I took a break from the whole "Cookbook Adventures" thing this weekend in an attempt to recover from the weekend before. I wanted simple, delicious comfort food, and realized that I was craving a perfect Caesar Salad and a nice grilled hunk of red meat (in my favorite form: the Rib-Eye). This is very much an Emily-and-Steph Classic. After we discovered that we freaking LOVED anchovies (which happened when we accidentally doubled the anchovies the recipe called for in this dish and were blown away by the deliciousness that ensued), the next logical thing to do was to start perfecting a classic Caesar salad dressing. It's so simple and, despite the seemingly-permanent (at the time) garlic breath it brings with it, it is still my favorite Caesar dressing I've ever had. The ingredients are pretty standard: Egg. Anchovies. Garlic. Parmesan. Olive oil.
The quality of anchovy makes a big difference here. My favorite are salt-packed Spanish anchovies that don't have any English words on the package, but these (from Russo's) were pretty great and easier to use since you didn't have to pull out bones and whatnot. You need 8 anchovy fillets for this recipe, along with 2-3 garlic cloves, an egg, 2 ounces of grated Parmesan cheese, and olive oil "to taste."
A couple caveats: You must use fresh garlic here. I sort of assume that if you're into food then you would almost never use jarred pre-minced garlic... but this dressing has no chance of being awesome unless you use fresh, so I thought I'd better specify. With the Parmesan, I have to mention that it's given as a mass instead of a volume because 2 ounces of Parmesan can be anywhere ranging from less than 1/4 cup to more than a cup, depending on how you grate it. Anyway... Throw everything but the oil in a blender to purée, drizzle in olive oil until you get the consistency and flavor that you want, season with fresh ground black pepper (and more garlic or anchovies if needed) and you're done. Sometimes we've been known to brighten it with a squeeze of lemon juice if it wasn't quite perfect at that point. For the croutons, I used Brioche this time (because why use anything else?).
My new-found love of Brioche has definitely helped me recover from the hostility I feel over not being able to find good sourdough bread in New England... (When I go back west, I'll probably get all hostile now if I can't readily find good Brioche... Heh.) Anyway, I decided to switch things up a bit from the way Steph and I used to do the croutons. I started by making some garlic oil by slowly steeping sliced garlic in a bit of olive oil over very low heat. I basically just put some oil in a pan with sliced garlic, turned the heat to it's lowest setting, and wandered away to do other things for about a half hour (maybe longer? I wasn't really paying attention...). When I came back, I had garlic oil.
The cubes of Brioche are tossed with this and seasoned with sea salt,
then sent into a 325°F oven until toasty and beautiful.
My house smelled insane as these finished cooking. This will definitely be my go-to method for garlic croutons from now on. I sliced a big, beautiful Blood Farm Rib-Eye in half so as not to have a pound of meat for dinner...
The steak is (heavily, because it's just for me) seasoned with sea salt and black pepper, then thrown on the grill until perfectly rare, and plated up as my perfect Steak & Caesar dinner...
(Remember when I said that I may never grill a steak again? I totally lied... That is the power of Thomas Keller when he has you in his thrall... As perfect as Keller's pan-seared method is, I love the char of the grill and the complete lack of clean-up or oven-heating involved...) This meal was exactly what I needed, especially the part where it took no time at all to make. Further proof that weekend dinners don't always have to be a big production... We'll see how many times I have to teach myself that lesson before it starts sinking in...
Because I'm in the mood for a ramble, this is maybe an ideal meal to segue into something that I've been mulling over since last week's Kerala-inspired feast: I realize that I don't really enjoy cooking for people. I guess I should caveat that by noting that "people" means "people I'm not ridiculously comfortable with." I love to cook. I also love the food that I cook. The thing is, I have a very specific palate. While chefs like Thomas Keller have demonstrated to me the beauty of subtlety, I know when I make a dish that I refer to as "Emily-style," I'm usually referring to the fact that the flavors are intended to be a punch in the face. To me, the dressing in this post is the world's most awesome Caesar dressing, but that's the case because the garlic and anchovy are so intense that they almost burn your tongue. I wouldn't serve this salad to "people." I would serve it to my family (with a warning that they may hate it). I would serve it to Steph or to Mel (with no such warning, because they're Steph and Mel). That's pretty much it.
I feel like it's a strange thing for me to love cooking as much as I do, to love sharing food with friends as much as I do, but to have such... I guess "dread" is the word... about cooking for "people." I think my main issue is an (irrational?) fear of judgment. I know that whenever I cook for/with Steph (for example), even if the dish totally fails it will be something we ponder together and figure out how to tweak for the next time. I don't ever worry about the people who aren't included in "people" judging me based on my food. I hate when I'm cooking for somebody and they say "I heard you're a great cook!" because, honestly, I don't know that that's true. What I am is somebody who loves to cook, and somebody who loves the food that she cooks... When I cook for myself, I have so much fun playing with flavors and building the perfect Emily-style dish. When I cook for "people," I stress myself out trying to make something that they will like, and I lose a lot of the joy.
Maybe I need culinary therapy or something... but does anybody else feel this way? Or is it just a formerly-super-shy, OCD, crazy-lady thing?
The quality of anchovy makes a big difference here. My favorite are salt-packed Spanish anchovies that don't have any English words on the package, but these (from Russo's) were pretty great and easier to use since you didn't have to pull out bones and whatnot. You need 8 anchovy fillets for this recipe, along with 2-3 garlic cloves, an egg, 2 ounces of grated Parmesan cheese, and olive oil "to taste."
A couple caveats: You must use fresh garlic here. I sort of assume that if you're into food then you would almost never use jarred pre-minced garlic... but this dressing has no chance of being awesome unless you use fresh, so I thought I'd better specify. With the Parmesan, I have to mention that it's given as a mass instead of a volume because 2 ounces of Parmesan can be anywhere ranging from less than 1/4 cup to more than a cup, depending on how you grate it. Anyway... Throw everything but the oil in a blender to purée, drizzle in olive oil until you get the consistency and flavor that you want, season with fresh ground black pepper (and more garlic or anchovies if needed) and you're done. Sometimes we've been known to brighten it with a squeeze of lemon juice if it wasn't quite perfect at that point. For the croutons, I used Brioche this time (because why use anything else?).
My new-found love of Brioche has definitely helped me recover from the hostility I feel over not being able to find good sourdough bread in New England... (When I go back west, I'll probably get all hostile now if I can't readily find good Brioche... Heh.) Anyway, I decided to switch things up a bit from the way Steph and I used to do the croutons. I started by making some garlic oil by slowly steeping sliced garlic in a bit of olive oil over very low heat. I basically just put some oil in a pan with sliced garlic, turned the heat to it's lowest setting, and wandered away to do other things for about a half hour (maybe longer? I wasn't really paying attention...). When I came back, I had garlic oil.
The cubes of Brioche are tossed with this and seasoned with sea salt,
then sent into a 325°F oven until toasty and beautiful.
My house smelled insane as these finished cooking. This will definitely be my go-to method for garlic croutons from now on. I sliced a big, beautiful Blood Farm Rib-Eye in half so as not to have a pound of meat for dinner...
The steak is (heavily, because it's just for me) seasoned with sea salt and black pepper, then thrown on the grill until perfectly rare, and plated up as my perfect Steak & Caesar dinner...
(Remember when I said that I may never grill a steak again? I totally lied... That is the power of Thomas Keller when he has you in his thrall... As perfect as Keller's pan-seared method is, I love the char of the grill and the complete lack of clean-up or oven-heating involved...) This meal was exactly what I needed, especially the part where it took no time at all to make. Further proof that weekend dinners don't always have to be a big production... We'll see how many times I have to teach myself that lesson before it starts sinking in...Because I'm in the mood for a ramble, this is maybe an ideal meal to segue into something that I've been mulling over since last week's Kerala-inspired feast: I realize that I don't really enjoy cooking for people. I guess I should caveat that by noting that "people" means "people I'm not ridiculously comfortable with." I love to cook. I also love the food that I cook. The thing is, I have a very specific palate. While chefs like Thomas Keller have demonstrated to me the beauty of subtlety, I know when I make a dish that I refer to as "Emily-style," I'm usually referring to the fact that the flavors are intended to be a punch in the face. To me, the dressing in this post is the world's most awesome Caesar dressing, but that's the case because the garlic and anchovy are so intense that they almost burn your tongue. I wouldn't serve this salad to "people." I would serve it to my family (with a warning that they may hate it). I would serve it to Steph or to Mel (with no such warning, because they're Steph and Mel). That's pretty much it.
I feel like it's a strange thing for me to love cooking as much as I do, to love sharing food with friends as much as I do, but to have such... I guess "dread" is the word... about cooking for "people." I think my main issue is an (irrational?) fear of judgment. I know that whenever I cook for/with Steph (for example), even if the dish totally fails it will be something we ponder together and figure out how to tweak for the next time. I don't ever worry about the people who aren't included in "people" judging me based on my food. I hate when I'm cooking for somebody and they say "I heard you're a great cook!" because, honestly, I don't know that that's true. What I am is somebody who loves to cook, and somebody who loves the food that she cooks... When I cook for myself, I have so much fun playing with flavors and building the perfect Emily-style dish. When I cook for "people," I stress myself out trying to make something that they will like, and I lose a lot of the joy.
Maybe I need culinary therapy or something... but does anybody else feel this way? Or is it just a formerly-super-shy, OCD, crazy-lady thing?
4 comments:
Checking your blog for the first time in a week or 2, I realize I can´t come back for a while. It is too painful to look and read about the amazing food you cook, as I starve myself down here. I am sorry but I promise to catch up when my stomah allows. Maybe Ecuador will provide me with more culinary satisfaction.
I'll take that as the ultimate compliment. =)
Here's hoping you encounter some kick-ass food as your travels continue...
I echo Micahoe's sentiments, but I'm a bit of a masochist so I'll keep coming back. Plus the food is decent here so that helps.
Also: I feel extremely fortunate to count myself separate from "people". I need a good punch in the mouth sometimes....
I feel quite similar to you about this. I have many meals that are perfect for me and my fam, but I worry that people won't necessarily like it.
Perhaps a perfectionist thing, heh?
Post a Comment