I heard Nigel Slater on the radio the other week saying that at this time of year all he wants is the food equivalent of a big, cozy blanket. You know the English love nothing better than what they so quaintly call "cauliflower cheese," and right now I can't really argue with them. I've been cooking from my favorite of Daniel Boulud's many excellent books, Braise, which offers flavorful, falling-off-the-bone one-dish meals that are a brilliant antidote to the mid-winter culinary blahs. But I still crave some light, bright flavors—the citrus and seafood that stand in stark juxtaposition to all those long-simmered shanks and stews—and I've found inspiration in Hugh Acheson's A New Turn in the South, which came out in the fall of 2011. His cooking has been described as bold, eclectic and sophisticated and I can't argue with that either.
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New year. New you? Probably not. The same you, with fresh intentions, perhaps. If you didn't read Frank Bruni's recent piece, now would be a good time to do so. It's about what he calls "these wretched vessels," the bodies we are so actively engaged in criticizing at every step of the journey, but especially at the new year when we all resolve to whittle away at them. Here's what he proposes: We should make peace with them and remain conscious of that, especially at this particular hinge of the calendar, when we compose a litany of promises about the better selves ahead, foolishly defining those selves in terms of what’s measurable from the outside, instead of what glimmers within. Though I couldn't agree more that losing ten pounds will not make you a better person, it's only natural to want a little palate cleanser after all that holiday eggnog and gingerbread and short ribs and chocolate. Something cool and frothy, vegetal and light. Or straight from the sea, saline and frigid. So I can't actually say that getting G one of these as a stocking stuffer was completely without guile.
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We leave for Hawaii on Sunday and I can't think of a time when I was more in need of a vacation. A long and unsatisfying winter (virtually no snow) has left me eager for outdoor adventure. The Big Island is full of volcanoes, caves, black sand beaches and pristine rain forest and I want to see it all! Millions of things to get done before I go, so today's post will be a short one. I've been wanting to tell you about this great way to use up shrimp shells. I always buy whole shrimp, wild-caught and not previously frozen if possible, and I save the shells in a bag in the freezer. Sometimes I use them to make a quick stock for seafood stews and sauces, but the other day I had so many that I was able to make an incredibly rich and flavorful soup from just the shells plus some vegetables and aromatics. My riff on stone soup.
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I've been in Minneapolis for work the past couple of days. Staying at a rather nice boutique hotel, The Chambers, that was recently acquired by Starwood. It's known as "the art hotel," because it's actually full of paintings and installations by "real" artists. The work in my room, however, is nothing to write home about. Had some lovely mussels here today. I once threw up out the door of a cab while driving up West Broadway, after having eaten a bad mussel at Caroline's comedy club in the seaport. This was sometime in the late 80s, but I still have a deep mistrust of these bivalves. They can be strangely murky and unpleasantly chewy. But ignoring the siren's call of the thin-crust pizza, I ordered a large bowl of the creatures. They arrived, plump and velvety soft, swimming in a creamy broth, scented with wine and garlic. WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT? Not a thing. With these and a crisp green salad, I was happy. The meal put me in mind of another business trip, this one to Seattle, where I dined on a delicious bowl of Manila clams in a green coconut curry. And that reminded me that I've been meaning to share with you this wonderful recipe from Casa Mono, a Mario Batali side project where they serve delicious Spanish-influenced small plates.
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