Briam- Roasted Ratatouille a la Greque

Briam is the Greek Ratatouille. Ratatouille is worth standing around and adding things to the pot in their turn. But the first good eggplants and tender zucchini and affordable tomatoes coincide with the first warm spring days- there's urban gardening to see to, balcony furniture to repaint, and long afternoons in the shade on the veranda with stacks of old New Yorker magazines. This is a lunch you set the table for, open a bottle of wine for, as it fills the house with the scent of herbs and tomatoes. 

If it only took you four minutes to get it into the oven, that is nobody's business. 

We will need:

2or 3 eggplants

2 or 3 zucchini

2 or3 potatoes

a dozen or so cherry tomatoes, or 2 or 3 large tomatoes

2 onions

4 or 5 long peppers, any color

2 or 3 cloves of garlic

salt

pepper

fresh herbs- thyme, majoram, or oregano

olive oil- about a wineglass full
A lemon

This makes an enormous pan of food, but it is very good the next day, cold, at room temperature, or warmed. If you still think you need less, make less.

Wash all the vegetables. Cut the eggplant into quarter or half round slices. Salt them heavily and set them in a colander to drain. Cut the zucchini into lengths of about 2 cm (1 "), and cut these into halves only if the zucchini is very wide. Cut the onions into 6 wedges each- we will eat them as a vegetable, not an aromatic. Cut the peppers as you wish, not too small. Cut the potatoes in pieces the size of the eggplants. Leave the cherry tomatoes whole. If you are using large tomatoes, cut them into quarters- like the onions, we will eat them as a vegetable on their own. Leave the garlic cloves with their peel. 

Rinse the eggplant slices and shake them dry. Toss everything in a sheet pan with the oil, herbs, salt and pepper, and roast at 170 C/ 350 F for nearly an hour- All the vegetables should be tender, the tomatoes concentrated, the onions charred on the edges, the garlic mushy in its skin. 

Taste it. If it needs brightening- and it sometimes does in the early season when the vegetables have not hit their peak yet- scrub a lemon, zest it and juice it, and toss this with the vegetables. Even an orange if you like. This is not an element in classic briam, but it makes the dish.

Serve this with feta on the side. If you like it cooled down, try it with yogurt- not the thick kind but simple plain yogurt, as it is, or mixed with chopped fresh mint.

Smear the roasted garlic on bread and add some of the smashed tomato as you linger at the table. The flavors of the dish are so clean and simple you won't be at all tired of it when you have it again in the evening. You may find yourself making it often.

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Finding Meaning in Orthodox Lent, and Pleasure in Potatoes.

I grew up, not Catholic, but surrounded by Catholics, and so with the Catholic conception of Lent. It's more lax in that only a couple of days a week are affected, but in one important way it's a more meaningful affair: you vow to give up an indulgence- something that has significance for you. Orthodox lent is more culturally obvious- special menus at 24 hr fast food places obvious. There is a (largely theoretical) prohibition against all products from any animals with blood for 40 days- no pate, no ice cream, no gyros, no chocolate mousse, no beurre noisette, no fish and chips (except on the day of the Annunciation and on Palm Sunday- then we have fish). But, there is convincing lenten "cheese" in every supermarket- a yellow 'gouda" type, and a crumbly white brined "feta" type. A larger transgression against the spirit of abstinence? Unlimited quantities of crustaceans, cephalopods, bivalves. 

But what about the substance of things? The letter of Catholic or Orthodox law is not the point. It would takes nights of fried shrimp and steamed crab to make me finally ache for a hamburger. And "blessed" non-dairy "cheese" is morally ridiculous. 

What is not ridiculous? A season of simplicity and purity, a modesty in our cravings. Knowing there is not more piety in a lobster tail than in a broth of naked chicken bones. Above all, an abstinence from excess.

The secular rewards are great- a jaded palate is cleansed, and subtlety, quality, the nature of things just as they are shines again. At the table, the secular and the spiritual meet- this time in the form of a boiled potato, with oil and salt. If this does not excite you, you are probably not truly hungry enough to eat. If you are, it will be more delicious than you could imagine.

We will need:

2 potatoes

water

salt for the water

flaky sea salt for the finished potatoes

olive oil

I schlepped this 10 K bag of excellent high altitude potatoes from beautiful Archangel, Almopia:

When the Aegean pools up in rocks off the shore,
and the wind and sun whisk the water away,
this is what is left of the sea.

Scrub the potatoes, leave them whole and unpeeled, and cover them just barely with water. You can salt the water or leave it sweet, but some salt (a little less than you would for pasta)} deepen the flavor of the potato. Boil them gently until a knife slips in all the way to the middle without resistance. Perhaps 35-40 minutes.

The skins slip easily from the potatoes when they are sill hot- spear one with a fork, and coax the peel from them with a knife.

Slice them thickly, pour good oil over them, and shower them with fat flakes of salt. Of course, they are wonderful with herbs, or onions, or capers. Potatoes are bland. But they are not flavorless- they are subtle, rich and full- and no more need an accent than a bridal gown needs a red belt. Just this once, let them be the picture rather than the canvas, and enjoy them as they are.

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Quick, Hot, Fresh- Savory Breads with Feta and Olives.

Filled with good things, these flavorful rolls makes a light meal out of a bottle of wine, or turns a pan of scrambled eggs into brunch. This casual dough comes together in less time than it takes to open a bottle of wine and rinse out the good glasses you keep on the top shelf, or it's enormously flexible- feta or olives are the classic fillings in Greece. Here we use both, but toss in whatever you have, or whatever you like- prosciutto and sauteed onions, for example.

Thanks to self-rising flour, it's basically like juicing up a packaged mix. 

We will need:

500 g/ 4 C self-rising flour

1 tsp. sugar

1/2 tsp salt

some black pepper and some oregano or other herbs of your choice

120 ml/ 1/2 C extra virgin olive oil

2 eggs 

200 g/ 1 C strained yogurt

a large handful of olives, pitted and chopped

a very thick slice of feta, crumbled (put in as much as you like, as long as the dough can hold it together.)

Mix the oil in with the dry ingredients first for a tender crumb.

Add the eggs and the yogurt, and whatever fillings you like. Here, cocktail olives and crumbled feta:

Other choices- sauteed onions and prosciutto, scamorza and sun-dried tomatoes in oil, etc.

Blend with your hands to form a shaggy dough:

Form into rounds or ovals about double the size of an egg, dust with more oregano or some ground black pepper, and bake on non-stick baking paper at 200 C/400 F for about 20 minutes. Served hot, they make an occasion out of anything.

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Still Life for Lunch, Truffles for Breakfast.

How to indulge in a month of celebrations with modesty and zeal? Crudites (and champagne). There is nothing austere about eating a still life for lunch. You want at least six things to make a lavish plate, several of them, despite the name, not raw. A little love brings out fabulous things. (Also all that endless chewing makes you feel like a goat, and it is very hard to say anything at all, clever or otherwise).  A few simple steps make a platter that's all glamour, all virtue:

Radishes- This is the most fun- branch out from retro roses to every botanical excess. A sharp knife and some ice water (opens the petals of your flowers, and shaves off a little of the radishes' bite), and it's Chihuly in a bowl.

Cauliflower- Boil in 2-3 cm salted water with some vinegar and peppercorns added (stems in the water, crowns above) for about 5 minutes, until they barely yield to a sharp knife. Strain and chill quickly- put them out on the terrace.

Broccoli- The same, but salt only. Watch carefully- the steaming brings out a vibrant emerald tone. Too much, and it turns army green and tastes like school lunch. Cut off the stems and peel them- throw them in first to give them a head start.

Carrots- Never just raw. There are two things you can do. Chilling them in a mixture of one part vinegar to two parts water, plus salt and if you like some peeled garlic cloves and peppercorns (take out the garlic after 20 minutes or so unless you want them strong), transforms them from crunchy to crisp- much more delicate texture, and nice enough to enjoy on their own like a pickle. The other thing to do is treat them as above, but for a shorter time- just a minute or at the most 2- with some vinegar in the water, and maybe a garlic clove also.

Green beans- probably frozen (!) in winter- nonetheless a fresh tasting addition. Treat as carrots, but cook long enough so that they become tender and lose any raw flavor (but not until they are limp). Vivid color!

Fennel- Slice very thin wedges with the stem on, holding them together- this way each bite has some of the tender inside.

Cucumbers- Prepare at the last minute so they don't dry out or go limp. Spears are fine, but leaving them half peeled (try a zester) and sliced on the diagonal gives them a fresh look and a pleasant bite.

To these add what you like- conventional choices like celery stalks, cherry tomatoes and red pepper strips. It's a little messy but you'll have several platters worth of crudites- each one a meal that feels more like a cocktail party and leaves you svelte enough to have truffles for breakfast.

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Pate - Humble Chicken Liver Enlivened with Butter and Booze. (Plus, a Little Tell-Tale Risotto and some Love for Your Dog!)

Everything's better with liquor and butter. But don't take last week's apple pie as an example, or a batch of boozy fleur de sel caramels. Adding a shot of rum to a silky chocolate buttercream? Proves nothing. Taking a un-promising bowl of liver, on the other hand, and turning it into a rich, savory hors d'oeuvre- that is worth talking about.

Another thing worth talking about is being squeamish- I am squeamish. But I try to get over it- being a picky selective carnivore - just white meat fillets - is not responsible and not nice. Also, life is less tasty than it could be. Waste nothing- including opportunities for pleasure, for us and for our animal companions.

For a bowl of pate large enough for six as a hearty snack, we will need:

350 g/ 12 oz cleaned chicken livers (buy 1/2 K/ 1 pound)

1 large onion

50 g butter

1 bay leaf

6 or 7 whole allspice

pinch ground cloves

freshly ground black pepper

30 ml/ 1 oz whiskey or cognac, plus more to taste

some red wine for de-glazing the pan

If you've never worked with livers before, you might be put off.  First of all, chicken livers sometimes come with the heart attached. And the liver is in two lobes, attached by a fine but tough cord. If you are interested in saving every usable bit, it will take some work. If, on the other hand, you have a dog (!), you just slice off what you are sure is without heart or tendons, and leave the ample rest attached to the heart (and what to do with that will follow- hold on to the hearts and the... etc.).

Melt the butter in a large skillet. Dice the onion and add it along with the bay leaf and whole allspice (count them- we will need to remove them later) to the butter, and saute until translucent and beginning to turn golden. Raise the heat to high and add the livers with a nice pinch of salt and some grindings of pepper. The idea is to sear the livers all over but to leave them a little pinkish on the insides. Watch carefully so the bottom of the pan doesn't blacken. Cut through the largest ones to check after a while- a little pink is fine, but there should be no red. Add the whiskey and a gentle pinch of cloves, stir well and remove to a dish. There will still be a film of flavor clinging to the pan- deglaze with a little wine and add that to the livers.

When they are cool enough to handle, remove the allspice and the bay leaf. Pulse in the food processor until it is the right consistency. We like a little texture but some like it fluffy and smooth. Check for seasoning and liquor. Pack it into a dish and smooth the top. At this point, you could cover it with clarified butter for an elegant presentation, but we usually just use plastic wrap.

Serve it with pickled cucumbers and mustard and crusty bread or crackers.

Now for those scraps- do you have a dog, or maybe a neighborhood pack? 

Tell-tale risotto:

The hearts

oil

short grained rice

broth or water

whatever drippings you have in the refrigerator

Gently brown the hearts and break them up into large pieces with the spatula. For every 10 hearts, add a half cup of rice and a one and a half cups of water or broth and anything else you have- like the rest of the oil you fried some meat in. Let the rice get very soft. I have heard that dogs do not want or need salt on their food, and that onions and garlic are not very good for them. I left all that out and she she went at it like a hungry little wolf.

I think they know when you cook for them- they really feel the love! And what, after all, is more important than that?

  

(Every Thanksgiving, hours alone in the kitchen making the year's most classic and unchanging of meals, a rich snack sustains me. I saute some minced onion and add the paper-wrapped frozen liver from the turkey, salt and pepper, and blend it with a little whiskey.)

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Bouliourdi - A Hot Dish for a Fall Holiday.

Summer lingers so long in Greece the fall can't help but be a shock. Sometimes there's not not a week between the last chilly swim and the first crackling fire. In Thessaloniki, we have two holidays at the end of October to bring a little joy to the sudden season of wet leaves- the National holiday of October 28th - "No" day (the concise answer to the Axis in WW II), a celebration of a proud entry into the war. Two days before this, we have the Holiday of our patron Saint, Dimitrios, a day that coincides with the end of another war: Thessaloniki was liberated from five centuries of Ottoman rule on this day in 1912, marking a day of civic and sacred glory both.

A wonderful custom of the southern Mediterranean is the celebration of name days - along with Agios Dimitrios, we celebrate all the Dimitris and Dimitras, and in Thessaloniki there are a lot- the city will be aglow with festive gatherings - at cafes, bars, restaurants, and private homes. And the city's crowning church will be aglow from hundreds of candles, thronged from the pre - dawn hours until late into the night by a crowd far more joyous than solemn.

What to eat on this most Thessaloniki of days? A dish that sums up a rich and exotic history, hot enough to warm us on a crisp fall day, and quick enough to not keep us long from celebrating. Bouliourdi is a dish of feta, tomato, and hot peppers, spiced just as you like, broiled until bubbling and slightly charred, fragrant and filling.This is a perfect light lunch, part of a mezze table, or impromptu snack with wine when friends drop by. Nothing could be simpler or more satisfying.

We will need:

A large thick slice of feta, or two

olive oil

1 sliced tomato

1 sliced hot green pepper

some dried red chili if you want it really hot

oregano

a splash of ouzo

Simply oil an oven - proof dish arrange everything in it (except for the ouzo), and broil it close to the heat until the feta browns on the edges. It will have a nice crust and yield like a soft pillow. As soon as it comes out, douse it with a little ouzo- the sweetness cuts the heat and adds a perfect counterpoint to  the saltiness. Serve with more ouzo if you like, or in the cool weather, a glass of red wine.

Happy holiday and happy fall.

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Fresh Corn, Risotto Style- As Decadent as Vegetables Get.

Fresh corn on the cob has returned to the market for a fall encore. Its crisp sweetness is just as nice in October as it was in June. But with the busy season in full swing, we are less likely to be grilling for lunch. The pic-nic barbeque mood has given way to the sit-down lunch. Never skimping on glamour, we sometimes do skimp on time. This is such a dish.

We will need:

6 ears of fresh corn

50 g/ 4 T butter

200 ml/ scant 1 C heavy cream

salt and pepper 

grated fresh parmesan, for serving

Shuck the corn and slice the kernels off into a large basin (it is a little messy). With a serrated knife, like a bread knife, scrape the cob to get all the tender bits of corn and rich corn milk. This second step makes the dish. Put the corn and its pulp and milk into a pan and add a half glass of water and a little salt. Cover and simmer for about ten minutes to let the corn start to get tender. Add more water if necessary. When it seems nearly as soft as you'd like it, add the butter, and then half of the cream, plus salt and pepper to your taste, stirring all the while, until the cream turns golden with the corn. Taste again. Like a risotto, it will continue to absorb moisture on the plate and we will want plenty of sauce. Depending on how rich you want it, add water or the rest of the cream, or a little of both, aiming for a little saucier than you ultimately want it to be.

Just like for risotto, make everyone sit down before you serve.This is delicious very hot! Serve in mounds on plates or shallow bowls, top with a tangle of parmesan, and more fresh ground black pepper. It is sweet and creamy and rich and can take the drama of a lot of heat if you like, which we do.

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Sleek and Modern, Totally Conformist Whole-Grain Bars with Chocolate.

We don't have a nutrition-obsessed home. Living in Greece with its luminous produce and jumping fish, generous milking goats and sheep, and honey bees, and olive trees- it takes care of itself, and we are grateful for it. I have people in my life who spend most of their lives outside of the kitchen though, and just slip in during study breaks or between making films. They are not always here for a full-course meal. They want a treat, and I want them well-fed.

Why all the "Sleek and Modern" hype for this simple, humble recipe? Aesthetically, the 70's were unfortunate culinary era. In any counter-cultural artistic/intellectual community, food was shaped first by politics, then by health- two praiseworthy benchmarks. But it stopped there- delight had no part of the agenda. Food was not cuisine; it was fuel for the revolution. Children, rebellious and righteous by nature, can embrace the political- the grape boycot, for instance, was something I completely got. The nutritional is a neutral factor- they usually are not very interested in it one way or the other. Delight though is happily not negotiable for children- they must have joy. Words like "carob" and "granola" bring this era* of the soybean casserole back. (These are not a myth- I actually ate them. In fact, once, at an early '70's potluck in Buffalo- a very politicized community- there were eleven soybean casseroles. Nothing else. Everyone has a good laugh about it.) 

This is why I cannot bring myself to call these granola bars, although I am sure that is what they are. They are also wholesome, delicious and, hopefully after four decades, free of cultural baggage. It really is a good recipe- ideal for young academics, revolutionaries on the go, informal tea time, and picnics to see the fall leaves.

We will need:

150 g/ 2/3 C butter or oil 

300 g/ 3 C oats

35 g/ 1/2 C wheat germ

50 g/ 1/2 C oat bran

150 g 1 C almonds, roughly chopped

50 g/ generous 1/2 C dried coconut

a large handful of cocoa puffed rice cereal, if you have it around

2/3 C / honey

50 g/ 1/4 C brown sugar

1/2 tsp. salt (flat tasting without it)

50 g/ 2/3 C (sifted) cocoa powder

some vanilla

The nuts, coconut, wheat germ, oat bran, cocoa puffed rice and cocoa powder are all optional- leave out whatever you don't want or don't have. Really you just need the oats for the recipe to work. If you do leave lots out, add some oats to make up for the missing bulk- otherwise the bars may seem too sweet. If you leave out the cocoa, add cinnamon, nutmeg, and maybe some dried fruit- whatever suits your taste.

Heat the oven to 150 C/ 300 F, and line a baking pan with non-stick paper. Ours was 25 x 28 cm- 11" x 12"

1. Warm the butter or oil in your largest skillet and add the oats, coconut, and nuts. Over medium heat and stirring carefully, let them toast for 5-6 minutes. They will turn golden but should not brown. Turn them out into a large bowl, toss with the sifted cocoa powder, and add the wheat germ and oat bran.

The hard, smooth surface of the almond slips around under the blade of a straight knife-
 a serrated bread knife grabs them, making for much easier chopping.

2. Meanwhile, boil the honey, brown sugar, and salt together for 5 minutes. It bubbles up a lot. This is really, really hot- not something children ought to help with. Add some vanilla.

3. Pour the syrup over the dry ingredients in the bowl, stirring with a wooden spoon to make sure the syrup is evenly distributed throughout. After it cools a moment you can mix with your hands, making sure no dry ingredients are left unmoistened in the bottom of the bowl

4. Pat lightly into the pan and bake for 15-20 minutes- they get harder the longer you bake them.

5. As soon as they come out of the oven, score them into bars, then let them cool before taking them out of the pan. They are difficult to cut neatly once cool.

Whatever you call them, these are delicious. And they come from quite an era. It was an exciting time to grow up, full of compassionate, impassioned ideology. I am grateful for it, and hope to have retained the best of it. I am also, without irony, grateful for the relative aesthetic deprivation of the era- certainly it shaped my devotion to the pleasures of the kitchen. This recipe, if you like, is a little of both.

*I have to say here that my mother, Charlene, really did make some delicious things- Enchiladas with chicken, Tamale pie, Beef Stew with mushrooms and tiny green peas, Dutch babies, and most memorably of all Hamburgers on french bread with Roquefort dressing and crisp bacon whenever my father was away at a College Art Association conference (how I looked forward  to them!). These were bright warm lights glowing in the grey culinary landscape defined by the era. Also, my Godmother Lynn's Arroz con Camarones and her fabulous Black Beans were anachronistically delicious, and remain among my very favorite dishes.

.

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Butterflied, Crisp-Fried Fresh Anchovies- A Suprisingly Glamorous Tuesday Lunch.

The anchovy is such an elegant fish- svelte, firm, clean-scented. They are very nearly scaleless, tight silver skin glinting beguilingly. In this case, like in so many others, elegance has no relation to cost; these are always the least expensive fish in our part of the Mediterranean. 

A fishless week is happily a rare thing in our house- specifically, an anchovyless week. It's easy to think of anchovies- salt-cured to rich dark suppleness- as a vital and transformative condiment rather than a food- a decisive element of Caesar Salads, Pizza. Fresh ones, lighter on the umami mystique, lighter on the palate, make an ideal fish fry. I never set out to get them, but nearly always do- they are usually 2 euroes a kilo, crisp like apples in the fall- always the freshest of the fish on offer. The light taste of sea never gets tiresome. Cleaning them is surprisingly not at all disgusting; it's satisfying in a primal, visceral sort of way. Short work, too- the guts generally come right out cleanly attached to the head when you cut it off. The blood smells cool and fresh. Owing to their price, freshness and availability, they are a common dish in many homes. So common that, although beloved and delicious, they are not usually thought particularly special. Taking the extra step of butterflying them changes this.

For a generous plate of fried fish, we will need:

A kilo of fresh anchovies

salt

a few handfuls of flour

good oil for frying- one finger-width deep

lemon

maybe some vinegar

Have a newspaper beside the sink, toss in the fish (they will bounce if they are nice and fresh!), and, holding the fish in one hand and a small paring knife in the other, remove the head, pulling the guts out along with it, leaving them on the newspaper. Put the fish in a bowl. A kilo yields about 75 fish. Of these, 5 or 10 may have some scales. They are easily taken off with a knife, drawing the blade from tail to head.

When all the fish are clean and in the bowl, run them under the tap, filling the bowl with water, massaging the fish gently, and changing the water- which will be cloudy and silver at first- until it is very nearly clear. Shake out handfuls of fish to remove most of the water and put them in a smaller bowl.

There are two things that can be done with them:

I. If they are to be fried up whole- which is really just fine and certainly the easiest thing to do- season them with salt and squeeze a lemon over them, leaving the lemon nestled among the fish. Refrigerate until you are ready to fry them, giving them at least a half an hour. The flavors of salt and lemon continue to build- if you plan to leave them long before frying, season them more gently. The bones can be eaten, or very easily removed at the table.

2. If you are of a mind to spoil everyone, you can butterfly them, loosening the spine from the flesh with your fingertips and removing it. 

This is not difficult, and slightly easier if you leave the fish in vinegar for a short time- as if you were making boquerones but more briefly. The flesh will become whiter and more opaque, like a cevice, and the bone will be easier to remove. The fish will take on some liveliness of the vinegar- much more than a half an hour, and they may take on more flavor than you would like for a simple fish fry. When they have been deboned, put them all in a strainer and salt them, tossing the fish abut so the salt gets everywhere. These are now ready for frying (and ready for making a magnificent en Saor- to be enjoyed for days from the refrigerator as a mezze or substantial cocktail snack).

Either way, when ready to fry, put on a large pan of oil (the depth of a finger) on high heat, toss the fish in a fine mesh strainer, dredge them in flour, and give them a vigorous shake to remove the excess before laying them individually in the hot oil so they do not clump together. Whole or filleted, they will need to be turned. The fillets are ready in a flash- they will be done before you need to turn down the oil. For the whole fish, you may need to adjust the temperature if they begin quickly to blacken. You may also find you need to change the oil after two or three batches- much as you may shake the excess flour off, some will fall into the oil, continuing to brown with each new batch. When golden, take them out with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. This makes a beautiful heaping tangle of fish, worth the very little trouble and even less money.

I have found that serving fish for Tuesday lunch sets a fine tone for the week, so fine that it covers for the eventuality of less elaborate meals later on. 

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Two is Company, Twenty-One is a Crowd, and Not Every Grand Meal is a Dinner Party

.

...even if there is a meal, and it feels very much like a party (certainly a happening). There are festive occasions, especially in our home life, that are not about the meal. Last weekend was like that- at the *club, a show, and at home, one of our daughters directing a short film with a cast and crew of a dozen (our other daughter is in and out grabbing whatever is around to eat as she sings and has concerts). That is a lot of people who need a good meal before they get back to making music or movies or whatever.

I almost always cook something for the bands. If I know them I make Touluouse Lautrec cake, and sushi. Otherwise vegetarian snacks- hummus is on every hospitality rider and I feel so sorry for them eating hummus day after day- it just isn't that lively of a dish- that I make a really nice one. They also always want chips and salsa, so I make that too. Knowing the show was coming up and also knowing that we would have 13 film school students in from dawn to midnight, I got a kilo of chick peas, soaked and cooked them up, chilling them in their broth in the refrigerator. I also had sacks of carrots, red peppers, cucumbers, and tomatoes- imperfect ones that they have at the end of market day. To this was added little. (The film crew and cast also had a cake but it is so delicious and reliable it must shine on its own- coming next.)

This is not a time for souffle- patient dishes that are ready in a hurry but don't mind waiting until a take is finished or sound check is over are perfect. 

Here's what you need for one band and one film crew-

1 kilo chick peas

1 bag of carrots

1 bag of cucumbers

2 or 3 red peppers

2 or 3 kilos of tomatoes

1 kilo of pasta

1 bunch parsley

1 bunch dill

1 bunch cilantro

3 lemons

2 limes

a jar of tahini

The Hummus:

1/2 k cooked chick peas, drained

1 bunch parsley

1/2 bunch dill

2 lemons

1/2 jar tahini

1 garlic clove

salt

Chop the garlic fine, then add a teaspoon of salt
and smash back and forth with the plat side of your knife-
it will quickly make a smooth paste.

Pick the leaves off of one large bunch of parsley and half a bunch of dill, and put them in the bowl of the food processor with about half of the chickpeas (take them out with a slotted spoon- we want none  of the liquid in this dish but we need it in another), the zest of 2 lemons, their juice, a clove of garlic mashed carefully with salt into a smooth paste (we need more garlic/salt paste for the salsa- mash 2 at once and set the rest aside), and about half of a jar of tahini. Puree until smooth and a beautiful light green color and taste, adding salt, lemon, tahini, etc. as you like and being conservative with more garlic- raw garlic gains in intensity. Serve dusted with sumac- which is beautiful and tangy.

What makes it nicer? The herbs for one- color and bright fresh flavor missing from legumes and seeds. And the lemon zest lifts the flavor higher and leaves a floral perfume, not just tangy zing. 

Just a little vinegar in each jar s enough- fill to the top with water.

For the carrot sticks- do them first so they can sit in water with vinegar (1:8), salt, and a garlic clove- they are transformed from (stodgy)crunchy to (suave)crisp. Leave them for over 6 hours though and they are almost too flavorful to enjoy with the hummus (but very fine as a cocktail pickle- I have them often in the refrigerator).

The Salsa:

4-5 tomatoes

2 peppers

1 onion

1 clove garlic

1 bunch cilantro

1 or 2 limes

2 small cucumbers

I loved using the blowtorch for the gazpacho the other day, and all my favorite restaurant salsas have some char to them. Basically, this is the gazpacho, minus most of the oil and all the bread and water, plus cilantro, lime zest and juice, and some dried red chilies. 

Slice an onion fairly thinly, and blacken with a torch along with 2 sweet peppers of any color, 4 or 5 tomatoes, some garlic mashed with salt. Puree everything in the food processor along with a very large handful of cilantro leaves, the lime juice and zest, ground black pepper and crushed dried chilies- going slowly (start with a half) and adding more as you like. The sweet smoke of the vegetables and the brightness of the cilantro and lime are very nice together. No photo- it was whisked off to the club the moment it came out of the blender. But you can imagine what it looks like. Make yours as smooth or as chunky as you like.

The Pasta:

1/2 k /1 lb chick peas, cooked until done, with all of their cooking liquid

1/2 C olive oil

2 onions

4-5 cloves garlic

1 1/2 k/ 3 pounds tomatoes, grated

fresh herbs-sage, thyme, oregano

1- 1 1/2 k pasta, any shape you like (we used 3 different shapes)

The liquid should be much more than the chick peas,
and should still reach just over halfway up the sides so there is room for the pasta..
The dish expands enormously.

Take our your largest and deepest pot. Chop the onions and saute in the olive oil until soft, add the garlic, and stir over the heat until golden. Drain the chick peas- keeping the liquid (full of almost gelatinous body, like a homemade chicken stock). Add the chick peas, salt to taste, black pepper, and a small handful of herbs. Stir a moment to let the chick peas absorb some aroma, and add broth and the tomatoes. There should be a lot of liquid- another 2 times the depth of the chick peas. And the seasoning should be bold- we are adding a lot of starch to soak up the liquid and all the flavor. It will sit patiently at a low simmer for as long as you need it to. When you are 10 minutes away from serving, add the dry pasta to the pot and stir often. The finished dish should be a lively springy pasta (not too very soft) with the chick peas and some brothy sauce- add some water or tomato when it cooking if it seems to need more liquid, or if more people gather. Serve with more fresh ground pepper and grated cheese, a rough one, like dry myzythra (ricotta salata). This is a generous dish, satisfying many.

Plan:

There's a reason there are no photos of the kitchen while all this was being made- vegetable peels, onion skins, herb stems flying everywhere. The dishes use a lot of the same ingredients so the most efficient way is to just fly into it and do one grand clean up when the pasta is on the stove. Start with the hummus so it has time to chill and then do the salsa so you can get the food processor out of the way. Cut up the carrot sticks and some cucumber spears and chill them. Start the chick peas and tomato broth and grate a lot of cheese. It will be ready in ten minutes after the pasta is added, but as there is so much it will stay hot a very long time. Clear a large table and put out all of the mismatched bowls and forks and spoons that you own and know that they certainly will be enough, and that no one will go hungry. 

*Principal (John Spencer Blues Explosion last Saturday, the 5th)

** Dinner for Morrisey (I made it on a hot plate next to the bar): steamed broccoli, steamed carrots, potatoes mashed with salted butter. Black-eyes peas salad for Nouvelle Vague. Tricky cooks for himself. I don't think Lemmy ate anything special. We ordered in for Isaac Hayes. He was majestic. 

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