Simple Feasts for a Long Table
There are occasions throughout the year, usually built around some solstice or other, when a celebration is called for. And it is always someone’s birthday. Instead of having a so-so (and quickly forgotten) meal at a restaurant, or engaging a caterer to bring the dinner to you, cook it! The very gesture of setting up a long table is a festive act: this is something special! And the menu needn’t be complicated. In fact, it shouldn’t be. The fact of gathering is what counts. And it’s much easier than you might think.
The way I think about it, the bigger the group, the simpler the food. It’s an excellent idea to ask a couple of friends to help in the kitchen and with serving, or even hire some assistance with the dishes. For ease of service, I’ve planned it so the main course in these menus is the sit-down course. I think it’s unnecessarily complicated to serve a first course of a soup or a salad with all the attendant bowls and plates. So, in each menu I’ve suggested a stand-up appetizer as a first course for nibbling. It could be as simple as bowls of olives, radishes, and almonds.
As for the end of the meal, I’ve suggested simple desserts, but I never have qualms about farming out dessert. People are always asking what they should bring. If you have a friend who loves to make desserts, make sure she’s invited. If the occasion’s a birthday or anniversary, ask someone to make a cake. Or serve a voluptuous platter of seasonal fruits: strawberries in the spring, stone fruit and berries in summer, grapes and pears and apples in autumn, tangerines in winter.
spring feast
Roast Suckling Pig Italian-Style with Roman Potatoes
Salad of Fennel and Bitter Greens
Almond Cookies and a Bowl of Cherries
summer feast
fall feast
Roasted and Braised Turkey with Gravy
Chicken Liver and Apple Stuffing
winter feast
Hair of the Dog, Salty Dog, and Other Grapefruit Drinks
Quick Bread-and-Butter Pickles
Black-eyed Peas with Ham Hocks and Bacon
Lemon Curd Shortbread with Candied Kumquat
spring feast
Roast Suckling Pig Italian-Style with Roman Potatoes
Salad of Fennel and Bitter Greens
Almond Cookies and a Bowl of Cherries
Who doesn’t love suckling pig? It’s considered special-occasion food from San Juan to Napoli.
This menu could go so many ways, with any number of accompaniments and seasonings. You want to season the pig, but you don’t want to overwhelm its young succulence. In fact, this little pig needs so little help, salt and pepper would do just fine. Chinese five-spice powder might inspire accompaniments of roasted yams, steamed rice, and garlicky Asian greens. Cubans like to marinate their pig in citrus juices and garlic and serve it with beans and fried plantains. Italian-style suckling pig, like this one, is scented with rosemary and fennel seeds and served with crisp roasted potatoes and a salad of sweet fennel and bitter greens.
In general, a young pig will feed its weight in people—i.e., a 15- to 20-pound pig will be ample for 15 to 20 people. These small pigs are usually available from good Italian, Chinese, or Latino butchers, but you’ll need to order in advance.
The difference between these marinated artichokes and commercial artichokes in jars (too heavy on vinegar, drowning in mediocre oil) is light-years.
5 pounds baby artichokes, about 2 dozen
Grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
½ cup olive oil
Salt and pepper
A small glass of dry white wine
3 or 4 thyme sprigs
4 small garlic cloves, chopped
A generous pinch of red pepper flakes
1 bunch parsley, leaves roughly chopped
To prepare the baby artichokes, cut off the tops and remove a few outer leaves from each to reveal the pale green centers. Trim the stem ends with a paring knife. Halve the artichokes lengthwise and put them in a bowl of cool water. Squeeze in the lemon juice and reserve until you’re ready to cook them.
Heat the olive oil in a large skillet (not cast iron). Drain the artichokes. Add them to the pan and season well with salt and pepper, then add the wine and thyme and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the artichokes are tender when you test them with a fork, about 10 minutes.
Add the garlic and red pepper flakes, stir, and cook for a minute. Off the heat, stir in the lemon zest and chopped parsley. Transfer the artichokes to a low, wide serving dish and let cool to room temperature.
When the artichokes are cool, taste for salt and lemon juice. They should be very well seasoned, because fresh baby artichokes can be sweet and need salt and acidity to balance the flavor. Cover and leave at room temperature until ready to serve, up to several hours hence.
When your guests arrive, place the artichokes on a side table as the heart of your antipasto. Surround with bowls of olives, crisp radishes, sliced fresh mozzarella, a few slices of prosciutto and salami, and perhaps a focaccia.
A suckling pig benefits greatly from seasoning overnight, but good luck to anyone trying to find room to fit a whole pig in the refrigerator. A fine way to accomplish this is to put the seasoned pig in a big plastic bag and store it in a camping cooler with a bag of ice. In the same vein, make sure you have a roasting pan big enough to hold the whole pig and that your oven, with all but one shelf removed, will accommodate both pig and pan.
1 young pig, 15 to 20 pounds
Salt and pepper
1 tablespoon fennel seeds, crushed in a mortar
½ cup rosemary leaves
½ cup sage leaves and tender stems
2 heads garlic, broken into cloves, peeled, and roughly chopped
1 tablespoon olive oil
Rinse the pig, pat it dry, and lay it on its side in a large roasting pan. Season it generously on both sides and inside the cavity with salt, pepper, and the fennel seeds.
Mix the rosemary, sage, and garlic together with a generous amount of coarsely ground black pepper and the olive oil, and smear the mixture inside the cavity.
With a heavy-duty needle and thread or butcher’s twine, sew up the cavity with a few quick loops, just to hold it together. Configure the pig with all 4 legs pointing forward and transfer it from the roasting pan to a plastic bag. Pack it into a cooler with a bag of ice and leave it overnight.
The next day, remove the pig from the cooler and bag and put it in the roasting pan. Let it come to room temperature, probably a couple of hours.
Preheat the oven to 400°F. Pour an inch of water into the roasting pan and put the pig in the oven. After 30 minutes, reduce the oven to 325°F, and continue roasting, basting occasionally with the juices in the pan (you can use a bunch of rosemary as a basting brush). If any part of the pig (like the snout, tail, or ears) begins to get too brown, wrap a piece of foil around it. At 2 hours, check the thick part of the leg with your instant-read thermometer: it should read 150°F, and the juices should run clear.
Pierce the skin in a few places behind the shoulders to release a little of the fat to help crisp the skin. Turn up the heat to 500°F to crackle the skin for about 10 minutes (the time will depend on the heat of your oven). The skin should be a rich mahogany color. Remove the pig from the oven and let it rest in the roasting pan for 20 to 30 minutes.
Transfer the pig to a large carving board. Reserve the roasting pan with its juices for the potatoes. You can carve the pig as you would a turkey, taking pieces off the carcass, but I prefer to separate the pig into large pieces: the forelegs, the hind legs, and the center. You’re not going for perfectly carved thin slices. The ideal is rough chunks of meat with some crisp skin attached. I use a sharp heavy Chinese cleaver, making it easy to take out the midsection, which contains the loins and ribs, cutting right through the crisp skin and tender bones. Now cut the midsection into small pieces. Serve the meat right from the cutting board—that way, you can cut more meat as you need it—and pass the potatoes.
Roman Potatoes
These potatoes are parboiled, then roasted with the pan juices of the suckling pig, which makes them the crispiest and best roasted potatoes on earth. Choose small potatoes like Yellow Finn, Yukon Gold, or Bintje. Plan on a half pound per person. There will not be leftovers!
Peel your potatoes, then boil them ahead of time in a large pot of salted water for about 10 minutes; they should still be rather firm. Spread them out to cool.
Turn the oven down to 400°F. While the pig is resting, put the potatoes in the roasting pan in one layer. Turn them in the juices with a wooden spoon to coat them evenly. You may need to add a splash of water.
Put the pan in the oven and roast the potatoes. They should be brown and crispy in about 15 to 20 minutes. Shake the pan but try not to move the potatoes until they’re well browned. Pile them on a warm platter, sprinkle with chopped parsley, and serve.
Salad of Fennel and Bitter Greens
Fennel is probably my favorite cool-weather vegetable. Hold out for tender, young fennel that looks alive and freshly picked, with nice pale green bulbs. It’s amazing how fast fennel loses its flavor as it ages. You want that delicious, juicy snap. Fennel and pork work perfectly together. The sweet fennel in the salad echoes the fennel-seed seasoning of the pork. And it’s a perfect foil for radicchio and other slightly bitter greens.
for the vinaigrette
1 large shallot, finely diced
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
Salt and pepper
2 garlic cloves, smashed to a paste with a little salt
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
½ cup olive oil
for the salad
6 fennel bulbs, very fresh
Salt and pepper
Juice of ½ lemon
8 to 10 large handfuls assorted bitter greens, such as radicchio, castelfranco, and escarole, curly or otherwise, washed
Make the vinaigrette an hour or two ahead if you wish: Macerate the shallot in the vinegars with a little salt in a small bowl. Whisk together with the garlic and mustard, then whisk in the olive oil. Grind in a little fresh pepper, taste, and adjust the seasoning. Set the vinaigrette aside.
I believe most people don’t trim fennel properly. The outer layer of the bulb can be very tough and fibrous, and it really must be removed. And, except for very young fennel bulbs, the core should be removed as well. First cut off the stalks, then slice off a little bit of the root end—this will allow you to peel away the tough outer layer. Put the trimmed fennel bulbs in a bowl of cold water until you are ready to use them.
To make the salad, cut the fennel bulbs lengthwise in half, and notch out the cores with a paring knife if they seem at all tough. Slice the fennel bulbs thin (but not paper-thin) with a sharp knife or a mandoline. Put the slices in a large salad bowl and cover with a damp towel. (Do this only up to 10 minutes before serving, or the fennel will begin to turn brown and lose its fresh-sliced flavor.)
To dress the salad, season the sliced fennel with salt and pepper and lemon juice. Pour in enough of the vinaigrette to dress the fennel lightly. Add the salad greens and another light sprinkling of salt. Gently mix the leaves with the fennel so the leaves are well coated and the fennel is nicely distributed throughout. Add more vinaigrette if necessary.
These little almond cookies taste so very Italian, and they’re everything I want in a cookie—crisp exterior, moist center, slightly chewy. Accompany them with a huge bowl of cherries. It’s a real sign of spring when cherries show up at the market. Look for cherries with fresh stems and firm shiny flesh.
1 cup raw almonds
½ teaspoon baking powder
Pinch of salt
¾ pound good-quality almond paste
1 egg white, beaten
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
Powdered sugar
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grind the almonds to a fine powder in a spice grinder or a food processor. Put the almonds in a mixing bowl and stir in the baking powder and salt. Add the almond paste, egg white, and vanilla and mix well until a nice dough forms.
Roll the dough into 2 dozen little balls, about 1 inch in diameter. Put the little almond balls on a parchment-lined baking sheet, about 1 inch apart.
Sprinkle the cookies with powdered sugar and bake for 12 to 14 minutes. The cookies will puff and crackle a bit, and they’ll be done when they turn just barely golden. Cool them on a rack.
summer feast
I went to a party once, way out in the country outside Mexico City. The hostess, a well-known Mexican chef, had set an enormous long table in the courtyard of an old hacienda. We feasted all night on traditional regional cuisine. Ringing the outdoor dining area were little food concessions, each with its specialty: ceviche, tamales, camarones. One of the best offerings was called barbacoa, kid goat simmered in an enormous kettle set over a wood fire. Barbacoa sounds like “barbecue,” but it is really a slow braise, a simmered version of the spit-roasted or pit-cooked cabrito popular all over Mexico. The advantages of cooking the goat in a pot are twofold: you get the succulent meat as well as the delicious broth it’s cooked in.
This simmered goat stew was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten, and now it is one of my favorite things to cook. It’s perfect for a crowd, and leftovers (if there are any) are welcome the next day for making tacos al pastor.
If you can’t get a kid goat, substitute larger cuts of mature goat or lamb. You can also adapt the recipe and make the dish with pork or chicken.
Salpicón is a Mexican cross between a salsa and a vinaigrette, very fresh, bright, and crunchy. This could be served as a stand-up appetizer the way I suggest here—with half avocados filled with lobster, to be eaten with a spoon—or folded into little tortillas for stand-up tacos, or it could be plated as a first course. You can easily substitute shrimp or crabmeat for the lobster.
1½ pounds freshly cooked lobster meat, roughly chopped
1 large sweet onion, finely diced
2 sweet red peppers, finely diced
2 bunches radishes, finely diced
1 large cucumber, peeled and finely diced
4 Roma (plum) tomatoes, finely diced
1 or 2 serrano chiles, very finely chopped
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
Juice of 2 limes
1 small bunch cilantro, leaves and tender stems chopped
6 firm but ripe avocados, halved and pitted
Lime wedges
You can prepare all the ingredients ahead and keep them cold, but don’t dress the lobster until you’re ready to serve it.
Put the lobster and all the chopped vegetables (including the chiles) in a large mixing bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Add the olive oil and lime juice. Toss carefully and well. Taste and adjust the seasonings. Add the cilantro.
Spoon the salpicón into the avocado halves and serve them with lime wedges.
Like any great stew, this dish benefits from overnight seasoning. Even better, cook it the day before you serve it.
6 dried ancho chiles
10 cups water
¼ cup cider vinegar or rice wine vinegar
2 small heads garlic, broken into cloves and peeled
One 12- to 15-pound kid goat, cut into 6 or 8 pieces (legs, shoulders, midsection)
Salt and pepper
2 bay leaves
1 cinnamon stick
A few whole cloves
2 tablespoons cumin seeds, toasted and ground
Pinch of dried oregano
4 large onions, finely diced
for serving
1 bunch cilantro, leaves and tender stems chopped
1 small onion, finely diced
Lime wedges
Corn tortillas
Heat a cast-iron pan over medium heat and toast the chiles just until they puff up a little and become fragrant. Remove the chiles from the pan and take out the seeds. Put the chiles in a small saucepan, cover with 2 cups of the water, and boil for 5 minutes.
Put the chiles, cooking liquid, and vinegar in a blender along with the garlic. Puree the mixture and cool.
Season the goat meat generously with salt and pepper. Smear the chile paste all over the pieces. Wrap the meat and refrigerate overnight.
The next day, preheat the oven to 325°F. Put the meat in a deep roasting pan. Add the remaining 8 cups water, the bay leaves, cinnamon stick, cloves, cumin, oregano, and onions. Cover, put in the oven, and cook for about 3 hours, until the meat is falling from the bone.
Remove the pan from the oven. Pour off the liquid into a large bowl. Let it sit for a minute, then skim off any fat on the surface.
Tear the meat into rough pieces, then pour the broth over.
Ladle the meat and broth into shallow soup bowls along with a spoonful of green rice. Garnish wth the cilantro and diced onion, and serve with lime wedges and warm tortillas.
This kind of rice, cooked in an earthenware cazuela, is made all over Mexico. It is green or red, depending on whether you make it with tomatillos or tomatoes. The rice gains flavor if you cook it in chicken broth, but you can make it vegetarian as well.
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, finely diced
2 cups long-grain white rice
1 cup chopped cilantro
2 or 3 garlic cloves
10 medium tomatillos, husked, rinsed, and halved
1 serrano chile, roughly chopped
2 teaspoons salt
About 2 cups chicken broth or water
for garnish
Chopped cilantro
Slivered scallions
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Warm the olive oil in a 15-inch-diameter cazuela or a wide heavy-bottomed ovenproof pot over medium heat. Add the onion and turn up the heat a little to let it lightly fry, soften, and color a bit. Stir in the rice to coat well and let the rice and onion cook together for a couple of minutes.
Meanwhile, puree the cilantro, garlic, tomatillos, chile, and salt in a blender with 2 cups broth or water. For 2 cups of rice, you want about 4 cups of liquid; if you need more liquid, add some broth or water.
Pour the green puree into the rice pot and stir well. Bring the mixture to a brisk simmer and let it cook for about 5 minutes.
Put the pot in the oven, uncovered. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove the pot from the oven, cover it with a clean kitchen towel, and let it rest for 15 minutes before serving. (It can sit for up to an hour or be reheated.)
Garnish with a handful of chopped cilantro leaves and a few slivered scallions to heighten the color.
On a hot day in Mexico, the wares from the mango vendor, who sells luscious fresh mangoes impaled on a stick, sliced decoratively and ready to eat, are an outstanding treat. At home, it’s traditional to make this inside-out version of cut mangoes.
Mangoes have a big pit in the center. Prepare 6 large mangoes by cutting off 2 fat slices of mango as close to the pit as possible, one on either side. You’ll have 2 lush mango halves from each and a pit worth nibbling on. To make the pattern, score the flesh of the mango both lengthwise and crosswise, being careful not to pierce the skin. Then, with your thumbs, push on the skin side to turn the mango half inside out.
Pile the cut mangoes on a platter and serve.
fall feast
Roasted and Braised Turkey with Gravy
Chicken Liver and Apple Stuffing
I have a way of cooking turkey that I do year-round. It’s unconventional but nonetheless excellent. The problem with roasting a whole turkey is that the breast always dries out before the legs are done. My method solves this problem. First the legs are braised, and a delicious gravy is made from the leg braise. Then the breast is roasted separately, which keeps it moist and juicy. If you feel this is sacrilegious, you can roast a whole turkey for show, but this method is truly worth it.
If this is a Thanksgiving meal, the best strategy is to declare, along with the invitations, that you’ll make the turkey, the stuffing, the gravy, and the cranberry chutney and let your guests bring the rest. It’s a great day to give up control, provided you’re the one who makes sure you’ll have the best damn turkey in town.
americans abroad
One year, I was the one making Thanksgiving dinner in Paris, and for this particular meal, it seemed as if we had every expat in town descend on our little Paris apartment on the rue St. Jacques. There were going to be about forty-five of us in all. So I went to my neighborhood butcher, Charcellet, to get my turkey. They have really good turkeys in France—small but tasty—and Parisians know about la fête américaine. I told the butcher that I wanted him to take the breasts off, take the legs off, and save me all the bones. I told him I needed three birds, see you tomorrow, au revoir.
I came back the next day and he showed me what he’d done: instead of cutting off the legs and breasts, he had deboned the whole turkeys, as only a master butcher can do. I marveled. It turned out to be a brilliant solution, because we have the tiniest oven in the world. At first the birds were flat as roadkill, but I put salt and pepper all over them, smeared the insides with garlic and thyme and sage in great quantity, molded them back into a bird shape, and tied them with string to keep them compact.
Long story short, I found that three compact little re-formed turkeys would fit side by side in one roasting pan. When they came out of the oven, I had perfectly cooked roast turkeys with not a speck of unusable anything! And the cooking time was only an hour and a half.
Our friends said it was the best turkey they’d ever had in their lives. You could slice through the body as if it were a galantine—all meat and no stuffing. And this technique applies to every other bird in the world. All you need is a good butcher or a lot of patience. Simpler by far is the recipe for the deconstructed bird that follows.
Roasted and Braised Turkey with Gravy
I always prefer to cook a smaller turkey. The secret to great flavor is to season the turkey overnight, so begin this process the day before. You can make the broth a day ahead, too.
Have the butcher remove the legs with the thighs attached, cut off the wings, and cut the boneless breast in 2 pieces. While you’re at it, ask him to chop up the carcass for your stock. You’ll be going home with 2 whole legs with thighs, 2 wings, the skin-on breast in 2 pieces, and a bag of bones. Make sure to get the giblets, too.
for the turkey
One 12- to 14-pound turkey, cut into six parts (as above)
Salt and pepper
1 bunch sage leaves, chopped
1 small bunch thyme, leaves stripped and chopped
6 garlic cloves, smashed to a paste with a little salt
2 tablespoons olive oil
for the broth
3 pounds turkey carcass and bones (or other poultry bones)
1 large onion, peeled, halved, and stuck with 1 clove
1 carrot, peeled and chopped
1 celery stalk, chopped
2 bay leaves
2 or 3 slices dried porcini mushroom
About 6 quarts water
for the braise
3 tablespoons butter
2 large onions, chopped
Salt and pepper
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 cup dry red wine
Parsley or watercress sprigs
Put all the turkey pieces out on a big cutting board and season well on both sides with salt and pepper.
Mix the sage, thyme, and garlic in a small bowl, and add the olive oil. Spoon the seasoning mixture over the meat and smear it in well. Put the legs and wings in a container, cover, and refrigerate. Wrap the breasts in plastic and refrigerate.
To make the broth, preheat the oven to 400°F. Put the turkey carcass and bones, onion, carrot, celery, and bay leaves in a roasting pan and into the oven. Roast for about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until everything is nicely browned.
Transfer the browned vegetables and bones to a big soup pot. Splash a little water into the roasting pan to dissolve any tasty bits left in the pan, and pour into the pot. Add the dried mushroom and water and bring to a boil. Skim off the scum, turn the heat down to a simmer, and let it cook slowly for 1½ to 2 hours.
Strain the broth through a sieve. You should have about 5 quarts of turkey broth. Cool, then refrigerate; when ready to use, skim off the fat that has risen to the surface.
To make the braise, preheat the oven to 400°F. Put the legs and wings in a large roasting pan, with enough room so they’re not crowded. Put the pan in the oven and let the parts roast while you prepare the braising liquid.
In a large skillet over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the onions and season them with salt and pepper. Let them cook gently, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 10 minutes. Turn up the heat and let the onions color a little bit.
With a wooden spoon, stir in the flour and tomato paste and mix well. Add the red wine and 2 cups of the turkey broth and bring to a simmer, stirring as the sauce thickens. Gradually stir in 2 more cups of broth.
Remove the pan of legs and wings from the oven. They should be nicely golden, but not too dark. Pour the braising liquid over the legs. Cover the pan tightly with foil and return to the oven. Reduce the heat to 350°F and let it go for about 1½ hours, or until the legs are tender when tested with a fork. Transfer the legs and wings to a cutting board and let them cool slightly.
Strain the braising liquid through a fine-mesh sieve into a saucepan, skimming off any fat that rises. This will be your gravy. Taste the sauce for seasonings and texture. If it’s too thin, reduce it a bit over medium heat until it reaches a consistency you like. Set aside. (The braise can be done hours ahead or the day before and refrigerated.)
When the turkey parts are cool enough to handle, remove the leg meat from the bones in large pieces and tear the meat from the wings. Cut the meat into rough slices and put in a baking dish. Cover and hold at cool room temperature.
Remove the breasts from the refrigerator and let them come to room temperature. The breasts will take only about a half hour to roast, so they can be started up to an hour before dinner in a 375°F oven. Put them in a shallow roasting pan, skin side up, and into the oven. Check at 30 minutes—you want an internal temperature of 140°F. (The temperature will continue to rise as they rest.) Let them rest on a platter, loosely covered, for 15 to 30 minutes before carving.
Shortly before serving, reheat the dark meat in the oven for 10 to 15 minutes, until heated through. Reheat the gravy and put it in a serving bowl.
Slice the turkey breasts on an angle, not too thickly. Arrange the turkey on a warm platter and garnish with parsley or watercress.
Since you’re cooking the turkey in parts, the stuffing bakes in its own dish. You can bake it hours ahead and reheat it just before dinner.
8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter
2 large onions, finely diced
4 celery stalks, finely diced
Salt and pepper
4 tart apples, peeled, cored, and coarsely chopped
½ pound turkey or chicken livers, chopped
1 tablespoon chopped sage
2 teaspoons chopped thyme
10 cups cubed day-old bread (crusts removed), in ¾-inch pieces
1 cup turkey broth
½ cup heavy cream
2 eggs
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Melt the butter in a large skillet. Add the onions and cook until softened. Add the celery and let it soften, then season with salt and pepper. Add the apples and cook for a minute, then stir in the livers. Add the sage and thyme and turn off the heat.
Put the bread cubes in a large mixing bowl and add the contents of the skillet. Stir together well. Pour in the turkey broth and cream and mix well to moisten the bread. Taste and adjust the seasonings; it should be highly seasoned.
Beat the eggs, and stir them in well. Transfer the stuffing to a buttered shallow baking dish. Bake for about 40 minutes, until golden.
This chutney is easy to put together, it keeps for a few days, and you can make it ahead.
3 cups fresh cranberries
¾ cup sugar
One 2-inch piece ginger, peeled and finely slivered
Grated zest of ½ orange
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon cayenne
1 jalapeño, seeded and finely diced
Put the cranberries and sugar in a shallow saucepan or a wide skillet over medium heat, stirring well to dissolve the sugar. Simmer for a few minutes, then add the ginger, orange zest, salt, and cayenne. Continue cooking until the mixture thickens slightly, about 10 minutes.
Stir in the jalapeño. Transfer to a serving bowl and let it cool and jell in the refrigerator before serving.
winter feast
Hair of the Dog, Salty Dog, and Other Grapefruit Drinks
Quick Bread-and-Butter Pickles
Black-eyed Peas with Ham Hocks and Bacon
Lemon Curd Shortbread with Candied Kumquat
This could be an open-house, drop-in kind of spread or a sit-down dinner—a casual meal that goes on throughout the day. It’s a convivial way to celebrate in winter, or to welcome in the New Year.
I wasn’t raised on dried peas and beans, but once I had my first bowl of pinto beans with bacon, I was hooked. I’m a beanophile to the extent that I was once quoted in an interview as saying: “I really love beans.” (I saved the clipping.) Now I’m a full-fledged bean booster. Especially on New Year’s Day, when beans seem to be eaten almost worldwide for their good-luck properties. You can make the black-eyed peas the day before and still party on New Year’s Eve.
There you are in the middle of winter, in a cold, harsh season, and a little sunshine is only too welcome. Citrus is the true gift of winter and there’s something wonderful about freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, mixed with Champagne for a Grapefruit Mimosa, or mixed with vodka for a Salty Dog.
Count on 1 grapefruit per serving; 1 large grapefruit will yield about a cup of juice. There is a world of difference between fresh juice and flash-pasteurized store-bought juice. This is a drink that’s all about the freshness, and no, you can’t squeeze the fruit the day before. And if your New Year’s resolution is a month without alcohol, enjoy a delicious glass of fresh grapefruit juice. You’ll feel virtuous and satisfied.
The proportions for a Grapefruit Mimosa are ⅓ grapefruit juice to ⅔ Champagne. Pour the juice into a Champagne glass, then slowly add the Champagne.
To make a Salty Dog, pour 5 ounces grapefruit juice and 1½ ounces vodka, both well chilled, into a glass with a salted rim. Without the salt, the drink is called a Greyhound. To make a Pamplemousse, add the same amount of Pernod to the juice instead of vodka, and don’t salt the rim.
The concept of the old-fashioned relish tray is a nice one, and always a generous gesture. In some restaurants in Italy, you’re greeted by vegetable bouquets in water glasses bursting with freshly trimmed raw things like fennel and curly Treviso. American restaurants, especially in New York, always used to bring a relish tray along with the bread basket. It’s a habit worth reviving. And nibbling on raw vegetables and an olive or two won’t “spoil your dinner,” as my mother used to say. It’s a welcome thing in all seasons, but especially so during the winter.
Think celery hearts, endive, fennel, carrots, olives, and radishes. Maybe a few spears of half-sour pickle. Even a hothouse-grown cucumber can be refreshing. But in my opinion, raw cauliflower is always a mistake, as are out-of-season cherry tomatoes.
Preparing crudités too far ahead is one of the reasons they have such a bad rap. Though your vegetables will benefit from a brisk cold-water bath, they should be peeled and sliced no more than a few hours before the meal. And, I’m sorry, no sour cream dipping sauce please. The best seasoning for whatever fresh vegetables you choose is a light sprinkling of sea salt.
Quick Bread-and-Butter Pickles
Didn’t make pickles last summer? Make these a couple of days (or even a week) ahead; you’ll have bright homemade pickles for your table.
6 cucumbers, unpeeled, cut into ¼-inch rounds
1 medium onion, sliced very thin
1 sweet red pepper, sliced into thin strips
2 tablespoons kosher salt
2 cups cider vinegar
1 cup sugar
½ teaspoon brown mustard seeds
½ teaspoon yellow mustard seeds
½ teaspoon peppercorns
4 allspice berries
2 whole cloves
1 teaspoon turmeric
In a large bowl, combine the cucumbers, onion, and red pepper and toss thoroughly with the salt.
Pour the vinegar into a large saucepan, and stir in the sugar until it is dissolved. Add all the spices, bring the mixture to just under a boil, and simmer for 5 minutes.
Add the cucumber, onion, and pepper mixture. Reduce the heat and simmer, stirring occasionally until the cucumbers begin to change color but are not cooked through, about 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and let stand until the pickles have completely cooled.
Transfer the pickles to a jar, and refrigerate for a few days to let the flavors meld. (Refrigerated, the pickles will keep for weeks.)
I really love deviled eggs—especially these. You can quote me.
1 dozen large organic eggs
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
¼ cup sour cream or crème fraîche
Generous pinch of cayenne
1 tablespoon snipped chives
½ pound crabmeat, picked over for shells and cartilage
Juice of ½ lemon
Salt and pepper
Bring a large saucepan of water to a boil. Carefully put the eggs into the water and cook for 10 minutes. Remove the eggs to a bowl of ice water, and when they’re cool enough, crack them gently and return to the ice water, so they’ll be easier to peel.
Peel the eggs. Cut them in half, scoop out the yolks, and put them in a bowl (reserve the egg white halves). Mash the egg yolks with a fork, and fold in the mustard, sour cream or crème fraîche, cayenne, and half the chives. Gently fold in the crabmeat and lemon juice, and season lightly with salt and pepper. Taste and adjust the seasoning, and spoon the mixture into the waiting egg white halves.
Put the eggs on a platter or two, cover, and refrigerate. Just before serving, sprinkle the eggs with the rest of the chopped chives.
This hearty and traditional dish to welcome in the New Year should be made a day ahead. The flavor will improve.
2 pounds dried black-eyed peas
4 smoked ham hocks, about 4 pounds
½ pound slab bacon, cut into medium dice
2 large onions, halved
1 bay leaf
Large pinch of red pepper flakes
Salt and pepper
8 cups water
Pick over and rinse the peas, and put them in large heavy-bottomed soup pot. Add all the other ingredients and bring to a boil, then skim off the scum and turn down the heat. Simmer very gently for about 2 hours, adding more water if necessary.
When the peas are tender and the ham hock meat is falling from the bone, taste the broth and adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper. Remove the pot from the heat, transfer the black-eyed peas to a shallow container, and refrigerate overnight.
The next day, remove the congealed fat. Reheat the peas, thin with water if necessary, and check the seasoning. Serve them right from the pot.
It’s nice to make corn bread in an old-fashioned corn stick mold—you get a piece of corn bread that’s fluffy and crisp at the same time. If you have a French madeleine pan, you can make little corn cakes. But there’s no reason you can’t pour the batter into a cast-iron pan and make a traditional corn bread. makes about 24 sticks
1½ cups organic yellow cornmeal
½ cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sugar
2 eggs
2 cups buttermilk
6 tablespoons butter, melted and cooled
Preheat the oven to 425°F. Put the cornmeal in a large bowl and sift in the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add the sugar and stir well.
In a small bowl, beat the eggs, buttermilk, and cooled melted butter. Add to the cornmeal and mix thoroughly.
Generously butter a corn stick pan, and fill each “ear” about three-quarters full. Bake for 20 minutes, until nicely browned. Unmold and serve warm. Make additional batches with the rest of the batter.
You can make these ahead, or even the day before. The lemon curd topping is just a thin layer. makes 24 squares
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
A pinch of salt
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter
2 large eggs
2 large egg yolks
¾ cup sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
Grated zest of 1 lemon
½ cup fresh lemon juice
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Combine the flour, sugar, and salt in a bowl. Cut in the butter and work the mixture with your hands until it looks like cornmeal. Pat the loose, crumbly mixture onto a 9-inch-square baking pan. The shortbread dough should be about ½ inch thick.
Bake until just lightly browned, about 15 minutes. Meanwhile, to make the curd, whisk together the eggs, yolks, sugar, cornstarch, lemon zest, and juice.
Pour the curd over the crust and bake it for 30 minutes, or until the topping sets. Cool on a rack for at least an hour.
Cut the shortbread into small squares, 1½ to 2 inches. Top each square with a slice of candied kumquat and a little syrup. Arrange on a large serving platter.
Candied Kumquat
Fresh kumquats are lovely sliced raw into salads or lightly candied for desserts.
12 kumquats
¾ cup sugar
½ cup water
Wash the kumquats. With a sharp knife, slice them crosswise into circles as thin as possible. Pluck out the seeds.
Put the sugar, sliced kumquats, and water in a small saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a simmer, stirring to dissolve the sugar, then reduce the heat to low and cook for about 30 minutes, until a slice you taste seems tender. Remove the pan from the heat and let the kumquats cool in the syrup.
Put the kumquats and syrup in a jar, and they’ll keep for a month in the refrigerator.
{variation} kumquat jam
To make a simple kumquat marmalade, keep cooking the kumquat/sugar mixture until it thickens. You’ll have a delicious jam to jar and refrigerate.
