This week’s menu is a little fancy. I just needed fancy. I set the table with the good silver, polished the not-quite-every-day glassware, opened a bottle of nice wine, and … maybe went a bit overboard.
Sorry not sorry.
I know that I’m weird, and that sometimes my idea of “needing a break” or “resting and relaxing” ends up being something that creates more work for me. I love to throw myself into a project, to work on the little bits and see that come together as a whole. That was true as a kid, fussing away with model airplanes, and building Rube Goldberg-esque machines with tinker toys and Lincoln logs, and it’s true today – though I’m not sure I ever ingested Lincoln logs.
I also know that that’s not everyone’s thing – and in upcoming menus there will be a few things that are simpler and more relaxing in a different way.
But not today. Today’s bringing the fancy.
It’s a last hurrah and a welcome at the same time. A dish that screams early spring and a few with a last gasp of winter – comforting and rich, that none the less work together somehow.
Unlike the actual spring and winter leftovers we’ve been getting as weather here in Ohio.
Those don’t work together.
Sidewalk salt crunching under your flip flops is just weird.
Olive and Rosemary Rolls
I’ve gotten away from weekly breads in the last few weeks – which is sort of a shame because it’s not for the usual “it’s too damned hot to bake” reason. To be honest, some of it was just bread burnout. I’m neither a big fan of seedy-reedy whole grain breads, nor do I have a pantry full of the things I need for a 47 grain loaf. And there’s a limit to what we can do with a home oven, white flour, water, salt, and yeast. Well, there’s a limit to what I want to do with those in any one week.
These rolls are dinner rolls. They’re unmissably dinner rolls, but they’re also not the sweet soft, packed into a pan or bough parbaked dinner rolls of years (and menus) past. They’ve got a bit of a bit, a bit of chew, and a lot of extra flavor from the inclusion of rosemary and chopped kalamata olives.
Though the rolls are already pretty salty from the olives, looking at the pics as I compile this newsletter, I think I missed an opportunity to top them with a bit of crunchy sea salt – so if that’s something you want to try, simply brush or spray them with water and scatter the salt immediately before they go into the oven.
500g bread flour
350 g room temperature water
20 g olive oil
7 g yeast
9 g salt
½ cup chopped kalamata olives
1 tsp chopped fresh rosemary
Add the water and yeast to the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook and allow to stand 10 minutes.
Add the olive oil, flour, and salt.
Process until a smooth, shiny dough has formed – 5-10 minutes.
Add the chopped rosemary and olives and process until evenly distributed in the dough.
Allow the dough to proof until doubled in size, about 1 hour to 90 minutes depending on room temperature.
Divide the dough into 8 even pieces.
Shape the pieces into balls by rolling against a clean surface with a cupped hand.
Cover loosely and allow to rise for 35 minutes.
Preheat your oven to 425°F.
Bake at 425°F until browned and the rolls sound hollow when tapped on the bottom – 18-25 minutes.
A reminder, while The Weekly Menu is always free, paid subscribers help me continue my work here, and get occasional bonus emails - including additional recipes tips, tricks, and other commentary. Last week, pad subscribers got a recipe for this delicious Chicken Katsu with Yuzu Katsu Sauce, and right now, you can join them for 20% off!
Radicchio Caesar
I’ve made no secret about my love for bitter greens, and -at least in my opinion- radicchio is the undisputed king of bitter … if not actually green. It’s bitter I mean assertively, aggressively, unashamedly bitter. No like picked last for kickball, passed over for the promotion, just missed the last train home and have to take the slow bus sort of bitter. A good bitter. Like delicious Italian Amaro bitter or the bitter side of bittersweet chocolate bitter.
And the crunch. Oh man, radicchio does not fail when it comes to texture. And as a tip, it’s even better if you soak it in cold water before serving it cold.
1 large or two small heads radicchio
1 egg yolk
1 clove garlic
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 tsp prepared Dijon mustard
½ tsp Worcestershire sauce
½ tsp ground black pepper
½ cup shaved parmesan cheese
parsley leaves as garnish
¼ cup toasted slivered almonds
Trim the radicchio and cut or tear into bite sized pieces.
Place the radicchio pieces in cold water and allow to soak (in the refrigerator or ice water) for at least and hour.
Add the almonds to a dry pan, and toast until light brown and fragrant.
Peel, trim, and microplane the garlic.
Add the lemon juice and garlic to a non-reactive bowl and allow to rest 5 minutes to take the harshness of the garlic.
Add the egg yolk, black pepper, mustard, and Worcestershire sauce, and whisk together.
Slowly drizzle in the oil while whisking to form a stable emulsion.
To serve, arrange the radicchio on the plate, drizzle with the dressing, and top with parmesan and almonds.
Garnish with a few parsley or celery leaves for color.
White Asparagus with Hazelnuts, Brown Butter, Sage, and Prosciutto
Last year I made a white asparagus dish for a spring holiday meal. There’s something about those ghostly weird spears that’s really enticing – the mild flavor, the tender texture? No, I mean those are both great. But let’s face it, it’s the novelty of eating a pure white vegetable.
In parts of France and Germany, the white asparagus season is practically a part. Heck, it is a party but that’s mostly because it tends to overlap with the Lenten carnival season. Here in the states, it’s a little less of a thing. So much less of a thing, in fact, that sometimes it’s difficult to find white asparagus. Normally I’d say you can simply replace it with good or normal green asparagus. That’s not true for this dish. It needs the real thing. The good news is that if you can’t find it in your market, and if you’re really feeling like giving it a try, you can pretty much buy anything on the internet these days.
12-12 pieces white asparagus (depending on size)
4 slices prosciutto
½ cup crushed hazelnuts
4 tbsp unsalted butter
2 tbsp lemon juice
4 large fresh sage leaves or
salt and pepper to taste
Prepare a large pot of heavily boiling water and an ice bath.
Break or cut off the stem end of the asparagus. If you’re lucky enough to get your hands on the very thick stalks more common in Europe, you may want to use a vegetable peeler to peel the lower 1/3 of the stalk.
Blanch the asparagus for 1 minute, then shock in the ice bath.
Gently pan fry the prosciutto pieces until crispy. Press flat on a paper towel to drain.
Chop the sage into small pieces.
Add the butter to a dry pan over low heat.
Cook until the butter has stopped foaming, the solids have dropped to the bottom of the pan, and the butter itself has begun to turn an amber, caramelly color.
Remove the butter from the heat, and carefully spoon off the clear brown butter – discarding the solids.
Wipe out the pan and return the brown butter, adding the hazelnuts and the sage.
Heat until the hazelnuts and sage are fragrant, then add the lemon juice.
Gently re-heat the asparagus in warm water (you can even use very hot tap water)
Arrange the asparagus on the plate, top with the hazelnut brown butter mixture, and arrange a piece of prosciutto on top.
Braised Short Ribs with Onion Wine Sauce
Short ribs, at least when braised in a slow oven, are one of those winter dishes I really truly love. The way the tough fatty cut slowly matures into a luxuriously tender, unctuous bit of oven touched perfection would be almost magic – if it didn’t take so darned long.
The advantage of that long cook is that all the work is pretty much up front – other than a little fussy finishing at the end. That means there’s plenty of time in between to get the rest of the meal together, or you know, drink a few pints and watch a rugby match – which of course isn’t what I did. I would never do that.
This particular recipe takes advantage of a sort of “one weird trick” technique I’ve been messing about with. It’s weird. It’s even sort of off putting at first. It works. The short long story is that I was working on developing a Doro Wat recipe for The Chicken Thigh Guy. I used onions that were chopped so finely they were almost a puree, and those were cooked down into a sweet smooth sauce. I thought, why not actually start with a puree. So … I did. I’ve no tried in in a hand full of places, but this is one of the more successful. The onion puree at the start is harsh. A very strong onion smell and flavor will in fact fill your kitchen. But over the long cooking time it disappears – both the smell and the actual onions – into a smooth sweet sauce with an amazing texture and tremendous flavor.
I serve this over parsnip puree (below). It’s a fun, sweet, and surprisingly sophisticated alternative to mashed potatoes. It straddles the line between sauce and starch, and that’s a good thing. I also top it with pickled onions (also below), which both add a bit of acid, and call back a little of that original, very assertive onion flavor.
4 short rib pieces
1 large onion
3 cups beef or chicken stock
1 cup pinot noir or other dry red wine
2 sprigs fresh thyme
2 cloves
2 bay leaves
1 tsp cracked black pepper
2 tsp kosher salt
Peel, trim, and cut the onion into 1-2 inch chunks.
Add the onion, and ½ the chicken stock to the container of a blender and process until very smooth.
Season the short ribs well with salt.
Starting with the fatty side, brown the short ribs in a dutch oven or other heavy oven proof pan.
Once well browned, remove the sort ribs.
Add the onion puree, the remaining stock, the wine, and the aromatics to the pan and bring to a low simmer.
Transfer the short ribs back to the pan.
Preheat your oven to 300°F.
Transfer the pan to the oven and cook until the short ribs are very tender - ~3 hours, turning the short ribs once and adding additional liquid as needed to keep the meat 2/3rds covered.
Remove the short ribs and set aside.
Pass the cooking liquid through a strainer and discard the solids.
Return to the pot, and skim off any excess fat.
Over medium heat, reduce the cooking liquid to ~ 1 cup.
Swirl in the cold butter.
Return the ribs to the pan to warm.
Serve over parsnip puree with pickled onions and herbs, celery leaves, or shredded radicchio as garnish.
Parsnip Puree
1 1/2 lb parsnips
4 tbsp unsalted butter
½ cup whole milk
½ tsp kosher salt
Peel and trim the parsnips, then cut into 1-2 inch pieces.
Add the parsnips to a large pot of lightly salted water and bring to a boil
Cook uncovered for 30-40 minutes, or until parsnips are very tender.
Drain, and transfer the parsnips to the container of a high speed blender.
Add the butter, half of the milk, and process until very smooth, adding the remaining milk as necessary to form a smooth stable purée.
Season to taste with salt.
Pickled Red Onions
1 large red onion
1/3 cup white vinegar
2/3 cup water
1 tsp kosher salt
2 tsp granulated sugar
Peel, trim, and slice the onion from end to end.
Place the onion slices in a large non-reactive bowl.
Add the salt and the sugar to the onion, and toss to coat evenly.
Allow to rest for 30 minutes.
Bring the water and vinegar to a boil (I use the microwave) then pour this mixture over the onion.
Let cool, cover, and refrigerate for at least 4 hours before using.
The onions will improve with time and last several weeks in the refrigerator.
Lemon Budino
It’s pudding. Sure, the word is fancy and Italian, but this is just a lemon pudding. I mean in the American sense of pudding, though also in the commonwealth sense. It’s both a dessert and a dessert that’s sort of a delicious, luscious paste. Pudding pudding. Lemon pudding pudding.
1 cup sugar
1 cup whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
2 egg yolks
1 tbsp corn starch
2 large lemons
pinch of salt
Zest the lemons using a microplane.
Combine the sugar and lemon zest and allow to rest for at least one hour.
Add the lemon sugar, milk, and heavy cream to a thick bottomed pot over medium heat and bring to a bare simmer.
Whisk together the egg yolks and corn starch.
While whisking vigorously, carefully pour abut 1/3 of the milk/cream mixture into the egg/starch mixture – pouring in a thin stream.
Reverse the process and pour the mixture back into the pot while whisking.
Cook for 3-5 minutes, or until the mixture begins to thicken.
While still hot, use a silicone spatula to push the mixture through a fine sieve – this will remove any lumps as well as the zest.
Allow the mixture too cool, then juice one of the zested lemons, and stir ~1 tbsp of juice into the mixture.
Transfer to a lidded container, and place a small sheet of plastic wrap on the surface of the pudding (this will prevent a skin from forming).
Cover, and refrigerate for 4 hours or until completely chilled.
Spoon into glasses, and garnish with lemon peel.
Serve chilled.