January 2009 – Food Woolf

Eggs al Forno Revisited

Open most refrigerators in America and you’re likely to find an egg.

As food groups go, the egg is one of our most versatile ingredients. Prepare it simply, dress it up with common or elegant ingredients, manipulate it with good technique; the versatile egg has the ability change into something completely unlike itself.

An egg can be a snack, a meal, a condiment or a building block for something grand. In the home, an egg is a culinary hero. In professional kitchens, a poorly prepared egg can be a career killer. In my case, the egg marks my relationship with cooking.

Early in my days of cooking, I mangled even the simplest preparation. Later, I simply advocated my egg-cooking duties to boyfriends and feigned ignorance. A handful of years ago I gathered my courage and began cooking eggs with an experimental attitude. Now, after a year of serious cooking and culinary studies, I see a dozen eggs as an opportunity to step up to the stove and prove what I’ve learned. Sometimes, my eggs turn out to be really, really good.

This Eggs al Forno dish (Italian for baked eggs) is a recipe I developed after tasting a baked egg on toast that my friend Bryant Ng (former Chef of Pizzeria Mozza) pulled from a pizza oven. Though simple, the dish has all the bells and whistles: creamy soft eggs, crunchy fresh bread, the smoothness of a great olive oil and zing that only a well-made cheese can offer. Eggs al Forno is an effortless show stopper that requires great ingredients and a chef’s confidence.

I submitted this recipe to La Brea Bakery* and recently learned that they decided to feature it on their website recipe page. I include the recipe here with these suggestions: Hand select your ingredients: a great bread (wedge from an artisan bread like a sourdough, pullman or herb are good choices), a flavorful melting cheese (preferably Fontina or medium bodied sheeps milk cheese), a good finishing olive oil and maldon sea salt. Throw some prosciutto or bacon on top for some extra bacon love.

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Eggs al Forno (Baked Eggs) For Two

2 miniature casserole dishes (6×4 inches)
4 eggs
1 tablespoon butter, softened
¼ of a La Brea Bakery Demi Baguette or regular sized Baguette (any variety), cut into 4 1-inch thick slices
¾ cup Fontina or mild cheddar cheese, grated
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan
¼ cup olive oil
Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven 500°F. Meanwhile, rub the inside of each mini-casserole dish with a portion of softened butter. This will prevent the ingredients from sticking to the dish. For each individual serving, place one or two slices of bread (in a single layer) on the bottom of the butter-lined casserole—making sure the bread fits snuggly—adding or trimming if necessary. Drizzle the bread with one tablespoon of olive oil. Then, add a sprinkling of half the grated Fontina cheese. Gently crack two eggs, adding them to the layer of grated cheese. Drizzle with one more tablespoon of oil. Repeat process for the other dish.

Place the two casserole dishes in the oven (you may place a cookie sheet underneath to protect your oven from bubbling ingredients) on the middle rack. Bake until eggs are set, about 10 minutes. Carefully remove the casseroles from the oven. Top each serving with one tablespoon of Parmesan and a pinch of salt and pepper.

Using oven mitts, carefully place each casserole onto a dinner plate topped with a folded cloth napkin (this will ensure a more stable surface for the hot dish to rest on). Serve immediately, making sure to warn your loved one of the dishes’ hot temperature!

Full disclosure: I do freelance copy writing for La Brea Bakery’s marketing department.

January 25November 14

Foodbuzz 24,24,24: Boston Revisited

photo by nickphotos on Flickr

Working in restaurants was never meant to be a career I’d fall in love with. It was a means to cover my bills until I reached my goal of becoming a professional screenwriter. Despite my creative aspirations, however, by the spring of 1998 I was thoroughly embedded in the restaurant scene in Cambridge/Boston. I was the only female bartender—a singular position I relished—at Toad, a popular locals’ bar and music club (albeit tiny) in Porter Square, Cambridge. Four nights a week I was the person that everybody knew–the friendly bartender to regulars, tourists, Harvard academics, rocket scientists and musicians like Patty Griffin, Peter Mulvey, Ellis Paul and the band Morphine. At Toad, everybody really did know your name.

The excitement I felt working at Toad (and their sister restaurant Christopher’s), was a kind of siren song of easy money, camaraderie, casual lifestyle and untraditional hours that was so completely beguiling I felt the need to flee the Boston area—for fear I would never truly break free of the world’s best bartending job and pursue my dream of becoming a screenwriter. An acceptance letter to a prestigious film school was the solid lead I needed to empower me to leave behind the pull of Boston’s budding dining scene.

In the early 1990’s, Boston’s culinary scene saw its first spark of national attention when Boston Chef Todd English earned his James Beard award and was named best chef of the Northeast. Other hot young chefs like Chris Schlesinger (East Coast Grill), Gordon Hamersley (Hamersley’s), Lydia Shire (Biba) and Paul O’Connell (Chez Henri) gained notoriety for their innovative cooking. In a town that was once known only for its pubs, clam chowder and baked beans, these and a handful of other Boston-based chefs, busied themselves with creating New England-inspired menus and revelatory dining experiences that would soon make Boston and Cambridge a culinary destination.

Distance makes the heart grow stronger

Despite the ache to revisit the haunts of my old life, I kept my distance from Boston and Cambridge for a decade. Like a broken hearted lover might stay away from an old flame, I feared that one good visit might make me throw in the towel on my film writing career and go back to what I once had when I was in Boston.

Of course, the lure of restaurants was too strong to resist. As I continued to be disciplined about writing screenplays, my work in restaurants was something that was difficult for me to leave behind entirely. Though I continued to write screenplays, I secretly imagined myself a future restaurateur.

I read with interest the stories of great Boston restaurants emerging in my old neighborhood. Friends from back home told me of bustling breweries, high-end pizza shops and fine dining establishments replacing old pubs. Family shared culinary gossip about burrito joints and Asian restaurants sprouting up in a city where the only ethnic food to be found was Italian. In 2004, I felt the first real pang of missing the Cambridge dining scene when I saw my old friend Tony Maws on the cover of Food and Wine’s best new chef issue, for his newly opened Cambridge restaurant Craigie Street Bistro.

As the years passed, my work within restaurants morphed and altered the focus of my writing. In 2007, I embraced my shadow side and began exploring my love of food and restaurants when I began writing this food blog. Then in 2008, I read Frank Bruni’s review of the country’s best restaurants and his pick for the number one restaurant outside of New York City—a Boston-based Japanese restaurant named O-Ya. After a decade of keeping my distance, I was ready to see what had become of my beloved Boston/Cambridge dining scene. It was time to go home for dinner.

Then and Now

boston at night

The plan: to see just how much the Boston/Cambridge dining scene has changed and just how much has stayed the same. My husband and I flew out of LA early in the morning and planned to land in Boston hungry and get to eating right away. We would try Boston’s most celebrated restaurant and visit my old stomping grounds. First stop: dinner at O-Ya.

Chef Tim Cushman and sommelier Nancy Cushman, are the charming husband and wife team behind this 37-seat restaurant (17 of the seats are at the Chef’s counter). The award winning restaurant is a tiny oasis of warmth in a snow draped city. The interior–a renovated firehouse–features arched-beams, warm wood and brick walls, cozy seating and cool tunes. The Cushmans and their professional staff lavish the diners with an uncommon grace and a menu dedicated to only the finest ingredients.

Since its opening in 2007, O-Ya has been called best new restaurant by numerous publications (Boston Magazine, Zagat, Robb Report, Gourmet) and Tim Cushman received a best new chef of 2008 award by Food and Wine Magazine. Cushman—a New England native—has a diverse culinary background in Japanese cuisine. He sources ingredients shipped from as far away as Japan and Santa Barbara while at the same time prizing the local Boston fishmarkets. With some 80 small plates—an exciting mix of Nigiri sushi, sashimi, udon, tempura, as well as cooked pork, chicken and wagyu beef dishes—O-Ya is an exciting restaurant for all types of palates.

My husband and I enter O-Ya a few minutes before our reservation. We are greeted by Nancy Cushman, a striking young woman with the presence of a doyenne. An immediately warm host, Nancy ushers us to our seats at the Chef’s table (the sushi bar). She welcomes us as if we were long lost friends.

We squirm in our seats like excited school children as we scan the small plates menu. With some helpful suggestions from our server, we order. As a 1920’s jazz tune plays as we study the happy faces of the diners and admire the dance of white chef coats as the sushi chef deftly craft the diverse and sometimes architectural raw fish dishes.

As we await the beginning of our meal, Nancy arrives with a ceramic dish topped with shaved ice and a selection of hand made sake cups. Our clever hosts offers us the plate and asks us to select our cup.

“Don’t worry,” she smiles. “This isn’t a
psychological test.” My husband and I smile and take our individual glasses. Nancy pours our Yuki no Bosha Junmai Ginjo sake ($38for a 300ml half bottle) and has us taste. The flavors are subtle and complex with floral clean notes. A perfect cold sake for our meal. As Nancy walks away, my husband and I can’t help but wonder aloud that maybe the glasses we pick really do say something about our personalities. Mine is wide mouthed and speckled brown like a pony. His is tall, lean and colored black as night with a blue lip. We are busy musing on the meaning of our glasses as the first dish arrives. It’s a stunner.

A tempura fried Kumamoto oyster ($14) sits atop nori-wrapped sushi rice with a yuzu kosho aioli and a perfect sphere of squid ink foam. It’s a perfect bite of soft rice, salty-sweet meat of the oyster, delightful crunch of tempura and a playful brininess from the squid ink bubbles. My husband and I lower our heads in reverence to the chef. We know we are in great hands.

It’s impossible not to appreciate the artistry of the sushi chefs. Their movements are that of an orchestra conductor; a hand rises to prolong a beautiful note of flavor, as the chef carefully adjusts the amount of chives to layer atop a dish. Watching great sushi chefs work is like watching a kind of gastronomic folk dance—the way their hands cup to form a curve of sushi rice, or their fingers fly over a piece of fish—all of these culinary gestures that have been perfected and handed down for centuries.

The diver sea scallop sashimi ($18) arrives on a long, glass dish that resembles a slab of polished ice. The sweet tender scallop is sliced thin, topped with a tempura fried sage leaf and olive oil foam. This is raw scallops at their best—their briny sweetness play against the exciting crunch of sage and intriguing texture of collapsing olive oil foam.

The hand cut squares of hamachi sashimi ($21) arrive swimming in a shallow bath of Vietnamese mignonette and topped with a julienne of Thai basil and chopped shallot. The sweet acidity cuts through the natural fattiness of the fish and the anise flavored Thai basil and red chili give the dish a refreshing jolt of spice.

Feeling the freedom that only a few glasses of great sake can give, we order the Faberge Onsen Egg ($38)–a slow-cooked soft-poached egg (it’s cooked in a water bath of a sustained 62 degrees) that’s topped with a generous scoop of black river Ossetra caviar in a shallow puddle of sweet, thick dashi sauce and green onion. The poached egg is almost translucent—like a polished glass egg—and once broken, the egg white holds its form as the center yolk mixes with the textured dashi sauce. The salty caviar and spike of flavor from the green onion is too much for my husband and I. The sushi chef blushes as we moan in unison.

“Lots of caviar,” he nods, seemingly understanding our current state.

The sake braised shortribs ($32) arrive on a bed of dashi soy simmered potatoes. The dark, iron rich meat’s dry texture breaks apart and begs for the moisture of the veal-stock sauce beneath it. The soft textures are set off by the crispy tempura fried onions and ginger. Though flavorful, after the four star dishes I’ve tasted so far, this transitional dish into the cooked portion of the menu made me realize the Cushmans are human.

Tea brined pork ribs ($16), cooked in hot sesame oil, honey, scallions. The two rib dish reminds me of a gourmet version of teriyaki beef I used to crave as a kid. The ribs’ meat is fall-from-the-bone moist (the kind of moisture that you can only get from slow cooking) and tastes like meat candy with its lick your fingers brown scallion sesame sauce.

To finish we order the chocolate gelato with a caramel mousse. The dessert offers sweetness and a final touch of savory with its salty, dry choclate flavors and fluffy caramel sauce that’s set against a light crunch of sesame.

With the evening coming to a close, my husband and I admire the restaurant as the evening’s last diners finish their meal. As I feared I might, by the end of the meal I find myself imagining myself packing a bag, moving back home, and working as a server in the restaurant. Though my dream to write full time continues, for me, the mark of a great restaurant is one that makes me want to drop everything and work there.

Some things never change

My husband and I take the T (public train) to Porter Square Cambridge to see just how much or how little things have changed at Toad. Just as I left it, the little bar has a line out the door of twenty-something Cambridge-ites waiting to get inside the tiny club. Once inside, I realize that though the faces of the customers are unfamiliar, nothing has changed in this place.

With the exception of the state mandated smoke free environment, Toad hasn’t changed much at all. As a matter of fact, three of my co-workers from more than 12 years ago still work there several nights a week. The graffiti has been painted over and drawn over by new hands. But there’s still the same old beer stained ceiling, not-yet-discovered talent singing on the miniscule stage and customers eating hardened piles of nacho chips from metal to-go containers. Just as they had when I left ten years ago, the ceramic toads that once looked down on me as I poured beer after beer, still hold their position on upper columns of the wood bar.

As I stepped up to the bar to order a Boddington’s beer and a shot of Maker’s Mark for old time’s sake, just like the old days, there was a friendly face behind the
bar ready to give me service with smile. Some things change. Some things don’t.

January 18

Meyer Lemon Trifle: a Bittersweet Recipe

“When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” –proverb

“When life gives you Meyer lemons, make as many things as possible.” –Food Woolf

After eating a mouth-puckering Meyer lemon trifle at Suzanne Goin and (her husband) David Lentz’s restaurant, Hungry Cat, I decided to try my hand at recreating the dish for Leah of Spicy Salty Sweet and my annual New Year’s celebration.

With sweeter juice, supple peel, and approachable acidity, the Meyer lemon appeals to cooks seeking bright and floral citrus notes. For a desert-phobe like me, this one hundred year-old lemon hybrid’s approachability is a siren song that inspired me to go beyond my comfort zone. The process of making the dessert required my utmost attention and care; in the end, the trifle was a bright finale at the close of an incredible meal (Matt Bites polished off his trifle in two, happy minutes).

As I prepared to collect information about the history of Meyer lemons and recipe information, I discovered that the cookbook that could make this dish possible had gone missing. I checked under the stacks of papers on my desk, scoured the trunk of my car, examined the space behind the stove, eye-balled under my bed, lifted dishes (just in case it was hiding between them), and scanned all of my book shelves. From what I can gather, a hungry black hole swallowed the hardcover whole. Surely Suzanne Goin doesn’t have a legion of muses that require karmic payment for inspiration…Or does she?

Ah well, despite the loss, I’m happy; with a dessert this good and relatively easy (this coming from a dessert-phobe), I willingly give an offering to the culinary muses.

photo by White On Rice Couple

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Meyer Lemon Trifle
Inspired by a dish at the Hungry Cat
Serves 8

Ingredients:

2 2/3 cups sugar
3 sticks unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 1/3 cups fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons grated lemon peel
1/4 teaspoon salt
10 large eggs, beaten to blend

small container of heavy whipping cream (1/2 pint)

two lemons
3/4 cup sugar

Optional: home made or store bought cookies or pound cake for crumbling between layers

For lemon curd:

Combine first 5 ingredients in heavy medium saucepan. Stir over medium heat until butter melts and sugar dissolves. Remove from heat. Slowly add the beaten eggs—being careful not to cook the eggs by adding them too quickly—and whisk constantly. Once you have added all of the eggs to the mixture, return to a medium-low heat. Whisk constantly, until curd thickens (this may happen within 3-4 minutes). Be careful not to let the mixture come to a boil. Strain curd through a sieve into bowl or medium sized casserole dish if you need to chill the mixture quickly. Press plastic wrap directly onto surface of curd and chill, preferably overnight.

For candied lemon zest:

two lemons
3/4 cup sugar

To make your own candied lemon zest:

Wash lemons. Using a vegetable peeler, cut wide strips of zest, being careful to avoid the white pith. Place zests in a small saucepan, cover with cold water and bring to a boil. Let boil for 3 minutes. Remove from heat, drain water, and repeat process two more times.

Next, add 3/4 cup of water and ¾ cups sugar to zests. Cook over low heat until the sugar mixture starts to thicken. Cooking time will be approximately 10 to 15 minutes. *This recipe makes more zest than needed, store extra zests in their candied liquid in an air tight container. Perfect for topping ice cream.

For whipped cream:

In a deep (chilled) metal mixing bowl, beat the half pint of heavy cream until soft peaks form. Use a mixer or a whisk if you want to get an upper arm work out.

Sprinkle with confectioner’s sugar and ½ teaspoon of vanilla extract. Beat until soft peaks return, being careful not to over beat.

To make the trifle:
Fill individual glasses (or bowls) with a layer of lemon curd and whipped cream. Sprinkle crumbled cookies or pound cake on top. Add another layer of lemon curd and whipped cream. Top with candied lemon zest and a cookie.

* Meyer lemon season in Southern California starts in January and can extend to April.

Author’s Note: The missing cookbook was later discovered. It was hiding underneath a stack of ignored bills.

January 10November 14

Kitchen Readings

Thanks to a posting on Places for Writers I found this website for “The Kitchen Reading Series,” where authors read three minutes of their material–on videotape–in their kitchen.

Most of the writers featured in this first series are poets with a sprinkling of fiction/non-fiction writers. Though taped in authors’ kitchens, there isn’t a clear link between their work and the location.

Food Writers: A call to action!

If you have a video camera and short piece of literary material you’re proud of, I say submit your work! Clearly, there’s a need for food writers to represent themselves on their home turf!*

Of all the videos posted, I found Anna Leventhal’s reading of her work to be the most powerful. Though beautifully written and hauntingly staged, Leventhal’s reading does include some disturbing/offensive language.

*Anyone in the LA area care to loan me their video camera for a few hours? I’m very trustworthy. 🙂

January 9November 14

Barack, the food critic

If you could invite any three living people to dinner, who would you invite? Based on a recent, unscientific poll of co-workers, the most frequently invited guest to dinner was Barack Obama.

In what may be a first for many Barack-loving foodies, we find this clip (thanks Karen R. for the Los Angeles Times heads up!) of President Elect Obama on a never-aired 2001 public television show “Check Please.”

After seeing the video clip, I’m tempted to ignore my other two hypothetical invitees (sorry Alice Waters, sorry Ceasar Milan) and plan for a hypothetical dinner for two. What an amazing dinner that would be…

from flickr member mikeskliar

January 8

SEO (search engine optimization) for food bloggers

The hardest thing about writing is writing.

The actual act of writing—the sitting in the chair, the stilling of the mind so that the buzz of thought clarifies into one clear idea, the placing of fingers on the keyboard (or pen to paper if you’re really old school), the act of scrawling–the stringing together of letters, words and paragraphs to create a cohesive story—is downright difficult. Writing can be so demanding that the addictive itch of procrastination is enough to make the process nearly impossible.

Take cleaning the bathroom, for example. As tasks go, most people would rather assign the job to someone else. But when writing gets tough, cleaning the bathroom becomes a very fun idea. Or laundry. Laundry can always perk my interest when I’ve got something complicated to write. Checking email or Stumbling through a series of websites just to see where I end up, always entertains. Dusting can be fun when I can’t get my brain wrapped around a story. I love the immediate gratification of seeing a once dirty ledge become clean—just with a simple swipe of my hand!

Based on my procrastinating history it seems that reorganizing the refrigerator, eating a banana, brewing a perfect pot of tea, pacing, reading hundreds of other peoples’ blogs, sweeping, washing dishes, bleaching grout, or making long overdue phone calls with long-lost cousins I haven’t talked to in decades can be much, much, more appealing than writing.

However, I must admit, crafting a really great sentence does give me goose bumps. A well-polished paragraph makes me want to dance, sing, and show off. Truth be told, writing a great story makes me feel like a hero. Dusting never makes me feel like that.

But now that I write about food, I find that it is much easier for me to get my butt in the chair, put my fingers on the keys, and listen for the words to come—granted, a string of sentences can sometimes take me hours, but they do come. The act of writing about food makes me less prone to postpone my work on a regular basis. I’m much more disciplined now. I have to schedule myself to clean the bathroom or bleach the grout. You should have seen my home during my screenwriting days.

So when it comes to my blog—the place where I dedicate many hours to food writing—the last thing I want to consider is search engine optimization. As a matter of fact, it took me nearly half a year before I knew 1) what SEO was (search engine optimization) 2) why I should think about such things.

When I started the blog, my main goal was to do the work and eventually have people find me. I was operating from the Field of Dreams build-it-and-they-will-come philosophy. Though I did receive some immediate recognition, my modest approach didn’t exactly make me an overnight success. I continued to write frequently, but my low traffic numbers started to concern me. What was I doing wrong?

After one long week of procrastinating (researching what SEO was, how one can improve SEO, how much it costs to have someone tell you how to be seen on line), I discovered Lotus Jump, a relatively inexpensive way to improve websites’ search engine ranking.

MAKING SEO FUN

Lotus Jump, I discovered, is an Internet based SEO software service that creates custom link-building tasks that helps boost websites authority and rankings. After watching the demo, I understood the service to be sort of like an in-house consultant that I could turn to whenever I wanted.

Since I didn’t have a lot of money to spare, I decided to sign up for a month to check it out. I’m still in the beginning stages of working with Lotus Jump, but within a month of doing the assigned tasks—and I haven’t been going crazy doing everything, else consider myself a full time SEO procrastinator–I’ve already seen a 100 percent jump in my traffic.

If you’re a blogger and have no idea what SEO is, then I suggest just taking a peek over at their website and see how it works. (Full disclosure: I am NOT getting paid to write about Lotus Jump. I will, however, be featured on their blog.) Lotus Jump offer a seven day trial for free, so if you want to get a crash course in SEO, go over to their site and sign up for a week. I can’t say that Lotus Jump is perfect. They still need to work out some kinks for us food blogger types (i.e. not all of their suggested activities are applicable) but they seem open to suggestions and the activities themselves are an excellent way to train yourself to think about maximizing your efforts in building yourself a bigger readership. Maybe I’ll continue using them, maybe I won’t. I’ll give it some more time to see if it’s worth it.

In the mean time, as much as working the lists of Lotus Jump feels like procrastinating, it has had verifiable benefits. Using Lotus Jump’s guided to-do lists have created a huge (100 percent) increase in my blog’s traffic in a very short time. In short, time on Lotus Jump equals better SEO ranking.

My goal as a writer is to continue to write great content increase my readership. Lotus Jump has helped guide me through SEO and, most importantly, taught me to think about SEO as part of the writing process, not procrastinating.

January 7November 14

Butternut Squash Gratin, 2009 Revisited

If a face can launch a thousand ships, what power could a butternut squash have? Turns out one baked butternut squash from Tuscany topped with melted sheep’s milk cheese had the power to change my life.

Flash back to more than a year ago. While on my honeymoon in Italy, my newly minted husband and I stopped for a late lunch in the town of Montepulciano at a tiny restaurant named Osteria Aquachetta.

Among the many Tuscan dishes we sampled, it was a simple side of fresh-from-the-hearth butternut squash with melted sheep’s milk cheese that made us return for dinner several hours later, only so that we could taste the contorni again. The flavors of sweet, caramelized squash united with the oozing, nutty and tart layers of sheep’s milk cheese in a combination of flavor so powerful, I found myself reconsidering everything I knew about food.

Quite simply, when I took that first bite of butternut squash gratin, I saw God. As I relished in the simplicity of the dish—the tender orange meat layered with gooey rounds of sheep’s milk cheese–I could see in perfect detail just how lucky I was to be alive, to be in love, and to be eating as well as I was. In this culinary aha moment, I knew that my time had come to use my craft as a writer to document each and every great meal.

A FOOD WRITER IS BORN

After that fateful meal, I returned home with a new perspective. For the first time I could remember, I began thinking about food as an art form I could master. I put away my novels and began reading cookbooks. I studied the knife skills and cooking techniques of the restaurant’s chefs. I took note of every prep cook’s secrets (like how they de-boned salted anchovies under a steady stream of cold water). I mustered my courage and asked my culinary hero (and boss), Nancy Silverton, for detailed culinary advice about how to perfect this recipe.

After multiple attempts, I settled on a simple recipe with good ingredients that proved to be as close as I could get to the original dish I sampled at the Osteria Aquacheta. I posted the recipe on my newborn blog and moved on.

photo by White on Rice

Since posting that first recipe in November of 2007, a lot has changed. I cook differently. I make meals with confidence. I cook with growing understanding. Cookbooks are my friends but not my sole confidants.

The following recipe is a tiny reminder of all the things I learned in 2008. Where I once was stymied by a lack knowledge, I now have the vocabulary and a growing skill set to know where to look for answers. Though I may still be a padawan learner, I am on the right path.

My updated Butternut Squash recipe has texture and another layer of sweet, nuttiness from fresh pistachios. The crunch of breadcrumbs, the sweetness of the squash, the salted nuttiness of the sheep’s milk cheese and the unifying flavors of the pistachio nuts makes this dish my favorite dish of 2009.

photo by White on Rice

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My 2009 Butternut Squash Gratin

Find the longest necked butternut squash you can find for this recipe. Reserve the seed-holding cavity of the squash for another use.

2 Butternut Squash necks, cut into 3/4 inch rounds
½- lb Pecorino Fresca, cut into ¼ inch thick slices. (Idiazábal, a Spanish hard cheese made from the milk of the long-haired Lacha sheep is a good substitute. Grate, if the cheese is too hard for slicing)
½ cup olive oil, with extra for drizzling
½ cup home made bread crumbs*
1/4 cup chopped pistachio nuts
Maldon sea salt, to taste
Freshly ground pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 375. Peel the squash, cut into uniform rounds. Toss the butternut squash with oil in a medium sized bowl, making sure to coat the rounds with oil. Arrange the squash rounds in a medium-sized casserole dish, allowing for some layering. Pour the remaining oil over the squash. Bake in the oven for approximately 30 minutes, or until the squash is tender enough for a fork to pierce the meat, but not buttery soft. Remove from oven and set aside to cool. This step can be done in advance.

Once the squash is cool enough to touch, begin layering slices of cheese between the rounds of the butternut in the casserole dish. For individual portions, stack two or three butternut squash rounds on top of each other with layers of cheese in between.

When finished layering, sprinkle the entire dish with bread crumbs, then top with the chopped pistachio nuts. Drizzle lightly with olive oil to moisten the breadcrumbs. Finish with a sprinkling of Maldon sea salt and black pepper. Bake at 375 for another 10-20 minutes, or until the cheese is melted and the squash is soft.

If you desire, turn the oven to broil to caramelize the top of the gratin. Put under the flames for just 2-3 minutes. Serve. Add additional seasoning or red chili flakes if spice is desired.

*Grind left over bread (or toasted fresh bread) with a food processor until a mildly course texture. Add 2 tablespoons of chopped parsley and a hearty pinch of Malden sea salt. Toss. If bread is soft, spread onto a cookie sheet, drizzle with a touch of olive oil and toast in oven (250-300°) until a light, golden brown. Store extra breadcrumbs in an air tight container.