broccoli with burrata, pine nuts, and warm anchovy vinaigrette- ish

I had a post all written up for you tonight. I was almost ready to publish it.
And then I made dinner. And I changed my mind. Because although you may not have known it, you were here tonight too. So I figured I better tell you about it, just to keep you up to speed on your whereabouts this evening.

I've been spending some time with a cookbook that I got out of the Library, Suzanne Goin's Sunday Suppers at Lucques. A friend of mine had passed along this recipe from the book, and although she kindly typed it out in an email, I figured I should take a look at the source. It's a stunning book, a little manual that would become my handbook were I a wealthy childless Californian.
I am many things, but a wealthy childless Californian is certainly not one of them. Ah, well.

Suzanne Goin's book is packed with ingredients that I don't have, but it is so lovely that I stick with it anyway. So far as I can tell, many of her recipes are based on an excellent formula: good olive oil, butter, chiles, thyme, anchovies. I had my eye on this recipe for broccoli with burrata, pine nuts, and warm anchovy vinaigrette. Because I am not a wealthy childless Californian, by burrata I mean mozzarella, by broccoli I really mean broccolli and not broccolini or sprouting broccoli, and by any of the other ingredients I mean whatever you can muster. But I feel that this is the mark of a excellent cookbook- that even if I cannot make what is in it, I can be inspired enough to sally forth anyway. This book absolutely succeeds in this regard. I don't want you to think I have anything against wealthy childless Californians- I certainly don't. Who knows? Maybe Suzanne Goin is actually from New Jersey and has four children? If so, she puts on a very good show.

Joey and the girls went to a birthday party this afternoon, and I stayed home so that I could make this luscious sounding thing and photograph it while there was still some light coming through the windows. Of course, I got sidetracked with granola, and laundry, and pointless pantry organization. And that is how I found myself at 6:00, chopping anchovies, trying to convince Sadie and Joey to clean up the living room, running up and down the stairs and soaping up a very stubborn Rosie (who would not have anyone but Mama) in stages so as not to stay away from my toasting pine nuts for too long. I started this process quite grumpy, and I had the good sense to open up a bottle of wine. The phone was ringing, and Rosie was hollering and I was creating quite a mess.


As I poured myself another glass of wine, I went from grumpy, to amused, to actually laughing. I was ten minutes from the girls' bedtime, and I stopped measuring. I decided to put the whole thing over pasta, and before I knew it, ingredients were everywhere. I slipped into my bad habits of crowding counters, stacking cutting boards on top of cutting boards, and making a terrible ruckus. And although there were anchovies and shouting naked kids and it was already bedtime, I realized that you were there, and I felt okay.


People often tell me that they appreciate that I don't gloss over things, that I show a messy kitchen and crazy children. And I do, at least I try, but to be honest, I don't always show you how wild things truly get in those twenty minutes before dinner time.


But you know right? You know what it's like to try to cook something beautiful, even when what you really should be doing (if you had any sense, that is) is heating up a frozen lasagna from Costco? You've discarded the recipe because you only really have time to cut up one shallot, and who knows how many tablespoons it is, right? And as the storm kicks up, and you holler at your kids to set the damn table (okay, maybe you don't swear, I support you in that) I want you to know that I'm there too, just like you've been there for me, and I'm drinking your wine, and most of all, I'm laughing.



Because sometimes this is all just too much to take. It has got to be funny, or else we might just give up altogether. And when you finally get dinner on the table and your children march around the kitchen holding their noses saying that it smells like cat food and that dinner is Ew-mungous. (I don't make this stuff up!), we'll laugh together, okay?


Whatever happened before, I'll tell you right now that this dinner was fantastic. You should try it. Perhaps chaos was a vital ingredient, and I'm sure that you'll be able to add lots of that too.


James's Broccoli with Burrata, Pine Nuts, and Warm Anchovy Vinaigrette (or Pasta with Mozzarella, Broccoli and Anchovy Butter)

Adapted from Suzanne Goin and Terry Gelber, Sunday Suppers at Lucques

1 lb penne or pasta shape of your choice
1 lb broccoli, cut into florets
3/4 cup fresh breadcrumbs
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup pine nuts
1 tablespoon flat leaf parsley
5 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 teaspoons minced anchovy
1 arbol chile, sliced thinly
2 teaspoons minced garlic
juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 pound fresh mozzarella, sliced into bite-sized pieces
1 teaspoon thyme leaves
1 medium shallot, sliced
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Toast the pine nuts and the breadcrumbs on a tray for about 5 minutes, or until toasty.
Bring two large pots of heavily salted water to boil. In one pot, cook the pasta, in the other, blanch the broccoli for three minutes. Drain pasta and set aside. Drain broccoli and set out to cool.
In a small bowl, crush half of the pine nuts. Combine the crushed pine nuts with the whole pine nuts, the bread crumbs and the parsley. Season with salt and pepper
Heat olive oil and butter in a large sautee pan. Add the anchovy and cook, stirring, until the anchovy begins to dissolve, about 5 minutes. Add the chile, garlic, thyme, and lemon. Turn off the heat. Season with a pinch of salt. Allow to sit for a minute.
Turn on the heat again to medium. Add the shallots, broccoli, and pasta if your pot is large enough (otherwise toss with pasta in a bowl). Cook for a minute or so, coating the broccoli and pasta in the sauce. Taste for seasoning.
Pour into a large bowl and top with mozzarella.

peppery pasta carbonara with poached egg

In the interest of your own sanity, I'm going to say that you should only keep reading this if you have bacon in the house, or if you are willing to go to the store right now.

If you don't have bacon in the house, you might just feel sad that you can't make this immediately
.
You might feel hungry and wistful, and I just can't take thinking of you that way.

So don't read any more.

Okay. Whoever is still with me, you've got some bacon, right?

Let's move on, then. This is peppery pasta carbonara with poached egg, or in other words, spaghetti with bacon, cheese and egg all cooked in bacon fat and butter.

Yes. I know.


You can make this very fast, so don't worry- you'll be eating it in no time. I'm just going to give you a few hints to get you going.

Because this all comes together so fast, you want to have your ingredients ready. Chop your parsley, grate your cheese. Put it in little bowls on the counter.

One more thing- and don't give up on me now. You have to poach an egg for this. Some of you poach eggs every day and smugly eat them on toast. I do this too, but only recently. You're not phased by this egg poaching. But maybe others are not so comfortable with poaching an egg, and that's okay- you will be a member of the egg poaching club before the night is through.

How to poach an egg:
Use a low sided sautee pan, if you have one. (For this recipe, you'll be cooking the egg in the pasta water, so whatever pot you used is fine too. ) Fill it 3/4 full with water. Add 1 Tablespoon of white vinegar and a bit of salt. Bring the water to a simmer. That means little bubbles, a fair amount of steam. Crack your egg into a little ramekin or bowl. Hold the bowl right over the water, and slip the egg into the water. The egg will swirl around, and you might be reminded of the scary scene in Ghostbusters. The egg will come together. Cook the egg for about 2 1/2 minutes, then scoop it out. You can store it in warm water until the rest of the dish is ready.

You are now a member of the egg poaching club.

And now for the recipe.

Peppery Pasta Carbonara with Poached Egg
from Gourmet, October 2009

(This recipe is for one serving. You might be reading this late at night and need to make it right now, in which case one serving is perfect. Or perhaps you have the lucky opportunity of eating dinner all by your self. But if you're making dinner for more, just multiply the recipe by the number of eaters.)

2 Bacon Slices, cut into 1 inch pieces
1/4 lb spaghetti
1/2 Tablespoon unsalted butter
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
1 to 2 Tablespoon chopped tarragon or parsley
1 large egg

Cook bacon in a 10- inch skillet over medium heat until crisp. Transfer bacon to a paper towel.
Meanwhile, cook spaghetti in a 4 qt. saucepan of salted boiling water. Reserve 1/3 cup cooking water, then transfer pasta with tongs to a bowl, shaking off excess water. If you are making this dish for more people, you might opt to drain the pasta and use new water for your eggs. That's fine too. But if you choose to take your pasta out with tongs, keep the water simmering, and add a touch of white vinegar to it.
Pour off all but 2 teaspoon bacon from skillet, then whisk butter into fat in skillet over medium heat. Add spaghetti, reserved cooking liquid, cheese, and a rounded 1/4 teaspoon of pepper and cook, stirring, until sauce has thickened, 2 to 3 minutes. Add bacon and parsley or tarragon and toss. Season with salt and pepper.
Break egg into cup and slide gently into water. Poach at a bare simmer for about 2 1/2 minutes.
Serve pasta topped with egg and extra cheese.

mid-summer pasta

Tonight- a secret for you.
There are two things that will help anything taste really good. I'm really really serious about this.
High quality olive oil.
Good parmesan.
These things are magical.
I'm lucky, I know. There's this store near me, like two minutes away, run by a very nice French man. He has all sorts of things- cornichons, french mustard, foie gras. But most importantly, he has bulk olive oil in beautiful shiny containers, and one of them is organic, and it's so good- it's like fairy dust. Cheap too, if you bring your own container. On your way out, while you're trying not to buy nutella, you pick up some parmesan, and there you go. Now you make good food.
So when you go to the farmer's market, or you pick up your CSA share, or your garden is practically spitting things at you, what do you do?
You make pasta.
I have been asked how I know what to put together over pasta. I don't. It doesn't matter. Good olive oil, parmesan, you can chop up an old shoe and some paper towel and it will be delicious over pasta.
But in case you need a little direction, here's what we had the other night.

Mid- Summer pasta
1 lb spaghetti
3 summer squash, preferably different varieties (I used zucchini, crookneck, and pattypan), cut into thin semi-circles
the greens from 5 garlic scapes
1-2 cups (or as many as you can get) freshly shelled peas
1 cup parsley, roughly chopped
a large handful of basil leaves, roughly chopped
olive oil
parmesan
salt and pepper

Cook the pasta in a large pot of salted water. When it's done, drain and set aside. In a large sautee pan, put a few glugs of olive oil and warm over medium heat. Add the garlic scapes and sautee for a minute. Then add the summer squash and cook, stirring occasionally, until it's reduced in size and a bit golden, about ten minutes. Add the peas and cook for another minute. Then add the parsley and basil, cook for 30 seconds, and remove from heat. Put the pasta into a large bowl and lightly toss in olive oil. Add the vegetables on top. Then a bit more olive oil, a healthy amount of parmesan shavings, and salt and pepper.