Za'atar chicken

I bought some Za'atar spice mix some time ago because Sara Jenkins said she liked it, so I've been wanting to try this roast chicken. She explains that it is a mix of wild dried thyme, sesame seed, sumac and salt. For this recipe, you take 2 Tbl. and mix with 3 Tbl. of butter at room temperature and 4 finely chopped garlic cloves. You smear the butter mixture underneath the skin of the breasts and thighs on a whole chicken. You rub olive oil over the chicken, salt and pepper. You put 1/2 a small peeled onion in the cavity with 4 springs of thyme and a 2-in. strip of lemon peel (skin only, no pith), and more salt and pepper. Tie the legs together and put the chicken on a rack in a roasting pan and pop into a 425-degree preheated oven. Turn the heat down to 350 degrees after 15 min. Baste the chicken with pan juices every 20 min. and roast for 1 to 1-1/4 hrs. (165 degrees internal temperature). Let it sit 10 min. before carving/serving.

The chicken was delicious. It staid very moist. The spice flavor was very subtle -- the mix might be a little old. I had expected more of a Middle East flavor, but the overall effect was so good, that's not really a complaint. I served it with couscous and a braised fennel and tomato recipe from Patricia Wells.

I've gradually come to the conclusion that Patricia Wells is not that great a cookbook author. I met her a couple of times long ago in Paris when I worked for her husband, Walter, at the Herald Tribune and have dutifully collected a number of her books over the years. The Food Lovers' Guide to Paris, which made her fortune, is a nice book and she is a better food writer than cookbook author. I've rarely had anything of hers come out really great, and this fennel recipe from her Provence Cookbook was no exception.

I'm probably just spoiled by other, better writers (Sara Jenkins!), whose instructions are totally reliable and who anticipate any deviations or possible mishaps. In her recipe, Wells has you trim and quarter 2 lbs of fennel bulbs (this was only 2, no surprise), and peel and quarter 2 large onions (I used 2-1/2 medium onions, had 1/2 onion left over from chicken above). You sweat the onions in 1/4 c. olive oil in a covered skillet for 5 min., then add the fennel, cover and cook for another 10 min., add the six peeled and halved cloves of garlic and 1/2 c. white wine and reduce for 5 min. Then add a 28-oz. can of plum tomatoes and cook for 30 min.

This is where the trouble begins. She says to crush the tomatoes to break them up; that doesn't really work. Why not chop them or just get the chopped tomatoes? The sweating had made the onions somewhat tender, but the fennel remained firm and crisp and 30 min. of simmering didn't change that too much. Were these bigger, more mature fennel bulbs than Wells gets in her market in Provence. Perhaps, but a word of warning would have been nice. It's nothing a little more cooking won't fix, but it throws your meal timing off. Also, while you can hardly go wrong with these ingredients, this recipe could use a little pepping up with a herb. I'm hopeful that warming it up and cooking it some more will make it a good second-day dish.

So I'll continue to use her books (I have so many of them!) but will treat her recipes with more skepticism.

Roast chicken with Dijon mustard

It may be that no one has done a cookbook on roasting before because it's so simple. I've always admired cookbook authors, however, who are not afraid to put in simple recipes. It was one of the things that drew me to Marcella Hazan. Those of us who haven't really learned in a cooking tradition can benefit from descriptions of the simplest techniques.

So I appreciate Molly Stevens filling her All About Roasting with simple recipes. This one involves taking chicken pieces -- she recommends cutting up a whole chicken but you can use any bone-in, skin-on pieces -- and massaging them in 1/3 c. Dijon mustard, salt and pepper and leaving them in the bowl covered with plastic (outside the fridge) for 1-1/2 hrs. (alternatively, 4 hrs. in the fridge). Then you put them into a baking dish where they're not squeezed or overlapping (9x13), put a dollop of creme fraiche on each piece (1/4 c. altogether), and pour 1/4 c. white wine or vermouth around the pieces (not over, or  you'll wash off the mustard), and pop them in a preheated 375-degree oven for 45 min.

When done, remove the chicken pieces to a platter and cover loosely with foil. Pour sauce into saucepan and reduce by half for 4 to 8 min. Stir in 1 to 2 Tbl. lemon juice and 2 Tbl. chopped herbs (tarragon, chervil or parsley) and ladle sauce over chicken pieces. Serve with rice or buttered noodles.

Whole Foods had a great Friday special on whole chickens so I got one and used this recipe. It was really very good -- the chicken stayed very moist and had a lot of flavor from the mustard (though not sharply mustardy) and the sauce had a wonderful chicken flavor from the rendered fat. We had the buttered noodles and they soaked up the sauce nicely. I had parsley on hand, so used it, but this would be divine with tarragon.

Chick peas

I'm a fan of chick peas in all its forms -- hummus, falafel, cooked, purreed -- and just hit the indexes the other day to find a recipe. Came up with Garbanzos a la Catalana (chick peas with tomatoes, fresh sausage and peppers) from an early Paula Wolfert book, Mediterranean Cooking. She says it's very popular in Barcelona, where they use a special Catalonian sausage.

Very simple in concept, though a little labor intensive, you soak the dried chick peas overnight, then cook for 1 hour or until tender, and drain, reserving 2 c. of the cooking liquid. You prick and brown a mild pork sausage -- I used Whole Foods mild Italian -- and then cut it into 1-in. chunks. In the grease, you saute 1 c. chopped onion, 1 tsp. minced garlic, and 1 c. diced green pepper along with 5 oz. of slab bacon or lean salt pork that you have simmered in water for 10 min. Then you add 4 large peeled, seeded and chopped tomatoes, grating of nutmeg, 1 tsp. ground thyme, salt and pepper, cover and cook for 10 min. Then you fold the sausage chunks into the tomato sauce, put the chick peas into a 13-in. wide, 2-in. deep baking dish, spoon the tomato sauce over it, "moisten" with the cooking liquid, cover with aluminum foil and put into preheated 375-degree oven for 1-1/2 hrs., stirring occasionally.

This was a quick pre-bridge dinner for us, but you could dress it up with some bread and salad. If you like chick peas at all, this an easy, tasty recipe.

Duck legs braised in port and dried cherries

I knew if I kept searching I would find duck legs one of these days. I had a chance to swing by Balducci's in Wildwood Shopping Center and found a package, conveniently enough, of exactly the four moulard legs weighing 3-1/2 lbs. called for in this recipe from Molly Stevens' All About Braising.


It seemed perfect for this week's special event (which we don't celebrate at a restaurant). You start the day before by grinding 1 tsp. lightly toasted coriander seeds with 1/2 tsp. black peppercorns and 1/2 tsp. allspice berries, then mix that with 1 Tbl. chopped thyme and 1-1/2 tsp. coarse salt. You rub this spice mix over the duck legs, which you have trimmed of fat and skin flaps, and refrigerate overnight. Also, you take 1/2 c. (3 oz.) of dried, unsweetened cherries and "plump" them overnight in 1 c. tawny port.

The next day you brown the duck legs in a cast iron skillet, putting them skin side down over medium heat and not moving them for about 7 min. Check that the skin has crisped then turn over to brown flesh side for 3 or 4 min. No need to add fat because the legs render fat quickly. Drain off the fat from the first batch and repeat with second batch. Keep 2 Tbl. of fat to saute 1 large, thinly sliced shallot for 1 or 2 min., then add the cherries and port and reduce in half for 4 or 5 min. Add a bay leaf and 1 c. chicken stock, and reduce in half again, for about 8 min.

Place the duck legs in a 4 to 5 qt. braising pan, pour over the braising liquid, cover with parchment paper, pushing it down towards the legs and leaving an inch or so around the outside, cover tightly and put into preheated 325-degree oven. Check after first half hour that liquid is not simmering too fast. After 1 hr. cooking, turn legs over. Cook for 2 hrs altogether.

Remove the legs to a sheet pan and pour braising liquid into saucepan. The legs will have rendered a lot more fat, so skim that off the top and reduce the liquid to a syrupy sauce. Check for seasoning and keep at a low simmer. Meanwhile, turn the oven heat up to 475 degrees and put the legs in skin side up to crisp, for 8 to 10 min. Put on a platter and ladle the cherry-port sauce over it.

Now I like duck, and braised duck in particular, and this was pretty spectacular. Following Stevens' suggestion, we accompanied with creamy polenta and a California Zinfandel and it was truly a special meal for a special occasion.

Jerusalem artichokes

I'm sure it's my fault but I'm always a little disappointed with Deborah Madison and the other folks from Greens. We have three of the cookbooks from Greens and about all I ever use them for is techniques for grilling vegetables (which are quite good!). I bought Madison's Local Flavors: Cooking and Eating from America's Farmer's Markets when it came out precisely so I could go to the farmer's market, buy whatever looked good, and come home and find a nice recipe for it.

It hardly ever works out that way. I find generally that, as in the other books, the recipes are just too complicated, requiring too many other ingredients, and designed more to be a vegetarian meal rather than a vegetable dish. That may be great for vegetarians, but, while I don't mind the occasional vegetarian meal, I generally want vegetables as a side to a meat dish.

Anyway, the Sheridan School farmer's market had Jerusalem artichokes, so I bought some and looked for a recipe in Local Flavors. There was one for Jerusalem artichokes, artichokes and lentils that I decided to go ahead with and just leave out the artichokes. It calls for only 1/3 cup black or green lentils, which you cook for 25 min. in 2-1/2 c. water with 1/2 tsp. salt. Drain and reserve the liquid.

If you have artichokes you trim and quarter them, then dice them, and put them in a bowl with lemon juice to keep them from discoloring. You scrub the Jerusalem artichokes (don't need to peel them) and slice them into 1/3-in. slices. You put both vegetables in a skillet with 1-1/2 Tbl. of olive oil and 4 shallots, peeled and sliced into 1/3-in. slices. Sautee all this for 4 to 5 min. and season with 1/2 tsp. salt and some pepper, add 3/4 c. of the reserved lentil broth, cover and simmer for 20 min. Then add the lentils and 2 tsp. chopped tarragon or marjoram and cook for 5 min. Stir in 2 Tbl. butter and sprinkle 1 Tbl. chopped parsley over it. Madison says to serve with a small dried pasta or as a side to roast chicken or duck. We served with gnochetti sardi.

This was tasty enough, though fairly sluggish looking (not great for presentation at a dinner party, for instance). It would have helped if I added some lemon juice even without the artichokes (no doubt the artichokes would have helped, too, but they wouldn't add any color) and had a fresh herb instead of dried tarragon. It was just not compelling enough that I would ever do it again.

Perhaps it is just the fate of Jerusalem artichokes to be part of fairly dull-looking dishes. I found fewer recipes than I thought I would when I actually brought them home (you know how it is, you see nothing but Jerusalem artichoke recipes until you finally have some and then you can't find one to save your life).

Persimmon

Ever since some friends introduced us to the art of sitting at the bar at Persimmon and making a meal out of their ample starters -- the lobster roll and fish tacos are our favorites -- that has been the way we visit this longtime Bethesda restaurant.

But the bar was full the other night and a table opened up just as we arrived, so we sat in the main dining room and decided to go whole hog by ordering entrees. The food was very, very good, on a par with Matisse and certainly not any more expensive.

We split the fennel and arugula salad, which was fresh, crisp and perfectly dressed, with delicious shavings of ricotta. I had the roasted magret of duck with a celery root galette and hash of sweet potato, bacon and duck confit. It was all stacked attractively in a small pillar with a thick, dark sauce and it was excellent. Andrea got the pan-seared salmon with artichokes, mushrooms and basil risotto. She reported it was tasty but noted that the salmon portion was too small at something like 4 oz.

We'd always had reservations about the noise level in the main dining room, which is quite small. And it was indeed very noisy. But the warm ambiance, the full panoply of tablecloths, silver and all that stuff, as well as the quality of the food, made it all bearable. The server was a little stressed and let it show; the bar, ironically, was extraordinarily slow in getting our drinks out. In short, we will probably still opt for the bar seats first, but we might be more venturesome in our ordering.

Beef stew with juniper berries

In her Glorious Soups and Stews of Italy, Domenica Marchetti helpfully has the recipes divided into the four seasons and I had long since earmarked this one to have sometime in winter. It gets a lot of flavor from a marinade that uses a full bottle of wine. It was delicious with beef, though she says it can also be used with boar or regular pork.

The recipe calls for 3-1/2 lbs of boneless chuck, trimmed and cut into 1-1/2" cubes. The cut I got was marked "local beef" at Whole Foods and was very tender for chuck. It was easy to cut into cubes though there were a couple of slabs of fat to remove. You put the meat cubes into a Dutch oven and throw in 1 small thinly sliced yellow onion, 1 peeled and coarsely chopped carrot, 1 large coarsely chopped rib of celery, 4 small sprigs of fresh rosemary, 6 fresh sage leaves, 2 fresh bay leaves (I used dried), 4 sprigs flat-leaf parsley, 1 Tbl slightly bruised juniper berries, 1 tsp black peppercorns. Then you pour in the bottle of red wine (she says Chianti, I used a California blend), stir things around gently, cover and refrigerate for 24 to 48 hours (I did 22).

To cook the stew, you extract the pieces of meat from the marinade and pat them dry. You strain the marinade into a bowl and throw away the solids, saving the liquid. You brown the meat in 2 Tbl of olive oil, about 5 min. Add more oil if necessary and saute 1 large or 2 medium chopped yellow onions and 1 peeled and finely chopped carrot for another 5 min. Then add a paste made from 1 clove of garlic pressed through a garlic press and 1 tsp salt, cook for another minute or two. Return meat to pot, add a new sprig of rosemary and 1/2 tsp juniper berries, and pour in the reserved marinade liquid, adding water if needed to cover the ingredients. Bring to a simmer and cook for 2-1/2 to 3 hours.

Since she recommended a saffron risotto as an accompaniment and I want to improve my risotto technique, that's what I fixed, though it's somewhat extravagant for a weekday meal. I did better this time, but it still needs some work. Following Marchetti's directions, I sauteed another chopped onion in butter and oil, sauteed the rice (carnaroli this time), and ladled in the broth a half-cup at a time. Halfway through I added in 1/2 tsp chopped saffron threads dissolved in a half-cup of the broth. She said 20 to 25 min. at medium heat, and I think this is too fast and too hot. I checked Marcella Hazan afterwards, and she says regulate the heat so that the rice cooks in 30 min. My problem is always that it cooks too fast, so I think I need to lower the heat. Also, Marchetti specified 3x liquid to rice but Marcella has 3-1/2x ratio. So a little more time, a little more liquid, and a little less heat next time! Added butter and parmesan at end, of course. A very nice meal with plenty of leftovers.

Pan-to-oven pork chops with garlic

The River Cottage Meat Book by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall is one of those books I love having, but I can't say I've been able to use it much. Partly because it is really a very pedagogical book about meat, written with English style and wit, but many of the lessons are specific to the British context they are written in.

Still, I'm sure there are many wonderful things in it if I can find them. This particular dish is really more of a technique than a recipe and Hugh (I hesitate to use the hyphenated surname) suggests some interesting variations.

The operative word here is garlic. You take one large head or two normal heads and "release" all the cloves without peeling them (anyone who remembers Gerard Depardieu in "Green Card" knows just how to do this). Crush them slightly with the blade of a knife, but the peel will keep them from burning. Now, embarrassingly, I had closer to one normal head of garlic because I thought wrongly there was more on hand, so we probably missed out on the full impact of this recipe.

You place an ovenproof dish that can hold 4 pork chops in the oven and heat it to 425 degrees. Then you heat "a little" olive oil in a skillet and fry the garlic cloves there for a few minutes. Add the chops and brown them just one minute on each side, seasoning as you turn. Remove the chops to the ovenproof dish, scoop out the garlic cloves with a slotted spoon and distribute over the chops, and deglaze the skillet with 1 c. white wine. You reduce by half and pour over the chops. Hugh makes a big point of having the "bony end" of the chop sticking up in the air so it will get crispy while the meaty end stays in the braising juices, but none of my chops had a protruding bony end. You return the dish to the oven and cook for 15 to 20 minutes, basting the chops halfway through. He suggests serving with mashed potatoes and steamed greens, though we had risotto cakes left over from Henry's Super Bowl party.

The technique works for any kind of chop, Hugh says. He offers suggestions for veal with lemon and capers or lamb with garlic and anchovies, but those will be for another day.

The Vineyard at the End of the World

My review of The Vineyard at the End of the World: Maverick Winemakers and the Rebirth of Malbec by Ian Mount appeared today in The Washington Independent Review of Books:

Aficionados will lap up this history of the Argentine wine industry and its signature grape, Malbec. Writing in a lively, journalistic style, Ian Mount combines colorful vignettes and extensive interviews of the key players with a wealth of information to provide the definitive word on what has become a mainstay of New World wine.

Mount writes authoritatively about wine. His deft descriptions explain why it’s important how vines are planted, how the grapes are picked, how high the pH level should be, why oxygen must be avoided at all costs, how modern equipment and techniques have improved the product, and how revolutionary the last three decades have been in creating a wonderful new world of wine.

The story he tells is truly astonishing. Argentina has a tradition of wine growing and production dating back to the conquistadors. Waves of Italian immigrants well-schooled in Old World vineyards gave the country a robust wine culture. But Argentina often remained mired in autarkic economic policies, at times a political and economic pariah in the world community. Through much of the country’s history, Argentine vintners produced a cheap, substandard wine, (“plonk” is one of Mount’s favorite words) suitable only for domestic consumption.

It was only as the wine revolution in Europe and California was under way that a handful of intrepid Argentine winemakers brought in these foreign consultants to study the challenges posed by the hot, dry climate of the country’s western wine-growing regions. Hoping at first to compete in a global market dominated by Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon, they developed Argentine versions of these varietals that gave them their first export products.

Through trial and error, patience and skill, the winemakers and their foreign consultants eventually came to the realization that the Malbec grape, one of the original constituents of fine Bordeaux wines that had survived as an ugly-duckling varietal in the New World, offered the best opportunity to create a distinctive, world-class wine. With its dark, inky color and fruity flavor, Malbec previously had been used to lend body to thin clarets. By adapting the grape to the Argentine terroir and using modern techniques, a new generation of winemakers was able to create a wine that could not only stand on its own but enrich what had become a truly global market.

Mount tells the story with verve and distills a great amount of research and reporting into his book. But he makes the reader work a little harder than necessary by failing to mold the story into a tight narrative. The wine connoisseur will relish every detail, but the general reader and casual wine consumer may not have the motivation to read through the early chapters about the settling of western Argentina and the often extraneous details about some of the colorful characters involved.

Without a strong narrative arc, the book, even though it is roughly chronological, emerges as a somewhat disjointed series of anecdotes, vignettes, snatches of historical research and a textbook on wine production. Rather than plunging us immediately into the historical beginnings of the Argentine wine industry, Mount could have made it easier for the reader by starting with the success of Malbec — this is what we’re most familiar with — and then going back into history to explain where it all comes from after he had us hooked.

When Mount does get to the series of events that brought the new Malbec wines to the world, even though he clearly has talked to numerous sources on three continents, his account seems to rely heavily on Nicolás Catena and the role of his family company. However crucial Catena’s contribution might have been, the book at times reads almost like a corporate history.

Nonetheless, Mount does not gloss over Catena’s failings, describing him at times as Machiavellian. The author presents both sides regarding Catena’s final break with his longtime consultant, Paul Hobbs, but the parting was obviously acrimonious because of competing claims about who should get the credit for discovering Malbec.

In any case, The Vineyard at the End of the World is a great read for anyone caught up in the romance of wine (or, for that matter, the romance of Argentina). It is amazing in retrospect that the breakthrough for Malbec and for Argentine wines in general took place in the mid-90s, less than two decades ago.

For expert and casual consumers alike, the dazzling array of wine choices now available at affordable prices has reached Bacchanalian proportions. Ian Mount’s book, focusing on this one important location, helps us appreciate the history, the talent and the hard work that has gone into making that possible.

Darrell Delamaide, a Washington, D.C.-based writer, has visited vineyards on four continents. His latest book is The Grand Mirage, a historical thriller.

Lamb and lettuce stew with Avgolemono sauce

I'm so impressionable that as I was reading Murder in Mykonos I was getting "homesick" for Greece. Granted, my five-week visit to the Peloponnese and several islands decades ago hardly makes Greece a second home, but it left a powerful impression on me. In any case, author Jeffrey Siger's great descriptions took me back and prompted me to break out the ouzo for an aperitif and rummage through Andy Harris's Modern Greek for this recipe. It's very simple, ideal for a weekday and delicious. The lamb is a bit of a splurge, but it's still cheaper than going out for a burger these days.

You take 3 lbs. of boned leg of lamb, trimmed and cubed and brown it in 3 Tbl. of olive oil for 10 min. Then you add 2 "heads" of Romaine lettuce (I used 2 of the Romaine hearts that are now sold in packages), finely shredded; 2 bunches of green onions, finely chopped; and a small bunch of dill, finely chopped, and cook, stirring, for another 10 min., until the greens are thoroughly wilted. Then you add salt and pepper, and water to cover (I only needed 2 c.) and simmer for 1 to 1-1/2 hours, until meat is tender (only took an hour).

You let it cool some before whipping up the Avgolemono sauce. Now Andrea rolled out that word like she was born in Greece, though she admitted she'd never made it, but while I'm pretty sure I've had it in Greek dishes, I'd never encountered it in a recipe before. Anyway, very simple. You lightly beat two eggs, whisk in the juice of 1-1/2 lemon, whisk in a ladleful of the broth from the stew, and then stir it all into the stew and cook over low heat a few minutes for it to thicken. Serve with bread (I used ciabatta in the absence of a decent hard-crust bread).

The lettuce had disintegrated to the point that Andrea asked whether the sauce had been purreed. Nope. A nice, different flavor and a great light stew.