Bergamot Marmalade

I have never been an avid maker of jam. Or I should say my habit of winging it has resulted in a lot of runny flops. Or worse, so many jars that I couldn't give them away - the year I made concord grape jelly from a huge stockpot full of fruit. And then there's the whole canning jar business, pain in the neck.

But this time it was as if the fruit and I were meant for each other. I have to admit I have never set eyes on a Bergamot orange. I was in San Francisco and went to visit Rachel and her new husband and we all made a brief foray to Bi-Rite and there they were, like little round unassuming lemons. But the aroma, indeed Earl Grey. Heady.

So armed with nothing but a knife, a peeler and a pot, I peeled two specimens and julienned the strips finely. Then removed all the white pith and chopped the flesh, tiny pits and all. (The source of pectin, I think.) Then added about 4 or 5 tablespoons of sugar. This is to taste, and I like it bitter. Some water. Cooked it for about half an hour or a bit longer on high heat. When it was thick, poured it into a glass. Simple enough. On toasted ciabbata, a bit of butter from Isigny, a sprinkle of Spanish sea salt, and a good dollop of this marmalade, utterly magnificent.

Chupe de Pescado

Moving rapidly from Uganda to Ecuador, as you can imagine, boggles the mind. At least they're both on the equator. In any case, I ended up writing the encyclopedia article for an author who flaked on me. A lot of fun, but of course it's postponed editing the monster (Food Cultures of the World). But look at what happens. This is a chupe de pescado, and I don't know honestly if the etymology is related to cioppino, but they are similar.

This one starts with a mixture of onions, celery, green bell pepper. So far sounds like a soffrito. Annato for color. Some tomatoes, water. Bay leaves and oregano. Hominy stood in for proper Ecuadorean choclo, then carrots, parsnip (yuca would have been better) a cut up potato, yellow squash, cabbage, and I guess any fish will do. I had crab meat and some shrimp. A raw egg could go in, and even crumbled white cheese. But I went for simplicity and a squeeze of lime. Touch of chili. I am about to eat the leftovers now for dinner. Can not wait!

Luwombo

The fates decreed, not I, that the article on Uganda for my monster Encylopedia would be written by me. Not the first time I have written something about which I know nothing. Luckily I had a friend of a friend, Roger Serunyigo, tell me all he could from the inside, as someone in the Baganda culture, and whose mom is apparently a fantastic cook.

So today I decided to make matooke. Plantains are not as good as little green bananas from S.E. Asia, which came out nice. Wrapped in banana leaves and steamed. Then mashed. And I was told cooked over a real fire makes everything taste better. I am now cerain of that. So, the main dish is Luwombo. For the book I wrote the recipe with chicken, but trust me, beef was unfathomably delicious. You need a really tough fatty cut. I used back ribs, cut off the bone. Use an expensive cut and this will probably be awful.

You first brown some onions, throw in some grated ginger, some salt and pepper, a few chopped tomatoes, and then a lot of real finely pounded peanuts. It's not peanut butter, just ground peanuts. Then quickly grill the beef, which has been cut into small pieces, over a fire. Real fire. After barely browned, throw it into the sauce. Then wrap this whole mixture in banana leaves and tie on top with several strands of banana leaves. Any S.E. Asian shop sells them frozen.

Then put them in a big pot, over an upturned plate, with some water on the bottom, with the matooke too, cover and put on a charcoal fire, and let it steam for a couple of hours. Must be eaten with fingers. Well, actually not, but I prefer my fingers!

Can I say, I have never tasted anything like this in my life. The leaves so intensely flavor everything, no other seasoning is necessary. The beef is soft and pliable, but still chewy, not a stew, but a steamed meat with peanut sauce dish. I could have eaten it all but didn't. No one else in my house would touch it. Anyone like Ugandan food, come over any time.

Any if anyone can explain the sexual politics of luwombo to me, please do! I think if a woman cooks it for a man, it means she wants him. And a man should never marry a woman who can't cook it. Where does that put me??

Pickled Eggs

I have been pickling a dozen eggs every few weeks, with some seriously engaging effects. I guess growing up in New Jersey, they weren't one of those things I saw on a regular basis, or ever, but they are quite addictive. The recent batch is flavored with fenugreek, coriander, cinnamon, fresh bay leaves and myrtle. The key is to use whole spices rather than powdered or the whole thing gets cloudy and unappetizing. Pictured here are one of the more gorgeous experiments, with quail eggs. You can see the ingredients below: aged pu-erh, black cardamom, juniper, long pepper, licorice, star anise and grains of paradise.

You basically just boil eggs until barely hard and either crack them up gently for this mottled effect, or peel entirely. Then heat the spices gently in a dry skillet and add to the hot water in which you boiled the eggs. About a quart. Add two tablespoons of salt, a cup of vinegar. And put them in a glass jar on the countertop. Untraditional, I admit, but they still seem to taste better if Flatt and Scruggs are playing while you make them.

Duck Season

The scenario is now familiar, so too the modus operandi and dramatis personae. First I get a call from Christine. An hour later she shows up bearing some species of wild animal, which is then cleaned and dressed, as hoodies start showing up to help. A lot of bourbon passes lips and suddenly the whole neighborhood is crammed into the kitchen eating directly from the pans. I would have it no other way.

If I had planned for a minute there would ahve been something to go with it, but nope, just ducks. Ten of them. Ranging in size from a mere fistful to barely game hen. My first thought was panic. I tried calling Hank, expert in all things wild duck, but no answer. Are they widgeon, widget, teal? So we decided to "wing" it. They were actually very easy to pluck. Just as easy to eviscerate. A few I took apart to cure, then a few breasts and legs went immediately into a pan with rendered fat, and they were very fat. Everyone agreed this was the best, just barely pink. Some were roasted, some pan sauteed and chopped crosswise as Chinese chefs do. They were frankly delicious, dripping with fat, as fresh as food gets.

So sweet little ducks, we thank you. We thank the person who brought you down, and she who brought you over, and those who brought you to the kitchen cleaned, and those whose gullets you graced.

Bartolomeo Scappi Dinner 1570

Yesterday I cooked for a benefit, directly from Scappi's Opera. Pictured here is the first cold antipasti course, a not untypical 16th c. starter: my olives and salami, a fennel salad, and my first mozarella (made from raw milk). I saw someone doing the whole pasta filata trick and thought, I can do that. My hands are still tingling - ouch. It went with my sourdough nicely. The second course was a minestra di foglie di rape (II:205) followed by a charming subtlety of sausages made from trout (III:153). The process was wacky, chopped trout into casings, poached in red wine, smoked for an hour and finally sauteed. They looked exactly like pork sausages, so I served them with my fresh sauerkraut and a pickled lady apple. I think Scappi would have approved the nod northward. The main course was a petto della Vitella mongana (II:34) braised in a clay pot in the oven for about 8 hours with prunes, cherries and a riot of spices. It was dizzyingly unctuous and went so well on bright yellow saffron and rose scented rice. A simpler apple pie to end. In all not a very expensive meal, but in terms of man-hours, an absurdity. Scappi had an army of cooks in the Papal kitchens and we are beginning to understand why.

(Mother) Hubbard Squash

You don't get a sense of the scale of this mother unless you look at the teapots on the shelf below. It was so big and gnarly that few people believed it was real. The smaller part fits nicely on my head. What you see is the squash bissected, scraped out and left to dry. Our friend Jean, a plant breeder, brought it on Thanksgiving, so I can believe it is a prodigy. The second shot, you can see what became of her. And I still have several buckets of cooked down squash - I can see soup on the horizon. Perhaps pie.