Ready, Set....Steak.

Steak, steak, steak, steak, steak, steak, steak. (I'm humming this to the Monty Python "men men men" song, in case you're wondering.) And I'm itching to share this little old recipe with you.

I discovered it this past winter, after picking up a London broil at Fairway under duress. I say "under duress" because, you see, I've never liked London broil. It's got no bone. It's got no discernible marbling. It reminds me of an old leather shoe. But the stuff was on sale for 4.99/lb and my friendly Fairway butcher swore to me that a big old slab would win raves as long as "ya marinate the hell outta the thing."

Not one to pass up a bargain or a challenge (especially from a man wielding a cleaver), I promptly ordered up a slab of said meat and headed home to find the marinade from hell. Who knew I'd hit pay dirt on my very first go. It's from Epicurious and it is divine for these reasons:

1) Most ingredients come straight from the pantry and you can always have them at the ready.

2) The resulting steak is so delicious and flavorful, I'm convinced that this marinade could indeed make an old leather shoe taste good. I started making a 2 1/2 pound steak for this family. I'm now embarrassed to say I've upped it to 3 1/4 pounds for the four of us, and nothing is ever left over.

3) It requires an overnight soak but that overnight soak makes it the ABSOLUTE PERFECT THING to make ahead when you are ditching the family for dinner the next night so you can go out carousing or if you'll be working late. I made this at least once a week over the winter while I was taking my EMT course in Elizabeth. It took exactly 5 minutes to set up and it was a savior. All you or the nearest Neanderthal need do about half an hour before dinner the next night is throw it under the broiler or onto the grill, boil up the leftover marinade and get those mandibles going. I discovered a recipe for Greek lemon potatoes that also marinates in a bag overnight and served it as a side. I might post about that next. If you can't wait, however, you can email me.

So....here's the secret sauce. I throw it together in my food processor but you can just as easily whisk it up in a bowl:

4 large cloves garlic, minced
4 Tbsps. balsamic vinegar
4 Tbsps. fresh lemon juice
3 Tbsps. Dijon mustard
1 1/2 Tbsps. Worcestershire sauce
1 Tbsp. soy sauce
1 tsp. dried oregano
1 tsp. dried basil
1 tsp. dried thyme
1/2 tsp. dried hot red pepper flakes
2/3 cups olive oil

2 1/2 - 3 1/2 pound slab of London Broil

In a bowl or food processor, whisk/blend together marinade ingredients until combined well.

Lightly score the London broil on both sides (see picture if you don't know what that is or how to do it.) Put steak in a large resealable bag and pour marinade over it. Seal bag, pressing out excess air, and set in a shallow dish. Marinate meat, chilled, turning bag once or twice, overnight.

Take meat out of bag. Pour marinade into a small pan and boil well. (The recipe tells you to toss the leftover marinade. I cook it up and serve it on the side, figuring I'm killing off all those bad germs with the heat. If anyone out there knows otherwise and wants to let me know if I'm putting everyone at risk, do tell.) Grill or broil meat, 9 to 10 minutes on each side, or until it registers 135 F to 140 F. on a meat thermometer for medium rare. (or to taste) CUT MEAT VERY THINLY on the diagonal across the grain. Devour.

Baking for Passover? Make These Amazingly Easy, Utterly Yummy Coconut Macaroons

So I was at this bris yesterday (woo hoo!) and a family friend bee-lined across the apartment right before the ceremony, grabbed me by the arm and fretted..."Help! I have to make something for a seder I'm attending and I don't cook. What the heck should I make?" By the color of her face, you'd think she was the one on the chopping block. Luckily, I had an easy answer: Danny's Macaroons.

Now, just in case you are one of those people who confuses meringues and macaroons...or are among those people who hate both of these desserts because you’ve eaten crappy store-bought versions of them at Passover seders...let’s set things straight.

Meringues are essentially whipped egg white and sugar, sometimes with coconut and other stuff, and they can be really gooey and crunchy and amazing (you can find my recipe on this site).  Macaroons are coconut and egg white, but they are more dense and coconut provides almost all of the heft. Very often they are made with almond paste, almond flour, or almond essence—which ain't my thing. Good almond-free macaroons—on the other hand-- are one of my favorite foods on earth. I love love love them, especially with a thin smear of good chocolate across their base.

I tried a bunch of recipes on my search for the perfect rendition of this cookie. I did it the hard way—creating my own egg white and sugar base. And I did it the sleazy easy way, with sweetened, condensed milk. The verdict: Easy aced it. This recipe, from some guy named Danny Cohen, has become such a cult favorite that this guy actually calls himself Danny Macaroon and now makes a mint selling his cookies by mail order. Save your pocket change and make them yourself. They really are stupid easy and ridiculously delicious.

One 14-ounce bag sweetened shredded coconut

One 14-ounce can sweetened-condensed milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 large egg whites

¼ teaspoon salt

4-8 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, melted in a double boiler or in a bowl over a saucepan of barely simmering water (if you are just smearing the bottom, you need less. If you plan to drizzle--which is no necessity--melt more.)

1.     Preheat the oven to 350 F and line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. In a medium bowl, combine the coconut with the sweetened condensed milk and vanilla. In another bowl, using an electric mixer, beat the egg whites with the salt until firm peaks form. (I tend to beat these whites a little more than I do for most recipes. The stiffness helps keep the cookies from spreading too much. Just don't go crazy. You don't want them to be dry.) Fold the beaten whites into the coconut mixture.

2.     Scoop tablespoon-size mounds (I make mine a little bigger, using a smallish cookie/ice cream scoop) onto the baking sheets, about 1 inch apart. Bake in the upper and middle thirds of the oven for about 20-22 minutes, until just golden; shift sheets from top to bottom and front to back halfway through baking. WATCH THESE CAREFULLY AND START CHECKING BOTTOMS OF THE COOKIES AT ABOUT 18 MINUTES. THEY ARE HIGH IN SUGAR AND THUS BURN IN A BLINK! Transfer the baking sheets to racks and let the cookies cool completely.

3.   Use an icing spatula or any kind of flat blade to smear the bottoms of the macaroons with the melted chocolate, sort of pulling off the extra and letting it fall back into the bowl. Return the cookies to the lined baking sheets. You can just smack the macaroons chocolate-side down on the parchment….they will peel right off later. If you plan to drizzle, the neatest way to do it is with a pastry bag. But I know that's probably too much for most people, especially declared non-cooks like that family friend of ours. You can just take a spoon and drizzle the stuff onto the tops or skip the drizzle all together. There's plenty of chocolate on the bottom of the cookie to keep you happy. Refrigerate for about 15 minutes (or longer is fine) until the macaroons are set. Return to room temp before serving. Macaroons can be refrigerated up to 2 weeks. 

Totally Bitchin' Brussels Sprouts

I'll put it right out there: THESE BRUSSELS SPROUTS ARE BETTER THAN SEX. And my love life is just peachy, thanks. So that should give you a good idea of how freaking wonderful this recipe is.

I didn't merely stumble upon this Holy Grail of sprouts preparation. My brussels sprouts odyssey spanned years. All because I simply refused to accept the fact that I, a person who adores cabbage and its many cruciferous cousins, just didn't like the little orbs. They looked so cute in their cardboard tubs at the supermarket. I knew they were nice and healthy. They looked just like tiny green cabbages, the larger version of which I adore. But the few times I'd made brussels sprouts or ordered them out, the tastebuds take-home was blecchh. Bitter and mushy.

Not one to surrender to a vegetable, I started recipe hunting and menu scouring in earnest about two years ago. This just so happened to be around the time that the foody world in general launched into its love affair with brussels sprouts. Suddenly, there were tons of recipes out there (still are) and sprouts were showing up on every chichi menu in town. Paul, the boys, and I discovered the insane, butter-bathed beauties served at Alta in the Village. Friends raved about favorite recipes that were flavored with pancetta or bacon. But let's be honest: You can put pancetta on a Scrunge and it will taste good. As far as I'm concerned, pork products on vegetables is cheating. And drowning them in butter or deep frying them, to some extent, is a bit shady, too.

Pancetta aside, I did begin to make some headway on the home front. I began roasting my sprouts with Seasonello and olive oil until they were nutty brown. I tossed in a little grainy mustard for a change of pace. Over time, brussels sprouts began appearing on my kitchen rotation about once every two weeks--partially thanks to the huge bins of them  beckoning to me at Fairway.

It was a Wednesday, right after New Years that I finally hit pay dirt. I was checking out Food52.com,  and came upon (I get chills just thinking about it) the golden recipe for Momofuku's Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Fish Sauce Vinaigrette. I made it that night with a 1 1/2 pounds of Brussels sprouts and we quickly devoured them. The fact that Noah and Ben --two teenage boys and tepid vegetable likers at that--nearly came to blows over the last three orbs should give you an idea of how good they were. I made them again three days later, again soon after that, and have had to restrain myself from making them every freaking night since I first tasted these babies. The final proof that this is a great recipe: I served 5 POUNDS of these brussels sprouts to a dinner consisting of 6 innocent adults the other night and only three measly sprouts remained at the end of the meal. (I snarfed them down while mopping off the counter.) That's nearly a pound of brussels sprouts per person. Amazing,.... but not something I'd necessarily recommend unless you want to sleep in separate bedrooms for the night. I need not go into the details as to why.
Oh, and just in case you're sitting here saying, "Ew, fish sauce!" Calm down. Fish sauce doesn't taste fishy. It's in just about every Thai or Vietnamese dish you eat. It's the Asian equivalent of anchovies. And Italians put those BEEPs in everything. I do, too, and my kids haven't a clue. We're talking umami here. Not fishy. So just go for it. You can get fish sauce at any Asian market--ask the store clerk to suggest a good brand. You don't want to go with cheap, artificially flavored stuff. One more thing: On a few occasions, I've had leftover vinaigrette and Brussels sprouts on hand, but no mint or cilantro. Made them anyway, without the fancy herbs. Not quite as great, but totally bitchin' anyway.

So here's the recipe, slightly adapted. And now that I'm at the end of this column and hope I've sold you, I'll just say. Well. They're almost as good as sex.

Here goes:

2 Tablespoons very thinly sliced cilantro stems (or to taste)
3 Tablespoons chopped mint (or to taste)
Neutral oil, like grapeseed, canola, or vegetable (not olive)
2-3 pounds brussels sprouts (smaller are better) (you will have more vinaigrette than you need, so feel free to buy more sprouts. Just remember what I told you about side effects)

For vinaigrette:
1/2 cup fish sauce (adjust to taste - some brands are saltier than others)
1/4 cup water
2 Tablespoons rice wine vinegar
Juice of 1 lime
1/4 cup sugar
1 garlic clove
1-3 bird's eye chilis (I use a couple of drops of hot chili oil instead. I'm sure you can use red pepper flakes or skip all together.)

For vinaigrette, combine all ingredients in a jar. Taste. If too salty, add more water and/or lime juice. This recipe will make more vinaigrette than you need. It will keep for a week or more in the fridge.

For the Brussels Sprouts: 
Preheat oven to 400. Trim sprouts and slice in half, from top to bottom, so you are cutting through the stem end.  Throw onto a large rimmed baking sheet. Drizzle with enough neutral oil to coat (about 1 Tbsp. per pound) Arrange sprouts so they are all nestled cozily, cut face down. Roast in oven, checking for browning ever 10-15 minutes, tossing them around gently once or twice with a spatula only after they start to brown nicely. The sprouts are ready when they are tender but not soft, with a nice, dark brown color in various places. When ready to serve, transfer sprouts to a serving bowl (or just leave them on the baking sheet if you're lazy like me.) Pour on a generous amount of dressing (I never use all of it on one recipe unless I'm making, um, a ton). Throw on the chopped mint and cilantro. Toss gently one or two times to coat. Eat hot or at room temp.  Send me a thank you email after you're done doing the dishes.

The 2013 Cookbook is Ready!

Happy New Year! Hope y'all spent the evening and day  in some way that made you smile. I put the finishing touches on this year's edition of my cookbook this morning and I'm all set to send it out into the cybersphere. Want your copy? Just shoot me an email at pegSrosen@gmail.com and I'll get right back to you with an attachment and printing instructions.

Best to You....


Peg

Finally...a Great, Healthy Gift Idea

I am absolutely the worst gift giver. It's probably because I hate shopping in general and thus have no clue of what's hot for the season or what people actually want. I wrack my brains. I wring my hands. And I usually come up with doofus things--like an extra pair of earbuds or ski socks--that make people snore or cry. The hardest task of all is figuring out what to buy for my husband Paul's clients, simply because they really don't need anything, especially from people like me who barely know them.

This year, however, I hit pay dirt. It was October and I was scrounging around for a good birthday present. We had just come from apple picking in New York State and I thought about how cool it would be to send a box down to Paul's client in Tennessee, where maybe crisp Northern varietals might actually be a novelty. I Googled away and landed on Honeycrisp.com, a site which sells a huge variety local apples, in particular the honeycrisp apple, which really is crazily crisp, thin-skinned, and sweet as honey. The coolest part was that they also send apples to American soldiers overseas and pay for shipping through their Operation Apple program.

I rang the place, cuz I of course had questions, and the owner, Paul Woolley, picked right up.  Woolley helped me arrange to send a box of his fab apples down to Tennessee. He then went and found just the right soldiers to send a bushel of apples to on Paul's client's behalf. Here's what he wrote:

"Just wanted to drop you a note and tell you that we found a local Special Forces hero SSGT Sean Keough who is in Afghanistan to send the case to. Sean's mom grew up with my wife and friends here in Upstate NY.  Recently Sean was awarded the Silver Star for his bravery.    Thank you for your contribution and tell Paul that I know from getting the emails and calls from these Heros that the apples will be a huge hit.  They always express two things - It’s a taste of home & so nice to just know someone is supporting them.  Thanks again.  Have a great day."

So off the apples went to Tennessee and Afghanistan. The soldiers loved them and sent pictures. And Paul's client was off-the-charts happy. He was insane for the apples and was even more thrilled about the fact that a bushel went to the troops. Ok, so why quit while I was ahead? I then sent apples to another client of Paul's for her birthday. SHE and her family went nuts. All was good. Story over. Or so I thought.

Yesterday, a box arrived on my doorstop. It was filled with honeycrisp apples. I was a little confused. Was this a weird coincidence? Was someone else I knew onto this apple-gift idea? Inside was a note from Paul Woolley himself, wishing us a happy holiday and thanking us for "starting a great thing." Turns out that Paul's clients were so thrilled with their honeycrisps, they sent out boxes and boxes of them to colleagues, friends and family for Christmas. And for every box that went out, they sent a shipment to our soldiers abroad. How cool is that? 

Long story short: If you're looking for a healthy, delicious gift that also does some good, keep honeycrisp.com and our troops in mind. You can even ring them up directly at 518-695-4517. Now...I'm off to grab an apple. Such a nice break from all the cookies, candy and other holiday health hazards hanging around this house. 

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Latke Love

Hannukah was looking to be a little glum this year. Paul's been out on the road for a long stint. My dad had gone into the hospital yet again. And my mother-in-law Florence, who is recovering from hip surgery and no longer drives, was stuck in her apartment on the Upper West Side. It seemed like it would be just the boys and I and our menorah all week.  I'd been so busy and distracted, in fact, I hadn't even picked up presents for them.

When Florence rang the house early Sunday morning, asking if I still planned to drive into the city to pick her up so she could celebrate with us (this, after I had spent Saturday driving my mother out to Great Neck for Aunt Sylvia's 90th birthday celebration at the assisted living facility), I started to get a little dizzy. When she followed that up with "And do you think you want to make latkes?" I thought I was going to light my hair on fire and run in the street. 

Latkes, you see, are not to be taken lightly. They're time-consuming. They're messy. They leave the house and its inhabitants doused in a sheen of oil. Not to mention, the potato starch leaves my hands feeling like beef jerky for about 2 weeks after the fact. Nonetheless, I've been making these particular latkes every year with Florence since the kids were born and they are widely adored by friends, family, teachers, tutors, and virtual strangers I've fed them to on the street. The whole crazy process of making them and sharing them has become our way of marking the holiday season and the turn of yet another year. 

So, anyway, there I was, about to give Florence a litany of reasons why I just couldn't make the trip to NYC to get her. Why I just couldn't see myself grating potatoes. Why I just needed to crawl into bed and watch back-to-back episodes of House Hunters International. When some little voice crept up through me and stammered, "I'll l-l-leave for New York as soon as I get B-Ben from his guitar lesson." Before I knew it I was on Route 3, calling Noah and Ben from the car and asking them to pick up a big bag of spuds. 

When Florence and I got back to Montclair and walked through the front door, it was as though those potatoes had brought their own holiday energy into the house. Noah sprang into action scrubbing and grating the spuds. Florence suddenly seemed like her old self, lording over the fry pan and bantering with me about when the latkes should be turned and how big they should be. Ben surfaced from hours of studying, so he could sneak bits of errant fried potato from the latke plate. The house filled with that irresistible smell of all things fried and golden. The chicken came out of the oven and added it's own savory voice. Finally, we gathered together around the menorah, stuffing our faces with the crispy, spidery latkes. We kindled the lights and gave lots and lots of hugs...a gift that might not have been enough for Ben and Noah, but was everything I truly needed this holiday season. 

The Latkes Recipe

These latkes, from The Joy of Cooking, are crispy, relatively simple, and totally yummy. The trick is squeezing out as much moisture as possible from the potatoes and keeping those latkes small--only about the size of a silver dollar. Otherwise, you'll have either a big, oil-soaked hockey puck that'll give you acne just by looking at it, or an unwieldy, soggy blob that won't stay together. Note of chagrin: After years of swearing that hand grating was the only way to make a proper latke, I wholeheartedly take those words back. For the past several years, I've secretly (or now not-so-secretly) used the coarse grater on my Cuisineart and have come out with not just good results...but fantastic results: Nice long shreds that hang together beautifully, with pretty little tongues of potato fringing the edges. And no pieces of shredded knuckle in the batch! I don't know why my mother-in-law and I were so convinced that hand grating was the rule....I think it was just the basic Jewish belief that nothing good comes without some degree of suffering. So pull out that food processor, shred those potatoes in a snap, and use the extra time you have on your hands to mop the oil up off the floor. 

Here we go:

Wrap in a very clean absorbent towel and wring to squeeze out as much moisture as possible:

About 6 cups coarsely grated potatoes (If you want super crisp latkes, use a starchier potato like an Idaho baker. That's what we tend to use. Lower-starch boiling potatoes and yukon golds are also supposed to be fine.)

Combine 4 cups of the wringed-out, grated potato in a large bowl with:

6 large eggs, lightly beaten

3 Tbsp. flour

2 Tbsp. finely grated onion

2 tsp. salt

(You will have extra grated potatoes. Set them aside. You can add them to the batter at the end, since you tend to run out of potato pieces before you run out of eggy stuff. Also, you'll probably freak out that your shredded potatoes are turning black. That's just what they do when they are not covered in water, so get over it.)  

Pour vegetable oil into a large heavy skillet or electric fry pan until it's about 1/4 inch deep. (You can actually start heating the oil at some point while you're working with the potatoes, if you want.)  Heat over medium high flame until a bit of potato sizzles when you drop it in to test. (Or set your fry pan to 350.)

Drop small spoonfuls of the potato mixture into the skillet, then flatten each out a bit with the edge of your spatula to make them sorta flat and somewhat thin. Don't make them totally flat like a pancake, though, because you want some texture there. Fry until browned on the bottom, reducing heat to medium, if needed to prevent scorching. Turn and cook second side until crisp, about 3-5 minutes on each side. Drain briefly on paper towel. Sprinkle lightly with salt. Serve with apple sauce, sour cream, and a spray bottle of Shout. Makes a bunch.

Go WITH the Grain This Winter

As I sit here in my toasty, light-bathed kitchen, my mind keeps creeping to another place. To that chaotic landscape of darkened homes, screaming generators, huddled gas-can armies, and shell-shocked faces. I can go on and on, like I'm sure countless others can, about the amazing people who fed us and housed us throughout this brave new chaos and about how so many people suffered far more than we did and are still struggling while we happily return to life as we know it. But you've probably heard that song already.

So, what I will talk about is the the thing I missed most through all of this nuttiness...more than Internet, my own bed, or clean underwear. It was my kitchen. Leaky appliances, off-kilter cabinets and all. No surprise, then, the first thing I did upon my return was throw a turkey in the oven, whip up my my mom's barley casserole, and celebrate Thanksgiving early.

In this post, I present to you the aforementioned barley casserole. It's been part of my life since I was in pigtails so I sort of take it for granted. But when I serve it to friends, it never fails to win raves. And in this age of grain obsession, it has gained near-rock-star status. I mean, when's the last time you ate barley when it wasn't in soup? How cool is it to pull a new carb out of your bag of tricks that pleases discerning vegetarians, suspicious kids, and reactionary Jewish grandparents alike? Way cool, I think.

Anyway, you should really give this recipe a shot. It nuzzles up perfectly against just about any roast meat. It also happens to be a superb out-of-the box side for Thanksgiving dinner. Not just because it's earthy and bird friendly, but because you can easily double the recipe, cook it in advance and warm it up (with an extra splash of broth to keep it moist) when the time is right. Yeah, yeah. You'll also be serving stuffing and it, too, looks sorta mushroomy and brown. Don't worry. Your diners will dig the variety.

There are only two things you need to know: First, you'll ideally want to make this in a covered pot that can go from stovetop to oven. I've always used the old, chipped turquoise Dansk pot my mom used for her barley casserole and eventually passed down to me. I can't personally picture this dish in any other vessel. If you don't have a pot that serves double duty like this, you can easily do the first step in a saucepan, then transfer the barley to a covered baking dish when it's time to move to the oven.

Secondly, you really should use dried mushrooms for the full, earthy effect. Again, true to tradition, I have always used this quirky brand of mushrooms my mom uses. They are kind of like porcini, but are far less expensive and tend to loiter in the low-rent canned vegetable or condiment aisle of some supermarkets. They don't really have a name but the cap says, "Genuine Imported Dried Mushrooms. Imported by the Kirsch Mushroom Company." I know my A&P--the crappiest supermarket this side of god knows where--carries it and if they do, there's a good chance your own crappy supermarket has them tucked into some random aisle somewhere. Ask your grocer if you don't see them. And if you can't find them, don't stress. You can splurge a little, shell out for some fancier dried shrooms, and say a quiet little "thanks" of your own when people tell you how happy you've made them.

Have a great and peaceful holiday. xo

Mom's Amazing Barley Casserole

1/4 pound (1 stick) unsalted butter (please, PLEASE use butter. It's nutty warmth is key here)
2 medium yellow onions
2 handfuls dried mushrooms (if you are really really in a pinch, you can use 3/4 pound sliced, fresh button mushrooms)
1 1/2 cups barley
2-3 pimientos, chopped (Goya sells them in jars. I don't personally know the difference between jarred pimientos and jarred red peppers. Guessing you can substitute if need be. But don't be afraid of pimientos. They are only scary in cheese.)
2 cups low-sodium chicken or (if you must) vegetable broth
salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Place dried mushrooms in a bowl. Pour about 1 1/2 cups of boiling water over them and allow to stand while doing other stuff.

Chop onions either by hand or in food processor. When mushrooms are fully reconstituted and soft, lift from soaking water and squeeze out any extra liquid with your hand. Place mushrooms on cutting board and roughly chop. SAVE SOAKING LIQUID!!! DON'T THROW IT OUT!!!

Gently melt butter in an ovenproof, covered casserole dish over medium flame on stove. Stir in onions, and drained, chopped mushrooms. Saute until tender. Add barley and cook until barley is light brown, stirring constantly. Off the heat and add chopped pimientos, chicken broth, salt and pepper. (If using dried mushrooms, pour off some of the reconstituting liquid and substitute 1/2 cup of it for 1/2 cup of the chicken broth. Don't use stuff from the very bottom of the bowl, though, because it can be gritty.)

Cover dish and transfer to oven. Bake about 50 minutes or until liquid is absorbed. Add more broth if barley becomes dry (it never does for me, unless I'm reheating.) Enjoy. And thanks Mom.