Mamma Mia!: A Pasta Tasting

Don't worry, no ABBA here. But plenty of happy food...

Over the weekend we did a pasta tasting for ten at the elegant home of Ms. Five-and-a-Half and Mr. Thirteen. Inspired somewhat by the experiences my Dad and I had in a very sociable evening at Babbo's in New York, we decided to feature five different styles from all over Italy, including casunziei from the Veneto, fregola from Sardinia, spaghettini nero di seppia (popular in coastal regions like the Amalfi coast), homemade pappardelle, and ravioli di zucca which are often found in the Lombardy region.

Here's what I love about these dinners (and we've done so many of them over the years with Mr. Thirteen and Ms. Five-and-a-Half)--everyone is into it.

It's always such a pleasure to cook for creative people. No one asks us why anyone would go to so much trouble to fit the food into a theme like "The Elements" or "Wilderness" or "Summer," no one objects to strange ingredients and unusual flavors. On the contrary, the guests who've come to these dinners enthusiastically add in their own creative touches. The table above, for instance, is another of Ms. Five-and-a-Half's wonderful concoctions, inspired by Italian trattorias. She also called in the help of our Renaissance Man,who had so kindly lent his Faberge candlesticks to our Ah Wilderness efforts. He brought the dramatic candelabra in the center of the table and made the elegant Venetian plaster placecards.

Everyone knows that we make fancy menus for each dinner, and for our "Mamma Mia" theme, all of our guests--including The Cowgirls and Ms. Jersey Girl, who was there for our very first fancy dinner-- obliged me (or maybe humored me) by sending me reminiscences about cooking with Mom. Even The Garden King, a writer for the SF Chronicle sent along a dry, one line contribution about trying to forget the times his mother cooked, which sparked a great story at dinner.

I'm always afraid I've pushed people to far in trying to involve everyone in our themes, but when I joking mentioned another idea I'd had for an "Alice in Wonderland" dinner to the Garden King, he immediately said, "Well, you must have everyone come in costume!"

Really, I asked? Do you think people would do it?

"They must," he replied simply. Well... after all, I thought, Mr. Loving Green came dressed in a green ensemble that was in perfect harmony with this dinner's theme.

Incidentally, Mr. Green also immediately identified the artist whose work graced the cover of this event's menu, Giuseppe Arcimboldo. In case you haven't seen this one, it's called the Vegetable Gardener, and if you turn it around, the bowl of vegetables become a portrait.

I love Arcimboldo's work, maybe for the same reasons of whimsy that I like themes for our dinners... I've also only just noticed that when you invert my Omnivore's placecard you get the same letters as my initials.

But back to cooking...

Our intrepid hosts have recently added to their well-stocked kitchen a set of pasta rolling attachments for their KitchenAid and we decided that this was the perfect opportunity to christen it.

In my flurry of pre-prepping all the food and raviolis, I hadn't had a chance to make the dough for the pappardelle, which we intended to make fresh and cut by hand. Plus my long-suffering Omnivore was still down and out with a cold --and heavily lamenting the fact that he wasn't able to do anything but hold our rickety table steady while I rolled out the raviolis.

But since Mr. Thirteen hasn't made pasta dough before, this seemed like a good chance for him to both step in to cover and get some hands on experience, so he gamely tied on an apron and got to work. Perhaps it did help that we handed him a glass of wine too.

And the KitchenAid? It's a dream. You have no idea. I flail with our sturdy and very nice Imperia. It's a great, serviceable pasta machine, but we have nothing in the entire house that we can firmly clamp it to, so rolling out dough is a chore of unimaginable frustration.

The KitchenAid, on the other hand, just sits there as nice as you please, with its roller humming along. One person can roll out the dough one handed if need be!

Plus, Ms. Five-and-Half and Mr. Thirteen also have a perfect pasta drying rack AND the space to set it up.

As usual, getting ready for the Pasta extravaganza was a project of several days' duration. Though it was certainly a lot less trouble than the Ah, Wilderness dinner back in January, we still had our obstacles to overcome. Where do you get squid ink pasta, for instance and how do you match wine to things that may have balsamic vinegar and maple smoke flavors?

For wine, our go-to gal is Ceri at Biondivino, and if you love Italian wine, you must check out her store. No matter what crazy schemes we're cooking up, she always is game for the challenges. This time, I handed her one of the menus and amazingly she was able to recommend a terrific Mattei Barbera as well as the refreshingly fizzy Fallegro, a white that has its own natural, appealing effervescence. Not pictured below is the Perticaia Umbrian Rosso, a mostly Sangiovese, part Colorino, part Merlot blend that, as promised, worked well throughout the whole night. (Added into the mix were some fab Italian treats from The Garden King, courtesy of a previous wine tasting.)

Mamma Mia! Pasta Tasting Menu

Casunziei
Chevre & Ricotta Beet Ravioli with Poppy Seed Butter

Fregola
with Maple Smoked Scallops

Spaghettini Nero di Seppia
with Parsnips & Pancetta

Handmade Pappardelle
with Ragu Bolognese and Herbed Ricotta

Ravioli di Zucca
Sweet Potato Ravioli with Arugula & Caramelized Anjou Pears in Brown Butter

Gorgonzola Piccante from Cowgirl Creamery
with Honey, Walnuts and Balsamic Marinated Cranberries

Cappuccino Mousse
in Chocolate Cups with Fresh Raspberries and Ladyfinger

* * *

First course was Casunziei (Casunzei? Casunzie?... Beet ravioli). I first saw this at Mario Batali's place, and strictly speaking, they are ravioli filled with beets and potato, but I had already decided that wanted something a little different. I've always been obsessed with how beautiful the color of beet pasta dough is, so we decided to change things up a little and make beet ravioli stuffed with chevre and ricotta, but still garnished with poppy seeds and parsley like traditional casunziei. Oddly enough the beet flavor really came out with the added greenery and the crunch of the poppy seeds made a huge difference between a nice dish and a really elegant unusual one.

Casunziei

Serves 8 as a main course

• 1-1/2 cups fresh ricotta (about 12 oz.), drained 30 min.
• 1-1/2 cups goat cheese (about 10 oz.), at room temp.
• 2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh chives
• Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper
• Fresh Beet Pasta Dough (see below)
• Semolina flour or fine cornmeal, for dusting
• 2 tablespoons coarse salt
• Extra-virgin olive oil, for drizzling
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 2 tablespoons poppy seeds
• Parsley, chiffonaded into thin ribbons

Stir together cheeses and herbs; season with salt and pepper.

Using a pasta machine, roll out the pasta to the thinnest setting and then cut the sheets into 4-inch rectangles. Place a scant tablespoon of the beet and ricotta filling on one half of each rectangle, then brush the egg wash as an adhesive around edge, fold them over like a book to enclose the filling and press the edges of each ravioli to seal. Transfer ravioli to sheet, and cover with a kitchen towel. Repeat with remaining pasta dough and filling. (Freeze ravioli in a single layer on a baking sheet, about 15 minutes, and then pack between layers of parchment in an airtight container and store for up to 1 month. Do not thaw before cooking.)

Bring a large pot of salted water to a rolling boil. Add salt and half of the ravioli. Cook, stirring occasionally to separate, until edges are just tender, about 4 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer to a colander to drain. Drizzle with oil, and toss gently to coat. Transfer to a bowl, and loosely cover to keep warm. Repeat with remaining ravioli.

Meanwhile, melt butter in a small saucepan over medium heat it is dark golden brown and has a nutty aroma, about 4 minutes. Divide ravioli among plates. Spoon brown butter over ravioli and serve immediately garnished with poppy seeds and a chiffonade of parsley.

Beet Pasta Dough

• 1 medium beet
• 4 cups flour
• 2 medium eggs and 1 egg yolk
  
• 1/2 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil

Roast beet in a 375F oven for 45 minutes until tender. Peel, puree and beat with 2 eggs and 1 egg yolk.

Mound the flour in the center of a large wooden cutting board or baking sheet. Make a well in the middle of the flour and add the eggs and the olive oil. Using your fingers begin to incorporate the eggs into the flour, starting with the inner rim of the well.

As you expand the well, keep pushing the flour up from the base of the mound to retain the well shape. The dough will come together when half of the flour is incorporated.

Start kneading the dough with both hands, using the palms of your hands. Once you have a cohesive mass, remove the dough from the board and scrape up and discard any leftover bits. Lightly reflour the board and continue kneading for six more minutes. The dough should be elastic and a little sticky. Wrap the dough in plastic and allow to rest for 30 minutes at room temperature.

The Scallops and Fregola we've made betfore, but we just loved the maple-smoking flavor, so we included it, even though I usually prefer to do new dishes that we've never done beofre.

This balsamic was the 12 year Elsa, a very nice, sweet balsamic. We did reduce it to a syrupy glaze and though it was the sort of thing that kills wines, it was spectacular with the smoke.

Originally we'd intended to do Tagliatelle with parsnips and pancetta, another Babbo specialty. But since squid ink is hard to come by (and hard to manage), we opted for the pre-made spaghettini nero di seppia. Earthy still and unusual, but a I looked around the room, I could see that folks were slowing down already. Two more pasta courses...

For the Pappardelle with Ragu Bolognese, I started with Marcella Hazan's classic Bolognese as a base. I've read a lot over the years, but oddly this was the first time that I really committed to making this meat based sauce in the time-honored, time-consuming way.


Also, we finally got the new SLOW COOKER!! It's the Hamilton Beach programmable cooker, and I am in love with it. You can cook Bolognese in it for eight hours... True I started out the veggies and meat in the pot on the stove, to get things browned and started, but after getting the wine absorbed into the meat, I transferred everything to the slow cooker and let her rip.

Marcella knows her business, of course. We did add a dash of ground cloves and nutmeg and coriander because I like an aromatic spicy flavor.

Also a goodly dollop of ricotta mixed with chives added a nice creaminess to the finished dish.

Our final pasta dish of the evening (and we were all pretty stuffed by this time), was a reconstruction of the dinner we had when we took Eric's Mom out to the Summit at the Broadmoor in Colorado Springs: Sweet Potato Ravioli with Caramelized Anjou Pears in Brown Butter with Fines Herbes. It's an odd and unusual idea, but I liked having the sweet of the ravioli filling with the intensely dark flavor of the caramelized pear.

After that though, we had my favorite course, a nicely spreadable Gorgonzola Piccante with walnuts and cranberries marinated in balsamic.

The Gogonzola is stronger than the usual Gorgonzola Dolce, which has a creamy texture. The bite of this one was perfect for me though. And Ms Cowgirl brought along a little extra treat of dessert wine.

"I've had it for a little while," she confided, "But you have to have at least ten people before you can open up a dessert wine, right?"








Last item? Cappuccino mousse in a chocolate cup from Bissinger's. Frankly I was a little bit at a loss as to what would make a light finish to this meal. I thought I wanted the mousse, but when I saw the chocolate cups in Sur La Table, I knew we had it.

Top it with a raspberry and throw in a homemade ladyfinger cookie and we're good to go.

=================================

We're often asked at the fancy do's, whether we eat like this all the time. to which I say, HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Here was dinner last night. That's the beauty of San Francisco -- a fine, fine pizza -- sundried tomatoes, extra garlic and sausage--is only a phone call away.

Italian Market Menu (plus Sacripantina for the Pajama Queen)

So the Pajama Queen is forced, this summer, to spend three months slaving away in Rome. Yes, Rome. It's a tough life, but someone's got to live it. The only question is, why couldn't that someone be me?

But seriously, folks.

She has an apartment and the all important kitchen, so we thought it only fitting to make a meal that uses all the things she might find there, knowing that in a vacation rental, you're likely to have dishes and a few pots and pans, maybe a Bialetti, but probably no oven, and perhaps only one pair of wooden chopsticks with which to stir.

So we arrived on the doorstep of the PQ and Mr. Tarte Tatin with baskets of produce, favas, asparagus, peas, oranges, sage, mushrooms, etc. that you might find in one of those great Italian markets such as, say, the Campo de Fiore. And hopefully all things that could be easily cooked on a stovetop. Mme. PQ supplied some pantry staples such as the Parmagiano-Reggiano, olive oil, balsamic vinegar and truffle oil.

Our appetizers were, in my humble opinion, one of the best parts of the meal. Besides the olives and cheeses, we had a couple of super-simple starters to stave off the hunger pangs. This little item--which Ceri at Biondivino told us about--was absolutely addictive. Meyer lemons sliced super-thin and then wrapped around good quality Italian anchovies (oil-packed).

This was also quite delicious: Slices of focaccia, brushed with olive oil and topped with dollops of ripe, stinky Taleggio and some sauteed mushrooms. It goes under the broiler, or in the toaster to brown for a few minutes, and then drizzle it with white truffle oil. (The truffle oil is KEY.)

For our cheese pleasure, the PQ bought a plateful of Italian cheeses including this fantastic Robiola and Pecorino and Montasio. Robiola is usually made with either two or three types of milk, and this one is wonderfully moist and with no rind. Left to warm on the table, it became incredibly goopy around the ripe edges, while remaining nice and sharp in the heart.

For the main course we chose Saltimbocca alla Romana. American veal-raising practices still give me the willies, but Prather Ranch offers vitellone, or slightly-older-than-veal, so we set Ms. Food Snoot--in town preparing her move back to the land of food-obsessed--the task of ordering the meat. The calves are pasture-raised, though still fed on mother's milk. It's certainly a darker meat, but not as strong a flavor as beef and rather tender.

We also perfected our sage frying technique. In the past I've always flat-out burned the sage leaves, but this time, we kept the olive oil at a medium heat (not smoking at all) and dusted the sage in flour, all of which worked beautifully.

The PQ made our porcini risotto, which is one of my favorite dishes--both on the night of, and the next day, when you can make delicious risotto cakes.




A piselli of asparagus, favas and English peas with some sauteed shallots. Between the favas and peas I felt like I had started with six pounds of vegetables and ended up with 2 ounces. But still, the favas were, damn them, worth the trouble. And they're so much trouble.

And to drink with this lovely meal? The Coenobium (mentioned in a previous post) and a nice DOCG Chianti.

It was, coincidentally, close to the PQ's birthday as well, and so Mr. Tarte Tatin made a foray into the wilds of North Beach to Stella's Pastries to get their world-famous Sacripantina.

Actually, we had one of those great "only in the Bay Area" conversations about that Sacripantina. Whilst in the Ferry Building, on the hunt for Taleggio, we stopped for lunch at Mijita, Traci des Jardins' taco stand. The line there is always endlessly long, and so while we waited, I ran down our proposed menu for the Italian Market meal one more time. When I got to "Sacripantina," the woman in front of us turned around and said, "Ooooh, Sacripantina? I heard you say 'Sacripantina' Where are you getting it?"

"Stella's in North Beach, of course," we replied.

"Oh, that's the only place," she exclaimed. "What else are you making?"

As we inched forward, it turned into a nice long conversation about cooking and menus, adventures in food.

I love this city.

Political Fondue Party- Dippity-Doo-Dah

In my entire life I've never before had two candidates I really could actually truly vote FOR. Seriously.

But of course, we live in California, so not only are we responsible for selecting the next president of the United States, we also have to vote on a half a dozen propositions, money for parks, gas tax, authorizing slot machines for casinos, extended retirement for police officers -- jeez louise-- don't even ask. We'll set aside for a moment my questions about why _I_ have to do this when we pay people to go to Sacramento to make legislation and deal with budget issues.

Our larger problem is that we have to actually read the accursed props before SuperTuesday. This year we've actually been organized enough gather together a group of like-minded (i.e. also confused) friends on the Sunday before the election, so that we can all read through and argue the pros and cons.

We originally billed it as a Political Pizza Party, but it seemed appropriate to promise our constituents one thing and then deliver another, so we turned it into a fondue party instead. It was partly inspired by Melissa Clark's recent piece in the New York Times of course, but we did the Martha Stewart twist, because her Spanish fondue sounded wintry and warming.

We escaped the 70s without a fondue pot, so we worked with candles and All Clad instead and that worked just perfectly.

And instead of cubed bread, I tried making grissini. The bread sticks were actually quite yummy on their own, although I have to say, the smooth surface means that the cheese doesn't stick quite as well as it does to rough bread pieces.



Political Fondue Party Menu

• Classic Fondue of Appenzeller, Gruyere and Emmenthaler
• Spanish Fondue of Manchego and Brigante with Red Bell Pepper and Sherry
• Semisweet Chocolate Fondue and Lemon Madeleines

For dipping, we also offered lightly steamed broccoli, new potatoes, fennel slices, red bell pepper slices, cherry tomatoes, cornichons, olives and chorizo as well as the grissini. There were also chunks of Gala apples and pears for the chocolate.

Um... there's a paw in that picture.

Um. Excuse you.

Our arrangement attracted the attention of the Cheese Kitty, who inspected all concoctions, before settling on my knee to keep an eye on the action.

Classic Fondue

1 clove of garlic, split
1 1/2 cups dry white wine
1.5 lbs of swiss style mountain cheeses such as Gruyere, Emmenthaler, Raclette or Appenzeller
2 Tbsp cornstarch
2 tsp fresh squeezed lemon juice
white pepper
nutmeg

Grate the cheeses roughly and combine in a bowl, tossing with cornstarch.

Rub the cut side of the garlic clove over the surface of the pot and then add the white wine and bring to a boil. (I also chopped the garlic up and threw it into the pot too.) Add the cheese in handfuls, stirring until the cheese melts. then add in lemon juice, and if desired, pepper and nutmeg.

Serve hot!

Spanish Cheese Fondue

1 clove garlic, split
1 1/2 cups dry Spanish Sherry
1.5 lbs Spanish Cheese such as Mahon, Manchego, Idiazabal (We used an Italian cheese called Pecorino Brigante, but it worked quite well in this recipe)
2 Tbsp cornstarch
1 small red bell pepper, ribs and seeds removed and finely minced
Salt and pepper to taste

Grate the cheeses roughly and toss in a bowl with cornstarch to coat the cheeses.

As with the recipe above, rub the cut side of the garlic on the surface of the pot, and then add the sherry and bring to a boil. Add in handfuls of the cheeses and stir until they melt. Stir in the red bell pepper, salt and pepper. Serve hot!

And this one is SUPER-easy:

Chocolate Fondue

1 cup heavy cream
1/2 lb semi sweet chocolate (we used 58% cacao El Rey)

Heat the cream over a medium heat, but keep an eye on it so it doesn't boil. When steam begins rising off the cream, add in chocolate and lower the heat if necessary to keep it from over boiling. Stir until the chocolate is melted and then serve -- hot! We served with some madeleines and fruit.

We have no fondue forks either, so we improvised by rubber-banding triplets of bamboo skewers together-- which turned out to be highly effective and way cheap.

Oh, and positions?

Proposition 91- Gas Tax: NO
Proposition 92- Community College Funds: (unable to decide!)
Proposition 93- Term Limits: NO
Proposition 94- Indian Gaming: NO
Proposition 95- Indian Gaming: NO NO
Proposition 96- Indian Gaming: NO NO NO
Proposition 97- Indian Gaming: FER PETE'S SAKE-- NO ALREADY!

And bonus for San Franciscans:
Proposition A- Parks Improvements: YES
Proposition B- Defer retirement for Police: YES
Proposition C- Global Peace Center: NO (How did this even get to the ballot? Sheesh.)

Oh, and New York won!!!

Pan Forte Ice Cream, Pomme Puree and Coq au vin Nostalgia

We're on an ice cream kick. Actually, it's an ice cream obsession.

It gets mixed up with our cheese obsession occasionally, as it did a couple of weekends ago when we made dinner for Ms. Goat Envy and Ms. Jet Set.

A recipe for pan forte ice cream in David Lebovitz's book looked divine, so in the spirit of excess, we thought we'd pair it with actual pan forte (homemade, not from Siena) and add in Gorgonzola and Robiola to make it completely decadent.

"It kinda smells like old hippies," observed Ms. Goat Envy.

Hm. Not a promising start.

But a bite of the thick pan forte, a spoon of the much lighter ice cream, and a nugget of robiola later, verdict was, "Oh my God, I can't stop eating it..."

Peculiar, yes, but in a good way, I'll venture. Definitely spiced--not hot spicy, but aromatic spicy-- and a really oddly perfect match with the Italian cheeses. Go figure.

This pan forte recipe is adapted out of Janet Fletcher's excellent Cheese Course book. When we go to Siena, I'll know how it compares to the real thing, but this version was pretty, though one couldn't eat too much of it at one sitting.

Pan Forte

1 cup raw hazelnuts
1 cup raw almonds
2/3 cup AP flour
2 Tbsp. unsweetened cocoa (we used Ghirardelli)
2 tsp. fennel seed, crushed in a mortar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp ground cloves
grated zest of 1 orange
8 oz. Mission figs, thinly sliced (1.5 cups)
2/3 cup sugar
2/3 cup honey (we used chestnut honey from Tuscany)

Preheat the oven to 350 F. Toast the hazelnuts and almonds together on a rimmed baking sheet
about 15 minutes, until they smell nutty and are lightly brown inside. Let them cool, then chop coarsely.

Reduce the oven temp to 300 F. and prepare an 8-inch tart pan by buttering the bottom and sides. This is very important! Then line the bottom with parchment and butter that too. The pan forte is exceptionally sticky and all this is going to make a big difference in how easy it is to get out of the pan.

In a large bowl, mix together the flour, cocoa, fennel seed, cinnamon, cloves and orange zest. When it's combined, stir in the nuts and figs.

in a small saucepan, heat the honey and sugar until the granules of sugar dissolve. Raise the heat to medium and cook without stirring until the temperature is 245 F on a candy thermometer. Immediately pour it over the nut mixture and working fast, stir until the dry ingredients are coated. It will feel like a thick sticky mess. Scrape it into the prepared tart pan and spread it out with a wooden spoon dipped in cold water.

Bake for 40 minutes. The top will be a little sticky still, but don't overbake it. Cool on a rack and then remove from the pan and peel off the parchment. Slice into very thin wedges and serve with Italian cheeses. Yum.
-----------------------------
Notes on Gastro Molecular Man

We do love cooking in kitchens with counter space though. So lovely. Really, is all that room for us to use? There aren't three appliances, two cutting boards and a precariously balanced broken light fixture competing for tiled inches? Oh frabjous day!

I was looking for a nice simple recipe to go along with out Coq au Vin-- or, I guess, after that Top Chef episode a month ago, I should say Poulet au Vin, as we are not using an old, icky rooster. (Tom Colicchio needs to give it a rest...)

I don't know about Mr. Molecular Gastronomy--his Tarte Tatin recipe doesn't seem to properly caramelize the sugar. He just softens the butter in a pan and then sprinkles sugar over it? WHATever --talk to the hand, Mr. B. I make the real thing.

However, I thought I could be large-minded. I sliced my potatoes into 1-inch slices and washed them in good faith. Then I realized that I couldn't make our thermometer work, and I asked myself, Are you really going to go through with all this nonsense? Um...no, a small voice answered. Well okay then, just boil the damn things, mash and puree, slosh in some milk and have done with it.

Know what? It was fine.

So herewith is the recipe for Pomme Puree that I did NOT make:

Pomme Puree, after Heston Blumenthal

Ingredients
2.25 lb charlotte potatoes
1 tbsp salt
10.5 oz cold butter, cut into cubes
warm milk, to taste

Method
1. Peel the potatoes and cut them into 1 inch slices. Run the slices under cold water to wash off surface starch. Heat a large pan of water until it reaches a temperature of 175F (you'll need to use a good-quality heat thermometer, with the probe placed in the water. Add the potatoes and simmer for half an hour being careful to maintain the temperature at 160F. Drain the potato slices and run them under cold water until completely cool.

2. Rinse the pan and refill with cold water. Salt the water and bring it to the boil, then lower to a simmer. Add the cooked, cooled potatoes and cook until soft. Drain the potatoes, then place them back in the pan. Shake the pan over a gentle heat to get rid of any remaining water.

3. Tip the potatoes into a ricer and rice the potatoes over a bowl containing the cold butter. Push the buttery riced potatoes through a fine-meshed drum sieve for a silky, light texture. You can prepare the purée in advance up to this stage and store it in the fridge. To serve, reheat it gently in a pan, while gradually whisking in a little warm milk.

-----------------------------------

Coq au vin Nostalgia

Also on the menu for the evening, the infamous coq au vin. Someday I'll actually eat at Bistro Jeanty and try this dish for real. I had hoped to try it at Jeanty at Jack's (different location and website, same slightly disturbing accordion music) but was non-plussed to see Amanda Gold's review in the Chronicle which details a slide in quality. Guess I'll have to head up to Yountville.

Coq au vin, or braised chicken in red wine sauce -- whatever you want to call it-- is a nostalgia dish for just about anyone who's had it. Just even the faintest whiff of it always seems to call up memories and food stories. I love to make it-- I consider it one of the tastier things in my limited repertoire. It's also a reminder of why I'll never be a chef or have a restaurant: I just can't cook for people I don't like.

Many moons ago, I dated a guy, an architect. Nice man. Extremely talented at what he does. We'd been going out for a few months, and I was trying not to notice the signs of Relationship Creeping, that gradual process in which you observe that there are now a few of his shirts hanging in your closet, and later that a toothbrush has taken up residence in your bathroom. The alarm clock has now been set to the time he prefers to get up, and the cats no longer scatter when he opens the door. But you think, okay. I'm okay with it.

He was in the habit of taking me out to eat often, and I was okay with that too. It was a nice side benefit, but consequently, for those few months, I didn't really cook much at all. For Valentine's Day, however, I did the "slave all day over a hot stove" to make what I thought was a very elegant meal centered on coq au vin.

Served it up. As I was clearing the plates, I asked what he thought.

"I suppose it was alright."

Excuse me? There was a swift running dialogue that shot through my head at the blazing speed of light. Is he kidding? This food was fantastic. And even if it wasn't, as a freaking guest in my house--who's not, in point of fact, paying rent-- he's obligated to at least come up with a little more than minor enthusiasm. "Alright" in my book is so close to an insult, you might as well have just called it crap. What if this is how he's going to be now that we've Relationship Crept to "all his dry cleaning hanging in my closet"? I can't cook for someone who's lukewarm about my food. In fact, I can't live with someone for whom my cooking is just "alright." In fact, I don't think I want him staying for coffee. In fact, I think I want you to take your dry-cleaning and your toothbrush and get out. Now.

All that in the two heartbeats it took to lift the plate off the table. The relationship had died on the vine and I could tell by the way he stood up from the table that hadn't a clue that it was over.

Overreaction? Insanity? Hysteria? Probably. I broke up with him -- he was quite confused about it all. "What do you mean?"

I explained, and I'm sure it sounded insanely trivial to him (although obviously, I'm still sore about the whole thing to this day).

"But it was a joke," he said plaintively--and a little weakly, I thought. "I was joking. You're too sensitive."

"Yeah. Um.... yeah," a wrinkle of the nose, "It's just not going to work out."

Months later I heard through a mutual friend that he continued to be seriously confused over what had happened. In the logical part of my brain I think, surely there were other things that were at the root of the breakup-- it couldn't JUST have been about the coq au vin incident. But then I replay the thing in my mind, and I think, "Nope, it was all about the food."

===================================
Heading Abroad

If I seem a little distracted these days, chalk it up to vacation brain. In just a mere week, my Omnivore (who does like my cooking) and I will be joyously skipping (and hopefully not wading) through Piazza San Marco in Venice.

Of course, reams of research has been necessary to locate, um...food... My Omnivore took one look at my obsessive-compulsive tagging of ristorantes, enotecas, osterias, trattorias, salumerias, gelaterias, pasticcerias and mercatos for each city we'll be in and said, "Sweetie, we're only there for three weeks." In fact if we stayed for a year we still probably wouldn't be able to hit everything I want to get to. But we're going to try, by God.

We go to Venice, then Florence, drive to Montalcino for the Sagra del Tordo and then to Siena, finishing up in Rome. Along the way if we happen upon a nice macelleria in Panzano, say, or a truffle-eria (I just made that word up) we might just be forced to eat more. Stay tuned!

Flying like a Red Hawk: Cheese Pairing distractions

Continuing on our cheese pairing adventures, I have to, again, give props to Jack and Joanne over at Fork and Bottle, who proposed a blog-athon highlighting great cheese pairings. What a great idea! As my Omnivore says, "This is just way too much fun."

Totally true that, although I have to admit that already I'm feeling some obscure jealousy reading Casa Festiva's account of how she got to visit Rinconada Dairy and help make some of that amazingly good Pozo Tomme...

But we have our own work to do. I shut down the computer for a moment and consider our plan of action. After some hits and misses with the Matos Family St. George, we were eager to move on to our next target cheese, our favorite of favorites, The Red Hawk from Cowgirl Creamery.

Luscious and briny, this washed-rind, triple creme cow's milk cheese always seems to me to be full of the sea air and the hillsides of the Northern California Coast. At its best, a ripe, unctuous Red Hawk smoothing over your tongue is the epitome of the sensual cheese experience.

The Cowgirls recently brought a round of it up to our Tuscan dinner in Petaluma, so although we had had some pairings before, we wanted to re-investigate one or two of them in a more scientific way, (that is, with clean palates and before we'd drunk too many bottles of wine).

So on Saturday morning, I toddled down to the Ferry Plaza markets with at least a few ideas in mind.

I can never get up early enough to do the Farmer's Market thing. I'm just lazy that way. So I tend to go around 1 pm, just as everyone is thinking about packing up their stands. By that time, the frenzied crowds have usually thinned.

But even if the choicest fava beans have already been picked through and sold, there's still a lot to enjoy. I'm on a mission, but that doesn't mean I can't stop at Eatwell and sniff the lavender, or pop by the della Fattoria and get a pullman of dense, comforting Integrale. Then there's the Andante Dairy stand... but more on that in a later post.

There's also fruit all over the place, now that we're in summer season. The peaches look great, but I scooped up a few apricots and nectarines since they looked so incredibly juicy and smelled fantastic. (I should never be allowed to shop when I'm hungry.)

Inside the building, the crowds are still going strong, and I fight my way over to Cowgirl Creamery, which is mobbed as usual. As I wave a greeting at one of the Cowgirls, she waves back and I see that in her hand is a Sir Francis Drake. "There are only four left!" she shouts over the din.

SCREECHING halt, as I go diving into the case after a round of Drake. We've had this serendipitous cheese before and it's an addictive little morsel. Batches of it only appear in the cheese case after the bacteria haven't quite worked out, which is not to say that it doesn't work out for us. Washed in a fortified wine and topped with a clutch of currants, it's one of their most enticing cheeses, and worth snatching up when you see it.

"Must focus...must focus... I'm here for Red Hawk," I mutter to myself, thinking I must have Food-Related Attention Deficit Disorder.

I catch up with the Cowgirls and explain my mission-- the need for Red Hawk...

"Oh, get her a good one!" exclaims our Ranger. "Good" here taken to mean "squooshy, gooshy ripe." Oh yeah.

They suggest putting it with some of della Fattoria's Currant-Walnut bread, but I shake my head. There wasn't any left out there. We scan the shop and her eyes light upon another option.

"Well how about this, " she says, hoisting up a package of Fruit Nut Bread from Anjou Bakery.

I consider. At $10.75 a package...dang, those are some expensive crackers, but they're also gorgeous. And we have to make sacrifices for art. I sigh. But now, I have really got to get something to eat, or I'm just going to buy up the whole place. I take my treasure trove to the counter and then haul home with a bag full of goodies.

I lay out for inspection the cheese accompaniments, which include (from the right, clockwise) nut and fig bread, Snow Queen nectarines, fig conserve, Tilton apricots, mashed Medjool dates and some homemade hazelnut brittle.

All items have been sniffed and approved.

"You may proceed."

The pairing experiment is really about the Red Hawk, but since we had the Drake, we figured, hey, why not? Go ahead, cut a chunk and let's give it a go too. But primarily, this is about the Red Hawk.

• Tilton Apricots and Gewurtztraminer (from Sutter Home) - Good Pairing. Sutter Home isn't a winery we often think of, partly because it's such a large producer and so readily available everywhere. But a friend brought us this wine and I have to say, for its price range, it's a nice summer picnic wine. The apricots, which are juicy sweet right now, and the Gewurtz brought out a very pretty floral aspect to the Red Hawk, making for what I thought of as a very delicate pairing. I liked it because Red Hawk isn't what I would call a subtle cheese, and I enjoyed the way the fruit and wine refined it. (Interestingly, the apricots did not play well with the Drake, making the cheese taste buttery, but almost like popcorn.)
  

• Snow Queen Nectarines - Not so good. I had high hopes for this one, because the rosy aroma of the Snow Queens was just fabulous, but taken with the cheese, they just became bitter and strange tasting. And forget about the wine.
  

• Fig Conserve from the legendary June Taylor and Fruit Nut Bread from Anjou Bakery - Great Pairing. We had the conserve at the Tuscan dinner, and it was just as good as I remembered. Lending a slightly smoky, almost tobacco aroma to the party, the conserve brought out a full-bodied savory earthiness to the Red Hawk, while the fruit nut bread offered a wonderful crunchy texture with little sparkling bursts of salt that stood in sharp contrast to the silky pate. (The Drake, eaten with the fruit and nut bread brought out much more of the currant flavor -- unsurprising, since the cheese is aged with currants. It was fine as a pairing with the fig conserve, but there was a slightly acid sourness that lingered.)
  

• Hazelnut Brittle and mashed Medjool Dates - Great Pairing. By far, however, the most successful matchup was this decadent, almost dessert-like combination. Inspired by Thomas Keller's Epoisses "Creme Brulee" cheese course-- which layers pureed Medjool dates with briny, washed rind Epoisses and tops it with a hazelnut tuile-- we did a simplified version. Although it seems impossible, the combination makes the Red Hawk seem even more unctuous than ever. The sweetness of the dates tames the saltiness of the brine on the cheese ever so slightly, even as the brininess of the cheese plays well with the hazelnut brittle, which offers a fantastic textural crunch. We just wanted to swim in this one. (With the Drake, the dates did not work at all, making the cheese seem far too salty. Fascinatingly, the hazelnut brittle and the Drake seemed to dredge up a long-lost childhood memory of a flavor we couldn't quite place... until my Omnivore said triumphantly, "Captain Crunch!")
  

All in all though, we felt a sigh of satisfaction at the end. Much cheese was consumed, many flavors were investigated, much cheese was consumed, interesting beverages were quaffed, and oh...um...much cheese was consumed. Yum.

Hazelnut Brittle
1/3 cup water
1/8 teaspoon cream of tartar
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 1/4 cups hazelnuts (about 5 1/2 ounces), toasted, husked, coarsely chopped

Line a rimmed baking sheet with a Silpat or foil. Mix 1/3 cup water and the cream of tartar in a small saucepan. Add the sugar and stir over low heat until sugar dissolves. Increase the heat and boil without stirring until golden, occasionally brushing down sides of pan with wet pastry brush and swirling pan, about 11 minutes. Add the hazelnuts and swirl to combine. Pour the mixture out onto the baking sheet, spreading with metal spatula and allow to cool.

St George, with Beer Bread, by George

So, the fine folks over at Fork and Bottle have organized an blog-athon of cheese-pairing -- only my favorite topic of all time. Needless to say, my Omnivore and I are feeling quite thrilled to jump into the fray with some experimental pairings for the Matos Family's St. George, a Portuguese style farmstead cheese.

We've eaten this cheese --pounds and pounds of it by now-- on various occasions. Usually we keep a wedge around the house because it melts beautifully, is delicious for sandwiches, also great just for straight snacking when you're in need of a little boost, but is refined enough to add to a pretty cheese platter too. It's semi-hard, and has some Cheddar-y elements, though it's not as dry as traditional Cheddars. The Matos Family, who named the cheese after the island of Sao Jorge in the Azores where they grew up, have been making this cow's milk cheese since 1979.

We picked up this chunk at the Cowgirl Creamery shop at the Ferry Building. I was on a different cheese-buying mission, but as usual, got distracted...

So, given the Cheddar flavor elements of the cheese, I thought we'd try out some ales. I'm not a beer-drinker, mind you. Generally, when presented with a beer, I scrunch up my nose and squint my eyes and pour it down my throat trying not to let it actually touch my tongue.

However, I like to think I'm open-minded, and you just never know. A local ale might be made much tastier when paired with cheese.

To be sure that beer got a fair shake, however, I summoned my Omnivore.

"Ale at 9:30 in the morning?" quoth he, holding his face very straight. "Uh-huh. You know I'm not twenty anymore..."

"Just a sip," I said in a wheedling voice. "Good. Now try this."

• Old Stock Ale (From North Coast Brewing Co., Fort Bragg) - Not so good. I thought the caramel and nutty aromas of the Old Stock might bring something new to the St. George, but in the end it overwhelmed the cheese. While this is a fascinating beer with a fantastic color and flavor, it needs a stronger stinkier cheese that will fight back.

• Anchor Steam (A San Francisco Treat)- Neutral. Anchor Steam is one of those "plays well with others" choices and here it worked fine, but didn't really enhance anything flavorwise.

So a strikeout on beers, but as my Omnivore pointed out, St. George may be reminiscent of Cheddar, but it's not a Cheddar.

Well, given that, some of the other accompaniments that I had thunk up were looking unlikely.

We often have a bit of mustard on the plate when we dress up a charcuterie platter, and so it seemed like a natural addition to have some Dijon. Maille is what we have around the fridge, and there's some leftovers from the booty I brought back for my Omnivore from Paris.

• Au Cassis de Dijon - Not so good. I love this mustard, which has an infusion of cassis, but isn't too sweet. Unfortunately the cassis interfered with the tanginess of the cheese.

• Straight Dijon - Neutral to Good pairing. We were a little split on this one. I liked how the spiciness of the Dijon sharpens the flavor of the cheese, but my Omnivore didn't think it brought much to the party.
  

• Caramelized Onions - Neutral. I wanted to try some things we don't usually put with cheeses, and this was a shot in the dark. I thought maybe the sweetness of the caramel plus a slightly darker element might change the cheese a bit, but in fact, the sweetness obscured the flavor a little. It didn't clash, but it wasn't great either. Still, in a different situation, I could see making a French Onion Soup with deeply caramelized onions and mix of shredded St George plus a sharper cheese on top -- nice and crusty.
  

• Toasted Pecans - Great Pairing. Yes, it's that old standby, toasted pecans, but they're a common addition to cheese plates because, you know what? They really work.
  

I'm bummed, however, that the beer thing didn't work out, and wondering what else we have in the house to drink with the cheese.

I start rooting through the liquor cabinet. My Omnivore and I are such big drinkers. Our cabinet is filled with bottles of rum, vodka, Cuarenta y Tres, Sherry, Port, Madeira -- each missing say, exactly half a cup, or 1/3 of a cup of its contents. Each bottle might stay that way for months or at least until the next recipe that calls for 1/2 a cup of Madeira.

I extract the tawny port and some fino sherry. Why not? It's all an experiment.

• Fino Sherry - Bad pairing. "Wicked nasty" was how my Omnivore described it, before swiftly downing some fizzy water and scraping his tongue with his teeth to try to get the taste off of it. Bizarre metallic flavor that just kept on going. Do not try this at home.

• Dow's Tawny Port - Great Pairing. Again, guess what? Tradition works. Port goes with cheese. Port=Portuguese perhaps? Regardless, the Port fine-tuned the flavors, and brought the St. George into sharper focus. A bite of St. George with a pecan and a sip of port? Delish.

------------
Even so, now I'm feeling a little disappointed. I was looking for something a bit more fun and I'm not quite ready to give up on the beer yet. I have one more trick up my sleeve:

Beer bread

3 cups self-rising flour
-OR-
3 cups all purpose flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt

Add and mix:
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 (12-ounce) bottle of beer (I used the Anchor Steam)

Pour over top:
1/4 cup melted butter

Preheat oven to 375F (190C). Lightly grease or spray a 9 x 5 x 3-inch loaf pan

Combine all ingredients, mixing well. Pour into prepared loaf pan. Pour melted butter over the top and bake for 50 minutes.

Every so often I am guilty of not reading the recipe carefully enough. The last time I made this bread it had been a while since I'd baked it and I accidentally mixed the butter into the batter. It didn't make the bread taste bad (how could it?) but if you pour the butter over the top after the batter is in the pan, you'll get a wonderful crispy, crunchy crust that tastes great.

-------------------

Now this is what I was looking for. The heartiness of this bread really brings out the flavor of the cheese. And the crispy crunch crust offers a nice contrast of textures with the pliability of the cheese. Top it with the toasted pecans and it's terrific and makes a yummy meal in itself.

Next up? Red Hawk pairings. Stay tuned...