Herb Butter

You could spoon melted herb butter over pan-cooked steak. Spread it, softened to room temperature, on thick slices of sourdough. Toss green beans with a spoonful of it and a squeeze of lemon. Whisk a dollop into a sauce or creamy soup. I’m eating a sandwich spread thick with the stuff as I write this.

Herb butter is a simple way to season all sorts of things, and to use up those bunches of herbs that always seem to wilt before you can finish them. (And it makes a lot more sense to me than putting olive oil in ice cube trays.)

It’s nearly as easy to make as it is to use. Chop up any combination of herbs, to make two to four tablespoons. Stir the herbs into a stick of room temperature butter. You could add salt too, if the butter is unsalted. Press the herb butter into a dish and refrigerate it, or if you won’t get to it in a week or two you can freeze it rolled in saran wrap.

Now you’re ready to dollop and spread, season and savor.

Rhubarb: Three Memories and a Recipe

photo of rhubarb copote via quinciple (modified)

Our rhubarb plant, with it’s dark green umbrella-like leaves shooting out from brilliant ruby stalks, grew lushly in the back corner of the garden, across from the compost pile and the raspberry patch. Even the chickens wouldn’t eat the toxic greenery, but my mom had taught me to break off the stems and dip them in sugar for a sweet-tart treat (and the leaves made a nice parasol for a little girls). My mouth still puckers just thinking about it.

That is what rhubarb evokes for me first. Then there’s the strawberry-rhubarb cobbler that my dad brought to a Memorial Day barbeque. I couldn’t have been older than five. While we ate the cobbler–it was perfect–my mom told her friends at the table about the sexy new rhubarb-colored shirt she’d bought for my dad. For the rest of the evening my little brother and I were in hysterics chanting “Daddy’s gonna be sexy! Daddy’s gonna be sexy!”

More recently, there’s the first time I cooked for my (now) boyfriend. I was nervous about the fish I planned to gut and grill, but for dessert I knew I had the pie nailed. I have made, truly, thousands of pies. I won his heart as I scaled that fish with gusto, and I aced the grilling, but the pie was the worst I have ever baked! Its crust was soggy and the rhubarb had the texture of undercooked celery. It gave us something to laugh about as we watched fireworks from my rooftop later, finishing our bottle of champagne. We reminisce much more about the terrible pie than the perfect fish.

Rhubarb is one of the first interesting harvests each spring, and I thrill with memory and anticipation each time I see it. Let’s get cooking.

Rhubarb Compote 

makes one pint, takes 15 minutes

• 3 cups chopped rhubarb
• ¾ cups sugar
• 2 Tablespoons water
• ½ lemon

Put rhubarb, sugar and water in a small heavy bottomed pan. Squeeze in the lemon, and put the rind in too. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the rhubarb is tender but not mushy. Remove the lemon rind. Serve warm over shortcake, or refrigerate in a glass pint-ja

Tatsoi and Eggs with Crispy Spring Shallots

My friend Kate can tell you who grows the best watermellon radishes, when and where to get lovage, and which stalls to check out at the farmers markets in New York City any day of the week. If I want to plan a special dinner two months from now, Kate can tell me what will be in season. If I want to make a batch of Tequila Por Me Amante (I'll give you that recipe soon), she'll show up at my door with a flat of the first local strawberries. Even with all that esoteric knowledge, she's a down-to-earth cook.

I'd only dreamed of Kate doing my grocery shopping, but now she does. If you live in New York, her new company, Quinciple, will deliver a weekly box of reasonably priced farm-fresh food. I've been having a lot of fun with what Kate brings me, and now I'm contributing some recipes for the neat little set of cards that comes in each box. A version of Tatsio and Eggs with Crispy Shallots was in this weeks Quinciple box. You can find the ingredients any time of year in Chinatown if not at the farmers market.

Tatsoi and Eggs with Crispy Spring Shallots

• 2 limes
• 1 teaspoon fish sauce, best you can find
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 5-6 spring shallots (or scallions), cleaned and dried
• 3 Tablespoons good canola or peanut oil
• pinch kosher salt
• ¾ pound (1 bunch) tatsoi*, stems trimmed and separated, cleaned and dried
• 1 cup loose-packed cilantro leaves, cleaned and dried
• 2 eggs
• freshly ground black pepper
• serve with rice or rice vermicelli

*baby bok choy works just as well

1. This dish works best cooked in a wok. Any wok will do, as long as it’s not non-stick. The keys to a good stir-fry are a very hot pan and very dry vegetables (so they don’t steam and get mushy). Once all the ingredients are prepped, the cooking goes quickly.

2. Set your wok over low heat while you prepare your ingredients. Make the sauce. Zest one of the limes into a small bowl. Juice both the limes into the bowl (you should have about 2 Tablespoons juice). Stir in the fish sauce and sugar. Set aside.

3. Trim off and discard the roots of the shallots. Cut the dark green tops off, leaving about 2 inches of white and pale green stalk. Chop the dark green tops into thin rings; set aside. Slice the pale base of the stalks lengthwise on a slight diagonal, to make one-inch strips. Set aside.

4. Make sure all your ingredients are ready to cook. Turn the wok to medium-high. Set out a serving plate for the finished dish. Set out a bowl with a sieve or tea strainer over it.

5. When the wok is visibly hot and you can feel the heat radiating if you hold you hand over it, add the oil. Let the oil heat for just 30 seconds before adding the pale part of the shallots. Stir the shallots in the sizzling oil, keeping it just below the smoking point, until they are golden brown (they will continue to cook to dark brown as you remove them from the pan). Pour shallots and oil into the sieve. Reserve the oil in the bowl. Sprinkle the shallots with kosher salt.

6. Return 1 Tablespoon of the oil to the hot wok. Keeping it over a high flame, add the tatsoi. Toss it around the wok for a minute or two, until it’s uniformly bright green and barely becoming tender. Transfer it to the serving plate.

7. Add the remaining oil to the pan, and let it heat for 30 seconds. Crack the two eggs into the pan. Break the yolks. Fry undisturbed until the edges are crispy and golden. Flip, and break into bite-sized pieces. Quickly add back the tatsoi along with the sauce and sliced scallion-tops; toss everything together. Transfer to the serving plate, add the cilantro leaves and crispy shallots, and season with freshly ground black pepper. Serve warm, with rice or rice vermicelli.

Clover Club Cocktail

clover club cocktail

Who would think that a fluffy pink cocktail takes its name form an exclusive turn-of-the-last-century mens’ club? The look of the Clover Club cocktail is froofy, the taste is clear and refreshing, and the history is macho–evoking dark wood paneling, secret handshakes and bawdy laughs. Legend has it that Yeats or Twain could be found sipping one with dinner. And unlike many of the overpowing concoctions popular today, it’s gentle enough (in taste, at least) to enjoy with a meal. The bar in Brooklyn named after this drink/club is a great place to enjoy one, but you can easily make it at home.

Clover Club Cocktail

• 3/4 ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice
• 1/3  to 1/2 ounce grenadine or raspberry syrup (depending on sweetness)
• 1 1/2 ounces London dry gin
• 1 ounce egg white (yield of one medium egg)

1. Pour the ingredients into a cocktail shaker in the order listed (to avoid currdling the egg). Dry shake (no ice) to whip the egg white into a thick white froth. The spring from a strainer or a few small shards of ice can speed the process. It usually takes at least 60 second of hard shaking.

2. Open the shaker and add very cold ice, filling the shaker it nearly to the brim. Shake with the ice until the shaker is nearly too cold to touch, and strain into a chilled coupe or martini glass.

Hannah's Hint: The bacteria we worry about with eggs are mostly on the shell. To sanitize them before using raw, dip them in a bowl of vinegar water, then rinse. I splash about 1 Tablespoons of white vinegar per 2 cups of luke-warm water. (This is based on folklore and common sense, so do your own reserach if you are really worried).

Jammy Oat Bars

Jammy Oat Bars. Image courtesy of Liz Clayman

The other day, Liz Clayman made this recipe from Sweets & Bitters Quarterly, Volume 1, for fun and took some gorgeous pictures. Check out more images on her tumblr, and try the recipe! (I’m convinced they are healthy enough to eat for lunch, and they make a great sports snack.)

Jammy Oat Bars

• cooking spray
• 2 cups flour
• 1 cups oats (not instant)
• ½ cup sliced almonds, crushed *
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1 cup butter (2 sticks)
• 1 ½ cups dark brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 2 teaspoons lemon zest
• 1 tablespoon vanilla
• 1 ½ cups blackberry (or other) jam
• sea salt flakes, for finishing

*If you have a nut allergy, substitute more oats for the almonds.

1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Spray a 9 x 12” pan (or something close) with cooking spray. Smooth a piece of baking parchment over the bottom and sides of the pan. Crease the corners, and snip away the extra parchment.

2. In a small bowl, mix the flour oats, almonds and cinnamon. With an electric mixer, cream the butter, sugar and salt together until thoroughly combined. Mix in the lemon zest and vanilla. Add the flour and oats to the butter mixture in two parts, beating until just combined.

3. Press half the dough into the bottom of the pan to make and even layer of crust. Spread the jam on top. Crumble the rest of the dough over the top.  Bake for 60-70 minutes, rotating once.

4. Sprinkle sea salt liberally over the top while they are still warm. Once cool (about 20 minutes), lift the whole thing out of the pan by pulling up the edges of the parchment. Transfer it to a cutting board, and cut into bars.

5. If you want to be really cute, wrap each bar in parchment, and tie with a piece of baker’s twine. These will keep well at room temperature for 4-5 days.

Homemade Grenadine (it's really easy)

Did you love Shirley Temples too? I thought they were the height of sophistication (those and shrimp cocktails). Neon red cherries in syrupy soda might not seem so appealing now, but homemade grenadine could pave the way to a grown-up version (or something you won't feel bad about serving your kids). It's a key ingredient in a lot of classic cocktails too.

Homemade Grenadine
This grenadine is easy to make and WAAYYYYY better than store-bought.

• 16 oz bottle POM Wonderful
• about 1 cup superfine sugar
• 1 Tablespoon pomegranate molasses (optional)
• 2 teaspoons vodka (optional)

1. Pour off half the juice so the remainder reaches the waist of the bottle (drink what you’ve poured off or save it for something else).  Fill the bottle to the top of the next bulge, just below the neck, with superfine sugar. Screw the cap back on.

2. Shake fiercely until the sugar dissolves. It’s important to use superfine sugar, or this step will take all day. Once the sugar is dissolved, add the pomegranate molasses and vodka, if using. Shake to combine. Keeps refrigerated for months.

Note: sometimes I add a few drops of rose water too.

Goat Milk Custard with Pomegranate Molasses

Goat Milk Custard with Pomegranate Molasses

You know when you travel somewhere foreign, but there's something about the place that makes you feel like you've come home? That's how pomegranate molasses tastes to me. Its sweet floral tang is mysteriously familiar. I find myself mixing it with seltzer, substituting it for balsamic vinegar and adding it to desserts–even sneaking a spoonful from the fridge now and then.

Pomegranate molasses might sound exotic to American cooks, but it’s cheap and pretty easy to find. Middle Eastern markets stock it right next to the rose water and orange blossom water (at 1/3 the price they sell for at Whole Foods, you might want to pick those up too).

Here's a sweet recipe to get you started–Goat Milk Custard with Pomegranate Molasses. Serve this effortless and sophisticated dessert to impress dinner guests. While the ingredients may seem exotic, the preparation is simple. You don’t even have to turn the oven on.

Goat Milk Custard with Pomegranate Molasses

• 4 Tablespoons pomegranate molasses
• 2 egg yolks
• 1 whole egg
• 1-2 Tablespoons sugar
• 1 cup goat milk
• 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
• ½ teaspoon vanilla, or seeds scraped from on vanilla bean
• fresh pomegranate seeds for garnish

1. Pour one tablespoon of pomegranate molasses into each of four small ramekins. Set aside.

2. In a small heavy-bottomed saucepan, whisk together the yolks, egg and sugar until well mixed and a little frothy. Slowly whisk in the milk. Stir in the salt.

3. Gently warm the mixture over medium heat, stirring constantly. When it begins to thicken watch closely, it will cook fast. Turn off the heat when it’s about not quite as thick as runny yogurt. Whisk in the vanilla.

4. Carefully spoon or pour the custard into the ramekins, dividing it equally between them. Place them in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours, until set. They’re best consumed within a day, but will keep for a few days.

5. Sprinkle some fresh pomegranate seeds on top before serving.

I say frittata

Fritatta, Spanish tortilla, flat omelet–whatever you want to call a skillet of beaten eggs baked with stuff–this is my favorite dish to serve last minute guests. Brother and his friends stopping by on their way through town? Potluck to attend? Fridge looking nearly empty? If there are eggs, you can make a fritatta.

Here’s how I do it. Look at what’s on hand and gather some ingredients: potatoes, greens or parsley, cheese, eggs, olive oil. Heat the oven to 375°F. Pour about 1/8 inch of olive oil into a cast iron skillet. Coat the sides with some of the oil. Thinly slice the potatoes, lay them in the skillet, and put it in the oven.

Now you have some time to fix your hair or wash the dishes while the potatoes soften. Check them after 15 minutes. Take the pan out of the oven when the potatoes are fork-tender but firm.

Chop up the parsley or greens (unless you’re using salad mix or baby greens), then scatter it over the potatoes. Shred or crumble a cup or so of cheese and sprinkle that on. Beat some eggs (I use about 8 for a ten inch pan) with a little salt and pepper, and a splash of milk or cream if you want. Pour the eggs over everything. I like to sprinkle a little more cheese on top.

Bake this until the eggs are nearly set, but a little wiggly in the middle. If it seems like it’s taking forever, turn the oven up to broil. Cool for a few minutes before slicing. You can serve frittata warm or at room temperature. It’s fine to make it hours ahead. I like to set out salt & pepper, hot sauce, and fancy ketchup and let everyone season their slice of fritatta as they like.

Pantry really really bare? Just onions and dried herbs will do, especially if you have a sprinkle of parmesan for the top. Just sauté sliced onion in the pan until translucent before adding anything else. Mix the herbs into the beaten eggs. Proceed as above.

You could also add leftover cooked vegetables instead of greens, or stew some canned tomatoes in the pan for a few minutes with sautéed onions. It’s hard to go wrong. And the leftovers make great sandwiches.

Hudson St. Sandwich

photo by Kristen BlushOn Saturday mornings I used to meet my best friend, Steph, for a two-or-three-hour bike ride, then get lunch at Husdon St. Deli. That enormous sandwich on a whole loaf of Italian bread, with veggies and cheese spilling out the ends, was the real reason we went on those rides. After we devoured it, we’d sit there shivering as our bodies put all their energy towards digesting. We named this Hudson St. Sandwich Syndrome.

I moved away and the original Hudson St. Deli closed years ago. This recipe approximates the glorious sandwiches of my memory. I hope Steph will eat one at the beach with me this summer, and we can sit there shivering in the sun.

Hudson St. Sandwich

• 12-14” loaf Italian bread
• more mayonaise than you’d think, trust me!
• brown deli mustard, to taste
• 1/3lb. dill havarti
• whole avocado
• handful sliced pickle
• handful sprouts
• 1 Tablespoon olive oil
• 1 Tablspoon vinegar (wine or cider)
• pinch salt & pepper
• 1/3 block tofu raw or steamed, cut into ½ inch cubes
• handful carrot, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced
• handful iceburg lettuce, sliced ¼ inch thick and chopped into inch-long pieced
• 9 green pimento olives, halved

1. Slice the bread open lengthwise, leaving the crust attached on the spine. Spread a generous amount of mayonnaise on both sides, and a squiggle of mustard. Line the bread with havarti. Scoop chunks of Avocado out with a spoon, and place them alongside the cheese on one side. On the other side, place a layer of pickles. Place the sprouts next. Toss tofu and the rest of the veggies with the oil, vinegar, salt and pepper. Fill the middle with the salad.

2. Squeeze the sandwich closed, and wrap it in deli paper. Cut into sections, and return it to the bread bag.

Sandy “Schmandy” Shandy

Check out this Sweets & Bitters recipe in the All Hands on Deck cookbook. It's a beautiful collection from Red Hook business, and all proceeds go to Restore Red Hook. Here is my Sandy story, and a cocktail to go with it.

Here is Sandy in a glass. A drink that makes lemonade of lemons, is bittersweet, doused with comforting whiskey, and tinged with salt. There are no measurements because who can find their jiggers in a flooded home or bar? And living through a hurricane has taught us to improvise and not be so hard on ourselves or so judgmental of others. We are doing the best we can, and still finding moments to enjoy–to be together.

I would have never thought that the feeling remaining after losing nearly everything would be gratitude, but here I am feeling more overwhelmed by kindness than devastation. The morning after Sandy, my apartment looked and smelled as though someone had put everything in a blender full of sewage, gasoline and seawater. The refrigerator was on top of the bookshelf on top of my bike–how would I ever find my chef’s knife and my grandmother’s pearls!? Overwhelmed, I retreated to collect my emotions on higher ground. When I returned a few hours later with my brother to bolster me, there was a clean-up crew of 8 people–friends and strangers–standing outside. They had sorted every last thing that might be salvageable into the garage and piled all the trash into the street: the ruined apartment was miraculously empty.

This is the most enormous act of kindness I have ever experienced or witnessed! It was followed by a bottle of whiskey shared with my shaken landlords, and a coat loaned by an also-devastated neighbor who couldn’t stand to see me shiver. As we dug into the next stage of cleaning and sorting a friend stopped by with a hot meal for us, another with wine in a mason jar. Each day I talk with my neighbors and friends and I hear us all saying the same thing, “I’m lucky” and “I’m worried about the people who are worse off.”

It’s not over yet, but here’s a drink to keep us going.

If you want to help with Sandy relief, consider volunteering with or donating to Occupy Sandy, Restore Red Hook, The Red Hook Initiative, Red Cross, or another group helping with aid and recovery efforts.

Sandy “Schmandy” Shandy

• Beer, a bitter one if you can find it
• Lemonade, fresh squeezed or not
• Bourbon, or something like that
• Black salt (yeah right like you have that around, so kosher salt will do)

Moisten and salt the rim of a pint glass. Put some ice cubes in it. Fill it not quite halfway with lemonade. Add a splash of whiskey, about ¼ cup. Top it with beer, and give it a gentle stir.