20 Years

Today's my 20-year anniversary of being clean and sober. Happy Birthday to me!

Sick. Tired. Bored.

So, not one of my better days. Sigh.

Still, one must eat, if only to keep one's spirits afloat and the body nourished. No pictures tonight, though; it just seemed like too much work.

I started by trimming a pork tenderloin of all silverskin and excess fat, then seasoned it liberally with kosher salt, ground cumin, ground cinnamon, and mignonette pepper (a blend of black and white pepper plus coriander seed). Into a little oil in a hot sauté pan for about 1-2 minutes on each side, then into a preheated 375° oven for about 10 minutes, until an instant-read thermometer showed 130° (inserted in the thickest section). Out it came to rest on the stove top (the temperature rose to about 142°).

Meanwhile, in a second skillet, I started caramelizing half a sweet onion, chopped, in a little butter, along with a small winter squash, seeded, peeled and cut into about 3/4 inch cubes. I seasoned all that with kosher salt, freshly ground black pepper, ground cinnamon, and about 1/8 teaspoon of ground dried chipotle pepper. I covered the pan for about 5 minutes, then continued cooking it with the lid off until everything was nicely caramelized.

I took four small flour tortillas and arranged them on a rimmed baking dish, then scattered some squash/onion medley over each. I sliced the pork into 1/4 inch slices and arranged four slices on each tortilla. I spooned a little mango-peach salsa on, then a little shredded cheese (a mix of medium cheddar and monterey jack--not too much). I popped the baking sheet into the oven, still at 375°, for about 7 minutes, until the cheese was melted and bubbling.

Served them topped with left-over guacamole, made with lots of lime juice and cilantro, and shredded lettuce. We ate them with a knife and fork, but you could pick them up if you're adventurous.

Pretty tasty. A nice melange of flavors and textures. All that's left is the dishes. Sigh.

I Knew It!!

But why is Santa so short??

Cooking: Thai Red Curry Spareribs

Let me just say: wow.

I came across this recipe in the morning newspaper, and it sounded interesting, so off to the store to get some ribs.

Of course, I made a couple of modifications (which I will note in the recipe).

I left out the dried chilies, mainly because I and the Other One are wusses when it comes to heat. Next time, though, I'd probably add a little, although these turned out scrumptious without them (and red curry paste, after all, is made with chilies).

Thai Red Curry Spareribs

serves 2—3

3 tablespoons red curry paste*

2 tablespoons tamarind paste**

3 tablespoons canola oil

2 tablespoons fish sauce***

2 tablespoons organic sugar of your choosing

2 to 4 dried red chilies, chopped

pinch of salt

1 14oz can of coconut milk

1 rack baby back pork ribs (about 2–3 pounds)

In a blender or food processor, combine the curry paste, tamarind, oil, fish sauce, sugar, chilies (if using), salt and coconut milk. Purée until smooth; set aside.

Cut the ribs into 3- to 4-rib sections, then arrange them in a large non-reactive bowl (I used a gallon ziploc bag). Pour the curry paste mixture over the ribs, then mush them around to make sure they're well coated (if you use a bag, you don't get your hands all messy). Cover (or close bag securely) and refrigerate 1 hour.

Heat the oven to 350°. Transfer the ribs to a roasting pan or large baking dish, spreading over them any marinade left over. (I also scattered 1 large onion, cut into thin wedges, over everything, tucking them down between the rib hunks.)

Bake about 1 hour, until meat is tender when pierced with a fork. (Mine took about 1 hour and 20 minutes; for the last 20 minutes, I turned them over in the sauce to coat the tops, then turned them back to their original position.)

Notes  on ingredients

* Red curry paste can be found in most large supermarkets in the Asian food section. If you are lucky enough to have a vibrant Asian neighborhood where you live, you can find many different kinds at Asian grocers.

** Tamarind paste is made, oddly enough, from tamarind. I found it in the Mexican section of my local supermarket. It is tangy and fruity.

*** Fish sauce can also be found in the Asian section of most supermarkets, or at Asian grocers. Despite its name, it doesn't actually taste particularly fishy, and is crucial to the cuisine of Southeast Asia, where it is often used in conjunction with a little sugar.

Here's what they looked like when they came out of the oven. Did I mention that the entire house smelled heavenly the entire time they were in the oven?

I cut the ribs apart, added some of the onion wedges, drizzled some of the pan sauce over, then dusted them with shredded Thai basil. On the side: black rice cooked with a chunk of ginger, and snap peas with carrots.

At first bite, I was underwhelmed, but then the complex flavors began to play on my tongue and soon I was loving them. I had placed a bottle of Sweet Chili Sauce on the table just in case, but we ended up ignoring it. These babies are tasty!

Date from il Mercato Centrale

Twenty-four years ago, I was in Florence.

I was in the last month of a lengthy trip that had taken me from Seattle to London, Oxford, Edinburgh, York, Paris, and Milan, where I spent New Year's Eve watching fireworks from my pensione room window, as it was way too cold be be outside.

I had planned on spending three weeks in Florence, and when I arrived it had warmed up a bit. This warmth, however, was not to last, and a couple of days into my stay it snowed heavily and then everything froze. I was staying in a small hotel just a block from the Palazzo Medici-Riccardi, in a tiny room that reminded me of a monk's cell at San Marco (except, of course, that I had a bed, a desk, and a sink in my room). Since I had nearly three weeks to spend, I didn't worry too much that the trains had stopped running (some of them actually froze to the tracks) and hoped that things would be moving again by the time I headed for Rome.

I was on a pretty tight budget that trip, and that meant that I could only afford to eat one meal a day in a restaurant. Fortunately, I found lots of cheap and tasty things to eat (like pizza and schiacciata, studded with olives and sprinkled with salt) and learned to take breakfast (a cappuccino and "brioche," which was usually actually more of a croissant) standing up in the coffee bar downstairs from my hotel room. I also discovered il Mercato Centrale, the large, covered food market that was blessedly close by. By shopping judiciously, I was able to keep my room stocked with fresh fruit, olives, cheese and nuts. Delicious bread was available at a nearby bakery, always chaotic and fun once I got the hang of how to go about getting served.

Because it was so bitterly cold, during the afternoon closings, when nearly everything shuts down for several hours, I would return to my room to thaw out, wash clothes in the sink, write in my travel journal, and paint. I had with me a cheap, metal watercolor set made by Prang that had eight colors, supplemented with a tube of white gouache. I had purchased a small block of watercolor paper at an art supply store that I encountered while wandering around shivering, and a small roll of artist's masking tape, which doesn't tear paper when you pull it up. I started painting what turned into an entire series of images based in part on what I had seen that day (lots of saints, Madonnas, and patterns everywhere), as well as what I had sitting on my desk: pears, postcards of famous paintings or mosaics, and some luscious dates.

Most of these paintings were extremely small (the one shown here is about 1.5 inches across), but pretty detailed. They have, over the years, been a wonderful souvenir of that trip, and I have not travelled since that I did not take painting supplies with me. Now, all I have to do is look at one of these tiny paintings and I'm right back in Florence for the first time.

There was something about toiling away at these tiny paintings in my monk's cell of a room after a day of seeing staggeringly amazing things, and they remain some of my favorites.

So, how cold was it? Here's a photo of Ammanati's Neptune Fountain encased in ice. Pretty cold.

Playing at Mt. Rainier

We spent Christmas with our friends Holly and Eric and William (our godson) at some cabins just outside Mt. Rainier National Park. There was a lot of snow this year, and although that resulted in frequent power outages, we had a lot of fun.

Here's a photo taken from the deck on the back of our cabin. This is pretty much the view one sees while soaking in the luxuriously large bathtub, as well.

There were some great icicles hanging off the side of our cabin.

These folks seem to be having fun!

And here is Jack holding William after their sledding run.

It was a good day.

Cooking: Greek Delights

During these difficult times, a reasonable person's thoughts might turn to comfort food.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that reason and I have a somewhat love/hate relationship, but, hey.

For some reason, I've been thinking lately of galatoboureko, a Greek dessert that I used to make long ago when I worked in the kitchen of a faux-Mediterranean restaurant. The dish, as most folks agree, is a type of custard made with semolina, mixed with eggs, and baked in phyllo pastry, then drenched in a syrup of some kind (think baklava). I decided to make some.

As long as I was going to make a Greek dessert, I thought, why not make a Greek main dish as well? I decided on pastitsio, mainly because I love it, but also because I wanted leftovers that might actually taste better the second night. My research revealed that there seems to be as many versions of this dish as there are Greek cooks, but they all pretty much involve ground meat cooked with onions, spices, and tomato, sometimes mixed with pasta and sometimes layered with it, with the whole thing topped with bechamel sauce before baking. I wanted to use lamb, so I looked for a recipe that called for that and sounded like something that would be tasty to eat.

First, the galatoboureko, though, because it needed to bake and cool before dinner. Here's the recipe I used.

Galatoboureko

serves 12

4 cups whole milk

3/4 cup organic raw sugar (use whatever granulated sugar you prefer)

3/4 cup semolina flour (fine ground)

1/4 cup unsalted butter

grated zest of 1/2 organic lemon

1 cinnamon stick

pinch of salt

5 large eggs, lightly beaten

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

10-12 phyllo pastry sheets (I used organic whole wheat ones)

3/4 cup unsalted butter, melted

Mix the milk, 3/4 cup sugar, semolina, 1/4 butter, lemon zest, cinnamon stick and salt in a heavy-bottomed saucepan and heat until thickened, stirring constantly. This will take a little while, but once the mixture approaches a boil, it will thicken quickly. Reduce heat and let mixture bubble gently for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and take out the cinnamon stick. Cover surface with a piece of parchment paper to prevent a skin from forming and let cool. When cool, blend in eggs and vanilla; set aside.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter a 13 x 9in baking dish. Place half of the phyllo sheets in the dish, one at a time, brushing generously with the melted butter. Pour in custard and smooth out. Top with remaining phyllo sheets, again brushing each with melted butter. You will need all of the melted butter if you are brushing enough on. Trim overhanging edges of phyllo sheets with scissors; this will make a big mess. Deal with it.

Score the top layers of phyllo with a sharp knife, dividing the pan into 12 portions. Bake for about 45 minutes, until pastry is golden brown and the custard is set when tested with a knife.

Remove from oven and let cool in the pan. Meanwhile, make the syrup.

1 cup organic raw sugar

3/4 cup water

1 cinnamon stick

2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice

Combine the sugar and water and stir to dissolve. Bring to a boil, then add cinnamon stick and lemon juice; boil for 10 minutes. Cool syrup to lukewarm before straining it.

When the galatoboureko has cooled, pour all of the syrup over the top. Refrigerate for at least an hour to allow the syrup to be absorbed.

Pastitsio

serves 5—6

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

1 medium onion, cut into 1/4in dice

1 pound ground lamb

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1/4 cup dry red wine (I used white because that's what I had)

1/2 a 6oz can of tomato paste

1 dried bay leaf

1 cup water

In a large deep skillet or sauté pan, heat oil over medium heat. Add onions, and cook about 3 minutes. Add lamb, salt, cinnamon, pepper and nutmeg. Cook, breaking up lamb, until it is no longer pink. Add wine and cook until liquid almost evaporates, then stir in tomato paste, bay leaf and water. Cover, lower heat, and let simmer about 30 minutes, skimming fat from time to time if it forms. Remove from heat and set aside.

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

1/4 cup all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 1/2 cups whole milk

1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper (I used white)

1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1 small pinch cayenne pepper

In a medium saucepan, melt butter over medium heat. When it bubbles, whisk in the flour and baking powder. Cook, whisking constantly, for 1 minute, then pour in milk while continuing to whisk. Continue cooking and whisking until the mixture bubbles and becomes thick. Remove pan from heat and whisk in the Parmesan, salt, pepper, nutmeg and cayenne. Set aside while the pasta cooks.

Unsalted butter, for baking dish

1/2 pound pasta (I used organic Italian conchiglie; penne works well also)

Preheat oven to 375°F. Butter a medium-sized oval baking dish (or whatever shape you have—if you double this recipe, it fits into a 13 x 9in baker). Bring a large pot of water to boil, then add some salt. Add pasta and cook for 2-3 minutes less than the package directions indicate. It should be very al dente, because it's going to continue to cook in the oven. Drain the pasta and add it to the lamb mixture in the skillet; stir to combine, then pour into prepared baking dish.

Give the bechamel sauce a final stir, then pour it over the top. Bake until top is set and golden brown, about 30-40 minutes (watch it after 25 so it doesn't get too brown). I found I needed a rimmed baking sheet on the rack underneath because the bechamel became exuberant in the oven. Let the pastitsio rest for 1o minutes before serving.

Final scorecard: The pastitsio was delicious, with slightly exotic flavors coming from the cinnamon and nutmeg and a perfect meat/pasta ratio. The bechamel, as I knew because I took a rubber scraper to the pan before washing it, licking up each and every bit, was heavenly and added just enough creamy richness.

The galatoboureko was also fantastic, with hints of cinnamon and lemon and was eggy without being heavy. We had it with some fresh raspberries, which elevated the entire thing to sublime.

Best of all: leftovers!