April Bloomfield’s English Porridge is damn good. I’ve made it often this winter.
This ran over at Foodspin yesterday. Thought I’d share it with you guys.
A few years ago The Wife and I were introduced to L’Artusi, an Italian place down on West 10th street in the Village. We rarely have the chance to dine out, but we’ve been back to L’Artusi a dozen times since that introduction. We feel welcome there–it’s a place that makes us happy. The environment is elegant but not stuffy, the staff well-informed and attentive, and, oh yeah, best of all: The food is wonderful.
Owned by Executive Chef Gabe Thompson, his wife Katherine, and partners Joe Campanale and August Cardona (all of Epicurean Management and nearby favorite dell’Anima), L’Artusi executes seemingly simple dishes with delicate nuance; both the food and the hospitality are remarkably consistent. Many of its best dishes are the ones that seem simple, even plain at first: We’d made several visits before I tried the spaghetti with garlic and chilies but it quickly became my favorite pasta on the menu. Not many restaurants can make my wife weak in the knees with a side of crispy potatoes. And the olive oil cake, which is easy to pass over at first, is a revelation.
In mid-2012, Thompson stepped back from the L’Artusi Kitchen to concentrate on the development and opening of the group’s new restaurant in the East Village, L’Apicio. Chef de Cuisine Erin Shambura, has run the kitchen ever since. L’Artusi features an open kitchen and Shambura is a pleasure to watch in action; her work is efficient, orderly, and punctuated with obvious joy. She exudes a sense of pleasure in her work, and that transmits to those who work under her direction.
I recently had the chance to sit down with her for a chat and a demonstration of her Braised Boneless Short Ribs over Polenta. Here’s the recipe, followed by our conversation.
Ideally, this will be prepared a day ahead, as it tastes best after sitting, but it will be wonderfully delicious if cooked and eaten on the same day.
Braised short rib ingredients:
1¼ lbs. of boneless short ribs*
3–4 tablespoons of olive oil
1 cup yellow onion, chopped
1 cup red onion, chopped
1 cup of carrots, diced
1 cup of celery, diced
1 cup red wine**
2 35-oz. cans of puréed San Marzanno tomatoes
Chopped flat-leaf parsley for garnish
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper***
And a few optional choices:
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
Three sprigs of thyme and oregano can be added along with a couple of bay leaves. These should be added with the tomato. They can be tied into a sachet with cheese cloth for easier removal.
1 box instant polenta (follow directions on the box)
*I found it difficult to get a 1¼-lb. piece of short rib from my local butcher, so I used 3 boneless short ribs weighing about 1¼ lbs.; this worked just fine.
**Any medium-bodied red wine will do. It doesn’t need to be expensive, just something that the cook would enjoy drinking.
***1 tablespoon of salt and 2 teaspoons of ground black pepper for the meat; 2 teaspoons of salt and ½ teaspoon of ground black pepper for the vegetables
1. Preheat the oven to 350°.
2. Place a Dutch oven on the stove and turn the burner to medium-high for 1 minute. Add the olive oil and heat for another 2 minutes.
3. Sprinkle the meat with kosher salt and pepper. Add the meat to the Dutch oven and sear on all four sides. This should take about 5–8 minutes.
4. When caramelized on all 4 sides remove the meat to a plate.
5. Add the vegetables to the Dutch oven and season with salt and pepper. Cook for 5 minutes, on medium to high heat, until they begin to soften. If you are using garlic and/or hot pepper, add them during the final minute of this cooking time.
6. Return the meat to the pot and add the red wine. Reduce the heat to medium and allow the wine to reduce by half, about 3 or 4 minutes.
7. Add the tomatoes and, if using, the herbs, Bring to a simmer for 10 minutes, uncovered.
8. Cover and put in the oven for 2½ hours.
8. If the meat begins to tear when you lift it carefully from the braising liquid, it is done. This means the meat has been braised long enough. At this point, remove the entire pot from the oven and allow to cool. Remove the meat and hold separately until cool enough to remove any excess fat. This is when the meat can be portioned into individual pieces. The meat can then go back into the cooking liquid until ready to serve. You can cover the meat with foil, but just to tent it.
9. Skim the fat off the sauce. There is no need to strain the sauce, though you can put it through a fine mesh strainer if you want a touch more elegance. It’s likely more work than it’s worth but up to you. Be sure to remove the sachet of herbs.
10. Serve on top of polenta—any instant polenta will do—and garnish with some extra sauce and freshly chopped parsley.
Q: I’ve been thinking a lot about Italian cooking since Marcella Hazan passed away last year. Did her books have any kind of influence on you?
ES: Marcella’s books have been on my bookshelves for years, right beside Julia Child’s. The simplicity and clarity in her cooking has always appealed to me. She showed us sophisticated food doesn’t have to come from complicated cooking.
Q: She believed in simplicity but never let you forget that simplicity doesn’t mean easy.
ES: Executing simplicity takes discipline.
Q: In so many things, especially the arts and cooking, I’m fascinated by restraint.
ES: Sometimes less is a better. Focusing on a few flavors and making them come alive. I like the directness of Italian cooking. People understand it. They don’t know the process, but they get the flavors. As I said it takes skill to execute simplicity.
Q: When did you get into cooking?
ES: Midway through college. I cooked for my friends and it made them happy. Making them happy with something I cooked was really appealing and made me feel good, too.
Q: And did you know already that you wanted to go to culinary school?
ES: No. I intended to get a graduate degree and follow my parents into education. After a couple personal tragedies during my senior year, I did a major reevaluation of what was important and what I wanted to do with myself. Culinary school went from an idea I had toyed with to a serious option supported by friends and family. Everyone told me to go, so I went.
Q: And when did you get into Italian cooking?
ES: I entered the New York Restaurant School without a specific cuisine in mind. The curriculum was based on developing a foundation in French technique and when I graduated I naturally found myself in a French kitchen: Jean George’s The Mercer Kitchen. I stayed at Mercer for more than three years, and was promoted to Sous Chef before I left to take an entremetier position at Del Posto.
Q: And suddenly you’re at a four-star restaurant.
ES: Yes! It is an amazing kitchen to be a part of. My eyes were opened to proper Italian cooking. Up until that point my understanding of Italian food was limited. I learned so much about fine dining, and how to polish the rustic nature of Italian cuisine to its highest level.
Q: And after Del Posto?
ES: Lupa, where I fell in love with traditional Roman cooking. Lupa taught me the vital importance of quality ingredients in great Italian cooking—exceptional product is more fundamentally important than elaborate preparation. Del Posto and Lupa helped define my style and vision as a chef.
Q: Here at L’Artusi, you have success with a series of staple dishes on the menu. Where do you find your own voice in being able to introduce things that allow you to experiment?
ES: Every restaurant has staple menu items that provide a backbone, and L’Artusi is no exception. That being said, I rely heavily on seasonally available ingredients to craft the menu, and we innovate on a day-to-day basis. Specials or new menu items are never improvised, but tested and crafted in conjunction with my team of sous chefs and line cooks. A dish may start as a random thought while I’m out running, but pulling it together in the kitchen is a much bigger process and I value my team’s input.
Q: So you ask for their input?
ES: Absolutely. Sometimes you need a different perspective. Someone can taste a dish and say, “Oh, it needs a little acidity” and then we talk about what that should be—lemon or vinegar. I think it’s crucial to have a team dynamic. I want to create an atmosphere where the staff’s input is valued.
Q: That’s one thing I enjoy about your place, especially sitting near the kitchen and watching you work. But I’m always impressed by how efficient it all looks, and mostly, how there is no screaming or anyone bugging out.
ES: There isn’t screaming or yelling because that doesn’t get the end goal accomplished. Maintaining a balanced atmosphere is essential to a productive kitchen. We’re able to accomplish this because many of our cooks have been trained in multiple stations. This is a huge help during the busiest times because there is a second pair of hands to step in when needed. We have a really tight team right now and it makes my job easier.
Q: Do you ever run into attitude problems with younger cooks who are fresh out of culinary school who have a hard time with going through the ranks?
ES: I’ve seen some of that in the past, but not here. A lot of people go to culinary school and just expect to advance quickly from entry-level positions. Advancement isn’t just handed over, it has to be earned. In our industry you don’t have to go to culinary school to be a success story. I’m fortunate to work with several talented line cooks that started as dishwashers. Success in the restaurant business is based on the effort and time that you put into it. I believe that stems from promoting within. I like running a kitchen where the cooks know they can advance.
Q: Without knowing that, a positive energy does come across when we’re eating there. You know, I love the flexibility of Italian dishes. Especially because everyone is convinced that their version is the correct one. Take Bucatini all’Amatriciana. Marcella makes use of a neutral oil and butter; most recipes call for olive oil. If you use garlic, that’s fighting words in some quarters. Other people use it. Some recipes call for a little white wine for acidity.
ES: I don’t think that there are any real limitations to what can be done with Italian food. There are so many traditional dishes, but most chefs take liberties. We certainly do at L’Artusi. I never feel restricted by focusing on clarity and simplicity, it’s just how I prefer to cook. My focus is creating the best dining experience for our guests. Being adventurous with our selections hasn’t always worked in the past, but I continue to try new dishes. I want our food to be approachable and getting to know the tastes of our diners has led me to create dishes they want to eat. That’s why our patrons keep coming back. Their loyalty inspires me.
Here’s a step-by-step demonstration of how to make Andy Ricker’s Hot & Spicy Thai Salad.
I want to like radicchio more than I do. The color is appealing but the bitter, peppery taste is usually too strong for me. It’s not as overwhelming as arugula but still too pronounced for my liking.
[Photo Credit: Ralph Smith for The New York Times. Food stylist: Michelle Gatton]
From her second cookbook, I thought I’d share bit of Marcella with you:
The Good Italian Cook
by Marcella Hazan
I know young people now who play the piano as … one can’t … can’t play it better. But then, when I hear them play it that way, I have my little questions for them. I ask them, when will you start to make music?
—From an interview given by Arthur Rubinstein on his ninetieth birthday
Music and cooking are so much alike. There are people who, simply by working hard at it, become technically quite accomplished at either art. But it isn’t until one connects technique to feeling, turning it into the outward thrust of that feeling, that one becomes a musician, or a cook.
The good Italian cook is an improviser, whose performance is each time a fresh response to the suggestions of an inner beat.
Those who set out to become accomplished Italian cooks have at least one advantage over others—there are no acrobatic movements to execute, no intricate arabesques to master. Italian cooking produces some of the most delectable food in the world, with astonishingly simple means. Except for rolling out pasta by hand, an Italian cook does not need to command special skills. There are none of the elaborate preliminaries one may find in other cuisines. La buona cucina is not an exercise in dexterity. It is an act of taste.
Taste, like rhythm, may be described, but it does not exist until it is experienced. Carefully annotated recipes are useful because they lead to the re-creation of an experience, they demonstrate what can be accomplished. But one must bear in mind that a recipe is only the congealed record of a once fluid and spontaneous act. It is this spontaneity that the good cook must recover. To attempt to reproduce any dish, time after time, through plodding duplication of a recipe’s every step, is futile and tedious, like memorizing a ditty in some foreign tongue.
As the Greek philosopher Heraclitus said, no one ever steps into the same river twice. One does not need to be a philosopher, only a cook, to know that no dish ever turns out again exactly the same. Cooking, like life itself, flows out of the experienced past, but belongs to the unique moment in which it takes place. From one occasion to the next, you will not find vegetables at the identical stage of ripeness or freshness. No two cloves of garlic, no two bunches of celery, no two peppers in a basket have exactly the same flavor, no cuts of meat duplicate precisely the texture and tenderness of those of another day. Each time you bring your ingredients together, your own hand falls with a difference cadence. The objective in good Italian cooking is not to achieve uniformity, or even absolute predictability of result. It is to express the values of the materials at hand, and the unrepeatable intuitions of the moment of execution.
All this does not mean there are no rules. Of course, there are rules. There is structure to Italian cooking just as there is structure to the music of a dance. The brief suggestions that follow here and the recipes of the book will succeed, I hope, in making you aware of how Italian cooking is achieved. Even more, I hope that eventually the recipes will release you from their grasp, and allow you to cook through the unfettered exercise of your own taste. Once you have understood technique you must stop paying attention to it. You must stop counting teaspoons and begin to cook.
Closer to home, enjoy this remembrance of Marcella from my aunt, Bis:
I first met Marcella Hazan at Coliseum Books, a store on west 57th street. It was 1978 and I had just returned from a trip to Italy with my husband, Fred. Of course I didn’t actually meet her in person, though I sometimes feel as if I did, but I did meet her through her first cookbook, Classic Italian Cookbook. I fell in love with it when I read her recipe for Amatriciana, which was the exactly the one given me by my friend Vicki, who had lived in Italy for several years. And then I saw a recipe for the Fettuccine al Gorgonzola that Fred and I had loved so much when we’d eaten it at Vini da Arturo in Venice a few weeks before.
It’s so long ago now that I can’t trust my memory as to exactly how my cooking evolved, but what I do trust is that is that Marcella’s books opened up a new way of thinking about food and cooking. I loved her very strong, opinionated voice (I’m pretty opinionated myself), and I loved the absence of unnecessary complexity in her recipes. I loved the idea that I could change the taste of a tomato sauce by choosing to make it with only one other ingredient, and then by changing that other ingredient from onion to shallot to ramp, I could make a different tasting tomato sauce each night.
In the early books she made menu suggestions for what to serve with a dish and it was from those suggestions I learned to think for myself, to make my own choices and create my own menus. She helped me to learn to trust my instincts to “use my head but [to] cook from the heart.” So cooking for friends and family became, and remains, my avenue of expression and creativity and I thank you Marcella for giving me that.
I bought her books and used them and loved what I cooked so I gave them to my family and friends. Today I don’t consult recipes as often as I used to but my books are there on the shelf, broken backed and stained, waiting to be consulted when I need them.
Marcella’s Amatriciana – Tomato Sauce with Pancetta
and Chili Pepper
The Roman town of Amatrice, with which this sauce is identified, offers a public feast in August whose principal attraction is undoubtedly the celebrated Bucatini – thick, hollow spaghetti – all’Amatriciana. No visitor should pass up, however, the pear-shaped salamis called mortadelle, the pecorino – ewe’s milk cheese – or the ricotta, also made from ewe’s milk. They are among the best products of their kind in Italy. When making Amatriciana sauce, some cooks add white wine before putting in the tomatoes; I find the result too acidic, but you may want to try it.
For 4 servings
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 tablespoon butter
1 medium onion, chopped fine
A 1/4-inch-thick slice of pancetta, cut into
strips 1/2 inch wide and 1 inch long
1 1/2 cups imported Italian plum
tomatoes, drained and cut up
Chopped hot red chili pepper, to taste
3 tablespoons freshly grated Parmigiano-
2 tablespoons freshly grated Romano cheese
1 pound pasta
Recommended pasta: “It’s impossible to say all’amatriciana” without thinking “bucatini”. The two are as indivisible as Romeo and Juliet. But other couplings of the sauce, such as with penne or rigatoni con conchiglie, can be nearly as successful.
1. Put the oil, butter, and onion in a saucepan and turn on the heat to medium. Sauté the onion until it becomes colored a pale gold, then add
the pancetta. Cook for about 1 minute, stirring once or twice. Add the tomatoes, the chili pepper, and salt, and cook in the uncovered pan at
a steady, gentle simmer for 25 minutes. Taste and correct for salt and hot pepper.
2. Toss the pasta with the sauce, then add both cheeses, and toss thoroughly again.
[Photo Via: Tampa Bay Times]
Holy Sweet Lord. Christina Tosi’s English Muffins and Pickled Strawberry Jam.
Because he’s not a guy who craves praise, I haven’t written about how much my pal Brad Lappin has done for the Banter. Let’s just say–in Damon Runyon terms–it’s more than somewhat. But now I’ve got a reason to share some news about Brad with you and there ain’t nuthin’ he can do about it.
Needless to say if you find yourself in the Bolder-Denver area, check out the Bohemian Biergarten if you want to have a kick-ass soft pretzel.
I won’t lye.
(Follow Brad on Twitter.)
[Photo Credit: Cyrus McCrimmon/The Denver Post]