What I Ate For Dinner

Tonight: Duck. There are a few things to keep in mind when preparing this toothsome bird at home that will ensure a crispy bronze skin and moist meaty morsels. Most importantly, remember that duck has a substantial layer of fat between the skin and meat. If you don't render it out before roasting, the fatty layer can make some bites feel greasy (this ain't no Double Down, ya'll!). The solution is quite simple: you need only prick the skin several times and brown on medium heat on the stovetop to liquefy the duck fat, which will seep out into the skillet through the piercings. By the time you throw it in the oven, the duck will be substantially leaner, moist, and already quite crispy.

So to start, dust the leg and thigh piece with seasoned flour and brown in olive oil. Since the duck fat will soon begin to render out, you'll need only a minimal amount of oil in the pan--just enough to kickstart the rendering. You can prick the skin before putting the duck in the skillet, or allow it brown up a bit and then make your piercings. In any event, you want to render on medium heat so that the rendered fat won't start smoking and also so that you can get as much of the fat out as possible without overcooking the outside layer.

Once you've got a golden brown color on both sides, it's ready for the oven. I usually put a thin coating of white wine on the bottom of the oven vessel to add moisture and flavor to the roasting process. Drain the rendered duck fat out of the skillet and into a dish and reserve; it will add complexity to the sauce, as well as offer an interesting grounding for a salad vinaigrette. Once in the oven, two leg-thigh pieces take about 10-15 minutes at 325.

Now for the sauce. Start by sautéing shallots in the rendered duck fat. Once colored, deglaze with white wine and reduce by approximately half. Then add the blackberry purée. I find that the easiest way to purée blackberries is to force them through a metal sieve. This will yield a good mash, as well as automatically remove all those pesky seeds, which you certainly don't want in the sauce.

Once the purée is in the skillet, season with salt, pepper and balsamic, and allow to simmer and reduce for a few moments. To thicken, stir in a simple roux (equal parts flour and oil).

I've finished this one off with a salad dressed in the duck fat, almonds and goat cheese. In place of olive oil, the duck fat offers itself as the foundation of a tasty vinaigrette: simply emulsify the rendered fat with balsamic and a bit of whole grain mustard. To finish the plate, I've added parmesan-rosemary mashed potatoes.

To this day, my mom makes Irish Soda Bread with the same recipe her mother used in County Kerry nearly a century ago. Somewhere, we even have the original in my grandmother's hand. It makes sense why this method would stick around so long, given its reliability. It also exemplifies how recipes present and preserve a family's, community's or even culture's collective knowledge, accumulated and refined through the generations.

I rarely measure when I cook, but it's important when you're baking to do so because you need to assure proper proportions of leavening agents and the like in order to produce something light and moist. So, in a departure from habit, I'll begin with measurements (like a real recipe!) and then move on to the preparation proper:

5 cups flour
1 stick butter (softened at room temperature)
1 cup sugar
½ teaspoon salt
2 ½ cups buttermilk
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 well-beaten egg
1 ½ cup raisins
Caraway seeds

1. First, sift together the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar.


2. Now add the softened butter and mix with the dry ingredients by hand.


3. Dissolve the baking soda in the buttermilk and add to the dry ingredients. Also add one well-beaten egg to the mix. You may want to use an electric beater for the egg. Mix everything else by hand.


4. Finally, add the raisins and caraway seeds.


5. Lightly butter a tube pan (aka angel food cake pan) and coat with a dusting of flour. Pour the bread batter in, distributing as evenly as possible around the pan.


6. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Bake for 60-75 minutes, until golden brown.


7. When the bread is done baking, finish with a glaze of milk (regular milk, not buttermilk) and sugar after allowing the loaf to cool.

Pesto is right up there with hummus in the world condiment hall of fame. It can hold its own on sandwiches, bread, and pita as well as it can on pastas, vegetables and meats on the grill. Seasoning options abound and the versatility of the basic ingredient line-up has given rise to all sorts of variations. Garlic alone can articulate itself in pesto in any number of registers. Lightly sautéed (as tonight), it gives a moderate flavor and some toastiness, and if roasted, it would give a more subtle smoothness to the dish. Raw garlic can also be used, but be advised that it imparts a sharp flavor and some heat, so be judicious.

Tonight, I'm preparing a pretty traditional version. Start by sautéing minced garlic until the edges are just turning blond or brown. In a bowl, combine the lightly sautéed garlic and add some chopped roasted pine nuts. The pine nuts will give a roasty and slightly bitter background to the more assertive flavors (lemon juice and garlic in particular) as well as some texture. Follow that up with chiffonade of basil, grated parm, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and, optionally, some chopped sundried tomatoes. Bring the mixture to a paste-like consistency with a good olive oil and you're pretty much done already.

For the chicken pesto sandwich, you have two options for pesto deployment. First, you can slather the pesto on the bun; alternatively, you could toss the chopped chicken with the pesto and then set 'er up on the bun. In either event, finish the sandwich off with some more sundried tomatoes and smoked mozzarella. Some baby field greens tossed in a balsamic vinaigrette would also go well on the sandwich.

Pesto goes great with steak fries, too, so I dress up the plate with a little of both.

Braising is about as close to alchemy as exists on earth: you start with tough and boney cuts of meat and turn them into flavorful, succulent, moist and tender golden nuggets. The only downside is that it takes some time. Traditionally, a braised dish will camp out in the oven for something like three or four hours, if not more. And truth be told, there's really no way around that, for the best results. Unfortunately, I don't have that kind of time tonight, so I've abbreviated the braising process to a scant 75-90 minutes. You can still get wonderful flavor in this time, but be advised that it won't replicate the "falling off the bone" tenderizing effects of four hours. There simply is no substitute for patience. The basic method, though, remains the same no matter how much time you have to devote.

Braising is a simple three-step process: browning, deglazing, and roasting. Start with lamb shanks that have been dredged in seasoned flour. Brown them in olive oil in a tall-sided, oven-ready vessel with a lid. Remove them after they've browned and add your vegetables--tonight I'm using chopped shallot, carrot, fennel and tomato, although potatoes or any number of other things would also work. Once the vegetables are soft and have some color, add in enough stock and white wine to fully cover them. For a longer braising process, you might want to either add even more liquid before roasting, or add more while the shanks are in the oven, depending on how much of it evaporates.

Allow the liquid and vegetables to simmer for a few moments, season with salt, pepper and fresh chopped herbs, and add the shanks. Cover, and roast in the oven at around 300 degrees. Again, 75-90 minutes is about the minimum, and three or four hours or so would be ideal. Braising times can vary, though, so keep an eye on them and judge for yourself how they're progressing. Remember to turn the shanks every 45 minutes or so to ensure even exposure to the liquid.

Gremolata sounds like the name of an ostentatious sports car from the eighties, but in fact, it's actually a common accompaniment to braised meats. It has only three ingredients: a healthy dose of lemon and/or lime zest, a bit of minced raw garlic, and some chopped fresh herbs (leafy stuff like thyme and parsley are great). This will add color to the plate and intrigue to each bite by bringing out some of the savory braised flavors with a sharp, acidic accent.

We've served it all up with the by-now-familiar wasabi-balsamic mashed potatoes.

There are moments in the kitchen that call for innovation, but tonight ain't one of 'em. We're doing chicken cordon bleu, the famous French dish, with a classic hollandaise sauce. Although I've made a few substitutions--coppa for ham, panko instead of breadcrumbs--the spirit of the dish stays pretty close to home.

Start with a pounded chicken thigh or breast. Place it on a sheet of plastic wrap and cover with a mix of grated cheese (tonight I'm using an aged Vermont cheddar and smoked mozzarella), salt, pepper, chopped fresh herbs (thyme tonight, but most anything'd work) and a splash of brandy for moisture to help adhere the seam when its rolled up. Overlay that with a slice or two of coppa, ham, prosciutto or whatever you prefer. Be careful not to overstuff.

On top of the plastic wrap, roll the chicken closed so you have a bit of overlap at the seam. Then pull the plastic wrap tight around the chicken roll, especially at the seam, and twist to assure a solid closure. Place the plastic-wrapped chicken on a plate and refrigerate for 20 or so minutes. This preparation obviates meddlesome kitchen twine and toothpicks by allowing the chicken roll to form its own closure.

For the breading, start with egg wash (eggs and milk) in one bowl and panko in another. Remove the plastic and dip the chicken in the egg wash and then the panko. Now it's ready to be browned on the stove (seam side down to begin), and then thrown in the oven until done. Mine tonight took about 15-20 minutes in the oven at around 375 degrees.

For the hollandaise, as Mark Bittman tells us in "How to Cook Everything," the blender makes what used to be a delicate operation nearly fool-proof. Start with two egg yolks in the blender, add some lemon juice, salt, pepper, balsamic, a very small amount of whole grain mustard and chopped herbs. Drizzle a bit of melted butter in and blend. Continue adding butter as it blends until the sauce thickens and has a smooth consistency. Everything here's to taste, so be sure to kill the blender and grab a nibble often.

To heat the hollandaise, boil water in a fry pan and throw in a (paper) towel. Transfer the hollandaise to a glass or metal bowl and place on the towel. Stir almost constantly until the sauce warms (to about the temperature of bath water)--but of course be careful not to let the eggs scramble.

Tonight, we served up the chicken cordon bleu with smashed new potatoes and a simple side salad.