Grilled salmon with lime butter

It all started when I forgot to buy lemons at the store. We'd settled on salmon fillet for a weeknight dinner, so I stopped at The Fishery for the salmon and some green beans. We usually have lemons in the fruit bowl but we had run out and I forgot to replenish the supply. All I had was one sorry little lime and a dried half-lime in the fridge.

Daderot via Wikimedia Commons

This is where the fathomless depths of the Internet come in handy. Click to Epicurious, search "salmon lime" and the first recipe to pop up is Grilled Salmon with Lime Butter -- 4-1/2 forks and 93% would make it again. The salmon is easy -- salt, pepper, slap on grill -- and the butter almost as easy -- purree 1/4 cup lime juice, a chopped garlic clove, salt and pepper then dribble in 1 stick of melted butter while running the blender until the whole is emulsified. I used the indoor option for grilling -- the ridged grill pan we bought for some of the Ottolenghi recipes -- and finished in the oven.

The lime butter was divine and would make anything taste good (and, yes, there was plenty left over for another meal). The salmon -- we just get the Canadian farm salmon, tastes good to us -- had enough scorched flavor to set off the citrusy, buttery sauce. An extra fillip came from the lime zest sprinkled over the cooked salmon.

Unaltered photo by McKay Savage under Creative Commons license

For the beans, I wanted to use the can of San Marzano tomatoes con basilico that I accidentally opened to make sauce Bolognese earlier in the week, and didn't use because I wanted to keep to Marcella's perfect recipe. Click on Epicurious, search "green beans tomato basil" and up pops Green Beans Braised with Tomato and Basil, with an equally good rating. A half onion kept in the fridge supplied the 1 cup of chopped onion, which went with 2 minced garlic cloves into 3 tablespoons of olive oil to soften, then add 1-1/2 pounds trimmed green beans, 1 cup chopped tomato, 1 cup basil leaves, and 1/2 cup water. I used my canned tomatoes with the basil included and supplemented with some dried basil. The beans were mature, so took longer (and more water) than the 10 minutes prescribed in the recipe. The canned tomatoes probably produced a more concentrated tomato flavor than the fresh ones called for in the recipe (certainly than any available at this time of the year) so the complaint of some commenters that this dish was bland didn't apply. It actually was a great accompaniment to the salmon.

Not only was this a surprisingly elegant weeknight meal, I used up stuff from the fridge in a nicely serendipitous fashion.

Saturday Dinners with Yotam

Keeping with our enthusiasm for all things Ottolenghi and playing on Sunday Suppers at Lucques, we have been having dinner and a movie at home on Saturday and cooking from the Ottolenghi cookbooks.

So we finally got to try the "Roasted chicken with Jerusalem artichoke & lemon" when the farmer's market had some Jerusalem artichokes. We were probably a little too impromptu, because I gave it the minimum two-hour marinade instead of the ideal overnight, so we may not have gotten the full impact. Also, the pink peppercorns came through too strongly for my taste, whether because they were old or just because that's the way they taste. I'd cut back a second time. Lastly, we didn't get nearly enough tarragon, so that probably detracted as well.

It did nothing to dim our enthusiasm, however. We had better luck with "Lamb meatballs with barberries, yogurt & herbs." The Blue Rooster Farm supplied the ground lamb at its monthly visit to our farmer's market and Shemali's, the Middle Eastern store at Sutton Place, had the barberries, so we had a delicious concoction of meatballs, shallots and figs, topped with Greek yogurt. The sauce was rich and brown and the familiar combination of allspice, cinnamon, garlic and onions gave it all an exotic air.

The star so far, though, has been the "Chicken with caramelized onion & cardamom rice." As the authors say in the headnote, cooking the rice with the chicken obviates the need for stock and all the lovely flavors go into the rice. The 10 cardamom pods are not crushed or ground so the cardamom flavor remains very subtle, yet perfumes both the rice and the meat with that indefinable touch of the Orient. Typically, Ottolenghi and Tamimi flavor this at the end with chopped herbs -- cilantro, parsley and dill. Only on the second day -- because we make the full recipes so we really end up having Saturdays, Sundays and sometimes Mondays with Ottolenghi -- did we use the optional Greek yogurt and olive oil topping, and we'll never leave it off again.

We've also done some of the side dishes and I'll back to those another time.

Ottolenghi

The lamb shawarma recipe from Jerusalem is a prime example of why everyone is so wild about Ottolenghi -- it is a twist on an exotic Mediterranean specialty that turns it into a fresh and exciting dish.

We've been on an Ottolenghi kick and went to the book-signing he and his cooking partner, Sami Tamimi, did for Ottolenghi at the Sixth & I Synagogue. The interview, conducted somewhat ineptly by Joan Nathan, was not great, but did give you an impression of these two Israelis, one Jewish and the other Palestinian, who have taken the culinary world by storm with their London restaurants.

The lamb dish, which you have to all in love with when you see the photo, was the centerpiece of an all-Ottolenghi menu. The rub includes a baker's dozen of spices -- peppercorns, cloves, cardamom pods, fenugreek seeds, fennel seeds, cumin seeds, star anise, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground ginger, sweet paprika, sumac, sea salt -- that get in part roasted, then ground and all mixed together. Grated fresh ginger, crushed garlic cloves, chopped cilantro, lemon juice and peanut oil are added to make a rub for the leg of lamb, which ideally gets marinated overnight. Then it is slow-roasted in a 325 oven for 4-1/2 hours, adding 1 cup of boiling water after the first 30 minutes and covering with aluminum foil for the last 3 hours to keep the spice crust from burning. Be sure to keep water in the pan and baste it every hour or so with the liquid. We followed the suggestion to add waxy potatoes, peeled and in wedges, to the roast for the last 1-1/2 hours.

The meat was fork-tender and delicious. The spice crust gave the dish some zing but the full lamb flavor came through well. It was going to be dry in any case and timing for guests kept it in the oven longer, so I would be sure the next time to have more liquid at the finish to ladle over the carved meat. The potatoes, which were very tasty, absorbed some liquid as well.

As sides we served the marinated eggplant with tahini and oregano and the cucumber and poppy seed salad from Ottolenghi. The small eggplants get cut into wedges and roasted, then marinated in a mix of chopped red chile, cilantro, oregano, garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper. After this sits for at least 2 hours, you top it with green tahini sauce for serving. The cucumber salad calls for small cucumbers -- which by some serendipity Whole Foods happened to have -- mixed with sliced red chiles, cilantro, white wine vinegar, sunflower oil, poppy seeds and superfine sugar. These were also delicious and harmonized well with the lamb. We served a good Bordeaux with the meal.

In their talk, Tamimi (who like Simone Beck and Louise Bertholle tends to get forgotten in all the hullabaloo over Yotam Ottolenghi) emphasized that much of their cooking comes back to garlic and lemon. When someone lamely asked what tools they suggest for the kitchen, Tamimi gamely answered "a lemon squeezer and a garlic press." Enough said.

Swordfish, Malaga style

I went to Malaga once and it was cold. A friend had offered a vacation condo in this Mediterranean resort after I sold my loft, but it was February and I had to keep the space heater going the whole time.

Nonetheless, the name conjures up hot weather and beaches, so for one of my bachelor fish dinners, I picked this recipe from Janet Mendel's My Kitchen in Spain. I had to cut down the recipe, of course, and just left out the ingredients I didn't have (I bought the swordfish before I found the recipe).

Saute chopped onion, chopped garlic, and chopped green pepper (missing) in olive oil for 5 minutes, then add diced tomato, white wine, parsley (missing), bay leaf, ground cloves, salt and pepper, and simmer to thicken sauce. Then add the swordfish steak(s) and cook in sauce, turning once, until cooked through. I didn't sprinkle it with sliced green olives to finish. I had it with white rice.

I find the taste of swordfish surprisingly mild given how oily and fishy it looks in its raw state. Here the white flaky cooked fish paired nicely with the tomato, onion and garlic.

Mendel has this nice touch of simple, tasty recipes that bring you the Mediterranean with just a couple of ingredients. "Malaga style," she explains in the headnote, means cooked with a sofrito that includes fresh tomatoes. Maybe next time I go it will be sunny and hot.

Slow-roasted duck breast

Here is a recipe with the shortest list of ingredients you can imagine: 2 moulard duck breasts, salt, pepper. No fat, no onion, no garlic, no spice, no herb, no rub, no marinade, no waiting.

And it tastes great! Molly Stevens does not hesitate to simply describe techniques in her All About Roasting, without dolling them up with superfluous directions or ingredients. Here you just use a sharp knife to cut a cross-hatch pattern in the skin (don't pierce through to the flesh), sear the duck breasts skin-side down in a skillet for 5-6 minutes (no need for extra fat since they start rendering fat immediately), then put on a flat rack on a sheet pan skin-side up into a 200-degree oven for 50 minutes, or until 135 degrees internal temperature for rare and 145 to 150 for medium rare (our choice).

The slow roast leaves the breasts juicy and tender, while the salt and pepper enhance the slightly gamy flavor of the duck and its fat. Just slice and serve, no further ingredients needed.

Stevens suggests using some of the rendered duck fat to saute greens as an accompaniment. We used a Brussels sprouts recipe from About.com, of all places, instead. This involved gently sauteeing diced bacon starting in a cold skillet until it renders fat and turns golden. Add the Brussels sprouts -- halved or quartered depending on how crunchy you want them -- and saute for a few minutes. Then add chicken stock, bring to a boil and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes. Stir in some butter and a squeeze of lemon juice and adjust seasonin at the end.

This is a great technique for preserving the green cabbagy flavor of the sprouts. The braising disperses the grease so it does not distract from or overpower the vegetable taste.

Bourbon Steak

I could hardly resist going to a restaurant that pairs two of my favorite things in its name, so we went on a special occasion for a very expensive but great meal.

You get what you pay for. Bourbon Steak offered not only excellent, creative dishes but service so good it almost eclipsed the food. From the friendly greetings, to the personable waiter, to the knowledgeable sommelier -- hey, you say, this is the way it's supposed to be, but as you know it so rarely is -- you just felt well taken care of. The waiter explained the signature dishes and why they were signature, without being pushy. The sommelier started his recommendations with a 100+ bottle, and, hearing no demurrals, moved on to 200+, and then 400+ before I reined him in, pointing to a Burgundy in the 50-80 range (that's as low as they get). He had nothing but good things to say about it and described it perfectly; it was a great accompaniment to the meal and, as he advised when he brought it, the last bottle they had.

The restaurant was chilly when we came in and the waiter actually fulfilled his promise to have them turn up the heat so that it was comfortable during the meal.

There was the de rigueur craft cocktail menu, so I ordered the signature bourbon-based Brown Derby, which was a nice drink, served up in a medium-sized coupe. Andrea stuck with a cosmo.

The amuse-gueule in the upscale steakhouse were three types -- herb, spicey (not too much) and something else -- of duck fat french fries each with its own matching sauce. They disappeared rapidly.

My octopus karma continued to function and I ordered their tasty "octopus poke" as a starter. Andrea indulged in a marvelous ahi tuna tatar, which was mixed with the yolk of a quail egg at the table and served with an overabundance of toast. I followed with a wagyu flatiron steak cooked a very rare medium-rare, and Andrea ordered a pork schnitzel with wild mushrooms that made her eyes pop out.

I was tempted by the 18-ounce bone-in strip, but decided the 10-ounce flatiron was more unusual and worth trying. It had the buttery mouth-feel the waiter had described but its different beef flavor takes some adjusting. It is lean meat and perhaps an acquired taste. I'm glad I tried it, but next time will probably opt for the more familiar Angus beef.

Andrea's schnitzel of Berkshire pork was nicely flattened and perfectly deep-fried in its fluffy breading. The wild mushrooms piled on top (with another egg) were delicious and almost too strong for the thin pork cutlet. Both dishes were ample and filling. We ordered a single side, the cassoulet with goat (meat), and it worked very well with both dishes.

We had mentioned the special occasion in our reservation and received two glasses of champagne on the house at the end of the meal as well as a complimentary mini-dessert. We had already ordered a butterscotch pot-de-creme that was a little too deconstructed for my taste.

The only real drawback was the gloomy decor, which doesn't quite succeed in conveying the expense-account feel the restaurant is clearly seeking. It was neither warm nor classy, nor really even close. The check, however, was perfectly convincing for an expense-account meal, though we were paying with our own money.

Vendor vacuum

Washington -- as the new pathetically lame Wagshal's at Sutton Place demonstrates yet again -- will never sustain first-rate food vendors on any scale, so it's little surprise that a short outing to specialty stores in Bethesda was not particularly uplifting.

First stop, the Women's Cooperative Farm Market, where a chocolate croissant at the French bakery tasted at least a day old and most of the food stalls were closed (great place for the flowers, though).

Then on to Vace, a tried-and-true old-fashioned Italian deli where I could get thinly sliced and delicious prosciutto di Parma, soppressata, and coppa. Vace, I think, has a lesson for would-be specialty vendors. Grow organically, keep a narrow focus, find a cash cow to draw people in (for Vace it's pizza by the slice and partially cooked pizzas).

Next I went to Quartermaine to avoid Starbucks. The cappuccino there can't compare to those in Italy, but has more flavor than Starbucks'. I generally don't like Quartermaine's dark roasts, though I let the salesperson tell me the Guatemala beans were medium roast, though they looked awfully dark to me when I got home.

Over to Capital Tea, a chain that has a lot of fru-fru tea -- flowery, fruity, herbal blends. The breakfast blend black tea I tasted was bland and weak, but I bought 2 ounces of Assam anyway. When I drank it at home, it tasted, well, bland and weak. Unfortunately, Zara Tea, which was much more serious about tea, fell victim to the work being done further up Bethesda and is no more.

I wanted to try Max Brenner's Chocolate House, so I went in there and bought the little sampler of four bon-bons. The problems started when I had trouble finding four different ones that were dark chocolate without fruit or nuts or pralines. The chocolates themselves were undistinguished and definitely tasted machine-made rather than hand-made, a no-no when you're charging $5+ for four. They will no doubt thrive with the hot chocolate menu and we will go back for that when it's cold.

Finally, I caved and bought a bottle of the bulk California olive oil at Secolari. Of the limited bulk choice they had, the Arbequina seemed to me to have the most personality. It's a nice idea, but I don't see how they will survive the high rents in this part of Bethesda. For myself, I totally buy Olio2Go's argument that an oil bottled and sealed in Italy is more reliable than any bulk oil, which has been who knows where and had who knows what added to it. Still, I'm glad they're growing olives and making olive oil in California.

Baby octopus salad

I've had octopus on the mind lately, so when Broad Branch for the first time I've ever seen had a little pile of baby octopuses in their fish counter, I bought one to try it.

The first task was to figure out what I had, since the recipes I looked at were talking about an octopus weighing 2 to 3 pounds, and mine was only 5 ounces. But it definitely wasn't a squid, and Google Images helped me determine it's what is called a baby octopus.

Mark Bittman has octopus recipes in his Fish, but these are the big daddies. He does say that octopus is underappreciated in this country and he knows people who swear it's better than lobster. Epicurious came up with a nice and easy recipe for baby octopus salad.

Let me say right away that the result was a revelation. I've had and enjoyed both octopus salad and grilled octopus, but cooking it fresh at home introduced me to a new and better version. This octopus came out tender, not chewy, with a delicate flavor that hinted of fish but had that creamy sweetness you associate with lobster or crab, only with a firmer texture.

You just simmer the octopus in water with a bay leaf for 45 minutes, drain and, when cooled, toss in a vinaigrette of oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper and oregano and leave it sit for 20 minutes. Squeamish alert. These little guys have tentacles with little sucking pads on them and they start moving in the water as cooking tightens and curls the flesh. The water turns purple and the boiled octopus comes out purple. The recipe says to cut off the head and then cut it in half lengthwise. I chopped the tentacles into smaller pieces, the way I've seen in salads that I've had. I for once was out of lemons so substituted a dash of white wine vinegar.

The result was a new treat that I can't wait to repeat. Hopefully, this was not a one-off appearance at Broad Branch. The octopuses seemed fresh but may have been thawed out. Bittman says that most octopuses are caught offshore in this country and then shipped to Europe. The frozen octopus available here goes that route. The only other time I shopped for octopus was at the Fishery and they brought out a kilo-size block of frozen fish that was way too much for just me, since Andrea practically turned ill at the sight of even a baby octopus.

Pork/Leeks; Salmon/Lime; Chicken/Fennel

Weekday meals can be surprisingly fresh with a little extra effort to flavor standard meat and fish dishes by cooking them with vegetables and fruit.

Marcella Hazan came through with another winning pork recipe. Her pan-roasted pork loin with leeks calls for a bone-in pork loin roast. The key is the leeks. Take 4 or 5 slim leeks, trim, cut in half lengthwise and then cross-wise in 1/2-inch slices. Wilt these with butter and oil in a Dutch oven for a few minutes until soft but not brown. Salt and remove 2/3 of the leeks. Add more butter and oil, flour the pork roast (detach the rib bone and tie it back on with string), brown it on all sides, salt, pepper, then add some wine, boil briefly, cover and reduce the heat to low. Let the meat cook for about 2 hours. Remove, puree the leeks in the pan and add back to pan with reserved leeks and meat. Cook on high for 10 minutes, turning roast. The result is a tender pot roast with a deep, gentle onion-y flavor from the leeks.

When Broad Branch had some good-looking Skuna Bay salmon fillets, I brought home one to grill. Skuna Bay, it turns out, is a "craft" farmed salmon from British Columbia and did have a good flavor. A quick check on Epicurious produced a very popular lime butter -- just garlic, lime juice, salt and pepper emulsified in butter -- to put on grilled salmon. Sprinkle some lime zest on the grilled salmon and serve with the butter. Adds a whole new dimension to the salmon. We had steamed quinoa with it.

After reading the New Yorker profile on Yotam Ottolenghi, we of course immediately bought Jerusalem and started off with his roasted chicken with clementines and arak. It turned us into believers. Just whip up the marinade of arak, oil, orange juice, lemon juice, grain mustard, salt, pepper and light brown sugar. Add the chicken -- either a cut-up whole chicken or 3 pounds of thighs (our choice) -- two fennel bulbs trimmed, cut in half and then into wedges, and 4 sliced clementines. Marinade a few hours or overnight then spread on a baking sheet (chicken skin-side up) and pop into a 475-degree oven for 35 to 45 minutes. Exquisite. The arak enhances the anise-fennel flavor and the citrus adds complexity and freshness.

Pizzeria Orso

You'd think you were in Italy on a glorious summer day, except that you're looking right at the Fairfax Auto Parts garage, thankfully closed on a Sunday, across the street.

No matter, dining on the terrace in 80-degree humidity-free weather is something to be enjoyed regardless of the view, and the great food at this suburban restaurant -- it is far more than a pizzeria -- made it truly enjoyable.

Marvelous pizza crust (photo from restaurant website)

The menu had so many appetizing starters, pastas and small plates, it was hard to choose. However, and although Orso, like 2Amys, is a real restaurant with a real kitchen, I felt obliged to try the pizza on this first trip. So I passed on the grilled octopus (figuring it had had a long trip in a freezer to get to Falls Church) and opted for the grilled heart of Romaine with chopped Romaine, fresh anchovies and Caesar dressing. The grilled lettuce is a great addition to the classic Caesar and I became a magnet for all the anchovies that others in our party didn't want. They don't know what they're missing. Andrea's sauteed cauliflower was also very tasty.

I settled for the Tommy Boy, an ambitious white pizza with ham, sausage, mozzarella, pecorino, basil, fresno peppers, garlic, grana, ricotta, and a cream sauce to bind the cheeses -- all of which came out tasting much more harmonious than it sounds. The thin crust, billowing around the edges, had that wonderful yeasty taste you crave in pizza crusts, with charred bits adding just the right wood-fired accent. Andrea ordered an Orso Bianco, another white pizza with no meat and more cheese that tasted, in fact, really cheesy.

I had an excellent American IPA, Face Plant from the Lost Rhino Brewery in Ashburn, to go with the pizza, after enjoying a Negroni in the breezy weather while we waited. In a restaurant that produces such high-quality food, it was bit bizarre that the waiter said he would have to check if they had Campari on hand for my drink. It was even more bizarre when he returned with the Negroni and the "good news" that they not only had Campari but had just enough sweet vermouth as well to make the drink (oh, and our dinner partners' martinis got the last of the Grey Goose). The service, too, was more friendly than professional, and sometimes you yearn for those snooty Continental waiters (though I may change my tune after 10 days in Italy).

The trek to Virginia was prompted by a friend's reaction to my paean of praise for 2Amys and his distaste for the thin and bland DOC Neapolitan pizzas. The irony was that Orso had much more in common with 2Amys than it had different -- which is anything but a criticism in my book. The pleasant terrace (we just breezed through the restaurant, though it left a welcoming if somewhat suburban impression) and the marvelous crust actually give Orso a slight edge.

Wild Honey

Cross-posted from my culinary travel blog Road Gourmet

During my recent trip to London, I wanted to find a Zagat-rated restaurant in Mayfair after cocktails at Claridge's that offered British cuisine. Patterson's (26 rating on food) seemed to fill the bill but when I got there it had turned into a Japanese restaurant. But they kindly sent me around the corner to Wild Honey, a "New Brit" with seasonal dishes that earned a respectable 23 for food.

My view at the bar (from restaurant website)

The reddish wood paneling and red leather banquettes with bright modern paintings made a warm and welcoming impression. A bar seat was available and a personable Lithuanian waiter provided flawless service. Dinner guests were lively but the noise level was comfortable and a contrast to the American obsession with making places noisy to create buzz.

I opted for a la carte because the prix fixe menu seemed a bit boring. The smoked Lincolnshire eel for a starter was tender and delicate in flavor, different from smokier, eelier versions I knew from the Baltic beaches, but more appropriate for a swanky Mayfair restaurant. The rack of lamb main course was also tender and served with a spring roll with lamb shoulder as a complement that wasn't even mentioned in the description. A carafe of red wine was just the right amount to accompany. The English custard tart for dessert was so light it did not so much melt in your mouth as evaporate, leaving behind a creamy, sugary aftertaste. The grated nutmeg topping was just the right accent.

I only found out afterwards staying the weekend with some friends in London that it was one of their favorite restaurants, too.

Iraqi Yellow Spice Rubbed Chicken

Photo by Todd Coleman for Saveur

What do you get when you combine 17 spices, a kosher chicken and a Big Green Egg? Djaj Bil-Bahar Il-Asfar (Iraqi Yellow Spice Rub Chicken). This fun recipe from Saveur magazine produced a dish that can be described with two words you rarely hear in connection with chicken: intensely flavorable.

I followed the recipe exactly, right down to the rose hips, which I had to look for at the co-op, and the sumac, which I've had on my shelf for some time. You toast and grind some of the seeds -- cumin, coriander, cardamom, allspice, among others -- and mix with other powdered spices, such as curry, cinnamon, sumac, ginger -- to produce a rich rub for the chicken overnight. The kosher chickens from Wholefoods are young and small, so the two halves were right about at the 3 pounds called for in the recipe. The Egg seemed just the right way to go for the 45-minute grilling time. I served it with basmati rice rather than the flatbread suggested, and we had a wonderful Gruner Veltliner from Austria that paired perfectly with the spicy chicken.

The fragrant dish reeked of the exotic Orient. It was truly yellow early in the grilling time, turning a rich, charred rust by the end (mine looked exactly like the Saveur photo, shame I didn't take a photo for comparison). The chile gave it just a little kick and there was a hint of sweetness, perhaps from the cinnamon.

I bought a copy of Saveur -- their grilling issue -- after Kathleen Flinn mentioned during my food writing workshop last month that many of its articles were culinary travel. I was very happy with this recipe and the other articles and will certainly subscribe. Andrea already gets Food and Wine and Bon Appetit, so we will be well furnished with magazine recipes.

Fiesta Paella with Chicken and Shellfish

We celebrated the Fourth of July with that traditional American feast -- paella. As my brother quipped, "That and a Bud Light and you're ready to go." I've been wanting to do another paella for a long time and it is truly a festive dish, so we used the excuse of uncertain weather to plan a meal indoors and depart from the usual fare.

Paella, which has more than a dozen ingredients and cooks in 45 minutes, is all about prepping and mise en place. This worked like a charm with the recipe I adapted from Janet Mandel's My Kitchen in Spain (recipe follows). Prepping involved cutting up the chicken to get 8 pieces from the legs and breasts (wings and back went into the freezer for stock); slicing the meat off the bone of the pork loin chop and cubing it; washing the squid, removing the skin and head and little clear tab, then slicing it into rings; shelling the medium shrimp for cooking in the paella; cleaning and dicing the green pepper; peeling, seeding and chopping the tomatoes; shelling the peas; steaming the mussels; boiling the jumbo whole shrimp for decoration; slicing the pimento for decoration; quartering the lemon for garnish; crushing the saffron and mixing it with pimenton, food coloring and water; thawing out the frozen homemade chicken stock. What fun!

When I started the sofrito, following Mandel's carefully described steps, everything was ready in an assortment of bowls, pots and pitchers, so that after 20-some minutes of sauteeing the meat, vegetables and seafood, I could pour in the stock, bring it to a boil, pour in the rice, dribble in the saffron mix, add the salt and bay leaves, stir and let the chemistry begin. As Mandel says, the important thing is not to stir the rice again and release the gummy stuff that makes a risotto creamy but is not desirable in a paella.

I interrupted the process when the sofrito was done, probably for too long, because the meat came out a little dry, but on the whole it was big success -- a true fiesta. It needed to be a little spicier. Next time I would salt the meat separately as it's cooking, up the pimenton and use fresher saffron (I won't tell you how long I've had the saffron I used). A special hat tip to A&H Gourmet and Seafood Market in Bethesda. The Portuguese owners not only have a great selection of fresh fish (many restaurants buy there), but everything you need for paella. I especially appreciated the abundant squid, so that I could include the calamari called for in the recipe.

Keeping to the Spanish theme, Andrea made two really great appetizers from Joanne Weir's From Tapas to Mezes -- a summer vegetable flat bread ("Catalan pizza") with Swiss chard, zucchini, green pepper, and tomato; and a caramelized onion omelette from Andalusia that involved cooking 3 lbs of chopped onion for an hour and a half, which made them incredibly sweet. For dessert, she used Mandel's recipe for caramel flan that was truly light and delicate -- not too eggy or custardy -- just like in Spain; we served fresh berries with that. To drink, a surprisingly good red wine sangria from Claudia Roden.

RECIPE FOR FIESTA PAELLA

(adapted from Janet Mandel's My Kitchen in Spain)

Mandel's recipe serves 4 to 5, so I increased ingredients by about 50% to serve 6 to 8. I don't have a paella pan but always use a cast iron wok (which she lists as an alternative), which certainly was at its maximum capacity with this amount. I used to follow the recipe from a cookbook I brought back from Spain, puzzling through the Spanish enough to figure it out, but Mandel's Fiesta Paella was pretty similar. I added chorizo because it was in the other recipe. I used fresh peas instead of her fava beans or frozen peas.

12 mussels, scrubbed

6 jumbo shrimp, heads on, for decoration

1 pound medium shrimp, heads off, shelled and deveined

6 tablespoons olive oil

2 pounds chicken legs and breasts, cut into small pieces

6 ounces pork, cut into 1-inch cubes

4 ounces chorizo, cut into pieces

1 pound squid, cleaned and cut into rings

1 green bell pepper, diced

3 garlic cloves, minced

2 tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped

1/2 cup shelled fresh peas

6-1/2 cups chicken broth mixed with cooking liquid from shellfish

3 cups Cebolla rice

1/2 teaspoon saffron threads, crushed

1 teaspoon pimenton

Several shakes powdered yellow food coloring

Pepper

2 bay leafs

3 teaspoons salt

1 preserved red pimento, cut into strips

1 lemon for garnish

1. Prepare the mussels by steaming for 3 to 4 minutes in 1/4 cup water, shaking pan over high heat. Strain the cooking liquid to add to the broth. Discard the empty half shell.

2. Cook the jumbo shrimp in water to cover. Add the liquid to the broth.

3. Heat the oil in the pan over medium heat. Saute the chicken, pork and chorizo until slightly browned, 10 minutes.

4. Add the squid and saute for another 5 minutes.

5. Add the green pepper and garlic and cook for 2 more minutes.

6. Add the tomato and turn up the heat so that it loses its liquid quickly.

7. Stir in the peeled shrimp and peas and saute another 5 minutes.

8. Pour in the broth mix and bring to a boil.

9. Add the rice, dribble in the saffron, pimenton and food coloring mixed together with 3 tablespoons of water, add the salt and bay leafs; stir once to mix ingredients.

10. Cook at high heat for 5 minutes, then reduce to simmer for 10 minutes. Place mussels, jumbo shrimp and pimenton on top of rice and cook another 5 minutes. Let the rice set 5 to 10 minutes before serving. Garnish with lemon quarters.

2Amys toujours

(Photo: Ra Boe / Wikipedia, Original; License: CC by-sa 3.0)

The first, and probably only, time I ate the genuine mozzarella di bufala was in the courtyard of the Castel Nuovo, a medieval castle in the heart of Naples, Italy. There was a press reception during the 1994 G-7 summit in Naples, and smart young women dressed in special Missoni knits were bringing around large bowls filled with creamy white balls of cheese swimming in cloudy liquid, which prompted me to abandon all the other hors d'oeuvres and focus on the mozzarella.

Real mozzarella is supposed to be made the same day from the milk of water buffaloes, and particularly those in Campania, the region surrounding Naples. A fresh cheese, mozzarella is by definition somewhat bland and I can't recall after all this time the nuances of flavor that cheese in Naples might have had. But the scene itself, twilight on the cobblestones of this medieval courtyard with all the glamour and power of the heads of state of the seven biggest economies in the world, has left an indelible memory.

This memory came back when we went to 2Amys and I ordered one of the specials of the day, a white pizza with buffalo mozzarella and the house sausage, garnished with eggs and chives. I am sure it is real buffalo mozzarella -- there are several U.S. producers -- and this yielded a melted cheese that was stringy but delicate, with just a hint of earthiness. The sausage was rich, tasting of fennel, and the chives set just the right accent. The egg set perfectly in the center of the pizza and breaking the yolk created a mix of flavors that went far beyond your typical breakfast sandwich. The marvelous pizza dough had its usual yeasty, smoky flavor from the wood-fired oven.

We go to 2Amys only once in a while. It is always crowded and there is always a wait. The downstairs is high decibel as the tile walls reflect the chatter and clatter from dozens of tables squeezed into a space that is too small for them, and families and kids talk loudly to be heard over the noise. This time, even the bar was too crowded for waiting, so we passed the brief 15 minutes outdoors (fortunately no rain). We were quite happy then to be shown upstairs to a corner table that was an oasis of quiet. Another time upstairs we were seated at the table right at the top of the stairs, with no shelter from the coming and going of the runners and busboys, so it was not altogether pleasant. This time we were comfortably isolated and even discovered there is a window, which currently offers a bird's eye view of the big building site where Giant used to be.

We always like to say that 2Amys has the best pizzas in town but is also one of the best restaurants in town because the wide variety of starters, small plates, salumi are all equally outstanding. I had the salt-cured sardines with bread, which once again took me to the shores of the Mediterranean with a taste that had as much ocean as fish in it. The crusty Italian bread -- if only we could get some of that at home -- soaked up the olive oil and salt to make a very satisfying appetizer. Andrea's roast corn and aged goat cheese was also delicious. The kernels had grown quite tiny with roasting, which concentrated the fresh corn flavor, and they were dressed with a spicy vinaigrette that had just a little kick to it. The dense, flavorful cheese set off the corn nicely.

Part of being one of the best restaurants in town is the efficiency and professionalism of the service. Servers in black T-shirts take the orders, check on on your needs and bring you the bill. Runners in white T-shirts bring up the food not only to the right table but set it in front of the right person. Drinks were brought, water was filled, plates were cleared with an easy informality that made you forget about service and freed you to enjoy the meal -- not something every restaurant can claim.

2Amys makes a lot of their DOC pizzas -- certified authentic -- but they don't need a label to tell you you're getting a genuine slice of Italy.

Little Serow

This is not the coconut milk Thai from the country's central region, but the smokey, porky, sweet-sour-spicy cuisine from the mountainous terrain of the northeast. Our server at Johnny Monis's Little Serow explained this to us as we devoured a succession of seven courses on the prix fixe menu, rattling off the differences in climate and geography and how that affected the food in each region.

Four of us made the pilgrimage to the spinoff from Monis's nouvelle Greek fancy dining place Komi, which we managed to enjoy a couple of times before it rocketed to fame as one of the top restaurants in the country and became impossible to get into. We arrived at 4:50 to take our place in line and put our names in when the restaurant opened at 5:30. We weren't the first ones and in fact were among the last to get some of the 28 places available in the first seating, seated side by side along a white counter.

Decor is funky (Thai funky?), with the interior painted an aqua green, tables at bar-stool height, drinks kept cold in a utility sink and flat screens hidden in a file cabinet.

We started with a drink and the fried pork rinds with chile sauce and salad vegetables (nam prit narohk het). The sauce was very hot and the pork rinds were light as air. I had one of the vermouths to start with, the Perucchi Gran Reserva from Spain.

The next two dishes -- all were served "family style" for each couple -- came together with some rice. There was a dish with catfish, dried shrimp and mango (yum mamuang pla muek), which had a funny fish-sauce flavor (don't get me wrong, I liked it). The second dish featured pork (not listed in the decidedly sketchy descriptions on the menu) along with sour fruit, palm sugar and shrimp paste (ma hur). As with all the dishes in the menu, these braced you with new, exciting and unusual flavors. There were hints of the familiar cilantro and Thai basil and always a suggestion of heat from chile, but there were new things, literally, for this Westerner and Thai food novice, indescribable.

The next dish, gai laap ching mai, combining chicken and chicken livers, offered more familiar flavors, a taste of pate with some exotic seasoning. Our companions at dinner, who cook Thai at home, noted approvingly, "Lots of chopping going on in the kitchen." This was followed by a crispy rice and sour pork dish (naem khao tod - no photo) that upped the heat a bit and gave us some more of that marvelous pork flavor.

To my taste, the next dish of greens, salted fish and egg (gai lan bla kem), was even hotter, though it was supposed to bring us down again. It had us reaching the sticky rice and sniffling but made you feel like you'd been to Thailand.

The final course brought us back to more familiar terrain with pork ribs marinated in mehkong whiskey and grilled to falling-off-the bone tender (si krong muu). Something of a piece de resistance it was a useful bridge back to U.S. of A.

A fun place with great food and excellent service -- what's not to like. I'm not sure how often I'll like leaving at 4:30 to stand in line for dinner and the service seemed at times a trifle rushed, especially when they set out the clean plates and silverware for the next seating on the back counter was we polished off our ribs. But how should you cope with fame? At Komi, you can only get a reservation if you call the minute they open for  booking 30 days in advance. How long can you let guests linger when you've already booked two more seatings? Sometimes it's worth the trouble and this is one of those instances.

Crab season

When I lived in France, there was only one culinary experience I was bold enough to come back from the U.S. and brag about -- Maryland crabs. From the time my friends in Baltimore first took me to Bo Brooks and I tasted the sweet white chunks of meat you pry out of these hardshell crabs, I have considered it one of the top eating experiences anywhere.

Going out for crabs became a regular feature of my visits stateside, as we switched back and forth from Bo Brooks to Obrycki's. When I moved back to the U.S., I'd visit regularly from Princeton, and since I've been living in DC it's a ritual to go at least once a season for a real crab feast.

Nowadays we go to Nick's Fish House and Grill, perched on the water south of the port with a lovely address on Insulator Drive. But sitting on the deck, you see only the water, the docked sailboats, the stately old Hanover Street bridge, and dozens of people whacking away with wooden mallets at the steamed crabs.

The visit last weekend was exceptional because jumbo crabs were available (though in earlier times these were probably known as extra large) and we were all hungry, so we added steamed shrimp, mussels in chipotle sauce, corn on the cob, French fries and pitchers of Fat Tire beer to the mix.

The bigger the crab, the bigger the chunks of meat and the easier they are to pick out of the various little crevices. It's a lot of work to eat crabs and the joy of having the big ones is that the payoff is bigger. Crabs come out of the steamer smothered in the Old Bay spice mix and are dumped directly on picnic tables covered with thick brown packing paper so that participants can grab a crab, crack the pincers with a wooden mallet to extract that meat, split open the body with a sturdy plastic knife, and squeeze, pull, pry and pick out what they can from the sharp, cartilaginous interior. The succulent meat needs no drawn butter, dressing, sauce or other adornment.

Nick's is reliably good, though this two dozen crabs did not come immediately out of the steamer and as a consequence were not as hot as they should have been. Our table was only feet away from the hard-working reggae band (we so wanted them to take more frequent and longer breaks), making conversation difficult. But cracking, picking and consuming crabs requires a lot of concentration, so conversation was often suspended anyway. Plus, we had the entertainment of several fellow diners pretending they were in Aruba and dancing to the music.

One could be forgiven for pretending to be in the Caribbean, given that it was a rare summer night that is warm without humidity, a breeze coming off the water, and that full, full moon coming up over the masts of the sailboats. Truly a feast.

Union Market

It sounded too good to be true and it was. I dreamed of something at least faintly resembling Borough Market Hall or even the Baltimore markets, but Union Market in NE DC is not a new foodie mecca chockablock with quality products. Rather, it is a boutique-y dollhouse version of a real market. It has a smattering of products that are indeed good quality but generally overpriced and it is very difficult to get to. Maybe it will succeed as part of the redevelopment of that section of NE but for those of us in upper NW it's just not worth the trip.

I went hoping it could be a destination for one-stop shopping, in particular with a good butcher shop and some vegan-oriented food bars. Goshen does in fact offer some fresh juices and a couple of vegan dishes, but it really is just a market stand and they offer what they can carry in. Soup Up offers a vegan soup, but for $8 you expect something more original than tomato basil.

Red Apron Butchery was unimpressive. Why would I buy their sausages and salumi when I can get a better, more robust selection that is much closer at Stachowski's? Harvey's was much more impressive as a butcher, but Wagshal's either in Spring Valley or hopefully on New Mexico Ave. offers much the same. The prices are higher but it is much more convenient. And why would I trek down across the tracks in NE to Righteous Cheese, which is a pale shadow of Cowgirl Creamery.

The market seems much harder to get to than the 26 minutes estimated on Google Maps. For one thing, there is always plenty of traffic to slow you down via Georgia and Florida. Plus you then get trapped in what has to be DC's worst intersection at Florida and New York.

And once you get there it is just much too precious (read pretentious). Cordial, for instance, a wine and beer store, actually got a plug in Food and Wine for an extremely limited selection of $20+ wines. At Pearl Fine Teas, one of the "popup artisans," I got what seemed like an 8 oz. cup of "Hawaiian Zen" for $3.30.

The vendors, excuse me, artisans seem bored and listless, as well they should sitting all day in a cavernous space devoid of customers. I came at 2 on a weekday, so maybe they do land market business at meal times, but I don't think so.

Good markets, like good food, grow organically to meet real needs. Union Market seems like a totally artificial effort to force the issue. I'm much better off supporting my local Farmer's Markets, co-op and above-mentioned NW stores.

Long summer lunch in the country

I generally don't blog about meals at friends but we had a special lunch over the weekend that goes in our personal hall of fame right next to the idyllic meal in southern France a couple of years ago.

This time we were in rural Virginia on one of those rare summer days when it's not too hot or muggy or buggy or too overcast or too rainy to sit outside and enjoy the beautiful scenery -- and this on a Saturday to boot. Our friends built a house on a farm with a terrace facing their pond, framed by wonderful green trees and blue sky. They have been experimenting for some time to create the perfect "slow food" lunch -- where the pacing and amounts are just right to stretch out a meal for the full afternoon. It was our good fortune to be there when they succeeded.

A word of warning: Sitting in the summer sun (even in the shade as we were), you will get more dehydrated than you realize and this results, judging by my recent experience, in alcohol consumption having a bigger impact than usual.

We started with prosecco, and moved to white or rose and then red. There were radishes and other munchies that have faded in my memory after what followed. The first course was a lovely grilled toast with a canned truffle spread accompanied by a fresh burrata. As with all the subsequent courses, this was exquisitely plated and as pleasing to the eye as to the taste buds.

The second course consisted of shrimp, lobster and scallops gently grilled in a basket in the Big Green Egg so that they all were delicate, tender and moist. Again, the presentation knocked your socks off (though on a hot summer day none of us were wearing socks). There was only the faintest taste of smoke and a subtle taste of sea though we were deep inland at the foothills of the mountains.

The courses were spread out. Our hosts would disappear into the kitchen to work their magic while we continued a leisurely but stimulating conversation with the other guests, sharing views on travel, Europe, Santa Fe, food, wine, politics, movies, books -- the kinds of things you talk about when relaxed.

The third course was a delightful celeriac soup, creamy with a touch of green from some subtle herb and decorated with a drizzle of oil.

At this point we switched to the Chateauneuf du Pape for the homemade beef carpaccio, accompanied with thick stalks of asparagus and a tangy spaghetti squash and shaved parmesan, all al fresco as the perfect light main course for a summer lunch.

Dessert  (unfortunately no photo) was also delicious. It was a chocolate tort with whipped cream that was rich but still light enough to finish off this summer lunch.

After coffee and more conversation, we retired to the upper deck to enjoy some more red wine and the 360-degree view. Time had not so much flown by as just stopped and suspended us in a pleasant idyll.

Chicken with eggplant and basil

Elizabeth Minchilli said she learned at a recent workshop on food-blogging that people click most often on chicken recipes, so she obliged with this weekday recipe that is simple and delicious.

First step is to brown 4 thighs and 4 legs in 1/4 c olive oil. Minchilli stresses the importance of letting the chicken fry without moving it around in order for it to get good and brown, about 6 or 7 min per side. It really works! The skin side gets crispy and brown and stays that way through the subsequent stewing process.

Remove the chicken and add three cubed (but not peeled) medium eggplants to the hot oil, and again let it brown. Not sure how big her medium eggplants are, but mine filled the sauteuse that I was obliged to stir the cubes around a bit to get them all to brown. Then add 5 cloves of chopped garlic and cook for a further 3 minutes. Add 1-1/2 c white wine and bubble up a couple of minutes to deglaze bottom of pan. At this point, add 1 c water some of the 2 c of basil leaves, reduce heat, cover and cook for another 20 min or so. To finish, add the rest of the basil.

I'll confess that embarrassingly I was unaware we don't yet have basil in our garden, so I belatedly had to adapt by simply sprinkling in some dried Herbes de Provence. But it was still quite delicious and I'm not sure you need the herb or at least need to be confined to one or the other. I could imagine this tasting quite good with tarragon, for instance.

Minchilli has a short rif about how bland boneless skinless chicken breasts are and why she never uses them. Never say never, I say, but there's no question the dark meat is more flavorful. An the family pack price at Whole Foods for $1.99/lb meant that I could get 5 leg-thighs for $6.67 and have my 8 pieces for the recipe with 2 left over for stock.

The dish comes out creamily Mediterranean -- all that eggplant and olive oil! -- and went nicely with brown rice and a French rose.

Santa Fe

Rather than fight the medical conference crowds for reservations at Cafe Pasquale or other leading lights on this trip we sampled some of the more informal places favored by our friends in Santa Fe.

Harry's Roadhouse had the pride of place, where on three trips we had the blue corn turkey enchiladas, tacos with barbacoa, and the buffalo burger with Monterey jack and green chiles. But Santa Fe Baking Co. was right up there, too, for several breakfasts. Great pastries, and excellent huevos rancheros and blue corn pancakes (which really stole the show).

Two other down-home favorites were Counter Culture, which had excellent sandwiches, and Tune Up, where I enjoyed chicken breast with mole Colorado and grilled bananas, a great sweet, savory and spicy dish. We also met friends at Santacafe for a little Southwestern elegance in the their lovely courtyard and some great steak.

We will probably be more venturesome once again on our next trip, but we wanted to take it easy this time around. Among Santa Fe's many charms is that taking it easy could not be easier. There is not a single place in Washington that can match any of these in the combination of chic and quality, without any pretensions or falsity.

Gateway BBQ Tour

I was helping a friend drive a U-Haul from Washington, DC to Santa Fe, so  we decided to have some fun and turn it into a "Gateway BBQ Tour." Since we were driving through Va, Tn, Ar, Ok and Tx, it seemed like a winner -- and it was. However, we discovered that the most important criterion for finding good BBQ is not how many stars or favorable reviews it gets on Yelp or Urbanspoon or whatever, but that it be open!

Our first target was Smoky's Hickory BBQ in Mason, Va., which got great reviews and seemed like a great BBQ shack. We held out for a late lunch, got off the Interstate and found the shack. Smokey's, it was obvious, had gone out of business some time ago. First lesson, call ahead.

So we had an early dinner at Archer's in Knoxville, Tn -- sampling both the Memphis-style baby backs and the pulled pork sandwiches (we were hungry, what can I say). They were excellent. We stopped there because a potential target in Nashville, Hog Heaven, told us when we called that they would close by 9 and we didn't think we could make it by then.

The next day was Sunday, and it turns out the most BBQ joints, at least in Tn, are closed on Sunday. Our first choice, Mac's BBQ in Jackson, Tn, was closed, and B.E. Scott in Lexington, which Andrea and I had visited in our previous trip along I-40 was also closed. We ended up at Brooksie's Barn in Jackson, which had a good pulled pork sandwich but a bizarre ambiance and a location right next to the megachurch Love & Truth. Jackson, in fact, was a depressing array of chain stores and restaurants.

We hustled to Fayetteville to make it to Sassy's Red House before they closed at 9. The rack of spareribs was good enough, but not great, though the ambiance of the festive outdoor deck made it a pleasant stop.

In Amarillo, we headed for Doug Henk's BBQ, after reading that he had won a vote as the best BBQ in the city. When we got there, we found it had become Crazy Larry's. Larry, who did seem a bit crazy, greeted us warmly and just informed us they had changed their name. The brisket was good, though I'm sure Austin has much better to offer.

When we finally got to Santa Fe, Harry's Roadhouse did have some juicy St. Louis style ribs on the menu, but I decided the BBQ tour was over and opted instead for a New Mexico blue corn turkey enchilada, which was scrumptious. The margaritas helped.

It was clear in Mason that the fast food franchises which dotted the road from the Interstate had most likely driven Smokey's out of business. In general, it seems that the shacks, at least those accessible to cross-country drivers are fast disappearing. In Oklahoma City, for instance, the front desk personnel at our Hampton Inn steered us away from Earl's Rib Palace, a Bricktown eatery that got fairly good review in Yelp, and recommended the Cajun place across the street. One of them said there were really good BBQ places in OKC, but got very vague when we asked where they were, making me think he was worried that it would not be advisable for us to go those neighborhoods. In any case, we were not going to tool around OKC in a U-Haul truck.

Memphis, itself, btw, was fully booked between the May in Memphis festival and the NBA playoffs, so we didn't even attempt a stop there. My conclusions: BBQ is alive and well enough but shrinking; Yelp can help but is not totally reliable; in the end, serendipity is your best friend.

Atlanta eating

We only had time to go to four restaurants in Atlanta, but they were all great.

The big splurge was The Spence with Top Chef winner Richard Blais. He really can cook and every dish we had at the table was top quality and very tasty. Though this is small plates, the plates aren't too small as a rule (though the desserts were bizarrely small). The baby kale Caesar was very ample, and we split it. I ordered one of the dishes set apart as a full entree -- rolled pork belly with baked chickpeas. We got a couple of orders of the signature fried Brussels sprouts for the table, and the fried three times French fries -- both excellent. The moderately priced Coteaux de Languedoc was a great pairing for most of the meal.

The overall ambiance of the place was good, though it was very loud as people tried to talk over the background music. Service was mostly good, though our waiter was a bit erratic in his attention. There was an open kitchen and though I've never cared one or the other about this I have to admit that watching a pimply-faced kid with a ponytail and arms covered with tattoos flipping a saute pan doesn't do much to enhance my enjoyment of the meal. Blais himself, dressed in a white T-shirt with an apron (but thankfully no tattoos), made the rounds of the tables, including ours, and that made many people very happy. As to my dish -- the pork belly came out lukewarm so I sent it back and it tasted much better when it was hot. The baked chickpeas were actually just a chickpea version of Boston baked beans -- not the happiest taste innovation of the night. But honestly, overall, I enjoyed the restaurant.

My pleasure was more unalloyed with our brunch at Gladys Knight's Signature Chicken and Waffles -- four jumbo chicken wings served hot and juicy with a waffle and all the trimmings (butter and maple syrup). That will hold you for the better part of the day. That evening we went to Fritti's, an upscale pizzeria in Inman Park and it was very pleasant. We would have tried the nearby Barcelona tapas bar but it was fully booked due to Mother's Day. For lunch after the graduation ceremony, we went to the Highland Bakery, where I passed on the signature peanut butter French toast but had a truly delicious chicken fried steak Benedict, which was pretty much as the name would indicate -- sinful and satisfying.

Pasta with asparagus, ricotta and lemon

This recipe from Elizabeth Minchilli calls for wild asparagus but I didn't even look for that. To my surprise, however, I was able to get the unusual pasta, sagne e pezzi from Rustichella d'Abruzzo, that she uses in the recipe. It must be something they are promoting, because Minchilli acknowledged it was a freebee from the producer (mine, btw, was NOT free) and it was prominently displayed in Cornucopia.

The recipe is fine with thin regular asparagus though I think it might be better shifting the proportions to get the taste balance right with the milder farmed vegetable -- either more asparagus or less pasta. The asparagus tips get cut up into 1-inch segments while the woody ends are boiled for 40 min in a big pot of salted water that will be used for cooking the pasta. Prep the ricotta by peeling the zest off a lemon, chopping it up as mixing it with the cheese to sit while you do the rest. Saute 1 chopped onion in olive oil for 15 min. then add the asparagus tips and a scoop of the pasta water and cook about 10 min until tender (not mushy). Drain the asparagus water, reserving the broth and throwing away the stems. Return the broth to a boil, add the pasta and cook according to instructions. When the pasta is almost finished, take a scoop of the water and add it to the ricotta mixture, stirring to make it smooth and creamy. Drain the pasta (reserving water again) and put it into pan with the asparagus tips. Toss with 2 Tbl butter, then add ricotta mixture and juice of 1 lemon and toss again, adding some pasta water if it is too dry.

The dish has a great lemony flavor. Minchilli says she doesn't serve parmesan with it because it might overpower the asparagus. I would be tempted to sprinkle some cheese over it, though, especially with the farm asparagus. The sagne e pezzi is a heavy, nutritious pasta and makes the dish a satisfying main course.

Wildwood Kitchen

We like Robert Wiedmaier's Brasserie Beck and Marcel's so wanted to try this new restaurant where he abandons the butter and cream and starch of his Franco-Belgian cuisine in favor of the oil and vegetables of Mediterranean cooking.

It is a relatively small place located improbably in the Wildwood strip mall on Old Georgetown Rd. The decor is pleasant and cozy and you could forget where you were if you weren't, as we were, sitting right at the window with a view of the parking lot.

The food, however, was quite good -- high quality, perfectly prepared and very tasty. We started off with drinks to celebrate Andrea's new car. I had the gin-based Corpse Reviver #2 and Andrea had the Wildwood's New Fashioned. Both were refreshing, generous drinks that commanded correspondingly generous prices ($15).

Bread was an oven-toasted, olive oil-flavored Italian style white served with a tuna rillettes that was a great way to whet your appetite. We split the asparagus salad, which both white and green asparagus with frisee and radish, all very fresh and refreshing. I had the pan-seared sea bream with ratatouille and Andrea had the salmon with quinoa and fennel and we were both very happy. The dishes were indeed light and Mediterranean.

Decor, like the food, was a sort of Italian-Spanish fusion, very pleasant, which made you yearn, however, for an outdoor patio, real trees and balmy sea air instead of Montgomery County 'burbs.

Bucatini all'amatriciana

One of the dialogues in my Italian textbook was about someone ordering spaghetti all'amatriciana in a restaurant, and this prompted our teacher, Carlo, to launch into a passionate description of how wonderful this Roman dish consisting of guanciale, pancetto, onion, tomato and hot pepper is. So I went to Domenica Marchetti's The Glorious Pasta of Italy for a recipe and found a good home version.

Her recipe calls for pancetta and Canadian/back bacon, but I thought I would be smarter and go to Vace, which I know carries guanciale. Sadly, they were out the day I was there, so I used 8 oz of pancetta, which gets sauteed 10 min until it renders its fat. Then you add 1/4 c olive oil, 1 c chopped red onion and 3 partially crushed garlic cloves for 5 min, then 2 c diced tomatoes with juice, sprinkled with salt and "a generous pinch" of red pepper flakes. Simmer for 10 more min. Meanwhile cook the bucatini to al dente, drain, reserving 1 c of pasta water, put the noodles in the skillet with the sauce and toss to combine over low heat. Transfer to heated bowl and sprinkle 1/2 c shredded pecorino romano over it and serve.

Bucatini are large-diameter spaghetti with a hole down the middle, which makes the cook more evenly and also helps pick up the sauce. This was a tasty, easy pasta dish. Next time I will try it with guanciale and either a bigger pinch of red pepper flakes, or, as Carlo described it, including a red pepper in the saute.

Roast leg of lamb with rosemary and prosciutto

Roast leg of lamb was a standby for me in Paris when I lived across the street from a wholesale butcher. Nothing could be simpler -- insert slivers of garlic around the leg, pop it in the oven and a little more than an hour later, feast like a king. The lamb is self-basting with the layer of fat, tender and pink and delicious.

Diana Henry has several recipes for leg of lamb, including this one, which involves wrapping a strip of prosciutto around the garlic sliver with a twig of rosemary and inserting them around the leg. She recommends roasting at 425 degrees for 15 min, then lowering it to 350 for 50 min more. In this recipe, she also has you pour 1/4 c balsamic vinegar and 2/3 c white wine over the lamb and baste during cooking. It helps to form a tasty crust. We served it with flageolet beans from Rancho Gordo. Superb.

Fiola

To celebrate a special event with some friends we splurged on this "modern trattoria" of Fabio Trabocchi's in Penn Quarter and it was sensational. Everything -- decor, drinks, appetizer, pasta, main course, wine, dessert, service, ambiance -- was terrific. It even had the Washington power elite it's famous for, with a Supreme Court justice coming into the restaurant right behind us.

The friend who suggested this outing had done some research and steered us to truly outstanding signature dishes. To start with, as an hors d'oeuvres for the table, we had the veal meatballs, with an egg sunny-side up. These were tender, flavorful concoctions smothered in a delicious garlicky tomato sauce that I mopped up with the slightly toasted delicious bread. We had these with cocktails that I discuss more at length in my wine and spirits blog.

My first course, one of the signature dishes, was the agnolotti of Venetian cod "Baccala" with mussels, cockles and Spanish octopus, and it was stupendously good. The creamy salty cod in the perfectly cooked pasta took you to the sea and the various other ingredients enhanced the fishy ambiance. The octopus, in particular, a baby octopus that had been blanched, was tender and mild in flavor but with enough of that exotic Atlantic taste to give the dish some kick. The broth and flavoring, too, all worked to create a wonderfully balanced and, even the half-portion, very generous serving of seafood. Andrea had the vitello tonnato, made with tuna tartar and a creamy mayonnaise, that also was fabulous from the taste of it I had.

Let me say in passing it was such a relief to go to a restaurant that was not serving small plates. This was a meal, a real meal, that had nothing "precious" or sampling about it. This was great food, served with flourish, but not fussed over. So in that sense, it was truly like a trattoria. No white tablecloths, only some smart finished wood, and a cheerful, bustling air that was not too hectic or noisy.

My main course was Wagyu beef tenderloin with rosemary zabaglione that was beautifully tender and, even at medium rare, a healthy red with a robust beef flavor. Andrea went for the porchetta that was the genuine article, a real stuffed pork loin with the fennel and anise flavors, and extra savory from the homemade sausage used in the stuffing. For dessert, we actually passed up the dark chocolate ganache in favor of the bomboloni -- Sardinian ricotta doughnuts -- that were simply exquisite -- warm, puffy, creamy in the middle and set off perfectly by the burnt honey gelato that accompanied.

We had a moderately priced Super Tuscan that I don't find on the online menu, but which was quite nice. The service was genial, efficient and never intrusive, though the courses did come out somewhat quickly. The manager stopped by twice to check on us and was very personable.

Fiola is definitely in the top rank of DC restaurants, right up there with Komi, Marcel's, Corduroy and the others. Too pricey to go often but definitely one to visit again.

Chicken baked with red onions, potatoes and rosemary

This the second recipe I tried from a new cookbook, Pure Simple Cooking by Diana Henry, and it truly was simple and very good. Henry is a food columnist and TV host in Britain so her recipes are somewhat derivative. This one, for instance, she credits to Antonio Carluccio. The book is another one of these lavishly illustrated Ten Speed Press productions, which I seem to be a sucker for.

The recipe calls for a chicken cut into 8 pieces or 8 thighs, rubbed with sea salt to crisp the skin (it really works!). I opted for the thighs, though since WF in its wisdom does not sell thighs with the skin on, I had to get the whole leg/thigh and cut them apart, but the price was great ($1.99/lb) and the chicken was delicious. The dark meat wonderfully absorbs the flavors from the aromatics, which consist of 2 red onions, each cut into 10 wedges; 2 bulbs garlic, separated into cloves but not peeled; and 5 sprigs of rosemary, a couple whole and the others stripped of their leaves. You put these ingredients with 1-1/4 lb of new potatoes into a roasting pan, salt and pepper, pour in 1/2 c olive oil and 2 Tbl balsamic vinegar, toss, and nestle chicken pieces into the vegetables and put into a 400-degree oven for 45 min.

Obviously it fills the house with a great smell. The onions caramelize and you can squeeze the roasted garlic out of its peel. I couldn't find new potatoes and the closest I could come (WF had nothing, of course) were some purple finger potatoes at Rodman's. They were just OK and I would like to do it again with new potatoes.

I had tried another recipe last week, roast cod with smoked bacon, that I wasn't crazy about. It seemed maybe a little too simple, given that this seems to be common pairing of ingredients. Pan-searing then baking the cod did not result in a very appetizing dish and it tasted like a collection of ingredients rather than a balanced dish. So we'll see how the other recipes go.

A Stachowski's weekend

With Andrea away for the weekend, I treated myself to a pastrami sandwich at Stachowski's, the artisanal butcher/charcutiere in Georgetown, and brought home some other goodies for the weekend. I got the hot Italian sausage to grill and it crisped up nicely and tasted good. These modern sausages tend to be a little too politically correct, however, and this had too little salt and too little fat. Instead of dripping juices, it was a little dry after grilling.

The duck confit was terrific. I wanted to reproduce the way confit was served on the goose farm I stayed at in Perigord one vacation -- the confit crisped on top of potatoes which had absorbed the fat while roasting. I peeled and diced some baby red potatoes I had into 1/4-in cubes, and browned them in the skillet in some olive oil. Then I put the duck leg/thigh on top and popped it into a 425-degree oven for 15 min. or so. To get the right golden color on the duck, I put it under the broiler for a few minutes to finish. The duck was tender, remained moist and was good-sized.

I also got some delicious hand-crafted mortadella, one of my favorite salumi. This had much more flavor than the mass-produced. It was sliced very thin the way it needs to be and was a great antipasto all weekend. It's a good thing, really, that Stachowski's isn't any closer!

Dino's "Big Pig" event

In a culinary tour de force, Dean Gold offered a tasting menu of several dishes featuring the Mangalitsa pigs that originally hail from Hungary and which a local farmer is raising.

The pigs are odd-looking because they have curly hair that looks like sheep's wool. Dean explained that Bryan Kerney, who was at the dinner, has been raising them at Truck Patch Farms.

Every one of the 11 dishes was excellent, though I liked some more than others. The portions, of course, were quite small, but as long as you keep in mind that a tasting menu is more like a culinary seminar than a meal, it works fine.

Serving some 50 people with such an elaborate menu clearly challenged the capacity of Dino's kitchen. The evening stretched to three hours, which was simply too long, especially if you don't want to drink with abandon on a school night. Fortunately, we had some good table companions -- a father and son who each in his own way was a certified foodie -- and the time passed pleasantly enough.

A charcuterie trio featured a pig liver terrine in pancetta, a mushroom and pig terrine, and duck fat hock rillettes. All three were terrific, though my favorite was the one with pancetta -- it had an earthy, pate flavor and robust texture that I like. The rillettes was very good. Dean explained he used duck fat (from D'Artagnan) to lighten the otherwise porky menu.

A second set of starters was the chicharrones -- crispy pig skin (cracklins, pork rind) -- and burnt ends with Tuscan barbecue sauce. Both good but Arthur Bryant has nothing to worry about.

One of the stars of the evening was the grilled radicchio leaves wrapped in a Tuscan bacon made with pork belly that was braised, sliced then cooked to crispy. Here's where you want to exit a tasting menu and just get a large order because the single serving per person was frustratingly small.

The cheesy Calabrian meatballs, Dean explain, had a lot of bread filling because traditionally it was a dish for poor people. These were very tasty, but had a tendency to fall apart. What stole the show was the San Marzano tomato sauce.

Duck fat matzoh balls in spiced pig stock would probably be my top candidate for the ax if you wanted to lighten the menu and shorten the evening. The matzoh balls were a bit heavy, and the dark, spicy broth was not at all bad, and probably fine on a winter evening as a starter. I get it that this was a way to introduce some starch into a menu that otherwise was almost pure meat and fat.

The head and neck stewed in chickpeas would be second on the list for the ax. I like chickpeas and the little bits of meat were tasty enough, but the presentation was unappetizing and this was the only dish that was not fully eaten.

The Tuscan tomato sauce with trotters and spices on shell pasta (canestri), on the other hand, was a big hit. The pasta was terrific and perfectly cooked, and dressed nicely with the by now familiar taste of these Mangalitsa pigs

The pork shoulder pot roast with vinegar and herbs -- called the jailhouse stew in Italian -- was the crown of the meal and appropriately delicious, though I would fault the planning for not making this a bigger portion. At least one dish should be more than a tidbit to give the illusion at least of a meal, and this was the obvious candidate.

The pork from the Mangalitsa has a rich, deep flavor. You would never call this the "other white meat." Dino's is offering the choicer cuts on the menu this week, though I'm not sure I'll go back right away. Truck Patch Farm sells its products at the Mt. Pleasant market starting in May, so that is probably where I'll get my next Mangalitsa.

For this tasting menu, Dean offered an optional Sicilian wine flight. I'm sure the wines were quite good, but at $30 for three 3-oz. pours, seemed a little pricey to me. We opted instead for the 8-oz carafe of the open reds, taking a Corte alla Flora "Giugiolo," a 2010 Prugnolo Montepulciano described as "explosive" and which opened up very nicely, and the 2009 Per Alessandra Barbera d'Alba described as "delightful," which was quite smooth. At one of the neighboring tables, a group of six men had the genial idea of each ordering a bottle for the table to sample. That is probably the way to go if you don't have to work too hard the next day.

Pork Pot Roast with Apricots, Cardamom and Ginger

This Molly Stevens recipe was a big hit, a different flavor direction for our beloved pork. The recipe's 4-1/2 to 5 lb boneless pork shoulder roast (Boston butt) became a 4 lb bone-in roast at Wholefoods' take it or leave it butcher counter, but I kept the other proportions.

Brown the roast on all sides in 2 Tbl olive oil, for 15 to 20 min. total. Remove to plate and pour off all but 1 Tbl of fat, add 1 leek, 2 carrots and 1 medium onion, all coarsely chopped. Stir in 6 cardamom pods, shell removed and insides crushed, 1/2 tsp turmeric and 1/4 tsp cayenne, and cook for 5 min until vegetables start to soften. Add 1 Tbl shredded ginger, 2 cloves garlic peeled and "bruised," 3 strips of orange zest and bay leaf and cook for 2 more min. Pour in 2 Tbl cognac or apricot brandy (I used equal portions of cognac and apricot liqueur) to deglaze, about 1 min, then add 1/2 c white wine and boil 4 min. Pour in 2 c chicken stock (I used my homemade stock), bring to a boil and add 6 oz dried apricots and cook them for 2 min. Place roast back in pot (pour in juices from plate), cover with parchment paper hanging 1 in over the edge, place lid on top and pop into 325-degree oven for 2 hrs, checking and turning every 30 min. When done, remove roast and let it rest for 10 min. Degrease sauce and boil down if necessary. Slice pork and nap with sauce and apricots. Serve couscous on the side. We also followed Stevens' recommendation to accompany with an off-dry Riesling, with a Dr. Loosen Mosel wine filling the bill.

The pork was tender, moist and redolent of the flavor from the aromatics. The sauce turned a rich brown (from the apricots?) with a gentle interplay of sweet and savory. I dressed the lettuce salad with a blood orange-infused olive oil and a Pinot Grigio vinegar to round out the meal. A real keeper we'll duplicate some day for guests.

Cooking tomes

(Cross-posted in my book blog)

There seems to be a trend toward cookbooks that go way beyond recipes and into lengthy disquisitions on food and its cultural context. These are the books that are getting the awards and notice and I have acquired a few of them recently.

For instance, after a particularly wonderful Thai meal at a friend's house and hearing for some time that Thai cuisine is influencing chefs all over the world, I wanted to get a good introduction to Thai cooking. So I bought Thai Food by David Thompson. One of the Amazon reviewers noted that the book, written by an Australian chef who fell in love with Thailand, gets nearly to p. 200 before you have the first recipe -- so I went in with my eyes open. Opening sections deal with the country and its culture, the Thai kitchen and ingredients before tackling recipes.

This not essentially different from Julia Child, but much, much longer. Elizabeth David and M.F.K. Fisher were as much food writers as cookbook writers and many of their books take the form of the longer essays with recipes sprinkled through, so perhaps this new wave is simply a return to this more holistic view of cooking.

English writers seem to be leading the way. I recently bought two books by Nigel Slater, Tender: A Cook and His Vegetable Patch and Ripe: A Cook in the Orchard. Like Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's The River Cottage Meat Book before it, these lavish, long books are highly personal accounts of the writer's experiences with cultivating and cooking the meat, vegetables or fruit. I've never used many of the recipes from Meat, nor, truth be told, taken the time to read much of the author's musings on the subject. Nonetheless, there is something captivating about this approach and it might be rewarding to take more time with them.

I have a number of cookbooks on Italian cuisine, but still I fell for two new books in this cooking tome genre. One is truly a massive tome -- Culinaria Italy: Cuisine, Country, Culture. It is part of a series edited by Claudia Piras and published by H.F. Ullman, a German publisher. I had to order it from England. It takes a regional approach, describing the culture and foods of Italy's various regions. Like the others in this genre, this book has plenty of big colorful photos printed on thick-stock paper. No doubt part of the motivation for this trend is to provide a different type of experience from printing a recipe at Epicurious.

I also bought SPQR: Modern Italian Food and Wine by Shelley Lindgren and Matthew Accarino, who run a restaurant by that name in San Francisco. This is billed more as a guidebook, however, with on-the-spot descriptions of food and wine in Italy's central and northern regions. From what I've seen of the recipes, however, it falls into the usual trap of chef-written cookbooks of recipes that are complicated and use many hard-to-find ingredients. If it's only good to learn more about Umbria before we go there, it will be worth it.

Besides needing to compete with digital media, these books probably respond to the growing demand, verging on fetishness, for people to get more deeply engaged with food and wine. For many people, as for me, cooking and eating and drinking have become real hobbies in our era of plenty. How else account for the popularity of books like Mark Kurlansky's Salt: A World History or Cod: A Biography of the Fish That Changed the World -- neither of which, I hasten to add, do I own -- and the book I'm currently reviewing for Washington Independent Review of Books, Pepper: A History of the World's Most Influential Spice by Marjorie Shaffer.

In short, a hobby cook is invited to become a veritable scholar of food. Perhaps it all began with Waverly Root, the Paris-based American journalist whose 1958 tome Food of France really set the standard for this type of food writing. Root was writing for the International Herald Tribune still when I went there in 1980 and I saw him in the newsroom a few times. It was at that time, too, that Patricia Wells arrived with her husband, Walter, and embarked on her highly successful career as a food and cookbook author.

How much all of this will translate itself into great meals on our own table remains to be seen. I generally report my (successful) cooking experiences on my food blog, so I will track the results of all these lavish tomes there.