Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘oil’

IMG_4635

For a change, here’s a tale of redemption preceded by really breathtaking incompetence. I had one All-Clad pan, a quart of olive oil, and a dream. And the result was I chased a good 97% of the oxygen out of my house. Man, I wish I were kidding.

I’ve never written about deep-frying because I’ve never done it before Wednesday night, when I made fried zucchini blossoms. I’ve always wanted to try them, and I was so excited when one of my readers submitted her recipe for my cooking project. When a native Roman offers you a recipe for this, you take it. Here it is, lightly edited.

Fried Zucchini Flowers with Mozzarella and Anchovy

3 or 4 squash flowers per person, very fresh and without the pistils. Flowers are extremely delicate so open them carefully and stuff with a little cube of mozzarella cheese and a piece of anchovy. Then prepare a thick batter with flour, sparkly cold water (or beer). Dip the stuffed flower into the batter and fry in lots of oil, very hot. Remove them when light-brown colored and dry the excess oil with a paper towel. It comes out like a cloud, with inside….the surprise!

Daniela Cassoni

Rome, Italy

gourmetaly.com

First I went to my favorite organic farm to pick some flowers, male ones. Males are just flowers; they won’t have a little tiny zucchini on the stem, or a little tiny pumpkin*. They’re both in the same Curcubit family and so the flowers look very similar. Either will work. Took a peek to make sure there weren’t any bugs inside the flowers, taking a breather from the heat. There were. Shook them out.

Then I went home and got started on this very simple recipe. Daniela doesn’t give amounts, so I winged it, and it still worked fine. That part, anyway. I pulled apart fresh mozzarella into pieces about the size of a grape, but I could have made them bigger. For the batter, I combined 1/2 cup all-purpose flour with 1/2 cup cold filtered water** and stirred it with a fork. The batter wasn’t as thick as she suggested it should be, but this worked for me. I lined a plate with a napkin so the flowers could drain on it as I took them out of the oil.

Don’t I sound so on-the-ball so far? What a superhero!

Now for the smoke part…

1) I should have washed the flowers and removed the pistils before heating up the oil. I’ll rephrase: The oil got way overheated and started puffing smoke. So when I put the flowers in they cooked within three seconds and in the fourth turned black, emitting several uncomfortable-looking bits of charred flour or cheese or anchovy for all I know. Unless oil can solidify and burn? Lord knows it was hot enough, so this is entirely possible.

2) I set the oil on high. Newsflash, Maris: oil will get as hot as Daniela says it needs to be if you have it on medium or medium-low and wait a little. Then it won’t, you know, smoke up the place so much that you expect Bela Lugosi to pop by.

Result: It smoked up the place, Bela Lugosi summarily ran for his life, the fire alarm in my hallway went off, I grabbed a chair to stand on, yanked the contraption apart with one hand and held a battered, cheesed, anchovied flower in the other. Then I opened every single window and my back door.

But I kept going. So the oil sort of shone in a lurid way! So the house was thick as pea soup! I had flowers to fry. One by one I dropped them in, and after every other breath (read: cough) I took them out.

I didn’t expect them to taste good—look at the picture below, they’re not exactly the picture of health—but I was knocked out.  It sounded a lot like this: ‘COUGHCOUGHCOUGHCOUGHcrunchoooooohnotbad! Pretty freaking amazing, actually. Crunch. Oh my…God. WOW!’

IMG_4686

Exhausted.

I ate every single one within 30 seconds and while standing at my counter. It was impossible to stop.

When you make these—and I hope you will, because they are RIDICULOUSLY delicious—do as I say and not as I do: do your prep work in advance, have the oil on medium or medium-low heat and make sure it doesn’t smoke. It will get hot enough soon enough. Olive oil has a high smoke point, too. Use canola for a better shot. Then work quickly and serve immediately.

IMG_4684

Daniela, thank you for the recipe. Next time I’ll do right by it.

And as has become the custom when I foul up, I’m entertaining suggestions on how to remove the burnt oil from the sides of the pan. No, really.

IMG_4687

Pouting.

*I’m sure there’s a more scientific or at the very least educated way of describing this. It will not be found on this blog.

**Didn’t use sparkling because I don’t like it as a drink, and didn’t want to waste it. Same goes for beer. If any of you make the recipe Daniela’s way, please write in and let me know how it tastes. I’m curious.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

IMG_4230

I know it’s almost Valentine’s Day and I know that’s not a picture of heart-shaped Scharffen Berger chocolate and Bordeaux up there. I’m dispensing with tradition again and deliberately not talking about candy and wine in the interest of…well…I don’t want to be trite, especially not this week. I don’t even want to get into the gooey romantic language, if I can help it. Hope you’re good with that.

Instead we’ll salivate over other combinations I adore,* stuff that’s not typical, starting with sandwiches. The first one, above and at the very bottom, makes an incredible lunch.

-Sweet** onion (like a Vidalia), caramelized in olive oil or butter

-Chicken, roasted (or grilled, or whatever), shredded and added to the onion

-Apple (pick anything that’s not a McIntosh because those’ll just dissolve on you), sliced, don’t bother to peel it, thrown into the pan with the onions and chicken and cooked until golden brown

-Fontina (a European, kinda nutty, kinda pungent, eminently oozeable cheese that any supermarket has)

-Ground allspice, a few shakes into the onion/chicken/apple pan

-Black pepper, coarsely ground  (I like a lot in this) into the pan as well

Now. Butter and toast your bread under the broiler (I used a Cuban roll because it was all the bakery downtown had left but it was awesome), melt your cheese, then pile your stuff on top.

IMG_4250

When I shot this I accidentally had the camera set on video like a dope. So right now I have valuable footage of a sardine sandwich in its natural habitat, on a plate, on my dining room table. It’s fascinating. They’re very docile, much quieter than you’d imagine.

The next sandwich, above, makes an incredible breakfast if you’re my mom. I grew up in a house that relished the combination of sardines and raw onion on a sandwich. The above is normal to me and wildly addictive, too, actually. I hope I don’t lose subscribers over this.

-Sardines (skinless and boneless, packed in either water or olive oil)

-Mayo

-Red*** onion, thinly sliced

-Bread of some sort (I used a whole wheat roll from Trader Joe’s)

-Salt to taste

Add mayo to bread. Add the rest. Wipe exertion from brow.

Since many of you are already appalled, another delirious combination is tuna packed in oil into which you’ve mixed in a good amount of anchovy paste. Keep the sliced raw onion, hold the mayo, and sandwich-ify.

IMG_2105

Other yummy food combinations:

-Almond extract, just a teaspoon or so, baked into anything that features peaches, nectarines, cherries or apricots. Almonds and all of these fruits are botanical cousins. Ever notice that the pit of a peach looks a lot like an unshelled almond? Yep. And they are lovely together.****

-Mushrooms cooked with a few splashes of chicken broth. Not cousins, to be sure, but for some reason they bring out the best in each other, like Tim Burton and Danny Elfman. Okay, mellower than the two of them, but the point stands.

IMG_4229

*Sorry. Crap. That was quick.

*Totally not my fault. Vidalias are sweet!

***It’s a color, not a holiday.

****%&#%*!!!

Read Full Post »

Last week I decided I was going to make hot pepper oil, something I had never made before.

Hot pepper flakes from the supermarket come in a little jar. I shake some into my pan of waiting olive oil and turn on the heat to medium.

The kitchen is at one end of my apartment and my PC is at the other. (This is the part where I blame the arbitrary layout of my apartment to the initial failure of this recipe.) I head down the hall to check how my mutual fund is doing (Okay, it wasn’t so much the mutual fund as email. Actually, it wasn’t so much email as Facebook) and within a few minutes smell a really off, chemical, burning odor. I run down the hallway to pull the pan and its tiny black dots floating in oil off the heat.

Right, now what do I do with this pan of hot oil? I want to try the recipe again, but all of my other pans are in the sink, and I could pretend I want to wash them, but I’m not feeling imaginative.

So the next steps look like this:

1) Congratulate myself for thinking to pour it into the empty cider carton in the trash.

2) Curse myself for having such lousy aim, as 90% of the yuck splashed outside the carton as I poured, hissing like the Kraken after it devoured most of Crete and adding the smell of molten plastic to the already appealing smell of burnt oil.

Sigh. Hot pepper oil recipe, take 2. Here is what worked:

I buy whole dried hot red peppers at a specialty store, which are as long than your thumb and half the width. They don’t give off that bizarre chemical smell; instead they just smell spicy. All right so far. I grind them up, put them in the saucepan and add the oil. The ratio of oil to flakes is up to you, depending on how much you want to end up with and how spicy you like your oil. It takes experimentation (which has been well, and painfully, documented in this blog).

I set the heat to the lowest setting and stay in the kitchen for once. The oil should never boil; the red pepper flakes should instead move around in it like they’re learning Tai Chi, or are doing a fight scene imitation from The Matrix.

Once you smell the pepper, it’s done.

Let the oil cool off the heat—completely. Then take a funnel and sieve and set them over your bottle or jar or whatever you want to use to store your oil. Pour the hot pepper oil carefully through the sieve and funnel. It will be a lovely goldeny orange color.

Attach your nozzle or lid and you’re done. Store it in the fridge if you have a lot or aren’t going to use it right away. The counter top is fine to stash a small amount or if you’re using it right up.

This is my everyday saute oil for vegetables (especially broccoli, cauliflower, greens or sliced butternut squash), for sauteing an onion before making soup or risotto, for drizzling on top of your lentil stew or pasta. Garlic is its best friend; other good acquaintances are toasted Italian bread, sausages and the tomato in any guise.

Of course it loves goofing off with its first cousins, roasted sweet bell peppers or frying peppers. Scrambled eggs cooked in red pepper oil will make morning time far less dreary. It gives brightness and power to almost anything you pair with it. Plain olive oil will become yawnworthy to you.

Read Full Post »