Masked Marvels

fig. a: masked marvel

It started about six weeks ago. Yes, almost exactly six weeks ago. I was in Belgium on business and it was Carnival season.

fig. b: carnivalesque

For the first few days it appeared to be mostly business as usual, although the train stations were like magnets for the costumed rowdies who descend upon Aalst every year, and, occasionally, you'd catch small glimpses of the carnivalesque elsewhere too.

fig. c: Antwerp cowgirl

On Tuesday, March 8--Mardi Gras--I took up an invitation to check out le Carnaval de Binche, a Carnival hotspot of such significance that it's officially been named a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO. I was pretty excited. I'd been familiar with Binche's mysterious Gilles for some time, and had wanted to experience its Carnival ever since. And, as it turns out, there was much more to the Gilles, and much more to le Carnaval de Binche than I could have possibly imagined. For one thing, Binche's Carnival is not just about the Gilles. While the Gilles have the biggest presence at Binche, and they're clearly the most revered of the revelers, there are a number of other processionals that make their way through the streets of Binche, including the Pierrots, the Peasants, and the Princesses.

fig. d: masked marvels

My first sighting of the Gilles lived up to expectations. This is the most highly publicized vision of le Carnaval de Binche--the one you see most commonly in guidebooks and on websites. What I didn't know, was that the distinctive masks are still handcrafted out of wax by one single artisanal mask-maker, that they're handed down from generation to generation, and, though many of Binche's Carnival customs date back to ancient times, this particular design dates back to the 19th century, and was modeled after Napoleon III, whose bourgeois-imperial style it was meant to parody.

fig. e: men with clogs

I also didn't realize that one of the reasons le Carnaval de Binche is so "intangible," is that it's essentially mute. The Gilles utter nary a word the whole day long, but the elaborate ceremonies are far from silent--they're accompanied by the sound of drumming and the constant, repetitive rhythm of the Gilles' clogging--the better to roust the the forces of springtime.



figs. f & g: Gilles with oranges

And, finally, I had no idea that after lunch the Gilles return with their masks removed, bearing elaborate plumed headdresses (this time modeled after Meso-American costumes that apparently left quite an impression on Renaissance-era minds), and that when they do, they also come loaded down with oranges. Blood oranges.

The oranges serve a dual purpose. On the one hand, they're used to express a little healthy iconoclasm. The Gilles became notorious for using their oranges to smash windows in the bourgeois central districts of Binche. These days, the windows of Binche are largely boarded up or otherwise protected in anticipation of Mardi Gras, but that doesn't stop the younger Gilles from launching oranges with full force against buildings, spraying the crowds with blood orange juice, and making people shriek. On the other hand, they're offered as a gift. The overwhelming majority of the oranges are gently tossed into the crowds so that people can collect them intact.



figs. h & i: orange luggage

Either way--whether the Gilles intend to launch them violently, or toss them carefully--the blood oranges are hauled through the streets in attractive carriers. The Gilles use wicker hampers. The Peasants (les Paysans) use stylin' hand-tooled leather satchels. And hundreds and hundreds of extra oranges are carried by friends and family members in huge (and not particularly attractive) backpacks and duffel bags.

fig. j: on the street

While the festivities last all day, and long into the night, the orange ceremony lasts just a couple of hours in the late afternoon. Still, you have plenty of occasion to eat some of your prizes on premises. And if you've got good hands, and you're smart enough to bring a bag, you can easily go home with a few dozen. Which is exactly what we did.



figs. k & l: at home

We had them plain. We had them juiced. We had them in salad. We ate a lot of blood oranges over the next few days.

And when I got back to Montreal a week later, I was still hooked. So I started right up again with the blood oranges, this time with Michelle. Here in Montreal, I haven't been able to find the small Spanish ones that were featured at Binche (probably because the Carnaval cleaned them out), but, for a while there, there were plenty of blood oranges from California. The ones we like the most, though, are the ones from Sicily (the ones that come in the lovely wrappers with the masks on them, like the one you see up top). And those are still very much around, if you visit your better green grocers (we recommend Chez Nino, at Jean-Talon Market).

Again, we'll take blood oranges any way we can get them. We really can't get enough of their warm, rounded notes, and, besides, when they're gone, they're gone. But probably our favorite way of having them is in the form of suprêmes, in salad, with fennel.

fig. m: suprêmes by Michelle

Not sure how to cut a blood orange (or any other citrus fruit, for that matter) into suprêmes? Here's a helpful how-to video, featuring the lovely and talented Michelle:



Now that you've prepared your suprêmes, here's a slightly modified recipe for a blood orange & fennel salad from good ole Mario Batali. After all, if you can't trust a self-proclaimed "fennel-holic," who can you trust?

fig. n: blood oranges by batali

Blood Orange, Fennel, and Pecorino Salad

2 large round fennel bulbs, trimmed (make sure to save several fennel fronds)
juice of 1 lemon
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
4 large blood oranges, preferably Sicilian
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
hard pecorino cheese, such as sardo or toscano, for shaving

Using a mandoline (carefully), shave the fennel crosswise into slices 1/3 of an inch thick. Place in a bowl and toss with the lemon juice and olive oil. Add the blood orange segments and fennel fronds and toss gently to mix. Season with salt and pepper.

Arrange the fennel salad on four individual plates. Shave the pecorino in long shards over each plate. Serve.

Note: Batali's original recipe calls for 1 cup of pomegranate seeds, but we haven't been adding them because it's not the season and the recipe is just great without them. Also, we sometimes replace the lemon juice with an equal amount of blood orange juice, if we have extra on hand. And, lastly, if you want to forego the pecorino--go ahead. The salad's just dandy with just oranges, fennel, olive oil, juice, salt and pepper.

[recipe based closely on a recipe from Mario Batali's Molto Italiano]

While we're at it, and there's still plenty of good citrus around, here's another orange recipe, albeit one that calls for conventional oranges, not blood oranges. It comes from a story on Sicily in the most recent issue of Saveur.

fig. o: ...is for oranges & olives

Oliva con Rosemarino e Aranci

1 orange
1 lb dry-cured black olives
1 large sprig rosemary, stemmed and roughly chopped
freshly ground black pepper to taste

Wash the orange thoroughly, then dry it. Using a vegetable peeler or microplaner, remove the zest from the orange, taking care to peel as little of the pith as possible. Chop the zest and transfer to a medium bowl. Juice the orange and add the juice, the olives, the rosemary, and the pepper to the bowl. Toss to coat. Let sit at room temperature for at least an hour to marinate before serving.

[recipe from Saveur #136, March 2011]

And now that Lent is nearly over and Easter is just about here: both recipes would make an excellent addition to your Easter table. In fact, they'd go extraordinarily well with any kind of Mediterranean-style Pascal lamb.

aj

p.s. Many thanks to Obits for having dropped by and jammed a little while we cooked.

Hudson River School, rev. ed.

fig. a: self-portrait w/ xmas ornaments

The holidays found us back in the Catskills, taking pictures of ourselves reflected in Christmas ornaments,

fig. b: barn, Cornwallville, NY

exploring big, old barns,

fig. c: view of the Hudson River Valley

and studying the landscape. This view is from Olana,

fig. d: Olana

the outlandish Orientalist fantasy home built by the Hudson River School's Frederic Edwin Church on a site that affords spectacular views of the Hudson River, the Catskills, and the Taconic hills, a site Church called "the center of the world."

fig. e: gnarly!

Church fetish for all things Persian may have been somewhat incongruous, but Michelle approved of Olana's views and its sense of whimsy (including its heart-shaped pond), and she was especially fond of Church's taste in outdoor furnishings.

Hudson

fig. f: Hudson Gothic

The town of Hudson is a handsome Hudson River Valley town with a handsome Amtrak station that also happens to be one of the town's most important landmarks. Not only is Hudson's train station a stately, subdued example of American Gothic, not only is it the oldest continuously operational train station in the entire state of New York, but it happens to be across the street from one of New York's very best cafés.

fig. g: inside Strongtree

That's right, directly across the street you'll find the good people at Strongtree Organic Coffee Roasters, purveyors of the "finest quality organic heirloom coffees." In many ways, 2009 was the Year of Coffee for us, the year that we had 4 or 5 of the most momentous coffee experiences of our entire lives. Strongtree was the final coffee discovery of the year (TY, S & T!), but it vaulted right into our Top 3. We loved this place from the moment we set foot in the joint. The fact that they were playing the dubbed -out sounds of This is Reggae Music, vol. 3, an album that, by all reasonable measures (longest history, most listens, etc.), is my #1 reggae album of all time, certainly didn't hurt.

fig. h: Santa's little helpers

The display of loopy holiday art didn't hurt either. But what really caught our attention was that first cappuccino. This was not your average espresso shot. It left a tremendously memorable impression. So memorable, in fact, that two days later we remembered to make a special detour back to Strongtree to pick up some beans and have an even more impressive espresso shot. This time time made with their Conquering Lion blend (irie!), this time served up as a latte. But what sealed the deal was when we got back home and brewed up our first batch of their Ethiopian Lekempti Viennese Roast. "Strong dark fruit and deep chocolate flavor," indeed. Again, easily one of our Top 3 coffees of the year.

fig. i: inside Hudson Wine Merchants

Hudson is also blessed with an awfully impressive wine shop: Hudson Wine Merchants. Not only do the folks at HWM share our passion for landscape, but they stock a great selection of Italian wines, including an awfully tasty Campo di Sasso Insoglio del Cinghiale 2006.

fig. j: Hudson diner

And, if you're interested, Hudson also has a beautifully streamlined vintage diner, which is currently FOR SALE. Takers?

Kingston

fig. k: inside Fleisher's

If Strongtree was one of the highlights of our trip, the other major highlight was found not in Hudson, but about an hour south along the NY Thruway in Kingston. Fleisher's Grass-Fed & Organic Meats is a new school butcher shop run by Joshua & Jessica Applestone that has very deservedly received an enormous amount of attention in the five years since they opened. Fleisher's is the epitome of principled: not only is all their meat organic, but it's all grass-fed, pasture-fed, and ethically raised. In fact, Joshua & Jessica established a set of tenets when they opened up shop, principles that guide the way they run their operation and the way they do business. They look something like this:

-All farms are multigenerational with a long history of ethical practices.
-Farmers are proponents of proper animal husbandry for all animal reproduction.
-Animals always have access to grass and open pastures and are not kept in pens.
-Animals are rotated through pastures to ensure they have exercise and fresh grass to eat.
-Animals are not given antibiotics or hormones.
-Animals live in closed herds.
-All feed and grains must come from local mills and farms. Store bought grain is never acceptable.
-Animals travel less than an hour to the slaughterhouse.

Where does this commitment to sourcing and carving the very best, most humanely raised meat come from? Well, interestingly, it comes from a shared history of vegetarianism. Joshua & Jessica were both vegetarians when they first met. Hell, Joshua was a vegan. For 17 years (!). Obviously, they left their vegetarian ways behind years ago, but their food ethics remained, and they've made a business out of supporting and promoting a humane and human-scale approach to animal husbandry.

The Fleisher's story is a nice story, too. Not only is it founded on a love story, but there's some real history to it. You might think that the Fleisher's name is just a clever play on the word "butcher," but you'd be wrong. The store is named after Wolf Fleisher, a kosher butcher who came to America in 1901 and set up his own shop--the original Fleisher's--in Brooklyn. The business became a success, known for the high quality of its beef and poultry, as well as the high standards by which it was run. Joshua is Wolf Fleisher's great-grandson, and the Fleisher's tradition lives on.

Now, we'd read about Fleisher's a while back, but it all seemed so faraway and exotic (perhaps because no butcher shop in Montreal is even remotely as progressive) until we happened to meet Joshua & Jessica at Joe Beef on a balmy summer night back in August (TY, AG, TY, JB!). We got to talking and when they graciously invited us to come down and pay them a visit, we pledged to do just that at the soonest opportunity.

It's one thing to hear or read about an all-organic, grass- and pasture-fed meat shop, but it's a whole other thing to see one in operation, especially when it takes the shape of a good, old-fashioned neighborhood butcher shop (albeit one that does a healthy trade with several of New York's finest restaurants, 90 miles down the Hudson), especially when the run-up to Christmas is very much on. This joint was jumping. Fleisher's had a full team in full swing, carving up sides of beef, putting together special orders, tending to customers. Somehow Joshua & Jessica still found the time to give us a tour and chat with us.

fig. l: the haul

When we got back home, we had a box full of Fleisher's organics meats purchases in tow:

6 organic whole chicken legs
2 huge, organic beef short ribs
1 organic bone-in pork shoulder
1 massive, organic, dry-aged rib steak
4 lamb loin chops

As soon as we made our first Fleisher's meal we started to have regrets about not buying more. Four meals later and still batting 1.000 (actually, these meals have been so good, it feels like we're batting over 1.000), we're kicking ourselves (hard!).

Here are the first two:

AEB Chicken & Dumplings

1 tbsp olive oil
1 small organic chicken, cut into parts, or 6 organic whole chicken legs
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 ribs of celery, finely chopped
2 medium carrots, finely chopped
1/4 cup parsley, minced
4 tbsp flour
1 cup dry white wine
2 cups chicken or vegetable stock
salt & freshly ground pepper

dumplings:
2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp salt
2 rounded tsp baking powder
1 tsp brown sugar
2 tbsp butter
2/3 cup buttermilk

Heat the oil in a large stove- and ovenproof casserole over medium heat. Salt and pepper your chicken liberally. When the oil begins to smoke, brown your chicken parts or legs, roughly 5 minutes per side. You might need to do this in batches. I did. When the chicken parts have been browned, remove them from the casserole and set them aside. Add the onion to the casserole and sauté until the onion has turned translucent. Add the celery and the carrots and continue sautéing, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the parsley, sauté another minute, then add the flour and sauté for another 1-2 minutes, stirring constantly, until the vegetable have turned a pale golden hue. Add the white wine and the chicken/vegetable stock. Add the browned chicken pieces. Bring to a boil, then turn the heat way down and simmer ever so gently for 45 minutes.

Meanwhile, prepare the dumplings. Sift the flour, salt, baking powder, and sugar into a mixing bowl. Add the butter, blending with your fingertips. Add the buttermilk and mix well. Spoon the dough onto a floured surface and roll it evenly 1/4 inch in diameter. Cut into 1-inch rounds or diamond shapes.

When the chicken has cooked for 45 minutes, taste and adjust the seasonings. Add the dumplings. Cover and cook for another 20 minutes at a gentle simmer. Test the dumplings--they should be light, airy, and fully cooked through. Serve the chicken and dumplings in wide, shallow bowls. Devour.

[the dumplings part of this recipe is based on Edna Lewis' recipe in The Taste of Country Cooking, although her recipe uses 2/3 cup of milk instead of buttermilk]

Chicken & Dumplings is one of my absolute favorite meals, but it was even better with Fleisher's plump, organic, pastured chicken. The rich gravy--always a thing of beauty--was noticeably richer, noticeably more beautiful. The chicken meat was so thoroughly delicious that we found ourselves literally gnawing at the bones, ravenously, trying to make sure we got each and every last morsel.

Equally phenomenal was this lamb chops dish that combined the Fleisher's method for cooking and savoring their grass-fed and pastured meats with elements of a Mario Batali recipe for scottaditi (one that called for the use of New Zealand lamb [!], not Hudson River Valley lamb*). Now, our lamb chops were loin chops, not the neck-end lamb chops (or frenched lamb chops) that one usually uses for scottaditi, but they were equally finger-scorching-good. Fleisher's method was very familiar to us--it's basically the exact same method we use for making our steaks--but Jessica insisted that this was a fool-proof method for preparing virtually all of their meats.*

Lamb Chops with Confited Garlic and Mint

4 lamb loin chops
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
10-12 whole cloves of garlic
1 cup dry wine
1/2 cup sweet wine
salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 sprigs mint, leaves only

Heat the oil in a 10-inch sauté pan over medium heat. Add the garlic cloves and sauté slowly, shaking the pan frequently to keep the garlic moving, until they are lightly browned on all sides, about 10 minutes. Add the wines, bring to a slow boil, and cook until the liquid is reduced to 1/4 cup, at which point the garlic should be very soft, indeed. Remove from the heat and set aside.

Preheat your oven to 300º F.

Season the lamb chops liberally with salt and pepper.

Heat a stovetop-to-oven-ready pan (like a cast-iron) over medium-high heat until it reaches the smoking point. Add the lamb chops and sear for 2 minutes on each side. Remove the pan from the stovetop and place it in the oven. Cook for an additional 4-8 minutes, until your lamb chops reach your desired level of doneness (our lamb loin chops took about 6 minutes in the oven). Take the pan out of the oven. Remove the lamb chops, place them on a cutting board, and allow them to rest 5 minutes.

While the lamb is resting, season the garlic mixture with salt and pepper and add the mint leaves. Serve each lamb chop with a few confited garlic cloves and drizzle the sauce overtop.

[confited garlic and mint sauce based on a recipe in Mario Batali's Molto Italiano]

Getting schooled rarely tasted so great.

New Year's Resolution: Go back to Hudson & Kingston at the earliest opportunity.

Strongtree Organic Coffee Roasters, 60 South Front Street ("at the train depot"), Hudson, NY, (518) 828-8778

Fleisher's Grass-Fed and Organic Meats, 307 Wall Street, Kingston, NY, (845) 338-6666

aj

* That was a few years ago, I'd be surprised if Mario hasn't changed his tune by now. For one thing, Fleisher's meats are featured at Batali's Casa Mono & Bar Jamón.

** Fleisher's "cooking instructions from the MooRu***" read as follows:

1. Oven preheat 300º [10 minutes]
2. Heat pan on stovetop to smoking point
3. Pre-salt each side [5-10 minutes ahead of time]
4. Put into pan / sear for 2 minutes each side
5. Put pork/lamb/chicken/beef into oven w/ pan
6. Pork > 6 minutes up to 10 minutes in oven [125º]
Lamb > 4-8 minutes in oven [120º]
Chicken > 10-15 minutes in oven [135-140º]
Beef > 4-8 minutes in oven [120º]
7. Take out of oven--let sit [rest] for 5 minutes

*** MooRu = meat + guru

Return to Mezza-Luna

fig. a: making pasta at home

It's true. We haven't been the same since we took our Pasta I class with Elena at Mezza-Luna. We still buy pasta from time to time at the store, but mostly we've been making our pasta from scratch ever since. Our prep time has been coming down steadily and the results are just plain dreamy. The recipe we're most comfortable with is Elena's Basic Pasta Dough recipe--especially the all'uovo variation--but we've also branched out and started making other recipes too, like this one:

French Laundry Pasta Dough

8 oz flour
6 egg yolks
1 egg
1 1/2 tsp olive oil
1 tbsp milk

And while we've mainly been making pasta for Italian dishes, we've also started making pasta for dishes like chicken-noodle soup and the like. I mean, why not? That's what my grandmother always did.

Anyway, after a while we decided we were ready to graduate to another class at Mezza-Luna, so we paid a visit Quincaillerie Dante and looked into what other pasta classes they had coming up. We ended up choosing Stuffed Pasta B, featuring lasagne, tortelloni, and cappeletti.

Once again, Elena patiently and expertly walked us through all the steps from start to finish, and roughly three hours later we were sitting at the table enjoying a glass of red wine while Elena served up heaping portions of the three piatti del giorno: lasagne con legumi al forno, cappeletti alle erbe et formaggi, and tortelloni di radicchio.

fig. b: Elena digs in

Can I just say how much we love these classes? I can? Tons. They're really a lot of fun, Elena's repartee is priceless, you learn quickly, and they literally drive you wild because from about the 15-minute mark on the smell in that kitchen is absolutely to die for. Enough said.

The lasagne was a revelation. It had seven layers to it, but because the pasta was homemade and rolled thin it tasted like a cloud--a tasty, saucy, Italian one. The cappeletti alle erbe et formaggi was our favorite of the night. We loved its delicate filling of ricotta, gorgonzola, Parmesan, chèvre, parsley (Italian flat-leaf, of course), and freshly grated nutmeg, its simple sauce of butter, mixed herbs, and Parmesan, and the lovely shape of the cappeletti, "little hats." But the one that really stuck with us for some reason was the tortelloni dish--with its radicchio filling and its saffron-colored sauce it was certainly the most dramatic dish of the night.

A week later, when we decided we wanted to put some of our newly learned know-how to work, that radicchio recipe was the one that came to mind. Instead of going back to Elena's recipe directly, though, we followed a hunch and pulled out Molto Italiano to see what Mr. Batali had to say on the subject of radicchio pasta. We intended no disrespect, it's just that we thought we might be able to expand our pasta-making vocabulary by bringing in another hotshot, and, besides, one of Elena's stories the week before had been about how she and Stefano had had the pleasure of meeting Mario at a food show in Chicago earlier this year (the thought of which prompted me to quip: "Did he get your autograph?"). What we found was Batali's truly astounding Tortelloni di Treviso con Fonduta di Parmigiano. Just one quick read-through had us staggering. So we decided to do a version with cappelettti made with semolina flour, the way Elena prefers it.

Tortelloni/Cappeletti di Radicchio con Fonduta di Parmigiano

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 medium red onion
4 heads radicchio, chopped into 1/4-inch pieces, rinsed, and dried
1 cup ricotta
1 cup freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano
1/2 cup finely chopped Italian parsley
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 1/4 pounds Basic Pasta Dough
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 large egg yolks
1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
8 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into 8 pieces of equal size

Heat the oil in a 10- to 12-inch sauté pan until smoking. Add the onion and cook until softened and lightly browned, 6-7 minutes. Add all but 1/4 cup of the radicchio and cook, tossing occasionally, until very soft, 6-7 minutes. Transfer to a bowl and allow to cool.

Add the ricotta, 1/2 cup of the Parmesan, the parsley, vinegar, and salt and pepper to taste to the radicchio mixture and mix well.

Roll your pasta out to the thinnest setting. On our machine that means "6."

To make tortelloni, cut the pasta into 4-inch squares and place 1 tablespoon of the filling in the center of each pasta square. Fold the dough over to form a triangle, and press the edges together to seal. (If the pasta is fresh and moist, it should seal easily. If you're having a hard time creating a seal, moisten two adjacent edges of the dough with a bit of water then try again.) Then fold the two bottom points together, overlapping them slightly, and pinch to seal. Transfer the tortelloni to a baking sheet lined with a kitchen towel. To make cappeletti, after you've made a triangle, pull the two edges under the filled portion and towards you. The shape resembles one of those The Flying Nun-style nun's hats.

Bring 6 quarts of water to boil in a large pot and add 2 tablespoons of salt. Drop the pasta into the boiling water, lower the heat to a brisk high simmer, and cook until tender, about 3-4 minutes. (You'll notice that the cooking time is quite a bit longer than the "20 seconds" that it took our fresh non-stuffed pasta. The fact that stuffed pasta involve layers of pasta plus a filling means they need to cook longer.)

Meanwhile, make the fonduta. Bring the cream to a boil in a 1-quart saucepan. Remove from the heat, add the remaining 1/2 cup Parmesan, the egg yolks, and the nutmeg and stir until thoroughly blended.

Drain the pasta, transfer to the same 10- to 12-inch saucepan you used to sauté your radicchio way back when. Add the butter and the reserved 1/4 cup radicchio. Simmer gently over low heat, tossing gently to coat the pasta. Place a few pasta on each plate, spoon about 2 tablespoons of the fonduta over the pasta and serve.

The radicchio filling here is phenomenal. The semolina flour cappeletti were great with the filling, but the next time we'll definitely try making this with an AP flour pasta because we're pretty sure its neutrality and delicacy would highlight the filling even better. The real star here, though, may very well be that deceptively basic fonduta, though. Fantastic things occurred when we mixed the ingredients together. In spite of what you'd think it had a lightness and a lemonyness that we found difficult to account for. We really didn't spend too much time puzzling over it, though. Those cappeletti di radicchio con fonduta di Parmigiano were way too good to start getting all Harold McGee on 'em.

aj