An Alternative Clambake

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

This column, adapted for Mixing in Mobile, originally was published on May 23, 2007 in the Kootenai Valley Record 

       Few meals scream summer as much as a clambake. When the weather heats up, I have a hard time avoiding immersing myself into a daydream of a breezy, sandy beach, a raucous group of friends, and a fragrant steaming pot of lobster, mussels, clams, potatoes and corn. In Montana, fresh Maine lobster was but a distant memory, as was the Atlantic Ocean, so some improvisation was needed, but the outcome is no less delicious, (and much more affordable). Fresh mussels and clams are easily available and in season, and at very reasonable prices. Some people have an aversion to cooking fresh seafood: their concerns might vary from squeamishness, food safety, or simple uncertainty and a lack of experience might prevent them from attempting it. What the cautious cook needs is a healthy dose of self confidence and a great recipe, both of which I hope to impart in this article.

      

       To begin, one must select the shellfish. Freshness is of the utmost importance, and that mantra remains standard for any ingredient in any recipe. Mussels and clams are both used here, but if desired, one may use just one or the other and double the quantity. When choosing the clams and mussels, look for unblemished and tightly closed shells. Usually the meat counter employees will spray the shellfish and then bag them, for the water forces the lazy bivalves to close up and the unlucky ones, who have already met their demise, will be removed. If not, be sure to select tightly closed clams and mussels. When you get them home, take them out of the plastic bag and place them in a bowl covered with a damp paper towel. Some people like to soak them in salt water, which prompts the shellfish to purge themselves of sand and grit, but I have found that grit and sand stays at a minimum. Do not immerse them in fresh water, they will soon expire. Throw out any that are open and whose shells are cracked. Once you have done this, you are ready to go. 

 

      One wonderful thing about this recipe is that you can adjust it to suit your own tastes and preferences. The essential ingredients are tomatoes, garlic and white wine (or chicken broth) but the rest is fair game to improvise, depending on what is on hand in the pantry. You can add or omit the onions, shallots, parsley or basil, crushed red pepper, and finish it with a squeeze of lemon if you want. It is possible, and equally delicious, to use red wine instead of white, or omit the alcohol altogether and opt for chicken broth. The beauty of this type of recipe is that soon you will discover your own magic combination that is perfect for you and yours.

 

Steamed Clams and Mussels in Tomato-Garlic Broth 

Serves 2-4 as an entrée

 

1 pound live littleneck clams, scrubbed
1 pounds live mussels, beards removed and scrubbed

1 tbsp sea salt

2 tablespoons butter or olive oil 

3 Roma tomatoes, seeded and chopped
3 small shallots or ½ small onion, minced  
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
1/2 bottle (750ml) Sauvignon Blanc or other white wine or 2 cups chicken broth 
2 teaspoons minced garlic

2 tablespoons basil or parsley, roughly chopped
Crusty bread, for serving

 

In a large skillet or pot set over medium-high heat, melt the butter or olive oil. Add the shallots and sauté until soft, about 5 minutes, then add the garlic and sauté for two minutes, stirring frequently. Add the tomatoes, clams, mussels, wine or broth, and cover with a tight fitting lid and steam over low heat until clams and mussels have opened, about 5 to 10 minutes. Garnish with herbs and a squeeze of lemon, if desired. Discard any clams or mussels that have not opened. Transfer to serving bowls and ladle with broth. Serve hot with crusty bread to soak up the broth. 

            Remember, the only mistake you can make in the kitchen is not cooking at all. All you need is the desire to create. As the famous chef and food writer James Beard says, "The secret of good cooking is, first, having a love of it… If you're convinced that cooking is drudgery, you're never going to be good at it, and you might as well warm up something frozen." So, my advice to you is: love it, create it, and enjoy it.

One Blog's Beginnings

A friend and I were recently discussing food writing and novels that focus on cooking. I’ve read several novels that incorporated recipes, and I’m actually writing one now (mostly baking, as it revolves around a bakery). Some of my absolutely favorite books would be considered within this genre.

One day during my junior year (2003) at Florida State University, I was browsing the bookshelves at our campus bookstore. This was in the days when Kindles and Nooks didn’t exist, and if we wanted to read, we actually bought something that had paper and a binding that housed typed words and we flipped pages. I think they’re called books. Anyway, as I browsed, a volume called Cooking For Mr. Latte caught my eye. It had a white cover with a charming illustration, and this book changed my life.

I have always loved cooking. I have always loved writing. I never, in a million years, actually thought it was possible to combine the two. After I finished reading Cooking For Mr. Latte, probably thirty-six hours later, I marveled at how deftly and seamlessly Amanda Hesser had crafted a cookbook, dating manual, and narrative that actually never felt at all like one or the other. I loved the chapter about her Maryland grandmother who says “turrible,” because my own Virginian granny pronounced it that same way. I owe my love of baking and cooking to my granny, and this book brought back a flood of nostalgia for her kitchen that, now that she is gone, both stings and salves.

The book, a compilation of her Food Diary columns, centers around her courtship with Tad Friend, a writer for the New Yorker, and it begins with the first date (blind) and ends with their wedding. Although it is mostly amusing, it touches upon those moments in our lives (fights with a lover, the 9/11 terrorist attacks) in which food becomes much more than sustenance. Here in the South, especially, food is life, both celebrated and mourned. When I heard of my granny’s death, I opened my cupboard, searching for the four squares of Baker’s unsweetened chocolate necessary to make her signature funereal dish: Bereavement Pie.

From this book, I learned about truffles, Champagne, how to eat well on an airplane (the secret is a baguette and proscuitto), the venerable (and seriously intimidating) Jeffery Steingarten, Meyer lemons, and the delights of lamb. I discovered beets, crème fraiche, homemade mayonnaise, and Asian five-spice powder. I have about a handful of go-to recipes, dishes I have made countless times, which I can attribute to this book. Seven words looped over and over in my brain for weeks after reading this book: I want to be a food writer.

Now, this isn’t exactly some success story where I now reveal that I’m the Times’ newest food editor. That is never going to happen to this college English instructor, but I can say that Cooking For Mr. Latte created, nurtured, and solidified my passion for food. When a small newspaper in the tiny Montana town I lived in asked me to write a food column, I got my chance. Our readership was small, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was that I wrote about food. After I moved away from Montana, I began this blog, Mixing in Mobile. Hesser, in one chapter, recounts a meeting with Julia Child and how much Julia influenced her cooking. I adore Julia, and I have all of her episodes on DVD, but as far as influence, Amanda is my Julia.

While living in a small town in Montana in 2005 and re-reading the book for the umpteenth time, I glimpsed the email address, Lattebook@aol.com, on the back cover. I just had to email Amanda Hesser and tell her what her book meant to me, as well as discuss our mutual favorite restaurants/food shops in the Boston area. In her response, she thanked me for the message and asked how I was coping without Cambridge’s Formaggio Kitchen. She also wrote that she was currently pregnant with twins and sitting at her kitchen table having breakfast with Tad, (a.k.a. Mr. Latte). I, then a newlywed, remember feeling thrilled at the success of this relationship I had rooted for from page one, and then I marveled at how this book had entrenched itself so deeply in my heart. What follow are a few of my favorite dishes inspired by Cooking for Mr. Latte, one of my favorite food-stained and battered books on my kitchen shelves to this day.

Beet Salad with Goat Cheese and Blood Orange Vinaigrette

Serves 6

Adapted from Amanda Hesser’s Cooking for Mr. Latte

This is one of my absolute favorite salads. I got the inspiration for this salad in her chapter for airplane food, minus the beets and plus asparagus. While I have never brought it with me on a plane, there's always my next flight. I am fully aware how passé the beet salad is, but I love beets, and I love goat cheese, and I can't deny this salad a place at my table. We'll just call it ironic. I'm also not much for "fussy" food, but when preparing this for a dinner party, I like to create little stacks of beets. It’s quite easy if you have a toothpick handy, and the murmurs of appreciation from your guests are worth the extra five minutes.

6 large beets, scrubbed, trimmed and rubbed with olive oil
a handful of arugula, washed
4 oz goat cheese
juice from ½ of a blood orange
juice from ½ of a lemon
¼ cup of olive oil
minced herbs of your choice (basil, tarragon, thyme, oregano, etc.)
1 shallot, minced
Dijon mustard to taste
salt and pepper
6 toothpicks

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit and wrap the beets in tinfoil. Place the tinfoil packet on a sheet pan to catch any drips and roast the beets in the oven for an hour. While the beets are roasting, prepare the dressing. Whisk the juices together with the herbs, shallot and a dollop of Dijon mustard. Whisk in the olive oil gradually and season with salt and pepper.

When the beets are are cool, rub them with a paper towel under the faucet to skin them.














Slice each beet in four slices. If you need to, trim a little bit from the bottom of each beet so it can stand on a plate. If you use a serrated knife, you get pretty little grooves in the surface of the beet. To assemble each stack, place a beet bottom on a plate, top with a few arugula leaves, some knobs of goat cheese, and another beet slice. Repeat until the top, and put a toothpick in the middle. Drizzle each serving with the vinaigrette. Don’t forget to warn your guests about the toothpick.


Garlic Rosemary Lamb Chops
Adapted from Amanda Hesser’s Cooking for Mr. Latte

For me, lamb wins out over beef any day of the week. This is a simple preparation, but the garlic and rosemary both highlight and soften the intense flavor of the lamb.   In Montana, where lamb was quite inexpensive, I probably prepared this recipe at least three times a month.

3 lbs loin lamb chops
1/3 cup chopped rosemary
6 cloves of garlic, minced
1 /2 cup olive oil
Sea salt
Pepper

The night before, marinate the lamb chops with the remaining ingredients in a Ziplock bag. An hour before you want to cook them, take the bag out and let sit at room temperature. Preheat the grill/grill pan over medium high heat. Grill each chop for 2-3 minutes a side for medium rare.

UPDATED: Amanda has a new blog: Lemon Baby, where she still blogs about her culinary adventures. Check it out by going to lemonbaby.co!
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One Blog's Beginnings

UPDATED: Amanda has a new blog: Lemon Baby, where she blogs about her adventures in cooking and cocktails. Check it out by going to lemonbaby.co! Hope to see you there!

A friend and I were recently discussing food writing and novels that focus on cooking. I’ve read several novels that incorporated recipes, and I’m actually writing one now (mostly baking, as it revolves around a bakery). Some of my absolutely favorite books would be considered within this genre.

One day during my junior year (2003) at Florida State University, I was browsing the bookshelves at our campus bookstore. This was in the days when Kindles and Nooks didn’t exist, and if we wanted to read, we actually bought something that had paper and a binding that housed typed words and we flipped pages. I think they’re called books. Anyway, as I browsed, a volume called Cooking For Mr. Latte caught my eye. It had a white cover with a charming illustration, and this book changed my life.

I have always loved cooking. I have always loved writing. I never, in a million years, actually thought it was possible to combine the two. After I finished reading Cooking For Mr. Latte, probably thirty-six hours later, I marveled at how deftly and seamlessly Amanda Hesser had crafted a cookbook, dating manual, and narrative that actually never felt at all like one or the other. I loved the chapter about her Maryland grandmother who says “turrible,” because my own Virginian granny pronounced it that same way. I owe my love of baking and cooking to my granny, and this book brought back a flood of nostalgia for her kitchen that, now that she is gone, both stings and salves.

The book, a compilation of her Food Diary columns, centers around her courtship with Tad Friend, a writer for the New Yorker, and it begins with the first date (blind) and ends with their wedding. Although it is mostly amusing, it touches upon those moments in our lives (fights with a lover, the 9/11 terrorist attacks) in which food becomes much more than sustenance. Here in the South, especially, food is life, both celebrated and mourned. When I heard of my granny’s death, I opened my cupboard, searching for the four squares of Baker’s unsweetened chocolate necessary to make her signature funereal dish: Bereavement Pie.

From this book, I learned about truffles, Champagne, how to eat well on an airplane (the secret is a baguette and proscuitto), the venerable (and seriously intimidating) Jeffery Steingarten, Meyer lemons, and the delights of lamb. I discovered beets, crème fraiche, homemade mayonnaise, and Asian five-spice powder. I have about a handful of go-to recipes, dishes I have made countless times, which I can attribute to this book. Seven words looped over and over in my brain for weeks after reading this book: I want to be a food writer.

Now, this isn’t exactly some success story where I now reveal that I’m the Times’ newest food editor. That is never going to happen to this college English instructor, but I can say that Cooking For Mr. Latte created, nurtured, and solidified my passion for food. When a small newspaper in the tiny Montana town I lived in asked me to write a food column, I got my chance. Our readership was small, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was that I wrote about food. After I moved away from Montana, I began this blog, Mixing in Mobile. Hesser, in one chapter, recounts a meeting with Julia Child and how much Julia influenced her cooking. I adore Julia, and I have all of her episodes on DVD, but as far as influence, Amanda is my Julia.

While living in a small town in Montana in 2005 and re-reading the book for the umpteenth time, I glimpsed the email address, Lattebook@aol.com, on the back cover. I just had to email Amanda Hesser and tell her what her book meant to me, as well as discuss our mutual favorite restaurants/food shops in the Boston area. In her response, she thanked me for the message and asked how I was coping without Cambridge’s Formaggio Kitchen. She also wrote that she was currently pregnant with twins and sitting at her kitchen table having breakfast with Tad, (a.k.a. Mr. Latte). I, then a newlywed, remember feeling thrilled at the success of this relationship I had rooted for from page one, and then I marveled at how this book had entrenched itself so deeply in my heart. What follow are a few of my favorite dishes inspired by Cooking for Mr. Latte, one of my favorite food-stained and battered books on my kitchen shelves to this day.

Beet Salad with Goat Cheese and Blood Orange Vinaigrette

Serves 6

Adapted from Amanda Hesser’s Cooking for Mr. Latte

This is one of my absolute favorite salads. I got the inspiration for this salad in her chapter for airplane food, minus the beets and plus asparagus. While I have never brought it with me on a plane, there's always my next flight. I am fully aware how passé the beet salad is, but I love beets, and I love goat cheese, and I can't deny this salad a place at my table. We'll just call it ironic. I'm also not much for "fussy" food, but when preparing this for a dinner party, I like to create little stacks of beets. It’s quite easy if you have a toothpick handy, and the murmurs of appreciation from your guests are worth the extra five minutes.

6 large beets, scrubbed, trimmed and rubbed with olive oil
a handful of arugula, washed
4 oz goat cheese
juice from ½ of a blood orange
juice from ½ of a lemon
¼ cup of olive oil
minced herbs of your choice (basil, tarragon, thyme, oregano, etc.)
1 shallot, minced
Dijon mustard to taste
salt and pepper
6 toothpicks

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit and wrap the beets in tinfoil. Place the tinfoil packet on a sheet pan to catch any drips and roast the beets in the oven for an hour. While the beets are roasting, prepare the dressing. Whisk the juices together with the herbs, shallot and a dollop of Dijon mustard. Whisk in the olive oil gradually and season with salt and pepper.

When the beets are are cool, rub them with a paper towel under the faucet to skin them.














Slice each beet in four slices. If you need to, trim a little bit from the bottom of each beet so it can stand on a plate. If you use a serrated knife, you get pretty little grooves in the surface of the beet. To assemble each stack, place a beet bottom on a plate, top with a few arugula leaves, some knobs of goat cheese, and another beet slice. Repeat until the top, and put a toothpick in the middle. Drizzle each serving with the vinaigrette. Don’t forget to warn your guests about the toothpick.


Garlic Rosemary Lamb Chops
Adapted from Amanda Hesser’s Cooking for Mr. Latte

For me, lamb wins out over beef any day of the week. This is a simple preparation, but the garlic and rosemary both highlight and soften the intense flavor of the lamb.   In Montana, where lamb was quite inexpensive, I probably prepared this recipe at least three times a month.

3 lbs loin lamb chops
1/3 cup chopped rosemary
6 cloves of garlic, minced
1 /2 cup olive oil
Sea salt
Pepper

The night before, marinate the lamb chops with the remaining ingredients in a Ziplock bag. An hour before you want to cook them, take the bag out and let sit at room temperature. Preheat the grill/grill pan over medium high heat. Grill each chop for 2-3 minutes a side for medium rare.
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My Summer Cocktail

I have been making a Watermelon-Basil Granita for years now, and it just now occurred to me to combine the same flavors into a cocktail. The spirit? Cathead Vodka's new Honeysuckle Vodka, the only booze I can say that reminds me of my childhood summers at my grandparents' homes in southeastern Virginia. When I found a bush redolent with the dulcet blossoms, I would carefully pluck the stamen through the flower, and touch the stamen, bowed with the drop of nectar, to my tongue. The subtle floral note in Cathead's Honeysuckle Vodka brings back those moments of childish innocence, when my only frustration was not catching enough fireflies to fill a mason jar.

Basil simple syrup is something I don't think enough bars use in their cocktails. Its slight bite lends a deeper flavor to the often sickly-sweet simple syrup. Watermelon juice, a neutral, refreshing foundation,  provides a foil to the stronger herbal flavor of the basil. Altogether, the cocktail is a little sweet, a little tart, and absolutely perfect for steamy summer evenings here in the Deep South.

Honeywater Basil Cooler
Makes 1 drink

1 cup of watermelon chunks, pureed and strained
3 tablespoons basil simple syrup (See Watermelon Basil Granita recipe)
1 shot Cathead Honeysuckle Vodka
juice of 1 lime
lime wedges
sprig of basil

In a highball glass full of ice, pour vodka. Add watermelon juice, syrup, and lime juice. Garnish with lime wedges and sprig of basil. Enjoy!

"Pimenah" Cheese

Makes about 2 cups

A staple here in the South, pimento cheese is a favorite for appetizers or just a midday snack, sandwiched between two slices of Wonderbread (crusts off, of course). This is a simple recipe, takes only fifteen minutes to prepare, and blows the socks off the nasty processed glump by the same name at the grocery store.

one block of the sharpest cheddar cheese you can find, grated by hand
1 small jar diced pimientos
2 tablespoons pickle juice
2 tablespoons - 1/3 cup mayonnaise, depending on how creamy you like it
a dash of  cayenne pepper
salt and pepper

In a medium bowl, wet cheese with the liquid from the pimientos and the pickle juice. Stir in the mayonnaise. The cheese should almost melt into a paste. Season with cayenne, salt and pepper.

Summer on a Plate

I love food magazines. I am the first to admit it; I'm slightly obsessed. In my kitchen stands a bookshelf crammed with back issues (some seven years old) of Gourmet, Southern Living, Fine Cooking, and Bon Appétit. I particularly look forward to the winter holiday and summer issues. Staring at photos of a glistening, crispy Thanksgiving bird or a basil-flecked, farm fresh corn salad does wonders for my psyche.

This month I was particularly inspired by Southern Living's July recipes. I, along with hundreds of thousands of other readers, discovered the perfect appetizer among those glossy pages. The recipe combines my favorite flavors of our sultry, so-hot-you-peel-off-your-clothing Alabama summers: okra, tomatoes, corn, basil, and a personal staple, pimento cheese. Don't you dare use storebought pimento cheese. I will know. My sister, Emily, took one bite and said, "this is summer on a plate." I couldn't have said it better myself.

Okra and Tomato Corncakes
Recipe adapted from Southern Living, July 2012
Original recipe can be found here.

Although I pretty much stuck to the original recipe (you can't mess much with perfection), I did add a few handfuls of cooked, fresh corn kernels, cut straight off the cob, to the corncake batter. We also added more basil, because as far as I'm concerned, you can never have too much basil. I omitted the arugula because we didn't have any.

2 cups cornmeal
2 tablespoons baking powder
1 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 1/2 cups water

1 egg

2 cups okra, thinly sliced
1/2 cup fresh corn kernels
1 small jalapeno, seeded and minced
4 small heirloom tomatoes, sliced into rounds
16 basil leaves
1/4 cup canola oil
salt and pepper

Homemade Pimento cheese (recipe here)

Mix the first four ingredients in a small bowl. Beat in water and egg and mix until batter is thick and wet. Add in okra, jalapeno, corn and stir. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a large skillet until hot but not smoking. Pour batter in tablespoonfuls and cook each cake until bubbles appear on the surface and edges look dry. Flip cakes and press down with spatula. Cook 2-3 minutes and transfer to a paper towel lined plate. Salt and pepper. Repeat with all of the batter and oil.

To assemble cakes, place eight corn cakes on a plate. Top each cake with a tablespoon of pimiento cheese. Top with a basil leaf and then a tomato round, pressing down slightly. Garnish with basil and season with salt and pepper. Summer on a plate. I promise.

Hello, Old Friend.

The title of this particular blog entry has two significances. The first one is that I am ashamed it has been a good portion of a year since my last blog post. In August, I found out we are expecting. Not that being pregnant is any excuse to let a blog go, but needless to say, I haven't been "mixing" much of anything noteworthy for the past eight months, and since I got put on bedrest on January, I've been banned from the kitchen (the horror!). The second significance is that today, I said hello to an old friend I've been missing since we moved away from Montana: rhubarb.

In our spacious backyard in Montana, we had a six square foot patch of rhubarb. The gorgeous, fig-shaped leaves were as big as elephant ears. At first, I had no idea what to do with all of those funny-looking red celery stalks, but with a little help from our friends in town, I quickly made use of the delightfully tart fruit/vegetable.

I recently picked up a flat of gorgeous strawberries from Sam's Club. I quickly tired of slicing them into bowls of cereal, and I just had too many to eat out of hand. Now that I'm allowed to be up and moderately active, I knew I had to acquire some rhubarb for a pie. I had seen some at Fresh Market, but when I got there they had baked them all into (you guessed it) strawberry-rhubarb pies. I thought my pie dreams were foiled until my dear friend, Elizabeth, found some at Publix for me. Thanks, Libbo!

I adapted the recipe from a one that first appeared in Bon Appétit Magazine in 1989 called Deep-Dish Rhubarb Pie with Crumb Topping. I made a few changes. I decided to use a (gasp) prepared pie crust because it's just easier. I don't have any other excuse. I also decided to omit the spices, cinnamon and nutmeg, from the original recipe because I wasn't going for a spicy, warm flavor. I wanted something tart-sweet and summery, which is exactly what I love about the combination of strawberry-rhubarb.

The crumble topping is so simple. I prefer a crumble topping on a fruit pie because of the added sweetness and texture. As far as I'm concerned, there's only one way to mix a crumble, and that's with your hands. Rub the butter between your fingers, making sure to mix it with the flour, sugar, and oats.

My favorite part about this recipe is that it makes a little extra fruit compote. Rhubarb is such a gorgeous, blush pink color when cooked. Spooned warm over vanilla ice cream, it is a feast for the eyes as well as the tongue.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Crumble Pie

recipe adapted from Bon Appétit June 1989

2/3 cup old-fashioned oats

1/2 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup firmly packed golden brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
6 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter cut into small pieces
1 pound rhubarb, sliced into ½ inch pieces
1 basket of strawberries, hulled and sliced into uniform pieces
juice of half of a lemon
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1 pie crust, baked at 350 degrees for 20 minutes until golden

Preheat oven temperature to 375°F. Combine oats, flour, sugar, and cinnamon in a bowl. Add butter and squish with hands until butter is fully incorporated and mixture is uniformly crumbly. Transfer mixture to medium bowl.

Mix rhubarb, strawberries, sugar, cornstarch, and lemon juice in heavy large saucepan. Let stand 30 minutes. Bring to boil over medium heat, stirring constantly. Reduce heat and simmer until juices thicken, about 3 minutes.

Pour filling into prepared crust. Cover with topping. Bake 35 minutes. Cool on rack. Serve warm or at room temperature.