It’s been a while since I’ve written–too busy with the daily work. Here’s our menu this Thanksgiving. Recipes to come when I can confirm success:

Gougeres with smoked salmon

Winter salad with persimmons and cranberries

Heritage breed turkey two ways: Black truffle roasted breast, braised legs and thighs

Wild mushroom bread pudding

Homemade rustic bread rolls and butter from Gilt Creamery

Pumpkin souffle with bourbon sauce

Apple-cranberry tart

I haven’t heard from our sommelier what we’re drinking. Probably a Pinot Noir from Sonoma County. But he could surprise me.

I picked up a new book a couple weeks ago, A Mediterranean Feast, by Clifford Wright. It’s a combination history/cook book, and I can’t put it down. It traces the history of food through the Mediterranean. I’ve seen a number of other “cook the book” Web sites and I’m considering undertaking this one as a project. But the 500-recipe tome is intimidating.

For a few years now I have been interested in learning more about the ancient history of Portugal, primarily the Moorish and Arab influences on the architecture and religion of these other cultures. This has drawn me to an interest in Morocco, even though I’ve never been there. Combine this interest with my cooking hobby and now we’re on to something!

People always ask me what kind of food is my specialty. I have pretty vague answers, mostly concentrating on what some people call “wine country cuisine.” This means not only foods from my home in Napa Valley, but also foods from other countries where wine features prominently at the table.

While I’ve always loved foods from the Middle East — hummus, falafel, kebobs, etc., this last year my interest has increased. Yes, I am well aware that the cuisines of Muslim cultures are decidedly not “wine country” cuisine given their frowning upon alcohol.

Last night I threw a dinner party featuring what I’d learned so far…that the Arab influence over what we generally refer to as “Mediterranean cuisine” (including Greece, Italy, northern Africa, southern France and Spain) can not be overemphasized.

Last night:

Leg of lamb marinated overnight in ras el hanout, then chopped up to make a savory stew. The result was pretty tasty. In a later post I am going to discuss dry vs. wet cooking methods for meat and where I’m landing in terms of personal preference.

Hand-rolled couscous — I bought m’hamsa brand from tebourba for a try. It’s larger than the typical couscous you get at the supermarket, but it’s not quite the “Israeli-type” couscous you see.

Side note: a year ago a dear friend gave me a generous gift card to Sur La Table. I was paralyzed in my decision on what to buy. It was a toss-up between a huge paella pan and a couscousiere, two culinary indulgences I would never pay for myself. I went for the latter, pictured here:

I prepared the lamb stew in the bottom chamber and placed the couscous on top. After 1.5 hours of steaming, the couscous were not nearly ready for eating. I had to dump them into the ratatouille juices (after removing the vegetables) and added another 3 cups of water before they were edible.

Needless to say, my first attempt at this device did not yield the results I wanted. Granted, the couscous were dry, rather than freshly made from coarse semolina. I’ll try again with regular couscous (and cheesecloth so they don’t all fall through the perforations) and with home made, and report back.

Ratatouille — I bought gorgeous eggplants, peppers and tomatoes at the farmer’s market. I carefully followed Julia Child’s recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. And I ended up with mush. I still have some raw ingredients left and I’m going to try roasting the vegetables in the oven, then tossing them with a little olive oil. Perhaps a drier version will be more to my liking. Like the lamb, this has inspired a missive on dry vs. wet cooking.

Falafel — I used a combination of recipes, from Greg Malouf’s Artichoke to Za’tar and Nancy Harmon Jenkins’ The New Mediterranean Diet Cookbook. They’re virtually the same basic recipe: rehydrate dried fava and garbanzo beans (aka, chickpeas) overnight. Chop in a food processor with an assortment, in varying amounts, of spices, fresh parsley and cilantro. Add water until you get a paste. Set aside. Make uniform balls. I like to flatten then to make patties. Deep fry until golden brown. I like to use safflower oil for deep frying. Olive oil imparts too strong a flavor and burns easily. These were a huge hit. All gone and now part of my regular repertoire. They didn’t taste oily at all. The trick, ironically, is to use plenty of oil (hence the phrase deep frying) at the appropriate temperature. You’re not fooling anyone by trying to saute them in less oil. It takes longer to cook and you defeat the purpose because they absorb more oil.

Baba ganoush — I forget the source of my recipe. But this was also a huge hit. The key was to scorch the eggplants on the outdoor grill. There may have been a slight overemphasis on the lemon juice, but after letting it sit out for a few hours that seemed to have mellowed.

Caramelized almond tart — this was from Lynne Kaspar’s The Splendid Table. Technically, this was not a recipe from the Mediterranean, since Emilia-Romagna is in Northern Italy, closer to the Adriatic. But I wanted something that used honey and almonds, both decidedly Arabic. As the recipe goes, it did what I wanted…but I wasn’t wild about it. I’m also not a fan of pecan pie for Thanksgiving. I prefer custards, souffles, etc. for dessert.

Burnt honey ice cream — Greg Malouf’s book also had this recipe in it. It’s basically a caramel ice cream that uses honey instead of sugar to make the caramel. The recipe says it serves four. So I doubled it for our party of eight. Now I have enough ice cream to last a year. I have no idea what Greg was thinking when he suggested the serving. I should have known by the measurements. Also, he neglects to mention what a dangerous proposition it is to dump boiling caramel into a pot of hot cream and milk. I already knew this, but a less experienced cook might get a serious burn if he or she is not careful. Anyway, it was quite yummy and a nice accompaniment to the tart.

I had invited our guests to bring some Syrah wines for tasting and sharing. There are unsupported folklore stories that there is a connection between Shiraz, Iran and the Syrah grape. So I thought it would be an fun to pair with the menu. Here is what we drank:

• Clos des Papes, Chateauneuf-du-pape, 2005
• d’Arenbert, The Dead Arm Shiraz (McLaren Vale), 2001
• Chateau d’Ampuis, Cote-Rotie (E.Guigal), 1999
• Domain Jean-Louis Chave, Hermitage, 1990
• Onda, Villa Creek, 2006
• Clarendon Hills Syrah, Brookman Vineyard, 2002

There’s a joke that Cook’s Illustrated should actually be called “Brining Illustrated” because they are such evangelists of this technique for preparing poultry. I am an apostle myself. Here is my brining recipe, adapted from their original. But, first, a few other thoughts on brining.

Brining bags

I was shocked (SHOCKED!) to find brining bags at our local market for $8 each. Eight bucks! You are JOKING?! Williams-Sonoma has brining bags ($16 for four), which seemed a bit more reasonable. Bed, Bath and Beyond has one for $5. But, again, Cook’s Illustrated has an even better idea: Zip Lock’s “Big Bags.”

Although designed for storing sweaters and pillows, Ziploc Big Bags XL ($5.79 for four) are foodsafe and, at 2 feet by 1.7 feet, they’re the perfect size for turkey brining. In addition, the flat bottom keeps the bag steady during filling, and a handle provides a tighter grip on the slippery plastic.

At Drugstore.com you can get four for $6.79.

NOTE: DO NOT BRINE YOUR TURKEY IN A GARBAGE BAG. It’s not food safe.

Brining Kits

I suppose if you’re totally uncoordinated you can buy a pre-packaged brining kit for $10 at Amazon. Or for $13 at Bed, Bath and Beyond. Or for $18 at Williams-Sonoma. Or you can make it at home for a few cents. Whatever. By the way, the Williams-Sonoma one has some interesting ingredients: coarse dried apples, juniper berries, lemon peel, Spanish rosemary and other herbs, plus large black tellicherry, sweet Indian green and Madagascar pink peppercorns. I may consider adding some of these to my homemade brine.

Brining Recipe

You can brine up to 24 hours. After that the meat gets mealy. If you’re roasting a kosher or self-basting turkey, do not brine it; it already contains sodium.This is for a 12-hour brine.

1/2 cup of salt per gallon of cold water (two gallons of water is usually enough)

4-6 whole allspice, smashed

3-4 large garlic cloves, smashed with the skins still on

3-4 whole cloves

1-2 tablespoons brown sugar

10 whole peppercorns, smashed

The only vegetarian coming to our Thanksgiving dinner is the turkey. But I have received several requests from friends for vegetarian recipes. Many of the food magazines and food sections of newspapers are coming up with their own collections, so I am going to post them here. I can’t vouch for any of these, as I haven’t tried the recipes, but some of them look mighty tasty.

Cooking Light’s No Meat Thanksgiving, courtesy The New York Times

101 Cookbook’s Vegetarian Thanksgiving Recipes

Epicurious’ Vegetarian Thanksgiving

LA Times Vegetarian Thanksgiving

SF Gate Vegetarian Thanksgiving

Some foodies consider Thanksgiving what New Year’s Eve is to experienced drinkers–amateur night. Butterball has run a Turkey Hotline since 1981 and receives about 200,000 calls each holiday season. We don’t host Thanksgiving every year, but this is the year that we’re on. It will be a small gathering (seven adults, one child), so easily manageable, particularly in comparison to the multi-course extravaganzas of Tavolavila and “The Last Supper” dinners on New Year’s Eve that we occasionally host.

But the questions are starting to roll in on what we’re doing.

Heritage Turkey

We have splurged again this year to order a heritage turkey from Avedano’s Holly Park Market in Bernal Heights, a local butcher that is our go-to spot for special occasions. The turkey comes from Mary’s, but I’m not sure whether it will be a Narragansett or a Bourbon Red.

We choose heritage turkeys for a number of reasons:

• As members of Slow Food, we want to support the “Ark of Taste” project to ensure the survival of native foods. It may seem like a contradiction in terms–eat something to preserve it. But the more consumers that order this, the more the farms will raise them.
• We don’t need suped up turkey breasts to be happy; most basic grocery store chain type birds are (1) injected with hormones to grow unusually large breasts because of Americans’ strange obsession with the least flavorful part of the bird, (2) factory farmed in poor conditions.
• Heritage turkeys are grown naturally, are allowed to forage and eat more closely to their natural diet. This makes for a more flavorful bird.

If you are fortunate enough to live near a butcher from whom you can order a heritage bird, do it! If you don’t have this advantage, you can still mail order  your bird. But hurry.

Heritage Foods USA

Local Harvest

Sides

The years when we do make dinner, I take notes on what was popular, and what had a lot of leftovers. The temptation is to make tons of side dishes, mostly from starch (potatoes, rice, stuffing, etc.). This year I have promised to stick to two starchy side dishes and two vegetable side dishes.

Here is our menu:

Hors d’oeuvres: pumpkin chutney and goat cheese in filo cups

Roasted turkey (yes, we brine 24 hours)

Cranberry orange jam

Spinach salad with roasted bosc pears, dried cranberries and toasted hazelnuts

Roasted green beans (or glazed baby carrots; still deciding)

Buttermilk mashed potatoes with chives

Wild mushroom bread pudding

Fresh rolls (yes, we make them from scratch)

Individual pumpkin pies

Timing

As a project manager by day, my skills have translated to the kitchen in terms of planning how to prepare for a dinner like this. When you consider the turkey will take about three hours in the oven, you have to work out an oven schedule. You would be surprised how much can be done in advance. This week, for example, I’m going to make the crust for the pies and freeze them. I am also going to make the beef stock needed for the wild mushroom bread pudding. I’ve also already shopped for all the non-perishable staples this weekend.

Judging from the bursts of laughter in the dining room (including the conspiracy of the women at the table to go to Las Vegas for the weekend, and chef’s need to drive a guest home) last night’s Cozinha Portuguesa was a great success. Special thanks to guest GA, who was kind enough to bring both a 1963 and 1958 Sandeman Vintage port for the crowd. It was a fabulous opportunity–and an incredibly gracious offering from our guest.

On the menu for our “pork to port” dinner:

Presunto Iberico de Bellota (technically, from Spain just across the border; I can’t get Portuguese presunto here. But it’s made from the famous black pig and was amazing)

Sardinhas grilhadas (sardines on the grill; marinated in olive oil and lemon first. We removed the head and tail cuz ‘mericans are a little funny about that sometimes; this is one of my favorite dinners when combined with Portuguese corn bread)

Pastel de funcho (caramelized fennel tart; not technically Portuguese but uses a commonly-used ingredient in Portuguese cuisine)

Caldo verde (kale soup made from a particular type of kale from my mom’s–aka sous chef–garden; we used homemade chicken broth; then we grilled housemade linguica and placed a little bit in each bowl)

Bacalhau a Gomes de Sa (another ‘national dish’ of Portugal; an acquired taste, this salt cod baked with potatoes and topped with slices of boiled egg and chopped black olives)

Bolinhos de bacalhau (salt cod fritters; I rolled them in panko crumbs before frying; great contrast with the creamy interior)

Lombo de porco com bivalves (common Portuguese combination: clams and pork; we roasted a pork loin and separately made a sauce of mussels and clams)

Pork confitado (pork confit…a little dab’ll do ya)

Cheese course: Serra da Estrela (guests asked for seconds on this amazing creamy cheese from the Northern parts of Portugal); Sao Jorge, a cheddar-like cheese from the Acores. Served along with mom’s marmalada, or quince paste, which is similar to Spain’s membrillo.

Pasteis de nata (homemade puff pastry tart with a lemony custard)

Pudim de ouro (a gorgeous confection made by chef’s mom…called gold pudding, made in a bundt-like mold and gently baked in bain marie for an hour)

Again…things get too hectic for pictures when you have eight guests waiting.

Maybe next time I’ll hire a photographer…anyone willing to photograph for food? I think bartender/barista/front-of-the-house husband snapped off a few pictures. I’ll check to see what he came up with.

A great MANY thanks to JJ, who flew up from San Diego to help out in the kitchen and, importantly, in the post-mortem clean up. The house is all back to normal like nothing ever happened.

Now, gearing up for another one (this time a “commissioned dinner”–a request by group) on May 8.

Growing up, I would anxiously sit through the long Mass on Easter Sunday, fidgety in my itchy lacy Easter dress. And my mind was focused on one thing: Portuguese sweet bread (massa sovada, which means leavened bread). Typically my mother (and every Portuguese woman we knew) would make vast quantities of it and distribute it to family, friends and neighbors. So we would have a collection of breads on our kitchen table. But my mom’s was and still is the very best. Most years, I make it with my mom because it’s a tradition I definitely want to keep. Without kids we have no one on whom to pass the recipe or the tradition.

So with that in mind, I am going to document the process. Please note that this makes QUANTITY bread--enough to share as holiday gifts with friends, family and neighbors. This recipe made seven loaves, which we distributed.

Ingredients for massa sovada

INGREDIENTS

The Starter

3 packets of yeast

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 cups warm water

1 egg

To make the starter: mix together all the ingredients and set aside in a warm, draft-free place. Allow it to bubble up.

The Bread

24 eggs

2 cups of sugar

1/4 cup liquid sweetener*

Grated lemon peel from one lemon

3 sticks of butter, melted

5 lbs. of flour

For the starter: Add 3/4 cup warm water to the yeast, plus a tablespoon of sugar and let “proof.”

Yeast before proofing

Yeast after proofing

Once the yeast is bubbly, add two cups of water and an egg and mix well. Let sit until it doubles in size and gets bubbly.

Starter before

Starter after (about 2 hours later)

For the bread: Sift the flour into a LARGE pan (ours is about 24 inches in diameter; you can usually get them at a restaurant or bakery supply warehouse). Add the proofed yeast mixture.

Shifting flour using a fine mesh strainer

In a large bowl crack the 24 eggs, add the sugar and sweetener and beat well. Add the beaten eggs and sugar to the flour in the pan. Use your hands to integrate the liquid ingredients with the flour until a rough dough is formed. Now you’re ready to start kneading.

Eggs!

Start kneading the dough with closed fists, adding a little bit of melted butter to the bowl when the dough gets dry. (This is like the dough version of risotto.) Continue adding a little bit of butter at a time, kneading the dough in between. Please note how you knead major quantities of bread. You don’t slap the entire mass onto the counter and knead with your palms, like in most small-scale bread recipes.

Kneading the dough with your fists instead of your palms

Watch the action:

When all the butter is incorporated, place aluminum foil over the bowl, and wrap the bowl in blankets and place in a warm, draft-free place. Typically we do this the night before we bake.

Dough ready for bed

Pan wrapped in blankets in front of the heating vent for the night

We put the dough to bed around 10 p.m. At 5 a.m., my mother’s soft knock on our bedroom door alerted me that it was time to make the loaves. The dough had filled the pan.

Butter and flour the pans.

After making the loaves, we lay a blanket over them (not too heavy, lest they be compressed).

These rose for another two hours. At 7:30 a.m., we heated the oven to 350 degrees. We could fit three loaves in the oven at once. They baked about 45 minutes for each batch.

Hot out of the oven!

It’s tempting to each them hot out of the oven, but WAIT. Lay down a light blanket or clean towel over them to let them rest. You can let them cool without the blanket but that will result in a harder crust, which you don’t really want with this kind of bread.

Bread can be eaten warm within an hour or so.

*about the sweetener: there’s something about the sugar in Portugal vs. the American sugar that makes Portuguese sweet bread much heavier here than there. My mother’s solution is use some artificial liquid sweetener to add some sweetness without the weight or density. Typically, I avoid all laboratory products in my cooking but this is an exception and has great results. You won’t have any aftertaste, I promise.

Ready to eat!

The Indian government will use the bhut jolokia, or “ghost chili,” which holds the Guinness World Record for hottest spice, to make tear gas hand grenades in the fight against terrorism. The nontoxic weapon can be used to choke terrorists or force them out of their hideouts, defense officials explained.

Read the story in the Christian Science Monitor.

Just to prove a point…an article in the San Francisco Chronicle:

Lisbon: Immovable city now irresistable force

To demonstrate the saying that “celebrity breeds celebrity”, an article is this weekend’s The New  York Times demonstrates everything I hate about the phenomenon of food celebrity. Honestly, there’s hardly one of those people in the article I’d want to spend the afternoon with. I’ll admit I would love to do some kind of food-travel show–to combine my previous experience in TV production with my love of cuisine would be a dream come true. That said, I feel I’m too NPR for a Howard Stern world.

There are plenty of food shows on public broadcasting, for sure. They obviously never get to the level of celebrity or, frankly, INCOME that commercial TV does. But that’s really not the point, is it?

I could not look at people in the eye if I was producing some of the vile stuff mentioned in the article:

ultrathin patties of, really, meatloaf — beef, grated onion, garlic powder — that were bracketed by yellow American cheese and swaddled in heavily buttered slices of white bread

Plus my biggest challenge is that I generally despise am annoyed by the general public. That could be a problem for a celebrity, right? Of course, that sort of works for Anthony Bourdain. In some ways I’d want to be the “quit your whining and get in the kitchen” persona. The person who doesn’t tolerate fools gladly. The person who has little patience for the “I-don’t-have-time-that’s-too-hard” mantra. Give me a break. You have time for hours on the Internet or in front of the TV, but not 30 minutes to pull together a basic meal from scratch? PALeeze.