible. The drier you get them, the nicer your brown crust will be when you sear them. Set them on a plate and season both sides with salt, pepper and a little paprika. Got all that? Okay. Moving on.

In a large sauté pan, combine 1 Tbsp. of the olive oil and the bacon strips over medium-high heat. When the bacon gets a little crispy, but before it turns dry, remove it from the skillet and set it aside on paper towels, leaving as much of the oil and bacon grease in the pan as possible.

Immediately toss the garlic cloves into the hot pan, and swirl them around a bit. Add the scallops to the pan and cook them, turning once, until they're nicely browned on both sides and just barely cooked in the middle, about 1½ - 2 minutes per side. Remove the scallops from the skillet, set them aside and keep them warm. Leave the garlic cloves in the pan.

If your bread is in the toaster on standby, now would be a good time to hit the button. In either case, immediately add the butter and shallot to the skillet and sauté, moving constantly, for about a minute. Add the corn and fava beans and continue to sauté for another minute or so. Add the vinegar, remove the pan from the heat, and stir up the mixture, scraping as much of the browned gunk off the bottom of the pan as possible. Mix in another tablespoon of olive oil, add the tomatoes and basil, then adjust the seasonings, adding a little salt and pepper if necessary. Remove the garlic cloves from the mixture before you plate. Or don't, if you relish the idea of a garlicky surprise. But I think it's a little much for the dish.

To plate, lay down the toasted bread and top it with three of the scallops. Take any juices that the scallops have released while they've been sitting and pour them over the top. Sprinkle the bacon crumbles over the scallops, scatter the vegetables all around, and spoon some of the pan juices over the top. Dining al fresco is optional, but c'mon... tell me that dish doesn't belong under a sunset.

All About The Thighs

Apparently you get recipes this week... who knew? More restaurants next week (I've been getting around, but I want to make a few return visits), but in the interim here's another improvisation that turned out pretty well. I'm on record as rarely getting excited about chicken, but I love chicken thighs. They're criminally underrated. Legs are more about the Flintstones factor than the quality of the meat. Wings are awesome with an insane skin-to-meat ratio, but that awesomeness is widely acknowledged. Breasts are the prom queen of the chicken carcass -- not without their charm, but kinda shallow and grossly overrated. But the thighs -- tender, moist and full of flavor -- quietly sit at the edge of the spotlight, humbly content with the knowledge that they're where it's at.

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Dominic Armato 6 boneless chicken thighs, skin on salt & pepper all-purpose flour 1 Tbsp. canola oil 4 garlic cloves ½ C. freshly squeezed orange juice 1 tsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice 1 tsp. freshly squeezed lime juice 2 tsp. fish sauce 1 tsp. soy sauce 1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves 1 tsp. sugar ½ tsp. sambal (Asian chile sauce)

Crispy Chicken Thighs with Three Citrus Sauce

Serves 2-3

While prepping, preheat your oven to 500º. Dry the chicken thighs as much as possible with paper towels, so they'll get nice and crispy when you sear them. Season them liberally on both sides with kosher salt and pepper, then dredge them in the flour, shaking off any excess.

Add the canola oil to a large cast iron (or other heavy oven safe) skillet, throw in the peeled garlic cloves and heat the oil over medium high. Cook the garlic cloves, turning as appropriate, until they're a nice golden brown on all sides. Remove the garlic cloves from the skillet and save them. Add the chicken thighs to the skillet, skin down, and cook until the skin is golden and crispy, about 3-4 minutes. Flip the thighs and cook on the meaty side for another 3-4 minutes, then shove the entire skillet in the oven until the thighs are finished cooking. It'll probably take another 3-4, but you should probably either use a thermometer or cut into one to check. This is chicken we're talking about, after all. Once the chicken is cooked through, transfer the thighs to a plate, put the plate in a warming drawer if you have one (I don't... *sigh*) and put the skillet, oil and chicken grease and all, back on the stove over medium heat.

Add the citrus juices, fish sauce, soy sauce, thyme, sugar and sambal to the skillet drippings, stir everything together, and continue cooking until it's reduced down and thickened to a nice saucy consistency. While this is happening, return the cooked garlic cloves to the skillet and kind of smoosh them into the sauce. You could chop them up, I suppose, but somehow that feels a little too refined for a cast iron dish. I support smooshing. Once the sauce has reached the consistency you want, get it off the heat immediately... it can caramelize and burn very quickly if you leave it on the heat.

Top the thighs with the sauce and serve them alongside your starch and vegetable of choice. I personally sautéed up some asparagus (left over from last night) and threw some rice in the rice cooker, along with a bit of the zest from my citrus. I can heartily endorse these particular companions for your chicken, but go with whatever looks fresh and tickles your fancy.

Colatura

	Dominic Armato

It isn't often that I come across an ingredient that's completely foreign to me, so when my ladylove gave me a bottle of colatura a ways back, I was more than a little surprised. Colatura is a Sicilian concoction. It's a clear, light brown liquid that is, in its most basic form, produced by draining the liquid from barrels of salted anchovies. Yup... apparently fish sauce isn't limited to Thailand and Vietnam. I shouldn't be surprised, given the Italians' love for anchovies, but I AM thrilled to be working with a genuine crossover ingredient. This pasta's been percolating for a while, I just got around to trying it out tonight, and it turned out fabulously.

A couple of ingredient notes. First, anybody who reads this blog will know that I'm firmly of the opinion that fresh pasta isn't necessarily better. But for this pasta, fresh is better. And this dish really puts the noodles in focus, so if you aren't making your own, be sure you're getting some good stuff. A lousy fresh pasta will ruin this dish. Also, colatura is a little tricky to come by. In a rare move, I'll endorse a substitute. This would be just as tasty (if ever so slightly different) with an Asian fish sauce.

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Dominic Armato 1 Lb. fresh linguine 7 Tbsp. butter 2 Tbsp. colatura 1 lemon 2 Tbsp. minced chives 1 Tbsp. butter 1 small shallot 1 bunch thin asparagus ½ Lb. small raw shrimp

Linguine with Shrimp, Asparagus and Colatura Brown Butter

Serves 4-5 as a primo, 3-4 as an entree

Since the cooking time is fairly quick, you first want to do all of your ingredient prep while you're bringing your pasta water to a boil. Chop the asparagus into 1" pieces, or if your asparagus is thicker, slice it thinly on a sharp diagonal. Chop until you have about two cups, then save the rest for... something else. Peel the shrimp and remove the tails, then slice them in half lengthwise. I'm not somebody who freaks out if the vein (read: GI tract) isn't removed, but as long as you're slicing them in half, you might as well. Gently pat the shrimp dry with paper towels, and refrigerate them until you're ready to use them. Mince the shallot and chives, and juice your lemon. Time to cook.

When your water is pretty close to boiling, go ahead and start on the brown butter. Put 7 Tbsp. of butter in a small, cold saucepan over medium heat. While the butter is browning, fill a very large bowl with cool water and set it next to the stove. The butter will foam, and then start to brown. As it's cooking, scrape any foam that sticks to the sides of the pan down with a rubber spatula. Continue cooking the butter until it reaches a deep golden brown color, but don't let it go black. Think of when you're toasting a piece of bread and it achieves a beautiful deep brown color about 10-15 seconds before it starts burning. That's roughly the color you're shooting for. The moment you've achieved that color, pull the saucepan off the heat and dip the bottom of the pan into the bowl of water to stop the butter from cooking any further. Mix in the colatura, chives and 2 tsp. of your freshly squeezed lemon juice, then keep the sauce warm over the lowest possible heat. A low burner might even be too much. Best to just sit it next to your pasta pot.

Once your water is boiling, cook the asparagus and shrimp. Melt the last 1 Tbsp. of butter in a large pan (big enough to hold all of the pasta, too) over medium heat. When the butter foams, add the minced shallot. When the shallot starts to soften, add the asparagus and cook for a minute or two until it brightens and loses its raw flavor. Toss in the shrimp, and start your pasta cooking. If you're using fresh pasta (and you should be for this particular recipe), they'll be done at about the same time. As soon as the shrimp have lost their raw color, remove the shrimp and asparagus from the heat.

Drain your pasta, add it to the asparagus and shrimp, pour in the brown butter sauce and toss everything together over very low heat. Plate the pasta and grate a little bit of lemon zest and maybe some freshly ground black pepper over the top. Just don't add cheese. Or do what you want... just don't tell me.

Butter, Butter and Butter

	Dominic Armato

No, no... that's how much was LEFT of the two pounds I bought.

I think I set a new personal best for the second course of our anniversary dinner this past Saturday. Of course, only a small fraction of that was actually consumed, but still...

This is a recipe that's been percolating for quite some time, but when I came across Thomas Keller's ode to beurre monté recently, the final piece fell into place. Beurre monté is an interesting little beast. Simple but brutally effective, it's little more than butter that's emulsified with a touch of water as it's melting, so that you can bring it close to 200° before it starts to separate... ideal for poaching.

The combination was originally intended for popcorn, actually. My ladylove was whipping up a batch, and I started digging through the pantry trying to come up with something more interesting than plain old butter to top it with. The honey and curry were a nice start, but they needed just a little something to put them over the top, and unsweetened cocoa just worked. I did this with rock shrimp, but regular shrimp would be quite tasty, as would lobster. If you have a source and the means (they're pricey little buggers), I think langostini would rock this dish up and down. In any case, when you're done with the poaching butter, in keeping with the recipe's roots, don't pitch it. Save it for later and drizzle it over popcorn. A lot of popcorn.

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Dominic Armato 2 C. peeled and chopped parsnips 1¼ C. heavy cream ¾ C. water ½ tsp. kosher salt 3 Tbsp. water 2 Tbsp. minced shallot 1½ lb. unsalted butter 1½ tsp. kosher salt 1½ tsp. Madras curry powder ¼ C. honey 1 lb. rock shrimp 2 Tbsp. unsalted butter Fuji apple shredded fresh mint unsweetened cocoa powder

Curry-Honey Butter Poached Shrimp with Parsnip Puree,
Fuji Apples and Cocoa

Serves 4-6

First, get the parsnips going. When you chop the parsnips, you want all of your bits to be of roughly uniform size. That way, some won't be turning to mush while others haven't softened yet. Combine the parsnips, 1¼ C. heavy cream, ¾ C. water and ½ tsp. salt in a saucepan, and bring to a boil. Immediately drop the heat and keep them at a gentle simmer for about 25-30 minutes, until the parsnips have completely softened. Strain the parsnips and save the cream. Toss the parsnips in a food processor or, preferably, push them through a tamis (drum sieve) with a plastic scraper... you'll get a smoother puree this way. Return the parsnips to the saucepan and mix in ¼ C. of the reserved cream mixture (don't pitch it just yet!). You want the puree to be smooth without getting wet or runny. Take it off the heat and leave it someplace warm-ish... next to the stove while you do the rest of the prep?

Next up, the poaching butter. Combine the 3 Tbsp. water and shallots in a cold saucepan, and bring the water to a boil. When the water boils, turn the head down low and start whisking in the butter, a little bit at a time. Once you have a nice emulsion established (i.e., the butter isn't breaking down into the liquidy yellow stuff and the white creamy stuff), you can start whisking the butter in faster. Keep going until you've whisked in the whole pound and a half. While still whisking, add the 1½ tsp. salt, curry and honey. Keep whisking until everything is combined, and then turn off the heat until you're ready to poach the shrimp.

To poach the shrimp, it helps to have a thermometer. Otherwise, you have to be really careful not to let it boil, and you need to watch it like a hawk for the slightest signs of separation. Bring the poaching butter up to about 170-180° and toss in the shrimp. Poach the shrimp until they're just cooked through, about 6-7 minutes. Immediately remove them from the poaching liquid with a slotted spoon so that they don't overcook and get tough.

Also, while the shrimp are poaching, warm up the parsnip puree and mix in an additional 2 Tbsp. of the reserved cream mixture (NOW you can pitch it) and the last 2 Tbsp. of butter, and salt to taste.

To assemble the dish, lay down some of the parsnip puree, top with the shrimp, fan out some apple, spoon a bit of the poaching butter over the top, dust lightly with the cocoa and finish with a little mint. It's a rich dish. A little goes a very long way.

Anchovy Pasta

	Image courtesy of the US government... or so Wikipedia tells me

Aaaaaahhh, the anchovy. Our poor, misunderstood piscine friend.

These fellows have a long and storied culinary history that sadly seems to be merely a preamble to their current standing as running gag for the carry-out pizza set. The sheer number of people who have a visceral "no way in hell" reaction to anchovy consumption never ceases to amaze me, but I suppose it shouldn't. Have you tasted the garden variety cheap corner pizza joint anchovy lately? I've dug things out of clogged drains that were less pungent. But when it comes to seafood there's a huge range between the good and the bad, and the rule applies tenfold for anchovies. Those who are only familiar with the powerful, nasty, salty pungency of bad anchovies are often surprised to discover that they can be quite mellow and even sweet.

This dish is an old favorite that I frequently bust out when I want to convert an anchovy hater. The focus is on the fish, but there are enough things going on that it can ease somebody in. When you're looking for these guys, salted is best, but packed in oil will do. If the former, they need to be filleted and rinsed thoroughly. If the latter, try to buy from a good source and don't skimp. Good anchovies in oil can be quite tasty, bad ones can be downright awful, and you usually get what you pay for. You'll know the difference. When I'm making this on a day-to-day basis, I just use cheapy lumpfish caviar, but you could obviously class it up quite a bit by using something nicer.

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Dominic Armato 2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil ¾ C. breadcrumbs ¼ C. extra virgin olive oil 4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced ¼ C. chopped anchovy fillets 1 Lb. spaghetti, cooked al dente 2 Tbsp. red lumpfish caviar ⅓ C. shredded fresh mint grated parmigiano reggiano fresh ground black pepper

Spaghetti with Anchovies, Breadcrumbs and Mint

Serves 4-5 as a primo, 3-4 as an entree

First off, you want to toast the breadcrumbs. Heat the 2 Tbsp. of olive oil over medium-low heat in a heavy pan. Then add the breadcrumbs and toast, shaking constantly, until they turn a deep golden brown. Get them out of the pan right away so they don't burn, and set them aside for later.

While your pasta is cooking (follow the commandments!!!), heat the remaining ¼ C. olive oil in a large skillet or small pot over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook until it just starts to turn light golden, then pull it off the heat. Immediately add the anchovies, stir well, and set the sauce aside off heat.

When the pasta is ready, add it to the anchovy sauce along with the caviar, mint and half the reserved breadcrumbs. Toss them to combine off the heat.

Plate the pasta and top it with a sprinkling of parmigiano reggiano, the remaining breadcrumbs, a couple twists of black pepper, and maybe an additional tuft of shredded mint if you're feeling particularly froofy.

Mining Iron Chef

	Dominic Armato

The little fella has (rightfully!) cut into blogging time a bit as of late, so I'm going to keep mining the old Iron Chef archives for a little while. Hopefully he'll start sleeping through the night before I run out of old recipes.

This is one of my personal all-time faves, even if it wasn't everybody's cup of tea at the judging table. Soft-cooked egg is one of those things that just doesn't sit well with some people, for reasons I'll never understand. I can't think of a better way to eat an egg than just barely set. This particular recipe was for Iron Chef, and inspired by Iron Chef. On more than a couple of episodes, the chefs have made what Fukui-san and Hattori-san (or their Canadian voiceover counterparts, in any case) referred to as an "egg royale". I'm still not sure exactly what an egg royale is supposed to be, but this is how I envision it. It's a rich, savory egg dish where the egg is topped with a flavored cream and cooked so that it's just barely set, and still wonderfully gooey. Apologies for the large yield, but it hardly seems worth offing a pair of lobsters for a couple of small cups. Plus, it's not exactly a simple recipe, so I think it's best reserved for larger dinner parties anyway.

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Dominic Armato 2 live lobsters, 1½ - 2 lbs. each 1 Tbsp. vegetable oil 1 C. chopped onion ½ C. chopped carrot ½ C. chopped celery 1 Tbsp. tomato paste ½ C. white wine ½ C. heavy whipping cream 2 Tbsp. cognac 1 tsp. coarse salt 3 Tbsp. butter 1 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil 1 C. finely diced red bell pepper 1 C. finely diced onion 12 large, fresh eggs chives, for garnish

Lobster Egg Royale with
Cognac-Lobster Cream

Serves 12 as an appetizer

Bring a big honking pot of salted water to a rolling boil, and provided you're comfortable with that sort of thing, toss in the lobsters. After two minutes, pull them out and immediately shock them in a really big bath of ice water. Make sure there's plenty of ice, as most of it will melt immediately and you want the lobsters to continue cooling. When the lobsters are cool, remove the claw and tail meat and refrigerate it for later use. Save the shells!

Using a big, heavy knife or cleaver (you have one, right?), chop the bodies in half lengthwise and scoop out the squicky-looking yellow-green organ in the middle of the body. You can get rid of that. Continue chopping the bodies, as well as all of the shells, until you have a nice, big pile of chitinous carnage.

In a stock pot, heat the vegetable oil over medium, then add the 1 C. of chopped onion, carrot and celery. Saute for a minute or two, then add the lobster shells. Cook for 5-6 minutes until the vegetables start to soften and turn golden. Add the tomato paste, and continue cooking for another 4-5 minutes. You want the tomato paste to kind of caramelize and intensify, but you don't want to burn anything. If it looks like things are starting to get toasty, go straight to the wine.

Once your vegetables and tomato paste have caramelized a little, deglaze with the white wine, scraping up any bits that are stuck to the bottom of the pot. Add enough cold water to just cover, and bring the mixture back up to a simmer, but don't let it boil. Once you've reached a simmer, let it cook away for about an hour.

Using a chinois or other fine-meshed sieve, strain the stock into a clean saucepan, pressing to extract as much of the liquid as possible. Put your back into it. Then, pitch the solids. Now you have a saucepan full of lobster stock, which you want to reduce over medium-high heat until you have about ½ C. of liquid. It should have an almost light gravy-like consistency and be really intense. Remove it from the heat, let it cool, then mix in the cream, cognac and 1 tsp. salt. You don't want it to be like creamy saline, but the mixture should be a little too salty, as it'll be mixed with the eggs later on. Keep it refrigerated until you're ready to assemble the dish.

While you're working on the lobster mixture, preheat the oven to 350°. Pull your reserved lobster meat from the fridge, and dice it. Combine the butter and olive oil in a saute pan over medium-high heat. When the butter is melted, add the finely diced onion and red bell pepper (from which I trust you've removed all of the seeds and ribbing) and saute until the onions start to turn translucent, about 2-3 minutes. Throw in the diced lobster, season with some freshly ground black pepper and more salt (again, make it a little saltier than it should be... it'll work out correctly once the eggs are added), and continue to saute until the lobster has just barely lost its outer raw color, as it'll finish cooking in the oven. Remove the mixture from the heat and adjust the seasoning however you see fit.

Set out a dozen 4 oz. ramekins, and fill them about halfway with the lobster-vegetable mix, leaving a slight indentation in the center. Crack an egg into each ramekin so that the yolk sits in the indentation. Pull your cognac-lobster cream from the fridge, and spoon 1-2 Tbsp. around each egg yolk, so that it mixes with the whites. Arrange the ramekins in a deep baking dish or roasting pan, and fill the pan with simmering water so that the ramekins are halfway submerged. Bake them in the oven until they're finished. Of course, knowing when they're finished is the trickiest part. They can go from perfectly done to overdone in just a minute or two, so you want to watch them carefully. Ideally, you want the outer edges to be set, the center to be a little jiggly, and the yolk nice and runny. If you poke the outer edge of the egg white with a fork or chopstick and it's firm, get 'em out... they're done. Then carefully transfer the ramekins to plates, garnish them with a little chopped chive, and get 'em on the table.

Return to Snake River

	Dominic Armato

Tell me that isn't a thing of beauty.

A quick glance should make it clear that this isn't genuine Kobe, but it's still some damn fine beef. This is the Snake River Farms "American Kobe" that I wrote about back in June. My father's birthday was this weekend and I figured some premium beef would be an excellent present. So I threw together a quick and simple recipe that I thought was good enough to post.

The inspiration here is actually Italian. One of my favorite dishes on the planet is the Tagliata di Bue at Trattoria dei Tredici Gobbi in Florence. It's an exercise in simplicity and a common dish to boot, but they do it really, really well. They lightly season a thin steak, grill it hot so that it's charred on the outside and cool in the center, slice it up and top it with a pile of fresh arugula and a bit of balsamic vinegar. So I took the flavors of June's experiment, served them in a similar fashion, and added a nice starchy side. The beef was tasty, as expected. What surprised me was how well sweet potatoes and sake paired up. I thought it would work, but not that well. This is now officially my favorite way to do sweet potatoes, and it's subtle enough that it doesn't scream Asian so they'd work in a bunch of different contexts.

Incidentally, it pains me to endorse prepackaged greens of any kind but the Newman's Own baby arugula I used was surprisingly good. If it's consistently so (which remains to be seen), it's a winner.

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Dominic Armato 4 sweet potatoes ½ C. tamari soy sauce 1 Tbsp. white miso 4 tsp. honey 1 clove garlic, very thinly sliced ½ C. butter, softened 2 Tbsp. finely minced fresh ginger 1 Tbsp. dry sake ½ tsp. salt 2 16-20 oz. NY strip steaks coarse salt & pepper 4 C. fresh arugula

Japanese Tagliata di Bue with Ginger-Sake Sweet Potatoes

Serves 4

Unless a potato's explosive potential is more compelling to you than its tasty potential, poke the sweet potatoes a few times with a fork (I know, I know, they won't actually explode). Then roast them in a 425º oven for about 45 minutes, until they're soft. While the potatoes are cooking, you can prep the rest of the dish... you'll have more than enough time.

Pull the steaks out of the fridge so they won't be too cold when you cook them. While they're warming up a bit, mix up their sauce. It's a whole lot better if it rests for about half an hour, so it's best to start here. Combine the soy sauce, miso, honey and garlic, mix them thoroughly so that the miso dissolves and then let them rest at room temperature until everything else is ready.

Do the same thing with the butter, ginger, sake and salt. I'm a fan of mincing the ginger here. You could grate the ginger if you prefer, but then you won't need nearly as much.

Now, back to the steaks. Put a cast iron skillet over the highest possible heat, and let it get smoking hot. While the skillet is heating, you're going to do something that will make some steak purists cringe. Slice the two steaks in half down the middle, so you end up with four steaks that are only about ¾" thick. Season both sides of the steaks with coarse salt and a bit of coarsely ground pepper. I think cracked pepper is a little too potent for this dish, but that's your call. Give the steaks a good rub.

Wait until the potatoes are ready before you fire the beef. The potatoes will sit nicely for a few minutes. The steak won't. When the potatoes are ready, slice them down the middle, fluff them a little bit and fill them with a generous dollop of the ginger-sake butter.

Then, cook up the steaks. If there's a thick layer of fat around the outer edge, hold the steaks with a pair of tongs, stand them on the edge and give them a quick sear to soften and render some of the fat. Then, cook the steaks for just a minute or two on either side so that the outside is nicely seared with almost a light crust, but the center is still cool. Slice and plate the steaks, drizzle them with the soy sauce mixture, top them with a handful of the arugula and serve them with the sweet potatoes. If you get your hands on some Kobe, American or otherwise, don't you dare leave the fat on your plate... that's totally the best part.

Holiday Spice Cream

Horrible pun, I know. I'm sorry.

Given today's post, we're now midway through what is apparently the month of beef stands and old Iron Chef recipes. With the holidays around the corner, I figured it was time to bust this one out. I know ice creams aren't typically regarded as cold weather fare, but the flavors say December to me. I threw this one together for the inaugural Iron Chef back around Christmas 2000. The ingredient was orange, hence the Grand Marnier, but ransacking the liquor cabinet would, I'm sure, turn up more than a few libations that would also pair well with the spices. For some reason, prevailing opinion among many seems to be that ice cream is difficult to make, but I'm at a loss to understand why. Quick and easy, this one.

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	Dominic Armato 3 C. heavy cream 1 C. whole milk ¾ C. sugar 4 egg yolks 6 cinnamon sticks ½ tsp. ground cinnamon 4 tsp. whole cloves 10 whole star anise Grand Marnier

Holiday Spice Cream with
Grand Marnier

Makes 1 quart

To start off, combine the cream, milk and sugar in a saucepan over medium low heat and warm, stirring, until the sugar is completely dissolved. Do not let the mixture boil. Meanwhile, in a small mixing bowl, give the egg yolks a quick, light whisk. Then, while continuing to whisk the yolks, slowly add about one cup of the hot cream mixture, one tablespoon at a time. This is called tempering, and it's done to slowly warm the yolks so that they don't immediately scramble when you add them to the hot liquid. If you add the cream too quickly and the yolks scramble... well... you're pretty much hosed. Better start again. At any rate, once you've added about a cup of the cream mixture and the yolks are duly warmed, slowly add the yolk mixture back into the saucepan, whisking to combine.

Add the cinnamon in both forms, the cloves and the star anise. Continue heating the mixture (no boiling!) for about 7-10 minutes, stirring frequently, until it starts to smell appropriately Christmas-ey and thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon. Pour the mixture into a mixing bowl and allow it to cool. Then, either run it through a strainer or just pick out the cinnamon sticks, cloves and star anise.

Then, freeze the mixture as directed for your ice cream maker. Unless you're using a self-refrigerating machine, it'll help immensely if you stick the cream in the fridge for a while to chill first. Once frozen, you can eat it nice and soft, or transfer it to a tub and move it to the freezer to harden. Either way, scoop it out, drizzle a little Grand Marnier (or your booze of choice) over the top and serve it up.

(Late) Fall Flavors

	Amanda Magnano

Weeeellll, this one's kind of on the tail of the of the season for which it was intended, but I couldn't wait another year to post it. It's one of my proudest creations for a number of reasons, not the least of which is because it's still the highest scoring dish in the history of Iron Chef Chicago. The only thing I still struggle with somewhat is the squash chips. The silpat/oven method works pretty well, but they're very touchy. I have to believe there's an easier way. If anybody has any suggestions, I'm all ears.

In any case, this was a dish I created for Iron Chef Winter Squash. It was actually one of the dishes on the chopping block when we were deciding which ideas to roll with, so mad, mad props to Faithful Sous Kirsten for reassuring me that there isn't a soul on the face of the planet who doesn't love butter sauce. It's a high-maintenance dish, and it involves assembling three last-minute components, but it's completely worth it.

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	Dominic Armato 1 large butternut squash 2 shallots, minced ¼ C. white wine ½ tsp. salt 3 Tbsp. heavy cream ½ C. unsalted butter ½ C. sliced shiitake mushrooms 2 Tbsp. unsalted butter 8 large scallops 2 Tbsp. canola oil 1 oz. caviar chives

Crispy Squash and Scallop Napoleon with Butternut
Butter Sauce

Serves 4 as an appetizer

Preheat the oven to 250º while you're prepping the squash. When selecting your squash, you need a big, solid chunk for the squash chips. It's best to pick one with a nice, long neck about 4" in diameter. Remove the stem and peel the squash. Using a mandoline set to about 1mm thickness, slice 20 discs from the neck of the squash and trim them into 3" diameter circles. It's absolutely critical that the discs be of uniform thickness, and unless your knife skills are borderline superhuman, a mandoline is the only way it's going to happen. You'll only use 16 of the crisps, but they're extremely fragile and it's a good idea to make extras. Sandwich the discs between two silpats and bake for 45 minutes to one hour, checking frequently towards the end to be sure they don't overcook and take on a burned flavor. They are done when they are dried and ever so slightly brown in color. They'll crisp further as they cool.

Meanwhile, cut the remaining squash into large chunks, add to a large pot, seeds and all, cover with cold water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat slightly and simmer, uncovered, for an hour. Strain the mixture through a chinois or other fine-meshed strainer, pressing against the sides, and save the resulting squash stock.

The next three items require a little timing mojo, since you ideally want them all to be ready at the same time. The one that will hold the best and can easily be reheated, however, is the mushrooms. Melt 2 Tbsp. butter in a sauté pan over medium-high heat, add the sliced shiitakes and cook until the mushrooms are nicely softened. Salt and pepper to taste, then remove from the heat.

Meanwhile, get the butternut butter sauce going. Add the shallots, wine, salt and 1 C. of the squash stock to a saucepan, and reduce down to about ⅓ of a cup, stirring constantly as the mixture thickens. When finished, it'll be gooey and caramel-colored. Add the cream, and continue to cook for about 2 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium-low and whisk in the ½ C. of butter, a couple tablespoons at a time. Adjust the salt, and remove from the heat so it doesn't separate. If it does separate, however, don't panic. Just boil up a little more wine and cream, and then whisk the entire broken sauce back into the new base.

The last step before assembly is to sauté the scallops. Pat them dry and season them lightly with some salt and pepper. Heat the canola oil in a sauté pan over high heat until hot, but not smoking. Sear the scallops, turning once, until they're slightly browned on the outside and just done in the middle, about 1-2 minutes per side.

To assemble, slice the scallops in half lengthwise, then stack squash crisp, a bit of sautéed mushroom, half scallop, crisp, mushroom, scallop, placing two of these stacks to a plate. Or, if you're feeling particularly brave, go for one monster tower. Either way, top with the butternut butter sauce and a dollop of caviar, garnish wish some chives, and get 'em on the table... they don't hold well.

In Praise of Uni

	Dominic Armato

Over the past couple of years, I've really come to love sea urchin. But while I'm one who sometimes gives people a hard time when it comes to ingredient squeamishness (though in a good-natured fashion, I hope), I can't exactly fault people for feeling intimidated when it comes to these fellows. Even setting aside the neon color, slimy texture and the fact that you're consuming the gonads of a spiny alien-looking undersea creature, it's kind of an unusual flavor. Describing said flavor is rather difficult, but I'm always struck by how reminiscent it is of raw egg yolks, if said eggs had been floating around in the ocean. I think that's why I love them so much. They embody the sea, but they have a richness that you rarely encounter in seafood.

Dominic Armato

Of course, as is typically the case with such things, I end up trying to convert the anti-uni crowd at every opportunity. For the bulk of my pals, the squicky orange menace is a place they just aren't willing to go, no matter how much I assure them they'll learn to love it. It doesn't help that the context in which we're most likely to encounter uni is a sushi bar, where it's served as a big, gloppy pile that's only barely accompanied by rice and nori. This is great when you're already a fan, but as a beginner it's... less than approachable. So for almost a year now, a recipe has been percolating in my head that I only just realized this evening. I thought that an uni cream would translate extremely well to a pasta sauce, and might give my pals a more familiar and accessible bridge to bolder sea urchin preparations. The hardest part, of course, was finding good uni. But last month's Mitsuwa excursion cleared that problem right up. So here it is... make this simple pasta two or three times, and I wager that uni nigiri is going to look a lot more tempting the next time you're out for raw fish. As always, be sure to refer to the Ten Commandments of Dried Pasta.

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	Dominic Armato 1/4 C. extra virgin olive oil 1 small red onion 1 clove garlic oyster mushrooms 1/2 C. heavy cream 1 Lb. spaghetti sea salt 1/2 C. sea urchin roe (uni) flat leaf parsley salt, to taste 8 pieces sea urchin roe grated Parmigiano Reggiano

Spaghetti with Sea Urchin
and Mushroom Cream

Serves 4 as a primo, 2-3 as an entree

As with any simple pasta, quality ingredients are absolutely critical, and even moreso when working with something like sea urchin roe. It should be brightly colored, firm, and almost odorless. If you're not familiar with uni and don't have a Japanese grocer you trust with raw seafood, your best bet is probably to mail order from Catalina Offshore Products, who are known for pulling delicious urchins off the California coast. There's nothing that can sour you on sea urchin faster than getting some bad product... take the time to get the good stuff and you'll be rewarded.

You want to start your sauce in a large pan or pot that can hold the full pound of pasta. If at all possible, go with something heavy that will retain some heat and stay warm, for reasons you'll see below. While your pasta water is heating up, you can start on the sauce. Finely mince the garlic clove, and mince up 1/2 C. of red onion. If you can't get a hold of good oyster mushrooms, some cremini mushrooms will do nicely. I'd avoid anything stronger, such as porcinis, as they'll overpower the uni. If you're using cremini, discard the stems and use only the caps. Either way, slice the mushrooms very, very thinly until you end up with about 1 cup's worth. Heat the oil over medium heat, and when it's hot, toss in the garlic and onion and sauté for a few minutes until the onion starts to get a little translucent, but don't let it brown. At this point, toss in the sliced mushrooms and continue cooking for a few more minutes until the mushrooms absorb the oil and become tender. Add the cream, salt the sauce to taste, and immediately drop the heat to the lowest setting. Cook the sauce for another minute or two until the cream thickens slightly, and then turn off the heat and let the sauce cool. The sea urchin tastes best if it's only very lightly cooked, so we'll let the heat of the hot pasta do that. Also, you want the sauce to be fairly salty. The intensity of the salt will mellow a lot when you add the sea urchin and pasta, and it's much easier to add salt to the hot cream sauce now than to the completed pasta later.

Cook the pasta in salted, boiling water, and while the pasta is cooking you can prep the sea urchin. Take 1/2 C. of the roe and scrape it through a fine-meshed strainer. If you've watched Iron Chef with any regularity, you've probably seen them do this. In most Japanese groceries, you can pick up small drum-shaped strainers on the cheap. You can then use something like a plastic spatula to scrape the sea urchin roe through, into a small bowl below. The resulting uni juice is what you'll use to finish the sauce.

Right before the pasta is done, add the uni juice and 2 Tbsp. of chopped parsley to the sauce, mix the sauce thoroughly and adjust the salt if necessary. Again, bear in mind that the saltiness will be mitigated greatly by the pasta. It's best to be a little too salty at this point. When the pasta is done, drain it and add it... still a little drippy with starchy pasta water... into the pot with the sauce. Toss everything together and plate the pasta with a couple whole pieces of sea urchin and a very light dusting of Parmigiano Reggiano. I think the cheese works nicely, but I'd recommend you go very, very easy. You don't want to overpower the sea urchin which is, after all, the whole point of the exercise.