Sunday Feast № 43 | Potato and Onion Frittata

Yes, I am one of those sad souls who assumed this was a Spanish dish. The thing is first time I had it, it was cooked by a Spaniard and I forgot him referring to it as tortilla de patatas. Back then attention span was shaky at times or otherwise preoccupied; I will blame memory now. Hence, this Italian dish has embedded itself in my brain as Spanish. Olé! We all make mistakes. Mi dispiace.    Looking for some color in the autumn cooking, I locked in on this recipe from “Everyday Food: Great Food Fast” by Martha Stewart Living Magazine, more so since it suggested to make a side of red and yellow bell peppers sauté (bell peppers cut lengthwise, sliced red onion, olive oil, salt and pepper, and you are good to go).    As a tip: if you have the misfortune of the onion, potato, and rosemary mixture sticking to your skillet, do not disrepair. Warm up another skillet to a similar temperature, lightly oil it, transfer the onion, potato, and rosemary mixture that did not marry itself to the first skillet, and proceed with pouring the egg mixture. You, or your frittata, will survive and bond very well together. Via your belly.

Sunday Feast № 41 | Latin Braise Coc Co Co Coc, or Coconut Braised Chicken with Chorizo and Potatoes

The flavor combination read as perfect. Perfect enough to drown the pages with dribbling saliva.    I might be exaggerating, but mussing up of the pages was involved, followed by quick run through the cupboards and the fridge, and a grab for pen and paper to write a shopping list, to make about a half of the original recipe. Then I spaced out on changing the cooking time when recipes are halved, first time around at least, then I learned fast.    Adapting a recipe from from Food & Wine magazine October 2016 issue to a smaller portion, I went ahead and let it braise in the oven for about an hour the original called for. Now being mindful of the fact that the cooking smells, no matter how divine, after lingering overnight are less so, I opened to kitchen backdoor, and thus effectively removed smell as a cue to check in on the chicken. An hour later, I came back to a broken sauce and a rim of burn where it used to be. However, the chicken and potatoes were fine, and there to prove that my initial impetus to make this dish was absolutely justified. Two days later, I remedied the situation. See below. This one is here to stay as an alternative finish-the-chicken-in-the-oven-"go-to" to Pablo's chicken with potatoes and aioli. And that says something.

Sunday Feast № 34 | Baked Potato

Baked potato is so pedestrian, and so simply comforting for that very reason. Helen Russell in her book "The Year of Living Danishly: Uncovering the Secrets of the World's Happiest Country" wrote how in the rural Jutland, where she ended up living for a year ... or ... I digress, feasts seemed to include something with potatoes more often than not. That something many a time was a pork product of one kind or another, but that is beside my rambling point. The Russets at my local seemed appealing all of the sudden, especially so since I prefer to either roast or fry or boil potatoes (yes, in that order, with the latter the only choice for young potatoes) rather than bake them, and Russets are perfect for baking; hence, there was something new to do at home. For me. Armed with Ali's recipe for the perfect baked potato at Gimme Some Oven and simply dressing the finished product with butter, sea salt, ground pepper, and dill, I was set to have my Jutland inspired meal. However, rather than porky anything, I opted for a different nod to the Scandinavian - smoked salmon. The meaty and porky sides will come out later in the year when the temperatures drop and need to feast rises.

Sunday Feast № 15 | Leek and Potato Soup and Steak with Béarnaise Sauce, my first two-course French dinner revisited

It is fair to say these are not the first savory French dishes I have ever made. Skipping around the French onion soup, which to me is only French in name - no disrespect, it's just the context in which I learnt it - bœuf à la Bourguignonne is the most likely first. However, unlike the formidable stew, these two are coolly sophisticated in their utter simplicity. And the simplicity is why I revisit. There is room to play despite it.    Whenever I buy celery, it is not consumed quickly enough before it wilts. Quite ironic considering that celery is a pheromone missile to be used by men, yet this misfortune is fully attributable to celery's stringiness and watery taste. It languishes some for those reasons. And lack of dip. Hence, I double up on it when possible, before cutting the stalks into finger long pieces, standing them up in a water filled container and refrigerating to prolong their crispness, then crossing my fingers hoping this time they will be eaten before any decay. Freezing just does not work. Also this time around one medium potato was not enough, and the soup can handle another one. Clearing out some vegetable acumen? You bet! As for the heavy whipping cream, it's what I had on hand. Its consistency suits the purée.    With a steady supply of butter, I could have clarified the butter myself for the sauce. Previously I have, yet this time around a jar of ghee had just the right volume. Clarified butter and ghee are similar concepts that differ in production methods and resultant nuances in flavor and color. Liquid gold either way. Having a jar of the stuff ready, slightly warmed up so it's melted, is a good off-the-shelf stand by as the constant whisking of the eggs with the tarragon infusion over very low heat will give you a reborn respect for any saucier, and anything that feels like a shortcut is welcome. I bide my time fearing I scramble the eggs and then whisk some more to steadily incorporate the melted ghee. By the way, the ever slightly more golden ghee resulted in a brighter yellow sauce rather than the classic light yellow when clarified butter is used. All in the eyes of the beholder, I suppose. The Béarnaise spirit is still there, courtesy of the shallot and tarragon, with a slight cosmopolitan twist. Mine often turns out thicker than velveteen, so I do not strain it, although I can see how straining would make it more refined and I have some more try-and-error in my future. Do your time.    Now the fun speedy time.