What I Ate For Dinner

I have an instinctual attraction to calamari. I feel like, even before the bright lights, the glitz and the glamour of the blogosphere, I shared quite a bit with the steadfast generalissimo of the appetizer menu: although chunky and not too much to look at, we've earned our keep with style, flavah, and panache. And we're both heart-stoppers; Calamari, in the deep-fried goodness, cardiac arrest sense of the term, and I, the lady-killing compliment. As such, I am a calamarian. Since the "I don't know quoi" of Calamari is more easily achieved than Baronial grandeur, I'll limit my comments today to the famous fired squid.

Start with the tube and tentacles of a squid, cleaned and dried. You want to make sure you pat out whatever liquid is in the meat before frying, so as to avoid splatter. To bread the squid, slice into one inch segments and drench them in seasoned flour (which is just flour with salt and pepper). Then plunge them into peanut or canola oil at around 360-370 degrees. Give them the spa treatment for only about two minutes, until lightly colored, and then pull them out with a slotted spoon, tongs or wooden chopsticks. Let them adjust their tuxedoes on a paper towel before service.

Fried foods generally, and calamari in particular, scream out for some sort of condiment or sauce. The easiest is just some salt and lemon juice. Better yet, though, is cocktail sauce.

Start with a couple of chopped and seeded tomatoes in a food processor or blender. Add some white wine, balsamic, wasabi, and salt and pepper. Blend, then reduce the excess liquid on the stove. Garnish with lemon, serve with the calamari, and you're on your way to being a true calamarian.

The Baron and I took a little holiday in Carmel, California this weekend. Carmel is a wonderful, relaxing spot for a vacation, although the median age of visitors does seem to skew to the over 60 crowd it embraces. It also pretty much maxes out on the "how-bourgeois-can-you-be" index, so there's a bit of vacationland overkill to deal with. Not to mention that we've had a few problems in the past (insolent maitre d's, redonculous prices; mediocre food; unconscionable bar-tending shortcuts) in Carmel. That said, Carmel still has great weather, a great beach, and a beautiful downtown.

The goal this time was to strategize: instead of seeking out the "best-of," we tended toward the affordable (as inflated as that can be in a tourist town), meaning, for all practical purposes, places with lots of entrees under $15-20, good appetizers to share, and friendly and attentive service. Carmel seems at times to struggle in providing these, but I think we found some keepers.

Also, it bears mentioning that hotels come down in price quite a bit in the tourist off-season (roughly the winter months through April 1). We found a 30% off any night of the week promotion, and another that was 15% off for one night, 25% off two nights, and 30% off a three night stay. Another hotel had a stay two nights, get the third free deal. It seems that since vacation destinations are often close to B&B saturation, off-season accommodations can become nearly as affordable as anywhere.

Friday night, we went to A.W. Shucks, a seafood restaurant/oyster bar. It's a good value for the money, and the service is very friendly and attentive (not a given in Carmel, where service varies widely). We started with the clam chowder, and I have to say theirs wasn't as good as the Baron's. You can really tell the difference when you use fresh clams--but what can you do? We also had the fried calamari, which was excellent (so good, in fact, that we went back for a calamari snack again on our second night). Look for a post soon on a homemade Baronial edition.

Saturday morning, we had breakfast at the Village Corner, which we go to at least once on every trip to Carmel. The service is good and the prices are very reasonable. The patio seating is a plus, especially when the weather is as perfect as it was on this trip. I had the breakfast burrito and the Baron had the Eggs Benedict. Their coffee is better than you usually find in a breakfast place, too.

Saturday night, we decided to get some firewood and have a picnic on the beach. Patisserie Boissiere has a picnic lunch menu, which is quite good and downright cheap. The Baron had the cold roast beef and I had the Carmel Garden Sandwich. Their desserts looked very good, and their restaurant menu was quite nice, so I suspect we'll be going back on our next trip.

I've included some pictures of the sunset and the fire below. Carmel lets you have beach fires below 10th Avenue and until 10 p.m., and alcohol (and even glass) is allowed on the beach. Lessons learned from this trip: bring twice as much wood as you think you'll need and build the fire as far away from the ocean as you can, because high tide comes up higher than you'd think.

As for accommodations, we spent the first night at the Monte Verde Inn, where we've stayed before. Our favorite room is #11, which has a gas fireplace and a shared deck with a good view, especially at sunset. Room #12 also shares the deck, so it's a good second choice if #11 is taken.

The second night, we stayed in the Tree-Top Room at the Lamp Lighter Inn. A big nice room, although the private deck faces away from the ocean. The staff at was very friendly and attentive. They brought us a bottle of white wine and went out of their way to provide a towel and fire starters when they heard we were going down to the beach.

Lamb chops are a luxury, to be sure, but one that can be easily assimilated into your rotation. The chop I got today cost $3 alone at $13/pound. Keeping in mind that about half its weight is bone, the price of the meaty medallion is close to that of filet mignon. But when it's on stage with some of its hearty homies, it doesn't have to do all the talking. Tonight, I feature a simple preparation for lamb chops that works well on the stove top, but even better on the grill. Holdin' it down with the chop are wasabi-balsamic mashed potatoes and green beans almondine, which makes for a dynamic meal that runs the range from hearty to spicy to subtle to crunchy. Since you'll have an oily marinade, the lamb is perfect for the grill, but "baron" mind that if you sear it on the stove top, you won't have to add much oil to the pan.

Start by slicing a deep pocket in the lamb medallion. Spoon in a mixture of olive oil, parm, fresh herbs (rosemary, thyme, basil, or the classic mint), salt and pepper. Drizzle some more of that mix on top of the chop as a marinade. You really don't have to marinate this, though, since the adjuncts are already inside the chop. Finish on the grill, ideally, or sear on the stove. Careful, though, not to overcook: since there's a bone, and lamb chops are usually only about an inch thick to begin with, they won't take too long.

For the mashed potatoes, start by boiling peeled and diced russets (you could also use red new potatoes, which don't have to be peeled) until soft. Drain, and add chopped rosemary, salt and pepper, parm, caramelized shallot, a bit of balsamic and wasabi (to taste). Cream it up with milk or half and half and some butter. Mix it up until you get the consistency you like. Add less milk the first time around, since it's easier to add more milk than to peel, dice, and boil more potato.

Finish the plate with green beans almondine. Sauté green beans in olive oil or the fat rendered from diced bacon. Add shaved almonds, season, and deglaze with white wine. Simmer until the green beans are soft but still have structure and have turned a brighter green. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes.

There are few single bites that can include as many flavors as pizza. A crispy crust, a fresh sauce with just-caramelized shallot and carrot, melted cheese, and any number of toppings makes a slice of pizza a complex, toothsome delight. That is, when it's done right. The ubiquitous pizza-by-the-slice parlors vary a great deal in quality, as we all know, and partialities for regional variations proliferate, with some favoring the floppy New York slice, while others tend toward the stuffed Chicago variety, or the Saltine-thin St. Louis interpretation. The West Coast, you'll notice, is left out. For whatever reason(s), it's hard to fathom ever ordering a "Los Angeles-style" pizza.

And that's a shame. For all of its claims to gastronomic supremacy, and vainglorious chest thumping about its wine, California owns no stake in the regional pizza debate, one of our nation's few territorial cuisines. Which isn't to say that good pizza doesn't exist in the Golden State; it does, but, in my experience, only in rare and isolated pockets.

I can't call my rendition particularly "Californian" (perhaps if it had a seemingly insurmountable budget crisis?), but it's pretty reliable. Pizza is a cheap and easy thing to make at home, even if you live in a Western zone devoid of pizza-loving (or more to the point, pizza-making) culture. The tomato sauce has already been explained on this blog, and the toppings are always up to you. So, I'll focus on the crust.

To make a crispy thin crust pizza, the key is to bake the crust before you load it up with toppings. That way, it gets crisp throughout, and not just on the exposed edges. Also, this reduces the overall bake-time: the crust today took about 10 minutes, and after adding the sauce, cheese and pancetta, it only took about 2 minutes more.

I keep the crust simple: water and flour (enough of each to form a soft but dry ball), yeast and salt. Let that rise for 90 minutes or more while covered in a bowl. Then, roll it out as thin as you can (while still being able to handle it) on a liberally floured surface. I use a baking sheet, as I don't have a stone, and you'll need to ensure that the doughy crust doesn't stick to the sheet while it cooks. This is easily accomplished by rubbing a stick of butter over the entire baking sheet, and then coating the butter with flour. As the crust rises, it will pull away from the flour/butter combo. I brush the outer ring of the crust with olive oil so that it will come out extra-crispy and golden brown.

Once you have the crust knocked out, slather on the sauce, toppings and cheese. I usually use a mozzarella (today I'm using smoked, but I've also used fresh) and some parm. Mozz is great because it melts better than harder cheeses. As for toppings, it's pretty much wide open. Today I'm using pancetta. You really only need to bake it until the cheese melts.

If you want to make an even better pizza, you can finish on the grill. After baking the crust, assemble your pie and transfer it onto the grill opposite the coals. If you do this, be sure to keep the coals on one side (12 o'clock) of the grill and the pizza on the other (6 o'clock); that way, your pie won't go up in flames. You want a pretty low heat for this, so be sure to allow the coals to die down. You can also add soaked wood chips if you're looking for a smoky flavor. This is as close as I've come to approximating the effects of a wood-fire hearth.

Clam Chowder is a simple soup, though often outrageously overpriced. I was in New York recently and stopped in on a brisk afternoon in Times Square for a bowl and it set me back half the price to see Plácido Domingo at the Met. Granted, I only paid $25 for a standing room ticket; but still: we're dealing with one of the cheapest shellfish, some root vegetables, a bit of stock, some milk and half and half. Needless to say, making it yourself will not only save some cash, but in all likelihood, will also yield something better than what's commercially available. Bon courage!

Now, dealing with the clams is no doubt the toughest part of this preparation. The best option is to buy fresh clams and shuck them yourself. This takes a bit of technique. The video I reference while cooking in my video has since been removed from Youtube. This is a shame, since it was quite informative, but rest assured that there are several different methods for opening and shucking a clam, many of which can still be found on Youtube or in cookbooks.

The basics of clam shucking are pretty straightforward. There are two muscles attached to the top and bottom shell, and these are what you need to sever to remove the clam. Ideally, you'll be able to get a shucking knife in the front of the clam (that is, the rounded side, not the flat area in the back where the joint is). You need not pry the whole clam open, and remember not to spill the the liquor. Once you've inserted the shucking knife into the front of the clam, scrape it along the top of the shell, cutting both muscles that attach the clam. Then open or twist the top shell, and run the knife along the bottom, again releasing the clam from the two muscles attaching it to the shell. This can take some practice, and as I mention, there are all sorts of methods of entry explained elsewhere online, in cookbooks and on Youtube.

But please be advised: you should use a folded towel in your non-shucking hand (that is, the hand holding the clam, not the knife) for safety until you get the hang of it (and maybe even after that). You can also open the clam from behind by inserting the knife near the joint, although this is less elegant than approaching from the front and can lead to more shell debris.

At any rate, I think you'll find it's pretty straightforward once you've knocked a few out. The important part is to avoid sand and shell debris, and conserve the wonderful liquor that accrues in the shell of the clam. That way, you'll have some great clam meat as well as some additional clam flavoring. You can, if you must, use those strange clams that grow in jars, too.

After that, it's about as easy as it can be. Here's the recipe, based on Mark Bittman's (How to Cook Everything, pp. 69-70):

1. Render the fat out of diced bacon. Remove bacon solids, leaving the rendered fat for the vegetables. Sauté shallots, sweet potatoes and corn in the fat until soft and colored.
2. Add a thick dusting of flour and chopped fresh herbs (rosemary, thyme, etc.) on top of the vegetables. Add enough stock--chicken, veggie, or fish--to submerge vegetables. Stir, allowing the stock to reduce and cook the potatoes until soft. At this point, turn off the heat and allow the pan to cool, so as not to scald the milk.
3. Add one part half/half and one part milk, as well as the clams with their liquor (I usually go with about a half pound per portion). Turn heat back on low or medium-low, allowing the soup to subtly simmer. Add balsamic if desired. Stir regularly.
4. The soup is at its thickest when it "boils." This doesn't mean a rolling boil, like water on high heat, but a few bubbles on the surface as the soup simmers.
5. If you would like a thicker soup, add a simple roux (equal parts olive oil and flour). Mix in roux and simmer until you achieve desired consistency.
6. Before service, reincorporate diced bacon. Garnish with herbs and diced bacon. Serve with a well-toasted baguette.

It happens to us all. We have grandiose ambitions of fois gras or "un petit peu de saumon en papillote" every night. Turns out, lots can come between. Fatigue. Penury. Rough days. Tough breaks. But fret not, comrade of the kitchen: the Baron is here to encourage your gestures toward ambrosia, work night-style.

One thing that motivates this blog is pragmatism. How can you come up with a good, if not great, meal when the world's gotcha down? I mean, seriously, there are definitely times when the last thing I feel like is doing even the simple stuff, like choppin' up a shallot or waiting for something to reduce. That said, I find that making an easy meal quickly often lifts my spirits after a long day. Which isn't to say I never get take-out--I do, and there's a certain satisfaction to be had with that, too. But if you wanna perform some "clutch cooking," read on.

You gotta keep in mind: lots of your favorite restaurants probably knock out your favorite dish any number of times in a given night. The secret: mis-en-place ("your meez," which means "everything in its place"). The idea is to have your "meez" set up so that everything you need is within easy reach; then, on the line (at the stove), you can crank the heat up, sauté what needs to soften, add some liquid (puree, wine, stock, demi-glace, etc.) add the "substantive" ingredient (a grilled chicken breast, some seared fish, or as in our case tonight, pasta), slap a baguette and side salad on the plate and serve. The idea of short-order cooking is that you have medium-high to high heat, a select crew of full-flavored adjuncts (shallot, carrot, salt, pepper, chilies if you feel like it---these guys are the "home team"), and something with body (the aforementioned "substantive"). That way, you can bang these out all night if you're a restaurant---or just once, if you're tired.

So, tonight I offer the first in what will probably be series: "What I cook when I don't feel like cooking." Quick, easy meals made from a few basic ingredients in under 20 minutes.

Tortellini à la Baron

1. Sauté shallot, carrot and corn until soft.
2. Deglaze with white wine and add boiled/strained tortellini (sub any pasta here).
3. Add tomato puree and reduce until excess liquid evaporates and you're left with something like a sauce/glaze.
4. I finish this with Parm, a side baguette, and salad.

If you don't have a tomato puree on hand, you can always use chopped tomatoes, or add wine or stock with butter and garlic. You'll find that this can be made in about the same time it would take to get take-out, and for a lot less.

Hummus is about as delightful a condiment as man has yet devised. Rich and creamy, with texture and a great flavor combination running the gamut from bitter to salty and back again, it's a keeper for sure. Today, I'm providing hummus with some noble company on a hors d'oeuvres plate that could be served before dinner or at any gathering where full-flavored light bites are in style.

This sort of a plate really allows a cook/host to show off his or her toothsome imagination: what sorts of foods do you think consolidate great tastes on top of wonderful textures and still combine well with others? Lots of things I've omitted would work in this context: olives certainly would, as would any number of other hams, sausages and the like, or other cheeses. I've also done this with small crabapples for some sweetness, and figs, too. What's fun about putting these together is that even wildly expensive stuff--like prosciutto ($22/pound)--can amble on in, since you only need a modest sliver. To serve, I recommend a cutting board, since they can usually accommodate all your favorites in a single grazing range.

If I were a restaurateur, I would call this something pretentious and expensive-sounding, like "deconstructed amuse bouche," since the whole idea is that these are simple, single-bite mixtures of potent flavor and handsome appearance (amuse bouche), but without the fussiness of individually presented portions (deconstructed). Whatever you call it, just aim for great stuff that combines well with everything else on the board; that way, you really can't go wrong.

Also, this is easy! You only have to actually make the hummus. And here's how:

1. If you're using canned chickpeas/garbanzo beans, skip this step. Boil the raw beans until softened, about 35-45 minutes for three cups.
2. Put beans in a food processor (ideally), or a blender if you don't have a food processor. Add in olive oil (good stuff, since it's a main ingredient), lemon juice, salt and pepper, and the roasted garlic paste.
3. Blend, reseasoning as needed. Add balsamic near the end.
4. The hummus is done when it still has some texture, but has become creamy throughout. Taste: you want the salt and citrus to articulate themselves. Finish up with fresh herbs--rosemary works well, as do thyme and basil.

Everything here is to taste, so make sure to dip a crust of bread in often as you blend.

Now, as I said above, you can plate this up with all sorts of good stuff. Toast points or pita, or some other vehicle to mobilize the hummus is of course a must. Thereafter, I've added three wonderful cured Italian meats: Coppa, a lean, peppery number, pancetta, a fatty cured bacon, and prosciutto. I think of this as Italian sashimi.

Then, we've got some goat cheese, tamari almonds, honey and a few cloves of roasted garlic. The possibilities for combining these should occupy the next hour or so of your life. Combinations may well include wine or a cocktail--kir royale would add a festive note (as it always seems to).

Again, this should be a fun thing to put together since you can pull together whatever it is that you love to eat. I've provided a few suggestions here, but have fun experimenting.

The Baron and I took a little walk around our neighborhood today, so here are some photos of the neighborhood and views from the hill up the street from our place.

This is a simple dish with great taste and vivacity, but still light enough that it won't bog you down. Shrimp take on flavors in a marvelous way, so the acidity of tomatoes and the lime juice, not to mention the Serrano peppers, should you chose to use them, are provided with ample venue to strut their stuff. For best results, use the biggest shrimp you can find. Just about any pasta could be substituted for gnocchi: ravioli, tortellini, fettuccini, etc. would all go great.

1. Start with a tomato puree. Then add the juice of two or three limes, depending on size. If you wish, add minced Serrano peppers at this point. I reserve a small portion of the tomato puree for garnish at the end, but if you do this, be sure not to mix it with the raw shrimp (so as to avoid contamination hazard, since the reserved portion will not be cooked).
2. Add the shrimp to the marinade. Mix the shrimp in with the marinade until evenly coated. I use ¾ to a pound of shrimp for two portions. Refrigerate the shrimp in the marinade for at least 20 minutes, or one hour at the maximum.
3. While the shrimp is marinating, heat olive oil in a fry pan at medium-high heat. Add shallot, carrot, and corn and sauté until browned and soft. At the same time, boil water and then add gnocchi to the boiling water. The gnocchi is done when soft but still firm to the tooth.
4. Add the boiled gnocchi to the hot pan with the shallot, carrot, and corn. Allow the gnocchi to brown. While doing so, start to simmer shrimp in a fry pan with a small amount of olive oil. Pour more of the marinade over the shrimp as they cook. Drain off excess liquid if necessary (as I do in the video).
5. After the gnocchi brown, deglaze the pan with white wine and finish with Parmigiano Reggiano. The shrimp are done when white, pink, and firm, but take care not to overcook. Rubbery shrimp are to be avoided.

Pour the reserved marinade on the shrimp as a garnish after plating up the shrimp. Serve with salad.

The reasons for making risotto are innumerable: it's cheap, it's delicious, it's easy, and, unlike some entrees that call for a single, authorial genius at the controls, risotto is better with friends, especially since it calls for a bit of stirring.

But don't let the stirring dissuade you: in fact, you don't really have to stir constantly, but you do need to remain attentive throughout because the combination of high heat and gelatinous wonder can quickly become scorched sludge. That said, a trained bonobo could make this; so don't freak out about the stirring.

The main ingredient is Arborio rice, a short-grained rice available pretty much everywhere. There's really no good reason to deviate from tradition here and try another rice: the box of Arborio I got today is good for 8 or so entrée sized servings and cost $2.59. Mark Bittman tells us that the classic Risotto alla Milanese calls for bone marrow and saffron. Hey, if you've got it, by all means! But if not, allow me to humbly submit a San Franciscan interpretation: for body, I add some roasted garlic, and for color, I add diced sweet potatoes and sundried tomatoes, in addition to the traditional shallot. The result is a handsome mélange of structure, color, flavor and creaminess.

The only other ingredients are stock and white wine. I'm using a fish stock today, but I've done it with vegetable and chicken stock, too. Needless to say, a homemade stock is best; but I rarely make stocks myself, and instead rely on a local grocer who sells their housemade stuff. If you can't get your hands on a homemade stock, the stuff in the cardboard canteens will do. Avoid cans if possible. The problem with these stocks and broths is that they're universally over salted. A true stock has no salt. If you use the store-bought varieties, be very judicious when salting to taste.

Since friction is important in breaking down the starchy shell of the Arborio, I recommend a sauce pan with tall sides and a smaller cooking surface than a fry or sauté pan. The smaller circumference and superior depth of the sauce pan maximize friction and make for smaller strokes when stirring, thereby limiting fatigue. Wine and reggae also limit fatigue.

There are only three steps to making risotto:

1. Sauté the shallots and potatoes until soft.
2. Add the rice (n.b.: the rice will nearly triple in volume, so a modest handful makes for a hearty entrée), coat with butter and then pour in enough stock to almost cover. Bring to simmer while stirring.
3. Stir until liquid is incorporated into rice and pan is nearly dry. Add garlic paste, which is just roasted garlic mixed with a little water. Then add more liquid (again, enough to almost cover the rice, but not so much as make the concoction soupy) and continue stirring on medium high heat. I usually add 3 parts stock and one part white wine. Repeat the process of stirring and reduction several times. Add the reconstituted sundried tomatoes and thyme (optional) near the end.

The risotto is done when it is creamy, but still has structure: there should be texture to each grain of rice, but also a melted creaminess to the dish as a whole. This can take about 30 minutes for four entrée portions.

To finish, I grate Parmigiano Reggiano over the top and garnish with herbs. Serve with toasted baguette and side salad. For my taste, a full-flavored dish like Risotto calls for a subdued, crisp white wine: Keeping it an all Italian affair, Pinot Grigio is a great bet, although a not-too sweet Chardonnay would work, too. For reds, a Chianti or Sangiovese would go marvelously.

Sometimes even the snobbiest foodie doesn't feel like cooking. Our go-to place for takeout lately has been Kasa Indian Restaurant. After being disappointed or worse by takeout sushi, Chinese, and Thai, finding Kasa was a fortunate happenstance.

We order the Kati rolls at Kasa, which the menu describes as "Classic Indian street food: A flaky, buttery roti (handmade bread) wrapped around one of the dishes listed below with marinated onions and chutney." The Baron usually has the chicken tikka, and I have the potato and cauliflower daily special. The rolls come with a side of raita (yogurt).

Two rolls each are usually more than enough food, and at $4.50 per roll, it's a good deal. They offer takeout or delivery after 6pm. Delivery can take anywhere from 15 minutes to over an hour, but the food is always delivered hot and the drivers are pleasant.

It's my turn to cook tonight. I'm planning to do something simple, tuna steaks with roasted veggies. The key is buying fresh, high-quality ahi tuna. I usually get a half pound for two people. Golden Natural Foods has excellent seafood at a reasonable price. Ahi tuna is expensive, though, so even though this meal is simple, it's also a bit of an indulgence.

The veggies take longer to cook, so it's a good idea to start them early. Tonight, I'm using sweet potatoes, shallots, and corn cut right off the cob. Chop up all the veggies and put them in a shallow roasting pan. Add in some olive oil, some white wine, and salt and pepper. The white wine has a great flavor, but it also helps the veggies cook faster. You don't need to spend much money on wine for cooking--the cheapest Chardonnay you can find will do. We don't even refrigerate our white wine for cooking. Put them in the oven at 350. It will probably take at least a half an hour. Stir occasionally.

When the veggies are almost done, take the tuna out of the fridge. Cut it in half. Add a bit of olive oil to a saute pan--I always make the mistake of adding too much oil. Heat up the pan and add the two tuna steaks. Sprinkle a little salt on the tuna. The goal here is to sear the tuna, so it's cooked just a little on the outside but very rare in the middle. The great thing about using high quality fish is that you can cook it very rare. Cook the tuna on each side for just about 30-45 seconds per side.

Plate it up, maybe with a green salad with a simple vinaigrette. I like to also make a dipping sauce for the tuna with some soy sauce with wasabi mixed in to taste. Right now, we're still using the packaged wasabi from the tube, but we're looking out for some fresh wasabi root. I'll let you know when and where we find the fresh root. The picture is of fresh wasabi root. Note the outrageously high price.

Just because you work long hours and you're tired when you come home doesn't mean you have to eat pre-packaged food. This simple dinner takes about half an hour to cook. We probably eat this or a variation at least once a week.

Start with four or five tomatoes. We get all of our winter produce at Golden Natural Foods. Bi Rite also has good produce in the winter. Of course, it tastes better with tomatoes from a farmer's market when they're in season. Cut the tomatoes in half and de-seed them. Puree tomatoes in a blender or food processor.

Saute whatever veggies you have on hand. Last night, I used shallots, carrots, and corn sliced off the cob. Saute until the shallots are brown but not burnt. Add in the tomato puree. Add some white or red wine, a little balsamic vinegar, and salt and pepper. Let the tomato sauce simmer for ten or fifteen minutes, stirring occasionally. The goal is to let the sauce reduce until it is thick.

While the sauce is reducing, boil some water for pasta. Fresh pasta is best, but we often use frozen ravioli or gnocci from Golden. Be sure not to overcook the pasta like I always do.

When the pasta is ready, mix into the sauce on low heat until it is evenly distributed in the sauce. Plate it up and garnish with some grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. This may seem expensive, but a small block lasts a long time and it's much better than the stuff in the green can. For a little extra heat, you can add a minced Serrano chili to the sauce while it's reducing, with a little left over for garnish.

Serve with some fresh bread and a simple green salad. You can make an easy vinaigrette with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and a little dijon mustard.