VINAIGRETTE
VINAIGRETTES ARE THE SIMPLEST OF SAUCES, EASY TO MAKE AND TO ADJUST FOR whatever they are destined to dress. Though vinegars vary in intensity and acidity, a ratio of about 4 parts oil to 1 part vinegar will usually produce a pleasant balance. At 2 or 3 parts oil to 1 part vinegar, the acidity and perfume of the vinegar will be assertive, desirable for rich dishes or for food that has already been rubbed with oil or another fat. At the other extreme, about 6 parts oil to 1 part vinegar may be perfect for dressing starchy vegetables or grains, or in dishes with delicately flavored vegetables such as green beans, asparagus, mushrooms, or truffles. In these cases, the vinegar flavor should be elusive and the presence of a little acid only teases and excites the palate to better taste the other flavors. Likewise, the very best olive oils want the stingiest trickle of vinegar when you are using them for vinaigrettes.
Most of our vinaigrettes are made with Champagne vinegar or red wine vinegar. We occasionally make cider or sherry vinaigrettes where the dishes respond to those flavors, and we sometimes use a small of measure of black currant vinegar to add rich fruitiness to vinaigrette. When making balsamic vinaigrette, we choose a rich, tasty balsamic, with a few years of age perhaps, not a precious artisan-made product.
We use a not-too-spicy Tuscan or Umbrian olive oil for most vinaigrettes, sometimes spiked very judiciously with nut oil or citrus-scented olio agrumato {see Homemade Lemon-Infused Olive Oil, here}.
Salt is the only constant seasoning in our vinaigrettes. If a dish wants pepper, we usually add it to the dish, not to the vinaigrette. A few recipes ask you to add shallot, spices, mustard, honey, liqueur or brandy or meat glaze to the vinaigrette. I suggest amounts, but you should decide on the final dose by tasting. When tasting any vinaigrette, you cannot do better than to taste it on a leaf of salad, or a piece of whatever it is going to dress. The flavor dynamics will be very different than on a spoon, or your fingertip.
With the exception of some herbed concoctions, vinaigrette rarely improves with age. So, make what you need just before you need it. Be prepared to make more of the vinaigrette, or add extra oil, vinegar, or salt, once you actually dress the dish.
FOR 5 TABLESPOONS, GENERALLY ENOUGH FOR 3 TO 4 SERVINGS OF SALAD GREENS:
1 tablespoon vinegar
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Salt
Combine the ingredients and stir briskly into an emulsion. Taste and correct. Stir well again just before using.
HOMEMADE LEMON-INFUSED OLIVE OIL
NECESSITY IS THE GENIUS BEHIND MUCH CULINARY TRADITION, AND LEMON OIL IS a rarely acknowledged case in point. In the Abruzzo region of Southern Italy, it is traditional to press lemons~rich in citric and ascorbic acids~with the season’s first batch of olives. This process serves to clean the olive press, but it can also produce a hauntingly fragrant oil. This treasure was quietly bottled and guarded for family use, until in recent years it became commercially available as Olio Agrumato {“citrus-ed” oil}. For artisan-made Italian lemon, orange, or mandarin olive oil, see Sources and Resources, here.
Even if you don’t press your own olives, you can make a creditable substitute by crowding 1 cup extra-virgin olive oil with the zest of 1 or 2 lemons. Use unwaxed, organic lemons and only the yellow part of the rind, carving wide zests with a vegetable peeler. Set the oil to infuse over the lowest heat for about 10 minutes. Don’t allow it to simmer. Remove from the heat and leave for 30 minutes, or longer. Strain out the zest before using. This lemon-scented oil is not as pungent or saturated with flavor as the traditional product but, lacking that, choose this simple alternative rather than squeeze harsh lemon juice over a dish. The fragrance of homemade olio agrumato is fleeting, so make only as much as you are likely to use right away.
MOCK CRÈME FRAÎCHE
THIS POPULAR METHOD OF CULTURING HEAVY CREAM CAME INTO GRAND VOGUE in the 1970s as an earnest surrogate for the real thing from France, which was unavailable in America. I’ve never thought of it as a substitute, however. It doesn’t taste or behave like its namesake. Mock crème fraîche is downright tart in comparison to the genuine product, which is nutty-sweet, with a hint of acidity. Owing to the realities of most American cream, mock crème fraîche is typically lower in milkfat and lacks the nutty-sweetness altogether. It also doesn’t really tolerate cooking. Hence, it’s less than ideal for slathering on desserts or enriching sauces. But all those “flaws” make a little of this thickened cream an ideal last-second garnish for salads or soups. A lacy drizzle of something thick and tangy can just as easily balance a very rich dish as animate and enrich a lean one.
To make Mock Crème Fraîche: Stir about 2 tablespoons buttermilk into 1 cup heavy cream. Heat until warm to the touch~about 85°. Cover loosely and leave to culture in a warm place. Mock crème fraîche usually takes at least 8 hours to thicken, but this varies with quantity, the ambient temperature, and the condition of the buttermilk you are using {see below}. Monitor the process and refrigerate it when you like the taste and texture. The cream will continue to thicken, albeit much more slowly, in the refrigerator. If it becomes too thick for drizzling purposes, you can thin it with more plain heavy cream.
Regarding “real” crème fraîche: Traditional, farmhouse crème fraîche “happens” when raw cream, naturally swarming with the proper lactic cultures, thickens and matures on its own. Pasteurization prevents such culturing. Commercially produced crème fraîche, whether in France or elsewhere, is the result of inoculating pasteurized cream with strategically chosen pure, live lactic cultures. When you inoculate pasteurized heavy cream with supermarket buttermilk at home, you are not doing the same thing. You could, perhaps, find the proper cultures in natural farmhouse buttermilk, but commercial buttermilk is a cultured product itself, the result of adding a mix of desirable bacteria to low-fat or nonfat milk. The exact composition of this mix varies from buttermilk to buttermilk, and from region to region. It may well include the “right” cultures for crème fraîche, plus others, but the fermenting process, which turns the milk into cultured buttermilk, alters the ratios of those organisms. Many may die off completely. All of this affects flavor. This situation, coupled with the milkfat deficiency and flavor differences in the cream itself, begins to explain why you can’t produce real crème fraîche this way.
Fortunately, it is no longer difficult to find authentic nutty-sweet crème fraîche made in America. We buy ours from Cowgirl Creamery, in nearby Tomales Bay; Vermont Butter and Cheese makes an excellent one as well. Where you are serving crème fraîche by the dollop, adding it to Creamed Corn {here}, or stirring it into a simmering sauce, you should use one of those products, not mock crème fraîche.
TOMATO COULIS
A LIGHT, FLUID, BARELY COOKED TOMATO SAUCE, GOOD WITH FRIED FOOD, A Frittata {here}, or grilled or broiled swordfish, sea bass, or sardines. It will be only as good as the tomatoes you use; pithy, underripe fruit will not make a great coulis. Make this simple sauce with fragrant high-season fruit. You can infuse the coulis with a branch of basil or thyme if you like, or perfume it with a lightly crushed clove or two of garlic or a pinch of dried chili flakes. If you peel the tomatoes first, the sauce will be more delicate, and sweeter; if you leave the skins on, it will be more robust. It is a good way to use up the awkward but tender heels, shoulders, and leftovers you generate when you serve sliced tomatoes on sandwiches or salads.
FOR ABOUT 1 CUP:
About 12 ounces ripe tomatoes
Salt
A sprig of fresh thyme or basil {optional}
1 or 2 garlic cloves, lightly crushed {optional}
A pinch or two of dried chili flakes {optional}
About 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Sugar, if needed
If you choose to peel the tomatoes, plunge them into a pot of rapidly boiling water for a few seconds, then remove and cool them in ice water, or blister each one in direct flame, just long enough to split and shrink the skin all over. In either case, the skins should then slide off easily.
Core the tomatoes, then trim any hard shoulders or carve out woody cracks. Cut into a few thick slices or chunks, salt very lightly, and toss with the optional thyme or basil, garlic, or chili flakes. Place in a strainer set over a bowl to purge for about 20 minutes. {Draining a little water from the raw tomatoes reduces the time needed to concentrate the flavor over heat. The result is brighter tomato flavor.}
Warm the olive oil in a small skillet over low heat. Add the tomato, and any aromatics, and crush with the back of a fork. Raise the heat slightly and cook until the tomatoes have “melted” and are just taking on the characteristic orange cast that comes from cooking, about 1 minute. Swirl and stir the pan to encourage maximum evaporation. Mass the tomatoes on one side of the pan and tilt it. They should barely ooze. Scrape into a strainer or food mill and press through. Cool slightly and taste. The coulis will likely not need salt, but may appreciate a pinch of sugar.
Serve at any temperature. If serving warm or hot, reheat just before serving.
LEMON MAYONNAISE
FOR 1/2 TO 3/4 CUP, BOTH GENEROUS:
1 egg yolk
A few pinches of salt
1/2 to 3/4 cup mild-tasting olive oil
1/2 lemon
Whisk the yolk with a pinch of salt. Whisk in a trickle of oil, then another, gradually increasing the flow to a stream, whisking constantly to maintain an emulsion. The sauce will begin to turn opaque and tacky. Keep adding oil until the mayonnaise is a little firmer than you like, then add a long squeeze of lemon juice. Drop another pinch of salt on the lemon juice, then whisk again. Taste, and whisk in more lemon, salt, or oil to taste.
Variation ANCHOVY MAYONNAISE
Prepare as described for Lemon Mayonnaise, adding 3 or 4 finely chopped salt-packed anchovy fillets after you have added about 1/4 cup of the oil. Flavor with lemon juice to taste. This mayonnaise may need no more than the initial pinch of salt.
Variation RICH BALSAMIC MAYONNAISE
This toffee-colored mayonnaise is good with Salt-Roasties {here}, boiled or Grilled Artichokes {here}, Grilled Radicchio {here}, grilled chicken or lamb. Make a batch for your next bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich.
FOR SCANT 1 CUP:
1 egg yolk
A few pinches of salt
About 3/4 cup mild-tasting olive oil
1/4 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 or 2 salt-packed anchovy fillets, finely chopped {optional}
About 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar, a good quality commercial product is fine here
Whisk the yolk with a pinch of salt. Starting with a bare trickle, gradually whisk in about 1/3 cup of the olive oil as described for lemon mayonnaise, above. Stir in the mustard, anchovy if using, and about 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar. Whisk in the remaining oil, then finish by adding more balsamic to taste.
AÏOLI
I LIKE GARLIC MAYONNAISE BEST MADE WITH JUST GARLIC, EGG YOLK, OIL, AND salt~with no acid of any sort. So long as the 4 ingredients are excellent in quality, the flavor will be bold, but balanced. At home, I make small batches of Aïoli in a 2-cup wooden mortar; for larger batches, I use the same pestle, but do the binding in a wide, unfinished wooden bowl.
FOR A GENEROUS 1/2 CUP:
1 large or 2 small garlic cloves, peeled
A few pinches of salt
1 egg yolk
About 1/2 cup mild-tasting olive oil
Cut the garlic into a few pieces and then pound them in a mortar. Add the salt. It should act as an abrasive and help you smash the last solid bits of garlic. Add the yolk and stir with the pestle to amalgamate. Still using the pestle, work in the oil, a cautious trickle or a few drops at first, gradually increasing the flow as the yolk becomes tacky and opaque. As the yolk reaches saturation, the mixture will make a satisfying clucking sound.
If you add a few drops of water to the Aïoli, it will whiten and soften, allowing you to add more oil, which you may choose to do if you find the garlic remains too aggressive with only 1/2 cup oil. {1/2 teaspoon water will bind an additional 1/2 cup oil.} I find this is the best way to stroke an Aïoli into balance, preferable to introducing lemon or other new flavors.
THE TRICKIEST MAYONNAISE TO MAKE IS A ONE-EGG-YOLK ONE. All of us have failed at least once, usually for adding too large a dose of oil early on. The foolproof rescue technique I learned was to start with a new yolk in a new bowl, gradually sneaking in the damaged goods. The price is making twice as much mayonnaise as you wanted to. But you can sometimes avoid this:
Anytime you accidentally spill in too much oil, don’t panic. Resist the urge to whisk wildly. Instead, tilt the bowl strategically, so the excess oil flows into a puddle, off to the side, away from the yolky part. Now whisk only the yolky part, which can mean whisking it partway up the side of the bowl, steering clear of the oil puddle. Once you can see the yolk emulsion is stable {stop whisking, check that it is still thick and opaque}, begin to very gradually draw in the problem oil, working from the edge of the puddle. As this effort succeeds you can gradually level the bowl again. Whether saving a mayonnaise or not, I find it easiest to control how much oil gets to the yolk when I make mayonnaise in a wide, flat-bottomed bowl in which I can trickle oil on the edge of the emulsion and know it will stay there until I am ready to drag it in with the whisk.
FOUR-MINUTE EGG GRIBICHE
OUR RICH HALF-COOKED VERSION OF SAUCE GRIBICHE, WHICH IS USUALLY A vinaigrette bound with chopped hard-cooked egg, shallots, capers, and herbs. This one is inspired by the mustardy gribiche the Troisgros brothers drizzled over beef carpaccio and crowned with a pile of crispy hot fried potatoes, as an alternative to the familiar raw-egg steak tartar. This herby, shalloty mayonnaise is good with grilled fish or poultry, on sandwiches, or with fried shrimp, scallops, clams, mussels, or soft-shelled crab, as well as boiled shrimp or cracked crab. It will turn ordinary boiled potatoes into excellent potato salad.
FOR ABOUT 1-3/4 CUPS:
1 large egg
Salt
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1-1/4 to 1-1/2 cups mild-tasting olive oil
1 tablespoon finely diced shallot {about 1 medium shallot}
1 tablespoon tightly packed chopped fresh herbs {a combination of parsley, chervil, and chives, plus a little tarragon or dill}
1 tablespoon capers, rinsed, pressed dry between towels, and slightly chopped
About 2 teaspoons sherry vinegar or red wine vinegar
Place the egg in a small pot of barely simmering water and bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for about 4 minutes. Drain and leave to cool in a bowl of ice water.
When the egg is sure to be cool, crack it and scrape into a small bowl. Stir in a pinch or two of salt and the mustard. Mash together, then begin whisking in the oil, a trickle or a few drops at first, then gradually increasing the flow to a thin stream. Stop adding oil when the mayonnaise is satiny and has lots of body, like hot fudge sauce. Stir in the shallots, herbs, and capers. Add vinegar and salt to taste.
SALSA VERDE
SALSAS, ESPECIALLY GREEN ONES, ARE GREAT DEMOCRATIZERS IN THE KITCHEN. Anyone can make an excellent one, they go with humble as well as fancy dishes, they are crowd pleasers, and they need not be expensive. They are not, of course, forgiving of mediocre ingredients, so make the effort to gather perky, fragrant herbs. Chop them only just before you assemble the salsa~and don’t do that too far in advance. Time will dull the bright taste and texture.
Guidelines regarding the herbs and preparing them:
Choose herbs as you would flowers~go for pretty and fragrant, avoid wilted and bruised. Pick off the leaves, culling any yellowed ones that may have snuck into your pristine bouquet. When using parsley, chervil, and cilantro, I include some of the slender, tender terminal stem~it usually tastes sweet and adds another texture to the salsa. Try this.
Wash and dry the herbs carefully. A little grit will spoil a salsa, and water will make it dull. I spin the leaves in a salad spinner with a dry paper towel to absorb hidden water.
Chop the herbs with a very sharp knife. A dull knife smashes as much as it chops, extracting the green juice from the herbs. This juice oxidizes rapidly and can give the salsa a tired flavor. {Or it stays on the cutting board. You want it to stay in the leaves.}
Don’t chop the herbs too fine. Most cooks enjoy the smell as they chop herbs, but I spoil that pleasure if they are being too thorough, reminding them that all that scent is gone now, not to be captured in any salsa, or other dish. The finer you chop, the fewer remaining intact cells full of scent you save for your guests. Chop the herbs into little flakes just small enough to produce a pleasant texture.
Likewise, don’t chop the herbs too evenly. Leave some flakes slightly larger than others; they will give the salsa a pretty look, but more important, the bigger flakes explode with flavor when you bite through them. If combining different herbs in one salsa, try leaving one type fairly coarse~it won’t shed as much flavor into the oil, but it will make up for it later. This makes a salsa multilayered, and fun to eat.
Don’t chop the herbs in advance, or add leftover chopped herbs to a salsa. Once you’ve chopped the herbs, trap their fragrance in the oil as soon as possible.
Regarding the rest of the ingredients:
Most of our green salsas are bound with olive oil and usually include capers, or something briny, like chopped glasswort; someone from the onion family; citrus zest; and cracked pepper or crushed chili.
It doesn’t usually make sense to use your most precious extra-virgin oil here, as the collision of aromatics may overwhelm it, but do use delicious oil~it will be noticed. As you decide how much oil to add to a salsa, take into consideration the dish it is going with~is it dry or wet, lean, or succulent? Grilled fish with lean white beans will tolerate a well-lubricated salsa, but a rib-eye steak needs very little extra fat, just enough oil to bind the herbs. Likewise, boiled green beans or grilled zucchini are good with a rich salsa, but grilled eggplant wants little extra oil.
Use the same kind of reasoning to decide whether to add body-building ingredients to salsas~chopped hard-cooked egg, mustard, avocado, nuts, and finely diced ripe tomato {or other ripe fruits} all make a salsa fleshier or at least thicker, but each in a different way. Consider the flavors and richness of the dish before you choose to enrich a salsa this way. Mustard will give spark and muscle to a salsa destined for a wintry Pot-au-Feu {here} or a robust steak, while chopped egg or avocado will flatter quiet salmon, bass, or chicken dishes, and so on. That said, don’t clutter the salsa with too many supplemental flavors.
SALSA VERDE with PARSLEY & ONE OTHER PUNGENT HERB
This is a basic formula you may never make the same way twice.
FOR 1 TO 1-1/4 CUPS:
1/2 cup tightly packed chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley {nearly 1 cup loosely packed}
2 to 3 tablespoons tightly packed chopped other herb, such as fresh tarragon, chervil, chives, cilantro, mint, watercress, spicy broadleaf cress, garden cress, nasturtium blossoms, small nasturtium leaves, or basil~green or purple, and consider lemon- or cinnamonscented basil as well
1 tablespoon capers, rinsed, pressed dry between towels, and coarsely chopped, or 1 tablespoon chopped glasswort, fresh or pickled {see here}
About 2 teaspoons finely chopped lemon zest {from 2 small lemons}, or a combination of lemon and orange zest
1 tablespoon finely diced shallot or red onion or thinly slivered scallion
Salt
Freshly cracked black pepper or dried chili flakes, crushed
1/2 to 3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil {a part of this could be lemon oil~see Sources and Resources, here, or, to infuse your own, Lemon Oil, here}
Optional ingredients to add body, tooth, and character to the salsa:
1 to 1-1/2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1/2 hard-cooked egg {see here}, chopped, or 1/4 just-ripe medium avocado, neatly diced
1 tablespoon chopped walnuts or pine nuts
1 teaspoon rinsed, chopped Preserved Lemon or Limequat {here}
1 teaspoon chopped salt-packed anchovies {about 2 fillets}
Combine the parsley, other herb, capers, zest, shallot or red onion or scallion, a few pinches of salt, pepper or chili flakes to taste, and barely 1/2 of the olive oil. Stir and taste. Add more oil and salt to taste; since salt will not dissolve instantly in the olive oil, allow each sprinkle time to dissolve before you decide the salsa needs more. Stir in any optional ingredients and transfer to a tall storage vessel, so very little of the salsa is exposed to the air. Don’t refrigerate, but set in a cool spot until needed. Do refrigerate leftovers.
CELERY LEAF SALSA VERDE
Every kitchen I have worked in has a discreet stash of unloved pale, leafy celery hearts. So pretty, but their flavor is not popular raw. They are unwelcome in stocks and uninteresting in sautéed dishes. I do like the tiniest ones deep-fried {see Piccolo Fritto, here}, but confronted with a constant glut, we devised this salsa, which transforms their brash flavor into an exciting, peppery condiment. It is good with grilled chicken breast, roast pork, or grilled or broiled fish and smeared on Carpaccio {here}.
FOR ABOUT 1 CUP:
2 tablespoons tightly packed chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/4 cup tightly packed chopped celery leaves
2 tablespoons finely diced tender, pale yellow inner celery stalks
2 tablespoons capers, rinsed, pressed dry between towels, and coarsely chopped
1 lemon {to yield about 1 teaspoon chopped zest plus juice to taste}
1 teaspoon finely diced jalapeño, preferably red
1 tablespoon finely diced red onion
1 teaspoon chopped salt-packed anchovies {about 2 fillets} {optional}
About 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly cracked black pepper to taste
Combine all the ingredients, adjusting any to your taste. Allow the salt time to dissolve before adding more. Don’t refrigerate, but set in a cool spot until ready to use. Stir occasionally to encourage the flavors to mingle. Refrigerate leftovers.
MELTING MARROW GREMOLATA
A PASTE THAT BECOMES SALSA-LIKE WHEN YOU SMEAR IT ON A HOT STEAK.
Gremolata is an aromatic condiment that depends on osso buco for its fame, but it can be used on other dishes as well. Contemporary versions are usually a loose mix of chopped herbs, garlic, and zest that is sprinkled raw on a finished dish. Not so, traditional Milanese gremolada: Habit was to stir a bit into a bubbling osso buco a few minutes before serving. This sensible technique mellows the raw condiment and infuses the whole dish with flavor. This marrow-enriched version lies somewhere in between. Allow about 1 tablespoon per serving.
A note on buying beef marrow: The best marrow bones are femurs; expect 1 pound of bones to yield about 1 ounce {2 tablespoons} marrow. Have the bones split lengthwise, then pry out the buttery lumps of marrow. Keep in water, refrigerated, until needed.
FOR 1/4 CUP:
2 tablespoons tightly packed chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 small garlic clove, finely chopped
1 teaspoon chopped lemon zest {from 1 small lemon}
1 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
Salt
1 tablespoon cold beef marrow {1/2 ounce}
Combine the parsley, garlic, zest, pepper, and a few pinches of salt. Chop the marrow and place in a small bowl. Sprinkle with the aromatics and toss to amalgamate, without warming the marrow. Cover and store refrigerated until needed.
To serve, spread or sprinkle the mixture over a steak a few minutes before you remove it from the grill or pan. As the marrow warms and melts, the flavor of the trapped aromatics will bloom and spread over the surface of the steak.
TOASTED BREAD CRUMB SALSA
THIS RECIPE IS BASED ON ONE SOUS-CHEF KELSIE KERR SPIED IN AN OLD ITALIAN cooking magazine and brought into work. Restaurant cooks are not so different from home cooks in that respect, but among her many genial culinary instincts, Kelsie knew a really good idea, or recipe, when she saw one, and envisioned how this one could be delicious with many different foods. I believe this salsa was originally described as an excellent condiment for bollito misto, which it is. But it is also great with simple grilled food, such as tuna, skirt steak, game birds, radicchio, or leeks. It is delicious with warm roast beef or tossed with cold roasted chicken or warm green beans.
You can fine-tune this recipe for the specific meat, fish, or vegetables you are serving, or in response to the other courses in the meal. If you are serving the salsa with mild white sea bass, you might cut back on the thyme; a little bit gives a nice note of earthiness and complexity, but the whole amount could overwhelm the delicate fish. By contrast, the pungent herb complements rich red meat so well that you might want to add extra if serving with beef or lamb.
FOR ABOUT 1-1/4 CUPS:
2 ounces fresh, soft bread crumbs {about 1 cup} made from slightly stale, crustless, chewy, white peasant-style bread {see here}
1 tablespoon mild-tasting olive oil
1 to 2 teaspoons chopped salt-packed anchovy fillets {2 to 4 fillets}
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves, barely chopped
1 tablespoon capers, rinsed, pressed dry between towels, and barely chopped
1 tablespoon finely diced shallot {about 1 medium shallot}
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
About 3 tablespoons Champagne vinegar or white wine vinegar
Salt and freshly cracked black pepper
Preheat the oven to 275°.
Very gently knead the bread crumbs together with the 1 tablespoon olive oil and spread in a thin even layer on a baking sheet. Bake until the crumbs are the color of strong tea, about 30 minutes. Don’t try to rush this step; if the crumbs are too pale, or not dry enough, the salsa will go soggy in minutes. You should get a scant 2/3 cup very hard crumbs. Cool completely.
Stir together the anchovies, thyme, capers, shallot, extra-virgin olive oil, vinegar, and salt and pepper to taste. Combine this base with the crisp bread crumbs about 10 minutes before serving, then taste, and add more of any of the ingredients if you like. The salsa should be brightly flavored and juicy. Stir and taste again just before serving.
CONNIE & MARYANNA’S CHIMICHURRI
CHIMICHURRI IS AN HERBED CHILI-VINEGAR MIXTURE USED EVERYWHERE IN Argentina, whether for basting grilled meat {often mixed with salty water, not unlike a Sicilian salmoriglio, which follows}, or as a tabletop condiment. No two chimichurris seem to be alike, but oregano and a dried red chili called ají molido are constants. This lavish interpretation of chimichurri marries and mellows the flavors with lots of extra-virgin olive oil; we use it as both a salsa and a marinade. We learned it from a team of wonderful cooks from Argentina who spent a week in our kitchen in 1998, and their names come up every time we make it. It has a pungent, autumnal flavor, a nice change from delicate, summery green sauces. Resist the urge to chop all the herbs~the whole leaves quietly perfume the oil, and then explode with flavor when you bite into them. This sauce-marinade keeps well for weeks refrigerated, improves with time, and is versatile, so make more than you think you need.
We also use chimichurri to preserve sardines, which we grill first, then bathe in the warm marinade. They make a great hors d’œuvre~whole or filleted and perched on a white bean crostini {here}. Likewise, you can marinate Grilled Quail {here} in chimichurri, then reheat them and serve with grilled bread, roasted potatoes, or white beans. Try frying eggs in it. Or drizzle chimichurri, in the traditional manner, on grilled meat just before pulling it from the fire.
FOR ABOUT 1-1/4 CUPS:
1 jalapeño {about 1/2 ounce}, preferably red
2 teaspoons tightly packed fresh oregano leaves
2 teaspoons tightly packed fresh thyme leaves
1 teaspoon tightly packed fresh rosemary leaves
About 1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon sweet paprika {or crushed ají molido}
1 tablespoon tightly packed coarsely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 to 2 teaspoons finely chopped garlic
2 bay leaves, crumbled
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
About 1/2 teaspoon salt
Freshly cracked black pepper, to taste
Char the jalapeño, either directly in the open flame of a gas burner or charcoal fire or close under the heat of a hot broiler. Use tongs to turn the pepper a few times until it is generally freckled with black and smells good, about 1 minute. When the pepper has cooled slightly, halve, seed, and mince it. Don’t rub off the tasty black blisters~include them in the chimichurri.
Place the oregano, thyme, and rosemary in a mortar and pound lightly.
Warm the oil in a small saucepan until it is hot to the touch. Pull from the heat and stir in the bruised herbs, plus all the remaining ingredients, including the jalapeño. {If making the chimichurri more than a few hours in advance, wait to add the parsley until you are about to use it.} Taste. Leave to infuse for at least 1 hour at room temperature before serving.
SALMORIGANO, OR SALMORIGLIO
A PUNGENT SICILIAN SAUCE THAT IS SORT OF A SALSA, SORT OF A MARINADE. {Its name betrays its origins as a salamoia, or brine.} This delicious slurry is good for soaking raw things, basting cooking things, or moistening cooked ones. Use it with chicken, beef, pork, fish, or grilled or roasted vegetables~onions, summer squash, tomatoes, eggplant, or peppers. It is delicious on grilled bread, whether you drizzle it on before or after grilling. I like eggs fried in it and ricotta baked in it.
Although salmorigano is traditionally made with fresh oregano, I like the long, persuasive flavor of dried oregano and violate the standard with this version. At home, I stir together the sauce base and age it at room temperature for at least a few days, but it always tastes best when I forget about it for a month or longer. Add the lemon juice and hot water no more than a minute before using the sauce.
FOR ABOUT 3/4 CUP:
For the base:
4 small garlic cloves, peeled
About 1/4 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon dried oregano
About 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper or dried chili flakes
To finish the sauce:
About 2 tablespoons simmering water
1 lemon, halved
Thickly slice the garlic, then place in a mortar and pound it to a rough paste. Add a pinch of salt and pound until smooth, then add the oregano, oil, and black pepper or dried chili, pounding lightly as you stir them in with the pestle. Cover and store at room temperature.
Just before using, add the simmering water, squeeze in the lemon juice, whisk, and taste. The sauce should not be tart~the lemon should contribute perfume more than acidity, and the water should tame all sourness, to better reveal the fruit of the lemon and scent of the other aromatics. Spoon the warm salsa over cooked meat, fish, or vegetables.
Or, if using as a marinade, rub the raw meat, poultry, or fish with the salmorigano to encourage it to impregnate the flesh with its flavor. Leave to marinate for up to an hour. Roast or grill over medium heat. The water may make the meat stick to the grill or pan, so allow time for that water to evaporate before you try to turn whatever you are cooking.
GREEN OLIVE–LEMON RELISH
A BRIGHT-TASTING RELISH FOR FISH, CHICKEN, OR PORK, ALSO DELICIOUS WITH grilled summer vegetables. Use unwaxed very ripe lemons. Fragrant Meyer lemons are particularly good here, or you can add a spoonful of chopped preserved lemon or limequats to give the relish an exotic flavor. Lucques olives, fleshy, nutty, and fruity, are great for this recipe. Fat Ascolane or Ceregnola olives are also suitable. Crunchy Picholines are a fine choice too, but I recommend you rinse them, then place in cold water and bring to a simmer to cook for 2 minutes before pitting them. This blanching will soften them a bit, and purge them of the brine that obscures their fruity flavor.
FOR 1 TO 1-1/4 CUPS:
12 raw almonds {about 1/2 ounce}
1 cup green olives, such as Lucques, Ascolane, Ceregnola, or Picholine
About 1/4 small unwaxed lemon
2 tablespoons capers, rinsed, pressed dry between towels, and barely chopped
1 to 2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 to 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped rinsed Preserved Lemon or Limequat {here} {optional}
Preheat the oven to 300°.
Drop the almonds into a small pot of boiling water and leave for about 10 seconds. Drain, slide off the skins, and rub dry. Toast on a small baking sheet until slightly colored, about 15 minutes. Chop coarsely.
Rinse the olives, roll dry between towels, and then pound lightly with a mallet, meat pounder, or heavy saucepan. Pick out and discard the pits. Coarsely chop, so the bits of olive are pine nut–sized on average. Strive for irregularity, so some of the bites will be fleshier than others. You should get about 1/2 cup.
Very thinly slice the lemon, stopping when you get to the pithy end. Watch for and discard seeds. Chop the slices into coarse confetti. You should get about 2 tablespoons.
Combine all of the ingredients, adding oil according to the intended use. For a crumbly relish, nice with grilled eggplant, braised pork, or simple chicken or rabbit dishes, use the lesser amount of oil. The full dose of oil will produce a perfumed salsa, perfect stirred into white beans or spooned over grilled or broiled bass, scallops, or salmon.
ROASTED PEPPER RELISH
THIS IS A LUSCIOUS, MEATY RELISH THAT BLENDS SWEET, TART, AND NUTTY flavors. We pair it with full-flavored meats, poultry, or fish. Serve a spoonful with lamb, quail, swordfish, tuna, or sea bass. It’s great in a roast beef or lamb sandwich. Or serve it on crostini with fresh mozzarella and an arugula salad.
I suggest two different ways to roast peppers here; both depend on distressing and shrinking the skin so that it pulls easily from the flesh. How aggressively you destroy the skin determines how much you cook the peppers in the process, how much peppery syrup precipitates, and the flavor of the peeled flesh. Oven roasting, even at high heat, is slow enough to soften and cook the peppers pretty thoroughly. The finished product will be mild, sweet, and slippery. Stovetop charring or char-grilling peppers burns the skin off more rapidly, often before the flesh of the pepper is thoroughly cooked. This method typically yields less syrup, a firmer texture {sometimes pleasantly leathery}, and a richer, slightly smoky flavor.
Choose between the techniques according to your taste, and convenience.
FOR ABOUT 1-1/3 CUPS:
1-1/2 tablespoons dried currants
2 teaspoons sherry vinegar
1/2 teaspoon warm water
12 ounces bell peppers {1 large or 2 small}
3 tablespoons pine nuts
1 tablespoon freshly chopped basil or arugula
2 small garlic cloves, pounded to a paste
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 to 2 tablespoons sweet sherry or sweet Marsala
Salt
Combine the dried currants, vinegar, and warm water, kneading the currants lightly.
Roasting and peeling the peppers:
Note: Handle the roasting peppers gently~the collapsing cells release moisture, which you want to keep inside the peppers until you peel them. If you puncture the tender flesh, the sweet juice will spill into the roasting pan and dry out, or trickle into the fire.
To use the oven method, preheat the oven to 450°. Set the peppers in a baking dish or shallow roasting pan and place on the top rack of the oven. Turn as the tops brown and blister, and roast until they have nearly collapsed, 20 to 35 minutes, depending on size.
To char the skins with live fire, place the peppers directly on hot gray coals, in the flame of a gas burner, or on a grill grate about an inch from glowing coals or live fire. Monitor closely and turn the peppers as soon as any side has turned black, repositioning strategically until the whole is fairly evenly charred. Allow 10 to 20 minutes, depending on pepper size and heat source.
Transfer the roasted peppers to a bowl and cover tightly with plastic wrap. Once the peppers are cool enough to handle, slide or rub off the skins~not worrying if some spots don’t want to release {do this over a second bowl, so you can capture the delicious juice}. Charred skins tend to come off in chunks and bits; dip your fingertips in water occasionally as you remove them. Don’t rinse the peppers.
Still working over the bowl, pull out the stems, hopefully with most of the seeds attached, and discard. Separate each pepper into slabs. Combine the juice from both bowls and strain out skin and seeds.
Lay the pepper slabs on a cutting board, brush away any remaining seeds, and scrape or peel off any remaining large patches of skin with a paring knife. Again, don’t rinse the peppers, as you would only be washing away the flavorful syrup. A few stubborn flecks of charred skin will taste nice.
Assembling the relish:
Cut the peppers into small dice and combine with their juice. You should get about 1 cup.
While the peppers are roasting, set the pine nuts in the oven, if using, or in a small skillet over low heat to warm through, a few minutes at most. Coarsely chop.
Add the currants, pine nuts, basil or arugula, garlic, oil, and sherry or Marsala. Salt to taste.
ORANGE-OLIVE TAPENADE
AN OLIVE PASTE NAMED FOR A MINORITY INGREDIENT: CAPERS {TAPENO OR tapeino in Provençal}. Use olives you love the taste of, and rinse them, or even purge them for half an hour, in warm water before you pit and chop them. That way, you will taste olive, not just brine. We most often use Niçoise or Nyons olives; briny black Gaeta or Kalamata olives lack their rich, nutty flavor and can make a one-dimensional tapenade. When mandarins are in season, we substitute them for oranges in this recipe.
Tapenade is very happy on crostini; those toasts make a versatile garnish, whether surrounded by a collection of grilled vegetables or on a platter with radishes, sliced fennel, and wedges of baked ricotta cheese. We sometimes pound a spoonful of preserved tuna into a batch of tapenade; crostini topped with this richer version make a good stand-alone hors d’œuvre. You can also stir tapenade into a vinaigrette to spoon over grilled sweet peppers or meaty bass, or tuna, or sprinkle a little inside a boned leg of lamb before you tie it up to roast {see here}. Tapenade-Grilled Cheese is delicious, especially when the cheese is Fontina, fresh Asiago, or Manchego. {Spread a little of the black paste inside one piece of bread.}
FOR ABOUT 1/2 CUP:
1 cup black olives, such as Niçoise or Nyons
1 small garlic clove, peeled
1 tablespoon capers, rinsed and pressed dry between towels
2 salt-packed anchovy fillets {optional}
A walnut-sized lump of Preserved Tuna {here} {optional}
1 orange
1 teaspoon pastis, such as Pernod or Ricard, or ouzo
1 teaspoon to 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
Drain and rinse the olives. Roll dry between clean towels, then pound lightly with a mallet, meat pounder, or heavy saucepan. Pick out and discard the pits. You should get about 1/2 cup.
Slice the garlic, then pound in a mortar. By hand or in a processor, chop and combine the olives, capers, garlic, and optional anchovy until you have a crumbly paste. Transfer to a bowl.
If using tuna, pound it in a mortar and then knead into the olive paste. Grate and work in about 1/2 teaspoon orange zest. Add the pastis or ouzo and oil to taste. Squeeze a few drops of orange juice into the tapenade just before serving. Keeps well for a week or so refrigerated.
CRUMBLY HAZELNUT PICADA
TO CALL THIS CRUMB TOPPING A PICADA IS CAVALIER. A picada is typically a pounded paste of nuts, crisp bread crumbs, and aromatics, bound with oil. It is used in Catalan cooking to both thicken and add sparkle to stews and sauces. This recipe is chopped, not pounded, it lacks the extra oil, and we don’t generally use it to thicken anything. But it is an affectionate appropriation of the Catalan formula.
This recipe will produce more crumbly picada than you may use right away, but it is a versatile condiment you will be happy to have on hand. Spread it on meaty grilled fish or rib-eye steak a minute or two before you pull it from the heat. I like it tossed into the warm frisée salad we serve with roasted birds or with duck confit. Try it sprinkled on pasta, especially egg noodles, instead of traditional seasoned bread crumbs. It adds a complex crispy, salty note to unctuous roasted figs, which are then delicious with roasted leg of lamb {here} or with prosciutto {here}.
Store extra picada sealed in a small jar, refrigerated, for up to a week.
FOR ABOUT 1/2 CUP:
A cup or so mild-tasting olive oil, for frying
1 ounce chewy, peasant-style bread, sliced about 1/2 inch thick
About 16 hazelnuts {1/2 ounce, or 2 tablespoons}
1/4 teaspoon orange or mandarin zest
1 very small garlic clove or 1/2 medium clove
4 small fresh mint leaves
Salt, if needed
Pour olive oil to a depth of 1/2 inch into an 8-inch skillet or 2-quart saucepan and set over medium-low heat. Test the temperature with the edge of bread: when it barely sizzles on contact, reduce the heat slightly and add the bread. {You may need to cut it into pieces so it fits into the pan in a single layer}. Check the underside at 1 minute; it should just be beginning to color. Fry until it is the color of cornflakes, 2 to 3 minutes per side; poke the center~it should be firm. Take care that the olive oil never smokes. Drain and cool the bread on a paper towel.
Break the bread into coarse chunks, discarding any doughy unfried parts. Spread the bread chunks between two clean brown paper bags, then use a rolling pin to crush into crumbs. The bag will absorb quite a bit of the oil. Alternatively, you can grind the bread in a processor, which will not absorb any oil, and produce a richer picada. Either way you should get a generous 1/4 cup of crumbs.
Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 325°.
Roast the hazelnuts on a small baking sheet until their skins start to split and become papery, about 10 to 15 minutes. While still hot, bundle them in a towel beanbag-style, and scrunch and massage them to rub off some of their skins. Don’t worry if some of the skin sticks. Pick the nuts from the chaff and finely chop them. You should get about 2 tablespoons.
Finely chop the orange or mandarin zest together with the garlic and mint, then combine with the bread crumbs and nuts. If your bread is bland, you may need to add a pinch of salt.
SAGE PESTO
AN EXUBERANT CYNTHIA SHEA HATCHED THIS IDEA ON HER SECOND OR THIRD DAY of writing the daily lunch menu. I worried that a bowl of pounded raw sage might smell more like camphor than lunch, but her enthusiasm was persuasive and the pesto was a success. For a nicely perfumed sage pesto, we pick out tender, velvety leaves and then warm them in oil over low heat. Cynthia’s pesto has become a mainstay in the autumn and winter as a garnish for soups. Stir it into white bean purée, potato soup, or minestrone. A spoonful tossed with penne or spaghetti is shockingly good. But you can also fold in a few charred tomatoes, a spoonful of tomato sauce, or sautéed zucchini for a more elaborate pasta dish. Try the pesto smeared on broiled tomatoes, roasted onions, or grilled mushrooms, or stir it into polenta. Or spread a tiny bit on a steak or pork chop as you pull it from the heat.
FOR 1 SCANT CUP:
1/4 ounce fresh sage leaves {3 tablespoons packed}
1/2 cup mild-tasting olive oil
1 garlic clove, peeled
Salt
1/2 cup walnuts, preferably freshly shelled, or pine nuts, coarsely chopped {about 2 ounces}
1 ounce Parmigiano-Reggiano, grated {about 1/2 cup very lightly packed}
Freshly cracked black pepper
Coarsely chop the sage. Place it in your smallest pan and moisten with a few spoonfuls of the olive oil. Stir and smash over low heat until it is quite hot to the touch. Turn off the heat and leave for about 1 minute. Remove from the heat.
Slice the garlic, then pound in a mortar. Once you have a rough paste, add a pinch of salt, then continue pounding until the garlic is nearly smooth. Add the warm sage and sage-y oil, and continue to pound until the leaves are pulverized. Add the nuts and pound the whole to a paste. Stir in the remaining oil, the cheese, and salt and pepper to taste. {Don’t try to make this pesto in a processor, you won’t be able to properly grind the sage, and it wouldn’t be terribly efficient in this small quantity anyway.}
Covered and refrigerated, the pesto will keep for a week or so.
CHOPPED LEMON BAGNA CAUDA
TRADITIONALLY SERVED IN THE PIEDMONT REGION OF NORTHERN ITALY AS A “hot bath” {dip} for raw vegetables, this sauce is very good spooned over grilled fish, which is how we usually serve it at Zuni. The bits of chopped lemon make this version of bagna cauda more pungent and chunky than most. The optional walnuts give it an unusual texture and richness. Pair it with grilled tuna, swordfish, sea bass, salmon, or shrimp, and serve roasted potatoes or white beans and grilled fennel, peppers, zucchini, or leeks on the side. It is also good drizzled on grilled bread crowned with warm thinly sliced tomatoes, roasted onions, or Boiled Kale {here}.
FOR ABOUT 1 CUP:
1/4 small lemon, plus optional lemon juice, to taste
2 garlic cloves, chopped
3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons chopped salt-packed anchovy fillets {12 to 16 fillets}
About 6 walnuts {1/2 ounce}, preferably freshly shelled {optional}
Freshly cracked black pepper
If using walnuts, turn the oven to 300°.
Cut the lemon into thin slices, removing seeds as you go. Chop the slices into coarse confetti. You should get about 2 tablespoons.
In your smallest saucepan, combine the lemon confetti with the garlic and moisten with about half of the olive oil. Set over low heat until the oil is hot to the touch, then remove from the heat and let cool. {This will soften the lemon.} Add the anchovies and the rest of the oil, and stir and reheat until warm to the touch. Set aside.
Spread the walnuts, if using, on a baking sheet, and place in the oven to warm through, about 5 minutes. Rub between rough towels to remove some of the tannic, papery skin. Pick out the nutmeats and then shake in a strainer to further cull little bits of skin. Pound the walnuts to a crumbly paste. You should get 1 to 2 tablespoons.
Add the nuts to the warm sauce. Stir in plenty of freshly cracked black pepper. Taste. Add more lemon juice if you like. Rewarm and stir just before serving.
PRESERVED LEMON–CAPER BUTTER
THE ONE BUTTER SAUCE I HAVE NOT ABANDONED FOR SALSA OR VINAIGRETTE. Unapologetically rich, but pungent and chunky with bits of fragrant citrus. Serve it with salmon, Pacific swordfish, bass, spearfish, or albacore. Garnish with potatoes roasted in their skins and wedges of slightly bitter grilled escarole or endive or blanched leeks. Or offer with artichokes or asparagus as a first course.
FOR ABOUT 1 CUP:
2 tablespoons dry white wine
A few drops of water
1/2 pound unsalted butter {2 sticks}, sliced and chilled
1 tablespoon capers, rinsed, pressed dry between towels, and barely chopped
1 tablespoon rinsed, chopped Preserved Lemon or Limequat {here}, seeds removed
Champagne vinegar, white wine vinegar, or freshly squeezed lemon juice, as needed
Choose a heavy saucepan 6 to 8 inches in diameter. I use a 2-quart saucepan: for a larger quantity of sauce, you can use a wider pan, but for this small quantity, a relatively small surface area is desirable. In a wide pan, changes in the necessarily shallow pool of liquid would happen very quickly, before you noticed, much less had time to cool the pan to slow or stop them. This leads to caramelized wine, or separated butter sauce.
Place the wine in the saucepan and reduce by half over medium heat. {If you are concerned that you won’t know when it reaches that point, first measure 1 tablespoon of wine into the pan and tilt it, and try to remember what that amount looks like in that pan. Then add the second tablespoon of wine.} The reduced wine should be deep yellow, not amber. Taste it: it should be pungent, but not acrid. {If it is, pour it out, rinse the pan and start again.} As soon as the wine is reduced, pull the pan from the heat and immediately add a few drops of water and a few slices of the cold butter. Swirl, reduce the heat slightly, and return the pan to the burner. Whisk, continuing to swirl the pan on the burner, until the first pats of butter are nearly melted. Add another few, and continue whisking to encourage emulsion. The emerging sauce will gain body as you add more butter. Don’t allow it to boil; if it starts to, quickly pull the pan from the burner, add a drop, or a few drops, of water at the edge, and swirl the pan to restabilize the emulsion.
Once all of the butter is added, stir in the capers and preserved lemon. Taste. The sauce will taste underseasoned at first, but it will get saltier as the condiments infuse it. Add a few drops of white wine, vinegar, or lemon juice if you would like the sauce more tart.
You can keep the warm sauce covered in a warm spot, but not over direct heat~a double boiler is a fine idea, but it is imminently possible to break the sauce by resting it over, or in, hot water. We hold butter-based sauces in a double boiler, but instead of using water we stuff the bottom chamber with crumpled newspaper. This arrangement insulates the fragile sauce both from direct heat and from drafts.
PORCINI PEARÀ SAUCE
I NO LONGER THINK TWICE BEFORE TYPING “WARM BREAD CRUMB–MARROW SAUCE” on our menu, although for years I obscured the facts behind its beautiful Italian name: pearà. When we first served this unusual and delicious sauce from the Veneto in the late eighties, it seemed a singularly hard sell. But what sounded unappetizing to many a decade ago has become one of our mainstay cold-weather sauces, either in the original formula, or as a variation. Pearà is a shortened form of peperata~”peppered”; keep that in mind when you make this very rich sauce. Short on pepper, the sauce can be insipid. Traditionally served in Verona with bollito misto, pearà is a primitive but rich foil for that dish of lean boiled meats and vegetables. It is also delicious with roasted or grilled meat, poultry, or meaty mushrooms, and with crispy grilled radicchio, pencil asparagus, or artichokes.
Most traditional versions of pearà contain some freshly grated Parmigiano- Reggiano, added minutes before serving, which makes the sauce even richer. If you substitute bits of foie gras or foie gras fat for the marrow, and chicken stock for the beef broth, the sauce becomes a nice companion for quail, chicken, or guinea hen. We sometimes add scraps of black truffle, or a few drops of truffle oil to the humble pearà, and the results are delicious. Try that variation with grilled asparagus.
A note on buying and preparing beef marrow: the best marrow bones are femurs; expect 1 pound of bones to yield about 1 ounce {2 tablespoons} marrow. Have the bones split lengthwise, then pry out the buttery lumps of marrow. Keep in water, refrigerated, until needed. Soaking draws out the blood and will make the sauce cleaner tasting and prettier.
FOR ABOUT 1 CUP:
1 ounce beef marrow {2 tablespoons}
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
About 1/2 ounce cleaned fresh porcini, chopped, or a slice of dried porcini, rinsed in warm water and chopped
Freshly cracked black pepper
1-1/2 ounces fresh soft bread crumbs {about 3/4 cup} made from slightly stale, crustless, chewy, white peasant-style bread {see here}
10 to 12 tablespoons clear broth, from Pot-au-Feu {here} or Beef Stock {here} {dilute the beef stock with water as necessary until it is no richer than a light broth}
Salt
Optional:
1/4 ounce Parmigiano-Reggiano, grated {about 2 tablespoons, very lightly packed}
Up to 1 tablespoon chopped black truffle or a few drops of truffle oil
Coarsely chop the marrow. Place in a 1- to 2-quart saucepan with the butter and chopped porcini. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, until the butter and marrow melt but do not color, about 3 minutes. Raise the heat slightly, add a generous amount of pepper and the bread crumbs, and stir to incorporate. The soft crumbs will become well saturated with fat and the mixture will be fragrant. Stirring gently, add about 10 tablespoons of the broth. The sauce should be the texture of soft oatmeal, and the crumbs should look like fat curds. Reduce the heat to the lowest setting and let the sauce seethe and swell for about 3 minutes. Gradually add more broth if the sauce is stiff or stodgy. The bread you use will determine how much stock you need. Don’t overstir, overcook, or overmoisten this simple sauce, or you risk producing a smooth, uninteresting porridge. Taste for salt and pepper.
Serve immediately, or keep covered in a double boiler over just simmering water until needed. The fat will tend to separate from the sauce as it sits, but the sauce will reamalgamate with a few stirs. If it doesn’t, add a few drops of broth or water and stir again.
Variation FOIE GRAS PEARÀ SAUCE
Substitute 2 tablespoons {1 ounce} foie gras scraps or foie gras fat {see Foie Gras en Terrine, here} for the marrow and Chicken Stock {here}, or Duck, Guinea Hen or Squab Stock {here} for the broth.