Cocktails tomorrow, cocktails yesterday - and, yes, damn it, cocktails today!*

Serious Eats just pointed me to a fabulous blog called The Cocktail Chronicles.

It's chock full of history, recipes and general musings about cocktails and the bartending/mixology world. Tons of fun for this beginning, amateur mixologist, and I thought you would all enjoy it, too.


*With apologies to Lewis Carroll and Carol Channing, both.

The first annual pork belly-off, part three: Louisa's book.

So, some very exciting news came out today...my best friend, Louisa, hostess of the pork belly-off and romance novelist extraordinaire, has gotten her first book deal! It's for a series of romance novels set in the New York restaurant scene, and her publisher wants them to have actual recipes in them!

So, of course, we spent a good amount of time this week working on recipes for food and cocktails (more on that later). An autumnal pork belly dish figures into the plot of the first novel, and Louisa thought it would be cool to serve the pork belly with what a pig (in an ideal world) would eat - apples and walnuts.

First, she braised the pork belly in cider (with a little cinnamon and nutmeg added for extra kick), then seared it on all sides. Meanwhile, she improvised a recipe for candied walnuts, using ginger syrup and cayenne, among other delicious things. She spread the walnuts on a parchment-covered cookie sheet and baked them till they were crisp and dark brown.

Finally, she cut a Granny Smith apple into batons, placed the pork belly on top, and spread the walnuts around. The cold apples and hot pork belly were a great combination, but probably not as sophisticated as she's looking for - we talked about making an apple sauce and walnut butter and sprinkling chopped candied walnuts on top - but it's a work in progress, after all.

Either way, I was a happy eater.

The first annual pork belly-off, part two: Louisa.

Louisa's vision for her piece of pork belly (the one that wasn't being made strictly for professional reasons) was a barbecue-esque one. Pork belly glazed with a maple-bourbon sauce, served atop a lemony, minty coleslaw.

She braised the pork belly while her glaze (maple syrup, bourbon, cider vinegar) reduced on the stove. When it was time to sear the belly, she glazed the top with the sauce - which promptly hardened to a soft, toffee-like consistency. Not exactly what she was going for, but man, was it good.

The slaw, crunchy and fresh, cut through the rich, sweet glaze and the meaty pork belly. In future incarnations, Louisa plans to thin out the glaze a bit, maybe with milk or a little butter - any suggestions?

The first annual pork belly-off, part one: Nick.

Three cooks, one afternoon, a half pound of pork belly - what could go possibly be bad about that?

Nothing, as it turns out.

I'm spending the week in Ohio, visiting my friends Nick and Louisa, and just generally enjoying driving in a car that isn't a cab, playing with their (adorable) dog, and sleeping till 8:30 every single morning (late enough to fee luxurious, early enough not to feel lazy). When I got off the plane on Saturday afternoon, they promptly informed me that we would be making at least one stop before heading home - Cleveland's West Side market, where we would be buying provisions for the week.

The West Side market is great - huge, full of good (if not always local or seasonal) produce, and the inside is a sea of butchers, fishmongers, bakeries and prepared foods vendors. You can find whole lambs, whole goats, liver, chicken, Cornish pasties, hummus - you name it.

Louisa mentioned that we should be on the lookout for pork belly, since a recipe for it figures heavily into the novel she's working on right now (She's a romance novelist - cool, right?). When we did find the pork belly, we suddenly thought, hey - why not really go to town? It was decided that each of us would get a portion of pork belly to experiment with, plus an additional piece for Louisa to play with for the book-related dish. We each had totally different takes on the belly, and when we got home, we got down to business.

First up, Nick's version.


When he was growing up in California, Nick's mom would make a breaded pork chop dish that he just loved, loved, loved. Couldn't get enough. And he still loves a breaded chop - wiener schnitzel, veal milanese, you name it. So Nick decided to do a riff on a traditional milanese.

He braised the pork belly in chicken stock for an hour and a half, then seared it on sides. Served alongside was a tomato and arugula Napoleon. He sliced the tomato, sprinkled it with a bit of salt, some sugar, topped each slice with a pat of butter and lightly broiled them. Next, he brushed them with some reduced balsamic and stacked them, alternating tomato slices with leaves of baby arugula. The topmost tomato slice was sprinkled with bread crumbs and broiled once more to make it nice and brown and crispy. (Get it? The bread crumbs replaced the breading typically found on the veal!)

Finally, to incorporate the traditional lemony dressing, he made a lemon compote with some toasted cracked black peppercorns stirred in.

It was a gorgeous dish - beautifully presented, and really very tasty. We decided the bread crumbs could use a bit more binding, and that the lemon compote (which was super-tart and VERY lemony) could be used more sparingly. But, for a first outing, a phenomenal job.

Next up, Louisa's candied, boozy take on pork belly.

Food for the world-weary.

It's been a crazy couple of weeks for me - I'm on a few new projects at work, I've been busy bringing my home into the 21st century (DVR and its infinite possibilities!), and I'm gearing up for a trip out to Ohio (yup, just like last summer) that kicks off next Saturday. All in all, I've been a very busy woman.

All of that, of course, means I've had very little time for cooking, let alone visiting the Greenmarket or eating out. But last Sunday, I woke up craving protein and was confronted by a fridge full of take-out debris, most notably two or three half-full containers of steamed broccoli from my local Chinese. I decided to saute the broccoli with some scallions and garlic and use that as the filling for a frittata, my favorite go-to egg dish (if you don't count carbonara).

It was delicious, simple, and fast. Not too bad for a woman on the run - from her Blackberry, not the law. Would that I were so exciting. Sigh.

Broccoli Frittata

1 tbs. olive oil, divided
2-3 scallions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 to 1 1/2 cups steamed broccoli, cut into 1-inch pieces
Salt and pepper
3 eggs, lightly beaten
2 tbs. Parmesan cheese, finely grated

Pre-heat the broiler.

Heat 2 tsps. of the olive oil in an eight-inch oven-proof skillet set over medium-high heat. Once it's hot (it should shimmer slightly) add the scallions and saute until fragrant and slightly translucent. Add the garlic and saute until you can smell the garlic, about one minute. Add the broccoli, season with salt and pepper, and saute until thoroughly warmed-through.

Brush the sides of the skillet lightly with the remaining teaspoon of olive oil, then pour the eggs down over the broccoli mixture. Cook over medium heat until the bottom of the frittata is just set. Sprinkle the top with the cheese, and place the skillet under the broiler. Broil for two to four minutes, until the top is set and slight browned. Using a heat-proof spatula, gently remove the frittata from the skillet and scooch it onto a plate. Eat right away.

Serves one, generously, or two, with a salad on the side.

Romping through the strawberry patch.

Summer is here, the weather in New York is hot, sticky and smelly, and - far more delightfully - strawberries abound at the Greenmarket!

This past Saturday morning, my friend Faith lured me out of my apartment and to Union Square by telling me it was still only about 65 degrees out. The second I walked outside I knew she'd been lying, but the sight of all those gorgeous berries completely made up for it. Booth after booth featured perfectly-ripened, sweet-smelling Jersey strawberries, all at the pretty reasonable price of about $5 per quart.

When you live alone, it can be tough to make it through a big pile of berries before they go bad. That's why you should arm yourself with a myriad of recipes - sweet and savory - before you go forth and indulge the passion for strawberries that lurks within us all. Cook some into a sauce, make a compote with some more, and enjoy the rest with a glass of champagne. Or two.


Strawberry and Rhubarb Compote

This is fantastic served shortcake-style (over a biscuit with some whipped cream), spooned over vanilla ice cream, or on top of plain Greek yogurt.

3-4 stalks rhubarb, leaves trimmed, strings removed, cut crosswise into 1/2 inch pieces
1/4 - 1/2 cup sugar (depending on taste)
1 quart strawberries, hulled and sliced length-wise into 1/4 inch pieces

In a medium saucepan set over medium heat, cook the rhubarb down till just softened, but still holding its shape. Stir in the sugar and heat till it dissolves in the rhubarb's juice, then stir in the strawberries.

Cook just until bubbling, then remove from heat. Once the mixture has cooled somewhat, spoon into a clean mason jar and refrigerate until you're ready to eat! It should last about two or three weeks in the fridge.

You can also eat it warm, if you so desire.

Makes approximately 3/4 quart of compote.



Strawberry Sauce with Bacon and Ramps

This sauce is great with roasted and grilled meats, particularly chicken and pork.

1/4 lb. slab bacon, cut crosswise into 1/4 inch batons
1 tbs. olive oil
1 shallot, chopped fine
1 tbs. Dijon mustard
3-4 pickled ramps, sliced crosswise into 1/4 inch pieces*
1 1/2 cups strawberries, hulled and quartered
Salt and pepper, to taste
Minced chives, to garnish

In a medium skillet set over medium-high heat, cook the bacon until most of the fat has been rendered out and the pieces are crispy. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside. Add the olive oil to the pan and cook the shallot over medium heat until transparent and fragrant. Add the mustard and mix well with the shallots. Cook for a minute or so more.

Add the pickled ramps to the pan and cook until slightly softened. Add the strawberries and a tablespoon of water to the pan. Cook until the strawberries are warm through and the sauce has thickened slightly, then stir in the reserved bacon. Taste and adjust for seasoning before serving the sauce on top of the roasted meat or fish of your choosing.

Serves two.

*If you can't find pickled ramps and didn't put any up yourself this year, try substituting spring onions or scallions, supplemented with a pinch each of sugar and white wine vinegar.

Improvisation is the spice of life.

Last weekend, I went to the market with a craving for pork chops and fresh fruit, and left with a pound of bone-in chops and a bag of nectarines. I didn't foresee eating them together, but sometimes things just work out that way.

Eager to find a use for the ramps I'd pickled a couple of days before, I decided to top the pan-cooked pork chop with a nectarine and ramp relish. The result was delicious - sweet, spicy, soft and crunchy, made fresh with a sprinkling of chopped Greenmarket parsley. One of the easiest dinners I've made in recent weeks, and also one of the tastiest.

This recipe would be equally good (or, really, probably ten times better) with in-season peaches. Something to keep in mind as summer approaches...

Pork Chop with Nectarines and Pickled Ramps

1 bone-in pork chop (about 1/2 pound)
Salt and pepper
1 tbs. neutral oil, such as vegetable or canola
1 small nectarine, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
3-4 pickled ramps, thinly sliced cross-wise
2 tsps. finely-chopped parsley

Pat the pork chop dry and dress with salt and pepper on both sides. Add the oil to a small skillet set over medium-high heat. Once the oil is heated through, add the pork chop and sear for two to three minutes on each side to form a crust. (You'll know the chop is ready to turn when you pull it gently with your tongs and it comes easily away from the skillet.)

Turn the heat down to medium and cook the chop another three to four minutes on both sides, or until it is just cooked through. Remove from the skillet to a plate and tent with aluminum foil while you make the relish.

Turn the heat back up to medium high, and add a bit more oil if the pan is dry. Add the ramps and sautee for a minute or so, then add the nectarine to the pan. Sautee for a minute, or until the nectarine is slightly softened and heated through. Add the parsley to the skillet, toss to combine, and remove from heat.

Top the pork chop with the relish, season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.

Serves one.