This burrito recipe comes from one of my all time favorite hole-in-the-wall joints, El Toro Partido, in Hamilton Heights. Down the hill from where I work at City College, this bustling Mexican outpost dishes out sumptuous and authentic plates that are as gorgeous as the decor is not. Probably my favorite dish on the menu (aside from the spicily divine green sauce and corny tortilla chips) is the chicken burrito. I know, I know – you’re saying right now what could be so glamorous about this burrito? For me, above all of the other perfectly seasoned toppings, is the inclusion of savory shreds of oaxaca cheese. Almost like a Mexican mozzarella, oaxaca is nutty and stretchy and delicious – kind of the same consistency of Polly-O string cheese, but high brow. If you’ve not tried it before, you definitely need to get on some. Continue reading Chicken Burritos
Tag Archives: main course
Rosemary Lemon Swordfish
Fish gets a bad rap – no matter what anyone tells you, it’s not hard to cook. In fact, it takes such a short time to cook, all that you need to do to cook it well is to untrain your brain into its natural inclination to overcook meat. Give it only a little time, only a little seasoning and it is perfection. I love swordfish because it’s forgiving, takes seasoning well, and comes out deliciously restaurant-worthy without any fuss. Not to mention that it’s meaty – a manly fish meant to be tucked into like a steak.
This barely qualifies as a recipe below in terms of ingredients – all the work is in the technique. Basically, you are forming a paste out of the lemon zest and garlic that is then slathered onto the swordfish. If you haven’t invested in a microplane yet (and you really should), you will need to use the finest setting on a box grater for the lemon zest. As for the garlic, you will need to mash it with some kosher salt until it forms a paste – not hard, but so much easier if you pick up a microplane. Continue reading Rosemary Lemon Swordfish
Spicy Stuffed Flounder
I wish that eating fresh seafood didn’t seem like such a luxury – fish is easy to prepare and readily available where I live. Plus, it’s so good for you, there’s really no excuse for not working it into the menu more. I treat it like a grilled cheese sandwich at times – I’d rather have someone make it for me than do it myself so that it seems that much better. It’s stupid, given that we can all prepare fish just as well as most restaurants (if not better), and all for a lot less money.
This recipe was born of the high price tag for stuffed delicacies at upscale seafood restaurants. On top of that, the dishes were often drowned in butter, making the fish taste gorgeous, but at the expense of my waistline. Stupid personified. The flavor in this dish comes from a good dose of savory veggies that are simmered in stock rather than sauteed in butter. Flaky, moist flounder is topped with spices and lemon and nestled above a lovely stuffing of tender shrimp, herbs, vegetables and bread crumbs. It tastes like a million bucks and a million calories, but it is just plain good for you eatin’!
Here in NYC, they charge way too much for lump crab, but if you are near the Chesapeake, definitely substitute the shrimp with crabmeat if you’d like. It’s just such a lovely addition to the dish, and the price down there makes so much sense. Same thing for you folks on the Pacific Coast that can get your hands on inexpensive king crab. In addition, you can mix it up and do a seafood medley of shrimp, crab and scallops – all work well in the stuffing.
Spicy Stuffed Flounder
2 c. of vegetable or chicken broth
1/2 of a bell pepper (I use red, but green is ok), finely chopped
1 shallot, finely chopped
3 cl. of garlic, finely chopped
1 stalk of celery, finely chopped
1/4 tsp. of black pepper
1/4 tsp. of white pepper
1/4 tsp. of salt
1 tsp. of sherry or white wine
1/2 tbs of good dijon mustard
1 tsp of fresh thyme
1 tsp. of fresh rosemary
1/2 c. of parsley leaves (loosely packed), chopped
2 c. of bread crumbs
2 tbs. of butter (I use Smart Balance for this to keep the bad fat down)
1 lb of raw shrimp, cut into small bite-sized pieces (can substitute 8 oz. of lump crab, bay scallops or even 8 oz. of sliced mushrooms)
3 portions of flounder (preferably 7-8 oz. each)
1 lemon
1 tsp of cajun seasoning (or a pinch each of salt, white pepper, black pepper and cayenne)
Preheat oven to 375°. Spray a baking sheet with Pam and set aside.
In a sauce pan, bring your stock to a boil. Add bell pepper, shallot, garlic, celery, white pepper, black pepper, salt, sherry or wine, mustard, thyme and rosemary. Stir and then turn off the heat. Stir until the butter has melted and then toss in the parsley and shrimp. Stir in the bread crumbs until moistened and then set aside.
Take a flounder filet in your hand and mound it with a heaping cupful of the stuffing. Flip over and place on the baking sheet, stuffing side down. Repeat with the other filets. Halve the lemon and squeeze over all of the fish. Sprinkle a teaspoon of your favorite cajun or blackening seasoning on top of the fish (or use a combo of peppers and salt as listed above).
Place sheet in the oven and bake fish until flaky and cooked through, about 15-20 minutes. Squeeze the other half of the lemon on top of the fish and serve.
Hoppin’ John (Black-eyed Peas and Rice with Collard Greens)
While the French slurp raw oysters and sip champagne for good luck on New Years’ Day, our family would tuck into heaps of black eyed peas, fluffy rice, and collard greens. It’s amazing – I always considered it a southern tradition, what with black-eyed peas grown in Virginia all the way back to the 1600s. But apparently the New Year’s tradition dates back to Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year), where in the Talmud it’s recorded that the humble black-eyed pea is a good luck symbol. Apparently, people have been enjoying these little babies for a while.
This recipe is a spin on Hoppin’ John, a popular dish of rice and peas served not only in the south but in the Caribbean as well. The dish is sometimes made without the collard greens and often includes a bit of salt pork. I like the collards because they remind me of my own New Year’s traditions, so I always include them when I can. This version is absolutely vegan and so very flavorful, you won’t miss the pork one bit. It’s good as a standalone dish, but if you are jonesing for some protein, try it with a little sliced andouille sausage or kielbasa. Any way you eat, you’ll be a lucky ducky (if but for having the opportunity to tuck into such a tasty dish!)
Hoppin’ John (Black-eyed Peas and Rice with Collard Greens)
1 stalk of celery, chopped
1/2 a green bell pepper, chopped
1/2 red onion (white is ok), chopped
5 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 tsp of fresh thyme
2 tbs. of olive oil
1 tbs. of hot sauce
1/2 tsp of salt
1/4 tsp. of white pepper
1 cup of cooked collard greens (see note below)
1 c. of enriched long grain rice
1 can of blackeyed peas
water
Start with a heavy pot with a lid that is suitable for cooking rice (this is one pot cooking, kids!) and heat your two tbs. of olive oil. Add the celery, onion and bell pepper and saute until translucent. While that is cooking away, drain your black-eyed peas, reserving the liquid in a measuring cup. Add water to make a little less than two cups of liquid. Set both the peas and the liquid aside, separately.
Add the garlic, thyme, hot sauce, salt, white pepper and stir. Add your rice and greens and stir the mixture. Allow to cook for a minute and then add the peas. Stir, making sure not to break up the peas and then add the liquid. Bring to a boil, pop on the lid and turn the heat to low. Cook until all of the liquid is absorbed, about 20-25 minutes. Pull off the lid and fluff with a fork. Return lid and let sit for 5 minutes. Fluff again and serve.
Notes
- For this recipe, I often use leftover Couve (Brazilian Style Collards cooked in garlic and oil), but if you are starting from scratch, you can always use frozen collard greens. You can actually nuke them to defrost quickly, drain of an excess water, and then stir them into the rice.
- Rice is one of those things that you have to trust to cook and not open the pot until the end. When you open the pot while it’s cooking, you release all the steam inside the pot, which is the secret element to make it fluffy and gorgeous. Keep the pot closed until the last few minutes of cooking when it’s acceptable to open the lid. A trick that I use to tell if the water is absorbed without opening the pot is to carefully put my ear next to the bottom of the pot to hear if there is water still bubbling at the bottom. But be careful – I am not going to be responsible for you setting your hair on fire. You shouldn’t be using that much Aquanet anyways.
Poor Man’s Linguine with Clams
Despite all of my champagne wishes and caviar dreams, I am no Warren Buffett when it comes to grocery shopping. Or I should say that I have no Buffett budget, given that the man eats a DQ cheeseburger and a cherry coke every night. Though I am such an ingredient purist time in and time out, occasionally, I make an exception or two. One example would be in this recipe that uses *gasp* canned clams!
Don’t give up on me just yet. I love love love Linguine alle Vongole, or linguine with white clam sauce. I crave it and when I do, I want it ASAP. And yet, I don’t have the time or money to go clamming every time I have a hankering for some goodness. And so I have created this version over the years that is an altered version of my Dad’s recipe. The sentiment is still the same, however – you take a jar of white clam sauce, add an excessive amount of red pepper for heat and extra canned clams for awesomeness, and you serve atop boxed linguine. You can scoff, but it beats the hell out of spending $20 on the clams alone, and all of the ingredients are readily available in your pantry and fridge. No shame in my game. Continue reading Poor Man’s Linguine with Clams
Simple Pasta Salad with Roasted Peppers, Ham and Peas
When I teach web and print design, I always talk about KISS – keep it simple, stupid. I think that some of the finest recipes are those that follow the same ideal. You don’t need a lot of garbage amassed in a pot to make deliciousness – just a few choice ingredients well played off of each other and you are done. Even better, with these few components in action, chances are you won’t have to do a whole lot of cooking.
My sister Lexi refuses to eat mayo based cold salads, or as she likes to say, questionable sauces. This recipe is anything but questionable – the familiar flavors of rosemary, mustard and ham elevate this pasta salad to another level, giving savory zing to where else there might be bland mayo. You’ve got roasted peppers and peas for both sweetness and color, and a few choice spices to round things out. Done and done. This is my ultimate make on a Sunday and leisurely eat throughout the week kind of recipe – it keeps well, is portable, and works as lunch, dinner, side dish, late night bite, or a way to extend a meal with impromptu guests.
I use ham because I love the taste with the rosemary, but vegetarians can leave it out for an equally delicious salad. Also worth trying is cooled, poached chicken in place of the ham. You can follow the recipe for preparing the chicken on my recipe for Chicken Salad.
Simple Pasta Salad with Roasted Peppers, Ham and Peas
1/2 c. of low-fat or fat-free mayo
2 tbs. of dijon mustard
1 tbs. of chopped rosemary
1/4 c. of roasted red peppers, diced
1 c. of frozen peas
1 1/2 c. of diced ham
1/4 tsp. of black pepper
1 tsp. of salt
pinch of paprika
1 lbs. of pasta (penne, farfalle, orechiete, whatever you have around)
Bring a pot of heavily salted water to a boil. When the water comes to a boil, add pasta and cook. In the last 4 minutes of cooking time, add peas to the pasta water. Drain pasta and peas and cool under running water.
Add rosemary, roasted red peppers, ham, black pepper, salt and paprika to a large bowl. Dump in pasta and peas and stir. Add the mayo and dijon and stir. Refrigerate and then eat at your leisure.
Pastitsio
Pastitsio is often referred to as the Greek answer to lasagna, but I think that it’s selling it quite short. The rich lamb sauce is more than a simple bolognese, and gains character from cinnamon and cloves. Mozzarella and ricotta aren’t to be found here, as the entire mixture is cradled by a luxe bechamel enriched with egg yolks and feta cheese. I think that the lasagna reference must have come from folks who didn’t have a culinary context for the dish, but I say why categorize? Can’t pastitsio just be pastitsio?
Back when I was little, summertime meant a trip to the Greek festivals held by the Orthodox churches in the DC Metro area. I believe that our favorite was in Maryland, where a church hall was taken over by dozens of old ladies doling out massive portions of what must have been secret family recipes. I can be sure that there must have been arguments over who had the best recipes and which versions would be made for the festivals. No matter – I never had a bad meal. The rundown was that you hopped in line and pointed to whatever you wanted to eat copious amounts of – moussaka, tender roasted lamb, lemony potatoes and oven braised green beans. I’m sure there was salad. I’m sure there were even other cooked treats. I barely made it past the pastitsio – a heaping of blubbery noodles in a delicately spiced sauce, almost too heavy to carry. We would tote the styrofoam containers outside to the picnic tables and attempt to conquer the Joey Chestnut-sized portions. You almost wanted to scream “Release the kraken!” (Haha, Mom, that was for you…) Continue reading Pastitsio
Braised Short Rib and Crimini Ragu with Pappardelle
Good things come to those who wait, and baby, these marbled short ribs in a meltingly rich ragu are worth it. This recipe came about as an alternative to my dream lunch (yep, you read correctly when I said lunch) back when I was studying photography in Italy. Our class lived in a sleepy town called Orvieto, nestled about 2 hours between Rome and Florence. In the heart of Tuscany, Orvieto’s culinary acclaim was rooted in black truffles, a crisp white wine called Orvieto Classico, and wild boar. The latter was an absolute mind-blower for me – in this country, pork has been raised to be so very lean, it’s been genetically altered into flavorlessness. People then swoon over Berkshire pork anything because they are harkening this atavistic longing for a time when pork tasted flavorful and rich. Not the dry, chewy garbage that we see all the time.
My first taste of wild boar was a forkful off my friend Michelle’s plate – she had a hankering for pappardelle, whilst I had never even heard of it until then. The wide, eggy noodles, like halved lasagna sheets without the crinkles, weren’t as widely available in the states yet. To me, at the time, they were a revelation, and when I eat them now (either made from scratch or picked up at Trader Joe’s), I look back to that first taste with fondness. Topping the tangle of noodles was a luscious ragu of wild boar (called “cinghiale” in Italian) – savory, sweet and robust, this was like no pork that we had back home. I was in love.
Although, as I mentioned before, pappardelle is an easy score, the wild boar is none to be found. Though the ragu can easily me made with thick cut loin chops or even pork shoulder, I change the protein to beef and lovingly braise short ribs in stock, veggies and spices. It takes time, but is really no work at all – one of those “set it and forget it moments”…sorry Ron Popeil. This is better than anything made in your rotisserie grill.
Braised Short Rib and Crimini Ragu with Pappardelle
3 tbs. of olive oil
2 lbs of short ribs
1 tsp. of black pepper
2 tsp. of kosher salt
1 lb. of cremini mushrooms
2 bay leaves
1 stalk of celery, diced
1 carrot, diced
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 small onion, diced
1 c. of red wine
2 tbs. of thyme, chopped
28 oz. of tomatoes
4 c. of beef stock
6 c. of water
1 can of tomato paste
2 tbs. of butter
2 tbs. of flour
1 lbs. of dried pappardelle (or your favorite long pasta)
3 tbs. of butter
3 cl. of garlic, chopped
2 tbs. of fresh thyme leaves, chopped
1 tsp. of crushed red pepper
In a large dutch oven, heat the oil. Cut your short ribs into meaty, one-inch cubes and liberally salt and pepper. Fry in batches in the dutch oven until very well browned on all sides. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside.
Add the 1 tbs. of oil to the pan and add the mushrooms, making sure not to crowd the pan too much. Stir infrequently, allowing mushrooms to brown and show lovely color. Remove with the slotted spoon and add to the beef cubes.
Add your carrots, celery and onion to the dutch oven. Cook until translucent and then add the garlic. Continue cooking until fragrant – about a minute. Pour in the cup of wine to deglaze the pan, scraping up any browned bits on the bottom of the dutch oven. Add your tomatoes and stock to the pot and stir.
Simmer for 2 1/2 hours, adding water in 2 cup increments every 45 minutes. When the short ribs are fall-apart tender and the sauce has reduced for the last time, use a slotted spoon to remove the meat from the pot. In a separate sauce pot, melt your butter and then whisk in your flour. Cook for a minute and then whisk in the tomato paste. Pour all of the stew liquid into the pot with the tomato-butter-flour roux, whisking the entire time to prevent lumps. Your sauce should be shimmering and creamy at this point. Return the meat to the sauce, mashing it a bit to allow it to fall apart in the sauce.
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and drop in your pappardelle. Cook until al dente and then drain, making sure to reserve a cup of the cooking liquid.
While the pasta is cooking, in another small saucepan, melt the three tablespoons of butter. Add the garlic, thyme and red pepper at the very last minute, allowing it to barely cook in the hot butter.
When the pasta is done, take out a skillet (lots of pans, I know) and turn it on high. Plunk in 1 tablespoon of the butter-garlic mixture, the pappardelle and two ladlefuls of the sauce from the ragu. Add the cooking water as necessary to loosen up the sauce until the pasta is glossy and the sauce adheres to the noodles.
To serve, place a tangle of pappardelle in a bowl and top with a few large spoonfuls of ragu, making sure to get good amounts of short ribs and crimini on the plate. Drizzle a little of the garlic butter on the top and mangia bene!
Green and Gold Quiche (Quiche Florentine with Mushrooms)
I tend to hold on to recipes that have a “more the merrier” quality – this is certainly one of them. If mushroom quiche is delicioso, and Quiche Florentine is equally lovely, what happens when you put the two together. This recipe is based on one of my favorite omlettes, Elephant and Castle’s Green and Gold. It combines gently cooked eggs with spinach and sharp white cheddar – I let my eggs cook delicately in the oven and add mushrooms for a little more veggie action. It’s so delicious and so very easy, and you don’t have to stand over a pan to cook it.
All cheddars aren’t created equal, and in this recipe, you want as sharp as you can get it. Sharp cheeses are good in that you can use less cheese to impart flavor, saving you calories in the process. I use a good artisinal cheddar, but in a pinch, you could grab some Cracker Barrel Vermont Sharp White Cheddar and go from there. Continue reading Green and Gold Quiche (Quiche Florentine with Mushrooms)
Steamed Mussels with Tarragon and Shallots
A pot of mussels, for me, is a treat worth sharing with special folks around. It’s rare these days that we get to partake in such a tactile experience – a large pot is slapped in the middle of a table, and folks collectively tuck in with their hands, scooping, dipping and munching on sweet mussels and typically a tangle of crispy fries or crusty bread. Mussels come in a million preparations, but this little bivalve is ever so easy to prepare. You’ve just got to know all the tricks.
When you get your mussels, they need to be alive before you cook them. A dead mussel in the pot will make your tummy unhappy later. As you go through them, mussels should be closed and if open, should close after you agitate them a bit. I usually just tap them on the counter and wait for them to close slowly. If they refuse to close, chuck ’em before cooking.
After you cook the mussels, it’s the opposite deal. If they stay closed after cooking, they are bad. Don’t eat them for fear of even more tummy unhappiness.
As I mentioned before, there are tons of way to sauce these guys – this recipe is based on one of my favorite preparations as featured by The Smith here in NYC. They bathe their bivalves in a lovely combo of shallots, thyme, wine and cream. It’s a luscious sauce that is meant to be sopped up with bread, fries, or whatever carb you can grab the fastest. I enhance my own with a heaping spoon of dijon mustard and a bit of garlic – deliciousness for an incredibly low price. If you can believe it, restaurants charge $17 or more per pound of mussels, whereas you can purchase them for as little as $2 a pound to cook at home! Outrageous! Not to mention the fact that you can be assured that your mussels are clean and fresh before cooking – not the case when you eat them out. If ever there was a case for cooking at home, this is it. Include this recipe on the menu for your next date night and savor the simple pleasure of a shared dish and company close at hand. It’s a dying art, I tell you.
Steamed Mussels with Tarragon and Shallots
2 lbs. of mussels, scrubbed of barnacles
3 tbs. of butter
2 shallots
2 cl. of garlic, smashed
1 c. of dry white wine
bunch of tarragon
2 tbs. of dijon mustard
1/2 c. of cream
salt and pepper
Check mussels to make sure that they are still alive – mussels should close after you tap them on the counter or rap them a bit with your finger. Clean mussels of any grit or barnacles on the shells and put into a large bowl. Fill bowl with cold water and let the mussels sit for a half an hour. This allows them time to expel any sand or grit – you’ll actually hear the mussels bubbling around in the water.
In a large pot or huge skillet, chuck in 2 tbs. of butter and melt on low. Turn up the heat to medium and add shallots and garlic. Cook until translucent and then crank the heat to high. Dump in wine, tarragon, and mussels and cover the pot. Cook 5-6 minutes or until mussels open up. Remove mussels from the pot and set aside, discarding any mussels that didn’t open in the cooking process. Boil sauce down, whisking in mustard and cream. Allow to reduce by 1/4 and then taste for salt and pepper. Pour sauce over mussels and serve, making sure to sop up the sauce with bread or crisp fries.