The Gray Lady, R.I.P.


 

I never met her, nor dined at her restaurant, but I could tell from her food, and the joie de vivre that radiated from her face, that Rose Gray was a glutton for life. We lost another great one to cancer today. She was only 71. Co-owner and co-chef of London’s River Café, opened in 1987 in a converted warehouse on the Thames, she was a self-taught cook who fell in love with the cucina rustica of Northern Italy while living in Lucca. After her friend Nell Campbell invited her to run the kitchen at Nell’s, a New York hot spot in the 80s, Ms. Gray caught the bug and decided to open her own place, along with her friend Ruth Rogers (seen above), another self-taught chef.


In honor of this great lady, I include here one of her pristine recipes, a classic Sicilian pasta dish comprised of just a few ingredients. It was in simplicity that she found much of the pleasure and excitement in cooking. I hope you will, too. Eat well and raise a glass to Rose. Read the rest of this entry »

Something Fishy


photo by george billard

I learned about colatura di alici—an amber elixir of anchovy made around Italy’s Amalfi coast for the last 2,000 years—on Alexis Stewart’s blog, Whatever. I enjoy her posts, many of them showcasing her baking prowess (white-flour-and-sugar-laden recipes I will never use) but some filled with delicious-looking vegetarian dishes. She mentioned colatura in passing and, curious, I ordered a bottle online here. When anchovies are salted for curing, they’re layered in wooden barrels, then pressed and weighted down. From small holes in the barrels drips this salty, funky syrup—thus the word colatura, from colare, “to drip” in Italian. Somehow, although more concentrated, it’s a bit less overtly fishy than anchovies. And it’s not quite as rank or muddy as Asian fish sauce (an essential pantry item, by the way). It’s the modern version of garum, a fermented fish liquid (sometimes made from just their blood and guts) that was a sort of salt substitute in ancient Rome. The process was so smelly that production was apparently limited to outside the city walls! Like many fermented products, colatura is rich in amino acids, and of course I’ve droned on before about the benefits of fish oil. One of the easiest uses for colatura is as a simple sauce. Mix a couple of teaspoons of the stuff with a few tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil and a clove or two of crushed garlic, and use this to flavor swiss chard, broccoli rabe, escarole or potatoes. Or toss it with roasted cauliflower, raisins and pinenuts; or with a few red chile flakes and some cooked pasta, as in the recipe below. Another great way to use it is in a dressing for Caesar salad. I don’t think you’ll ever go back to mere anchovies or anchovy paste once you try this heady brew.

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Bucolic Dining



Bond Street is no longer the tucked-away, cobblestoned street of artists’ studios it once was. The arrival of Herzog & de Meuron’s overwrought luxury residences and a slew of expensive boutiques signaled a definitive transformation. But it still retains its charm, in no small part because of Il Buco. What began in 1994 as a little antiques shop is now this wonderful Italian restaurant where candelight bounces off rows of hanging copper pots, illuminating dark paintings and the smiles of sated guests. Rustic wooden tables and cozy banquettes make for leisurely dining. The place attracts a nice crowd of locals and regulars that creates a buzzy but not pretentious scene. The eclectic menu is Italian-inflected, with a nod to Spain’s tapas-style grazing. I have found the food to be uniformly delicious. And although it’s hard to make the meal the main focus when you’re surrounded by a gorgeous gaggle of old friends who rarely come together now—sharing stories and secrets and laughs at full volume—it’s also impossible not to stop and savor Il Buco’s inventive flavors. I always look forward to the bread—chewy, yeasty and crusty. Its peerless accompaniments of peppery Umbrian olive oil, Sicilian sea salt and balsamic vinegar from Modena are from Il Buco’s own brand and are available for sale in the restaurant and here.

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Take Your Lumps


gnocchiphoto by george billard

Gnocchi means “lumps” in Italian. Not an especially glamorous name, and I can’t say the ones I made were nearly as ethereal in texture as those we ate at Union Square Cafe (see 12/18 post). This traditional Italian dish has been around for a couple of thousand years at least, spread through Europe by the Roman Legions and made according to whatever was at hand: potatoes, wheat flour, semolina, bread crumbs, ricotta. The French even make a version with choux pastry, but that’s neither here nor there. I made mine with a delicious sheep’s-milk ricotta and served them with a rosemary-infused brown butter, but I suspect they may have suffered slightly because I used gluten-free flour. They were perhaps not as light and springy as they will be for you, using unbleached all-purpose. Next time, I may try gnudi instead, as they call for less flour (but also require that you drain the cheese and refrigerate the dough at several points), or perhaps just pair the gnocchi with a heartier sauce (roasted tomato? porcini mushroom?) that can stand up to the slightly denser gluten-free texture. Read the rest of this entry »

Grindhouse


mortar&pestle


You can really connect with your inner cave woman when using a mortar and pestle. Or maybe it will take you back to Baba Yaga, that terrifying witch of childhood fables who flew around in a mortar, using her pestle as a rudder. There’s something very primal about this kitchen tool, although you can see that the one I have, above, is pretty civilized. I also have a deeper one made of cement that I use for making papaya salad Thai-style, and a small wooden one I use for crushing herbs. Some people like to use a traditional Mexican molcajete for guacamole, although I prefer squishing the avocado in my hands. And real pesto aficionados always rely on a mortar and pestle. They are available in a wide range of materials, from porcelain to marble. My point is, your kitchen shouldn’t be without one. Any time you need to smash or pulverize anything, in smallish quantities, your mortar and pestle will give you greater control than a spice grinder or food processor. Use it to make spice mixes and salt blends, to crush peppercorns, mix compound butters, make a garlic-salt paste, and on and on. Read the rest of this entry »

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