Maker's Table

Zinfandel Gelato

We recently hosted a dinner party for two friends, a couple who run a small, faithfully authentic Italian restaurant in central Vermont. He’s the chef, and she’s the maître d’ and somm, and although we’d dined at their restaurant and attended large gatherings at their home, this would be their first time chez Maker.

If you want to host restaurateurs in your home, you’ll have to pick a night that they’re not hosting others. And so last week I spent a weekday cooking, and then we all spent a weeknight eating.

I chose a Provençal theme for the meal, mostly because that’s what my garden’s whispering about right now. First, there would be sundried tomato tapenade with crostini, plus a perfect French-style goat cheese from a nearby dairy. For the appetizer, I made a rustic leek tart with bacon and sweet corn (somewhat like this one, which I’ve made innumerable times and which is always reliable). Then a humble salad of wild arugula and tomatoes with Dijon vinaigrette. Finally, a main course of roasted herb-rubbed chicken, plus sautéed green beans and a gratin of eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, and fresh ricotta.

None of this would be edgy or groundbreaking. None of it would be elegant. I’m constitutionally incapable of making elegant food, because I don’t have the patience for it. But elegant and edgy wasn’t my goal anyway. I wanted simply to offer a meal that was essentially peasant food, but very fine and very fresh peasant food. I knew our friends would value this, and I knew I could pull it off.

And for dessert? Maybe here I could afford to experiment. It had recently occurred to me that a spiced wine reduction, which I sometimes make out of unremarkable bottles and use to glaze meats, might provide a good flavor base for gelato. I’ve never actually made gelato before—my husband’s the true ice cream maestro in the house—but after a brief discussion with him and a bit of web searching, I derived a formula I thought would probably work.

I wanted this gelato to be light—just milk, no eggs—and for the flavor of the wine to feel full and lush in the mouth even through the cold. I chose an inexpensive Zinfandel to use as the base wine, one I knew was fruit-driven and a bit spicy, with modest tannin. The reduction step would concentrate the wine’s flavors, and I didn’t want to end up with a woody syrup. (A young California Merlot or Syrah might work, too, but not, say, a Cabernet, because the result might be too astringent.) To the reduction I’d add just milk and sugar, skipping the customary vanilla extract, because the wine’s spices would do the job of adding that rounding note.

That morning, my husband gave me a few pointers about using his somewhat intimidating Italian ice cream machine, and about the importance of chilling the gelato mix down thoroughly before beginning the freezing step. I waved him off to work. What could possibly go wrong?

I cooked. Our friends arrived, the meal unfolded. There was wine, and more wine, and each course followed the next at a leisurely pace that let us enjoy each other’s stories. The food was good but not the centerpiece of the meal, which is always as it should be.

Dessert at last. I’d decided as a hedge to make lavender shortbread cookies, in case the gelato was a flop. Happily these weren’t necessary. The gelato was just as I’d hoped: luscious and not too sweet, with a haunting flavor that was like neither fruit, nor spice, nor wine, but like some exotic blend of these.

Welcome, friends.

 
Zinfandel Gelato

750 ml. Zinfandel (1 bottle)
4 or 5 star anise
1 Tbs. juniper berries
1½ cups whole milk
1 cup white sugar

Mix the Zinfandel and spices in a saucepan. Bring slowly to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer until it has reduced to 1 cup. Pour the mixture into a non-reactive container, cover, and refrigerate for several hours or overnight to let the spices permeate the wine.

Meanwhile, warm the milk and sugar in a separate saucepan, stirring constantly until the sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat, place in a non-reactive bowl, cover, and refrigerate several hours until very cold.

When ready to make the gelato, first strain the wine, then combine it with the cold sweetened milk. Freeze the mixture in an ice cream machine according to the manufacturer's instructions. For the best texture, serve right away. Yield is a little over a pint.

 

Rustic Onion Tart

It never wins prizes for its looks, but this rustic pastry with caramelized onions, Gruyere, and bacon always wins hearts. When I serve it as a main course, I usually make one large tart, but since this was to be an app, I made two narrower tarts that could be cut into equal sections. Beware: there might be butter.

Tarte à L'oignon—Rustic Onion Tart

Pastry

2-3/4 cups flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 pound butter, chilled and cut into cubes
1 egg
1 tsp cider vinegar
1/2 to 3/4 cup ice water

In the bowl of a food processor fitted with the steel blade, pulse the flour and salt briefly to combine, then add the butter and pulse several times until it resembles very coarse meal.

In a small bowl, beat the egg with the vinegar and 6 Tbs of water. Drizzle this over the flour mixture and pulse again. Add water, 1 Tbs at a time, pulsing until the dough starts to clump; don't let it come together into a ball.

Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead it together deftly into ball, taking care not to overwork it. Flatten slightly into a disk, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate.

Filling

1 Tbs butter
1 Tbs flour
1 cup milk
1/4 tsp salt
4 slices thick-cut bacon
3 medium or 4 small onions, coarsely diced
1/3 pound Gruyere cheese, grated
1 Tbs chopped fresh thyme
Cracked black pepper

In a small saucepan, melt the butter and add the flour. Cook, whisking, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the milk gradually and cook, whisking, until it comes to a boil. Whisk in the salt and remove from the heat to cool.

In a large skillet, cook the bacon until it's crisp, then remove to paper towels to drain. Pour off all but 1 Tbs of fat from the pan and return it to the heat. Add the onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until golden and just beginning to caramelize, about 10 minutes. Add the thyme and cook another minute more. Remove from the heat.

Preheat oven to 375ºF.

Remove the dough from the fridge and ready a baking sheet no larger than 12 x 16 inches. If you're making one large tart, roll the dough into a rectangle a little larger than the sheet. Carefully lay the pastry on the sheet. If you're making two long tarts, divide the dough and roll it into two narrow rectangles about 8 x 14 inches; lay these crosswise on the sheet.

Spread the dough with the white sauce, leaving a 1 or 2 inch margin for the crust. Layer the onions onto the sauce, then crumble the bacon and scatter it over the onions. Top with the grated cheese and cracked black pepper. Fold the edges of the dough over the filling, making a 1 to 2 inch border of crust.

Bake 35 to 40 minutes, until the pastry is golden and the filling is bubbling and browned. Cool briefly, then cut into sections and serve.

Roasted Delicata Squash

 

Tonight I roasted delicata with garlic and oil, an easy fall staple. Roasting brings out squash's sweetness and mellows the garlic, and delicata's skin is so thin you don't need to peel it—it adds a little snap to the finished dish. The result is a little sweet, a little salty, a little pungent, with a creamy, buttery texture that seems richer than it is. A great side dish for grilled steak or chicken or fish.

Method

Trim the stem and blossom ends from two delicata squash, then cut them lengthwise and scoop out the seeds. Cut the squash into 1/2 inch segments and toss with olive oil, two or three cloves of minced garlic, salt, and cracked black pepper. Roast for 30 minutes at 400˚F, stirring halfway through.

Mama Lorette's Rice Pudding

I inherited two things from my maternal grandmother: my red hair, and her rice pudding recipe.

Her name was Lorette Picher, but everyone—from the customers at her hair salon to the scores of relatives who lived nearby—called her Mama Lorette. She mostly spoke French, or more precisely, the dialect of French spoken by all second-generation French-Canadian immigrants to her New England mill town.

I never knew her, because she died when I was six months old, but by all accounts she was a pistol: funny, hard living, hard loving; a wife, mother, sister, aunt, and grandmother. She raised her family through the Depression, and though they were poor, there was always the right kind of abundance.

When Mama Lorette got older, her hair turned from red to strawberry gold to platinum blonde. "Lorette," her customers would say, "I want whatever color you're using." But years of working with harsh dyes had given her a sensitivity to the chemicals, and she couldn't use them on herself. Nobody ever believed it was natural.

I guess I have something to look forward to.

 

Mama Lorette's Rice Pudding
Six servings

Ingredients
1 quart milk
1/3 cup white rice
3/4 cup sugar
2 Tbs butter
freshly grated nutmeg

Preheat oven to 350ºF.

Mix milk, rice, and sugar in a 9" x 13" baking pan. Dot with butter and a sprinkle of nutmeg. Bake about two hours, stirring once after 15 minutes.

Refritos, Northern Style

The other day I scooped up a load of shell beans grown on a local farm. They may have been cranberry beans; they weren't labeled, and it's been a dozen years since I grew them myself, so I'm not sure. The glossy beans popped easily from their thin, leathery pods. Some were nearly burgundy, others pale green.

I simmered them for about forty-five minutes with bay and a little olive oil. Once they were tender, I drained them and sautéed with garlic and lots of cracked black pepper.

They were wonderful: lightly browned and crisp on the outside, creamy and sweet and earthy on the inside. Served with a drizzle of fruity olive oil, crusty bread, and salad, they made a perfect fall meal.

Our Daily Muffin

I like to make a big batch of bran muffins on the weekend and eat them for breakfast all week long. They're great plain or with a little Greek yogurt and fresh berries. This recipe is adapted from my battered copy of Mollie Katzen's classic, "The Enchanted Broccoli Forest." It's so easy, I can have muffins on the table by the time the breakfast tea is cool enough to drink.

Bran Muffins with Almonds, Dates, and Flax Seed
Makes about eighteen 3" muffins

Ingredients
2 cups unbleached white flour
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 cups wheat bran
1-1/2 cups chopped dates
1 cup toasted almonds, coarsely chopped (walnuts are good, too)
3 Tbs flax seed
2 cups buttermilk
2 large eggs
2/3 cup honey
3 Tbs butter
3 Tbs light oil

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease the muffin pans or line with baking cups.

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, salt, and baking soda. Stir in the bran, dates, nuts, and flax seed.

In a small saucepan over low heat, melt the butter, oil, and honey. In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs and buttermilk together, then add the butter mixture slowly, whisking to incorporate.

Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour in the wet. Stir together until just blended and divide among the muffin cups.

Bake 20-25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Enjoy!

Grilled Boneless Pork Chops

I had a few pork chops in the fridge, and since it was a nice evening, I decided to fire up the grill. I was nervous about drying out the lean meat, so brined the chops, briefly, before grilling. It was wonderful: tender, pink, and flavorful. Here's what I did.

Make the brine: In a medium saucepan, mix 2 cups chicken stock with 1/4 cup Kosher salt, 1/4 cup brown sugar, 1/2 tsp peppercorns, 2 bay leaves, and 1 Tbs red wine vinegar. Bring to a simmer, stirring occasionally to dissolve the salt and sugar. Remove from heat, pour into a medium bowl, and add ice water until the mixture cools to about 90° F.

Trim the fat and silverskin from two whole boneless pork chops. Cut each chop in two. Place in the brine in the bowl, cover, and let rest in the fridge one hour.

Heat a grill to medium-hot. Remove the chops from the brine and rinse them briefly in cold water. Pat them dry and place on the hot grill. Cook the chops, flipping once, until the internal temperature reads about 145° F. Remove to a plate and tent loosely with foil while you make the sauce.

Make the sauce: heat a skillet to medium-high. Add 1 Tbs oil, heat it until it shimmers, then add 1 Tbs chopped shallot or garlic. Cook 1 minute, then add 1/4 cup white wine and reduce about 2 minutes. Add 1 cup chicken stock and boil hard for about 5 minutes, until the sauce is syrupy. Reduce the heat, add 2 Tbs butter, swirling to bind the sauce. Add the chops briefly to the pan to reheat them.

To serve, spoon the pan sauce over the meat and scatter a handful of chopped fresh thyme or rosemary on top. Serve with rice and sautéed vegetables. Bliss.

Grilled Turkey Burgers

The other night I threw my favorite turkey burgers onto the grill. I gently kneaded together a pound of ground turkey, a handful of chopped cilantro and chives, and about a half a cup each of breadcrumbs and Parmesan cheese. The results were moist and meaty, the cheese adding a little umami burst. Serves four.

If you try this at home, cook them to 165°F.

Shrimp + Asparagus + Greens = Spring

Here's another three ingredient meal, ready in a few minutes.

The Three Ingredients
1 pound large shrimp, peeled and deveined
2-3 cups mesclun salad greens, washed and spun dry
1 pound fresh asparagus

The Other Ingredients That Aren't Supposed to Count
1 lemon, cut into thirds
3 garlic cloves, minced
4 Tbs olive oil
paprika
salt and pepper

In a small bowl, combine the shrimp, 1 Tbs olive oil, the juice of 1/3 of the lemon, 3/4 of the minced garlic, a few shakes of paprika, a pinch of salt, and a few grinds of pepper. Toss with a fork and let marinate for 5 to 10 minutes.

Juice another 1/3 of the lemon into another bowl. Add the remaining minced garlic, 3 Tbs olive oil, and a pinch of salt. Whisk this dressing together and toss with the greens. Divide the greens onto two plates and garnish with the remaining 1/3 lemon, cut into two wedges.

Snap the asparagus and discard the tough ends. Rinse and place in a pan with half an inch of salted water. Cover and bring to a boil. Cook for 2-4 minutes, until bright green.

Meanwhile, heat a large sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add 1 Tbs olive oil, let it heat one minute, then add the shrimp plus its marinade. Cook 2 minutes, then toss to cook the other side. Cover briefly to steam the shrimp and cook through. Remove the cover for the last minute of cooking.

Drain the asparagus. Place the shrimp on top of the greens and set the asparagus alongside. Crack a little fresh black pepper over the plate. Serve with warm crusty bread and chilled Sauvignon Blanc or Viognier.

Rustic Braised Chicken with Fennel and Black Olives

Here's another in the series of Three Ingredient Meals. The fennel and rosemary are aromatic complements to the dark chicken and olives.

The Three Ingredients
6-8 boneless, skinless chicken thighs, about 1-1/4 pounds
1 large or two small fennel bulbs
1/4 to 1/3 cup pitted black Saracena, Kalamata, or similar oil-packed black olives

The Other Ingredients That Aren't Supposed to Count
3-4 cloves of garlic, coarsely chopped
3 Tbs olive oil
1 cup chicken stock
1 Tbs fresh rosemary
salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Rinse the chicken thighs and pat dry. Trim any excess fat or cartilage and cut each thigh into two pieces. Sprinkle with salt and a few grinds of black pepper.

Rinse the fennel bulb and trim the long fibrous stalks, reserving any feathery greens. Cut the fennel in half lengthwise and cut out the hard core. Slice the fennel crosswise into 1/4 inch pieces. Chop the greens coarsely.

Heat a large skillet over a medium-high flame and add 2 Tbs oil. When the oil shimmers, add half the chicken pieces and cook about 2 minutes, then flip to brown the other side. Remove and set aside, then brown the remaining chicken and set that aside, too.

Heat the remaining olive oil and add the garlic and fennel. Sauté until the fennel begins to soften and brown, about 5 minutes. Place the fennel in a 9 by 13 inch baking pan and place the chicken pieces and its juices on top.

Return the pan to the heat, turn the flame to high, and pour in the chicken stock, scraping up any browned bits. Boil the stock until it's reduced by half. Pour this over the chicken and fennel in the baking pan.

Scatter the olives, fennel greens, and chopped rosemary over the chicken. Cover with foil and bake for 30 minutes. Remove the foil and bake another 10 minutes, until the top is lightly browned and the liquid is reduced.

Serve with crusty bread, freshly grated Parmesan cheese, and a few drizzles of good-quality extra virgin olive oil.