Fried Green Tomatoes: A Southern Favorite

I wish I could claim that this recipe was inspired by my recent vacation, but it actually reminds me of summer weekends in Portsmouth, NH. When my mom and I see green tomatoes in the grocery stores or the farmers’ markets, we scoop up as many as we can, and she fries them up. Until this weekend, I never made them myself. A text later, and I had a recipe.

In New England, you’re not likely to encounter green tomatoes in the markets until later in the season when farmers begin to fear frost – earlier in the season, most farmers allow their green tomatoes to ripen, knowing that they’ll sell at the market. But when the temperatures begin to drop, green tomatoes allow farmers to pull in a modest profit rather than risk a ruined crop. Naturally, when I found a farmstand selling green tomatoes in June, it felt like winning a thousand bucks on a $1 scratch ticket!

If you ever see green tomatoes at your local farmers’ market*, toss a few in your basket and try this recipe!

*To locate a farmers’ market near you, visit www.localharvest.org


Fried Green Tomatoes

3-4 large green tomatoes, sliced ½” thick crosswise
½ c. flour for dredging
1 egg, beaten
2/3 c. cornmeal
1 t. Cajun seasoning
Canola oil
Bacon fat*

First, dry the tomatoes with kitchen towels to absorb any extra liquid. In the meantime, set up your dredging station: one plate for the flour, one plate or shallow bowl for the beaten egg, and one plate for the cornmeal. Add the Cajun seasoning to the cornmeal and mix thoroughly.

Heat a splash of canola oil and a dollop of bacon fat in a large cast-iron frying pan or griddle (Save $90 on Le Creuset Bistro grill and griddle set at Williams-Sonoma!) over high heat while you prepare the first batch of tomatoes for frying.

To prepare your tomatoes for frying, dip a tomato slice into the flour, making sure both cut sides are covered with a light dusting. Shake off any excess flour.

Next, dip the tomato slice into the beaten egg, letting any extra egg drip off, then dip the cut sides of the tomato into the seasoned cornmeal. Add the tomato to the frying pan, cooking for a minute or two on each side, or until the coating crisps and turns dark golden brown.

Repeat with all remaining tomatoes. You will have to work in batches—make sure the tomatoes have enough space in the frying pan. After a few batches, you may have to add a bit more fat to the pan.

Serve piping hot, preferably outdoors in the sunshine!

*When you cook bacon, always save the fat in a glass container! Store in your refrigerator and use to add flavor to your recipes.

Nutritional Info: serves four. 222 calories, 17g fat, 15 g carbohydrates, 3 protein

Straight Outta Cajun: Gator Gumbo

To fully appreciate this post, you must know that I’ve spent this beautiful, sunny day not parked in a beach chair, but hard at work. That being said, hard work doesn’t seem so hard when it involves sitting on a warm porch with a cold drink, wearing the staples of any good Southern gal's wardrobe (white cotton tank paired with tiny shorts that used to be jeans) Skynyrd and Allman Brothers pumping out of the iPod as I scribble down my thoughts on my latest culinary creations inspired by my recent vacation. Folks, you’ll need to bear with me—I am still in my Floridian food phase, and in addition to Caribbean and Latin-tinged flavors, the third major influence I noticed in the Sunshine State's cuisine is the flavor of the Bayou—Cajun and Creole.

 

Braising gator legs

While South Florida is not at all rural like the locales featured on the History Channel's Swamp People, many of the culinary traditions are one in the same. Several of the bars and restaurants I visited over vacation featured gumbos, jambalayas, and fried alligator (better known as gator) on their menus. Yes, they really do eat alligators down there. And if you’ve never tried alligator meat, that is your loss—gator meat is similar in texture to dark meat chicken, and its flavor is a rich blend of game meat and mild freshwater fish. Alligator meat is high in protein and low in fat, which has increased its popularity in areas of the U.S. north of the Mason-Dixon Line as well as west of the Mississippi.

I managed to find gator legs at Savenor’s Market, and due to the ever-growing market for its meat, alligator is now easily available via mail order from many online retailers.

Alligator Gumbo

Stirring the gumbo

2 T / 30 g butter

1 green pepper, diced

1 medium brown onion, diced

½ lb. / 230 g Andouille sausage, diced

12 oz. / 340 g cooked alligator meat (recipe below)

2 large tomatoes, diced

½ lb. / 230 g fresh okra, sliced crosswise

3 c. / 690 g seafood stock

1 t. / 15 g chipotle flakes
2 large bay leaves
1 t. / 15 g dried thyme
1 t. / 15 g smoked sea salt
½ lb. / 230 g raw shrimp, shelled
1  3 oz. / 185 g tin smoked oysters in olive oil, drained
Generous amount coarsely ground black pepper
Cooked quinoa, to serve (recipe below)

Melt the butter in a large stockpot over medium heat. Add the green pepper, onion, and Andouille sausage. Cook for 8-10 minutes, stirring occasionally, or until the onion and pepper have softened.

Next, add the cooked alligator meat, tomatoes, okra, seafood stock, chipotle flakes, bay leaves, thyme, and smoked sea salt. Cook for 25-30 minutes, uncovered, stirring frequently.

Finally, add the shrimp, smoked oysters, and a very generous amount of coarsely ground black pepper. Cook for 3-5 minutes so that the shrimp is cooked through, stirring frequently. Remove the bay leaves before serving, and spoon over cooked quinoa.

Nutritional information: serves eight.  310 calories, 11.5 g fat, 29.5 g carbohydrates, 30.5 g protein.


Braised Alligator Legs

1 lb. bone-in alligator legs
½ c. chicken broth or dry white wine
1 bay leaf
1/2 t. thyme
Freshly ground black pepper

Heat a frying pan over medium-high heat, then add the alligator legs. Brown on all sides, 8-10 minutes, or until the outside turns a pale golden brown.

Add the chicken broth or wine, bay leaf, thyme, and a few grinds of black pepper. Bring to a boil, then cover and lower the heat to a simmer. Cook for 25-30 minutes.

Remove the alligator legs and discard the broth. If using the meat for the Alligator Gumbo recipe, allow the legs to cool, then use your fingers to remove the meat from the bone and shred into bite-sized pieces.

NOTE: 1 lb. bone-in alligator legs yields about 12 oz. cooked meat.


Cooked Quinoa

2 cups water
Pinch sea salt
1 cup quinoa

In a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan, bring the water to a boil. Add the sea salt and the quinoa and cook for a minute, stirring constantly. Cover, lower the heat to a simmer, and cook for 15-20 minutes or until all the water is absorbed. Uncover, let stand for 5 minutes, then fluff with a fork.

Blackened Grouper with Tequila Sunrise Slaw

I’ve been back from Florida for over a week, but apparently no one told my tastebuds. Each day since I’ve been back has been filled with citrus fruits, Island-inspired seafood recipes, and a few lovely Cuban-style black bean dishes. When I opened Mercato del Mare’s newsletter on Friday and saw that they had fresh Florida grouper for sale, I began to truly believe that while my brain belongs in Boston, my stomach belongs in Key West.

I wanted to serve something crunchy and cool with a little bit of a kick alongside the grouper, which I immediately knew I’d serve blackened. I’m still a little hazy on how my idea evolved and how I ended up inspired to make a slaw based on the tequila sunrise, a classic cocktail made with tequila, orange juice, and grenadine, a dark red syrup made from pomegranates or black currants. However I landed here, I sure am glad I did—this dish worked so well that it may be my signature summer dish going forward!


Blackened Grouper with Tequila Sunrise Slaw

For the Slaw:
1 large orange- zest in thin strips, segments diced
1 small jicama, grated with the large holes of a box grater
1 fresno chile, minced
1 jalapeno, minced
1 green onion, sliced
½ t. / 3 g dried chipotle flakes
2 T. / 30 mL tequila
2T. / 30 g pure pomegranate juice
1 T. / 15 mL olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

For the Grouper:
6  2.5 oz. / 70 g portions grouper fillet
olive oil
Cajun seasoning

First, prepare the slaw by mixing all the ingredients in a large bowl. Cover and refrigerate for at least one hour.

Now, prepare the grouper. Heat a large cast-iron frying pan over the highest heat. It is hot enough when a drop of water dances across the surface rather than sizzling. Brush each grouper portion with olive oil, then coat in Cajun seasoning. Add the grouper to the hot frying pan and cook for about 1-2 minutes per side, or until the coating starts to turn black. Note, this process will create smoke – if you don’t want to deal with your smoke alarms, make sure to have your windows open and air circulating.

Divide the slaw into six portions and place on small plates, then place a portion of blackened grouper on top of the slaw on each plate.

Nutritional information: serves 6. 144 calories, 4 g fat, 10 g carbohydrates, 16 g protein.

Conch Chowder – The Boston Version

Of all the foods I tried in Key West last week, Conch Chowder was the recipe that struck me as The One – the one I had to duplicate, that is. The intermingled sounds of reggae, country, and Cuban jazz competing with each other from the nearby bars, the scents of cigar smoke, fried seafood, and suntan lotion, and the company of friends that I can only see after I’ve been felt up by TSA may have enhanced the flavors of the warm, mildly spiced tomato broth and the bits of salty, rich shellfish, but I did not want that bowl of soup to end.

The soup ended. The vacation ended. While city lights and potty-mouthed cabbies immediately conjure up a strange sense of home in my brain, my tastebuds still longed for the Keys, so I went on a mission to find conch and duplicate that delicious chowder.

This mission, while not impossible, was not fruitful. Tropical Foods, a Latin American/Caribbean Grocer located near Boston’s Dudley Square neighborhood, sells conch. Unfortunately, $55/pound is just not feasible for me, so I ended up back at square one – yearning for conch chowder, no conch.

Quahog

Fate must have been on my side, because just when I had mentally given up on my conch chowder, I spotted live quahogs at the grocery store. For my non-New Englanders, quahogs are large, hard-shell clams that weigh about a half-pound each in the shell. Once shucked, the meat inside is about the size of a golf ball, with a texture resembling calamari more than New England’s beloved steamer clams. Interestingly, one of our first stops in the Florida Keys was Alabama Jack’s, a roadside bar known for its conch fritters and sassy elderly dancers—where the New Englanders among us tried conch fritters for the first time. One girl compared the flavor and texture of conch to our quahogs.

To me, finding live quahogs was the equivalent of having my cake and eating it too – I could have my conch chowder, with a New England twist!


Conch Chowder – The Boston Version

Quahog, shelled

8 quahogs*
3 slices streaky bacon, chopped
1 onion, diced
1 potato, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
3-4 leafy celery stalks, chopped
8 allspice berries, crushed
2 large bay leaves, torn
1 t / 5 g dried thyme
5 roma tomatoes, diced
1 canned chile in adobo, minced
2-3 carrots, shredded using the large holes of a box grater
3.5 c / 830 mL shellfish stock
Juice of 1 lime
1 green onion, sliced
Large handful cilantro, chopped

First, prepare the quahogs. Place them in a large pot with a splash of water, and steam for about 6-8 minutes, or until the shells open up a bit. Quahogs will not open like small clams or mussels, they simply gape a bit. Remove from heat, and once the shells are cool enough to touch, pry the shells apart and remove the meat. Chop into small bits and set aside.

In a large stockpot, heat the bacon over medium-high heat. Cook 3-5 minutes or until the bacon is crisp, then add the onion, potato, red and green pepper, and celery. Cook for an additional 5-7 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables have softened.

Place the crushed allspice, bay leaves, and thyme in a mesh tea ball or in cheesecloth (if using cheesecloth, tie it into a small packet). Add the tea ball or cheesecloth packet to the stockpot, along with the tomatoes, the chile, the carrots, and the shellfish stock. Bring to a boil, then cover and reduce to a simmer. Cook for 20-30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Now, add the conch meat, lime juice, green onion, and cilantro. Cook for a few minutes, stirring frequently, and serve hot. Note, this tastes much better when served outdoors with cigars burning and reggae on the iPod!


* If you do not live in New England, quahogs may be difficult to locate – the landlocked can substitute a half-pound (500g) regular fresh steamed clams or canned whole clams. For authenticity’s sake, you can also substitute canned conch (available at Amazon.com), but it is quite expensive.

Nutritional information: serves six. 437 calories, 8.2 g fat, 70 g carbohydrates, and 20 g protein per serving.

Good Luck Recipes for the New Year!

Happy almost New Year, folks!  Whether you're going out and partying or staying home and skipping the whole thing, January 1 is just around the corner.  New Year's Day brings with it culinary traditions from around the world involving foods and dishes symbolic of good luck, wealth, and longevity.  Much like music and love, rich meat and leafy greens seem to transcend cultural differences and geographical and political borders, appearing as an integral part of the New Year's meal across the globe.  Here are a few of my favorite New Year's recipes!



Cotechino e Lenticchie (Cotechino Sausage & Lentils)

black lentils

Cotechino is an especially fatty, mildly spiced pork sausage made in Italy and traditionally eaten at midnight on New Years Day to bring in the new year.  The pork symbolizes richness, while the round lentils are thought to look like coins, also symbolizing wealth.
 

1 cotechino sausage (fully cooked), approximately 1 lb.
generous splash olive oil
3 shallots, minced
1 carrot, finely chopped
3-4 whole dried sage leaves, finely crumbled
generous grinds of coarse black pepper
1/4 c. dried porcini mushrooms, chopped
light splash wine
8 oz. French lentils (also called Le Puy lentils)*
2.5 cups water
salt
truffle oil

Pierce the sausage all over with the tip of a knife.  Cover with water, bring to a boil, and then simmer for 20-30 minutes.

In the meantime, heat the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat.  Add the shallot, carrot, sage, and black pepper; saute, stirring occasionally, until the shallot is translucent and soft. Next, add the porcini mushrooms.  Stir until the mushrooms are coated with the oil, then add the wine.  Stir thoroughly. 

Now, add the lentils to the pot. Stir for 1-2 minutes, or until the lentils are thoroughly coated with the oil/wine mixture.  Add the water.  Bring to a boil, and then reduce heat to low.  Simmer for 30 minutes, or until the lentils are soft, but not mushy. 

Once the sausage has cooked, remove it from the water, and when cool enough to touch, slice it into thin rounds.  When the lentils are done, spoon portions of the lentil mixture into individual dishes and finish with a light drizzle of truffle oil.  Top the lentils with 2-3 slices of the sausage, garnish with fresh herbs of your choice, and serve. 

* You can use regular lentils, but the beauty of French lentils is that they do not lose their firmness or their shape during the cooking process.

Hoppin' John

Hoppin' John is eaten on New Years Day in the American South to bring wealth in the new year.  Pork symbolizes wealth because it is a rich, fatty meat, and collards symbolize wealth because they are green, the color of money. 
 
5 oz. thick-cut bacon, sliced into 1/2" chunks
1 T. butter
1 large onion, diced
12 oz. lager or pilsner-style beer
1 large bunch fresh collards (approx. 2 pounds), ribs removed, chopped
2 t. dried thyme
2 garlic cloves, smashed
1/4 - 1/2 t. cayenne pepper
2 bay leaves
1 16-oz. can black-eyed peas
3 cups cooked white rice
salt & pepper to taste

In a large, heavy bottomed stock pot, cook the bacon, butter, and onion over medium heat for 8-10 minutes, or until the onion has softened and much of the fat has rendered off of the bacon.  Next, add a splash of the beer and stir until the liquid stops frothing, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan as you stir.  Now, add the collards, thyme, garlic, cayenne, bay leaves, and the remaining beer.  Cover, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer for 40-45 minutes, stirring occasionally. 

Once the collards have cooked, add the black-eyed peas, rice, and salt & pepper.  Stir, then cook for 5-7 minutes or until the black-eyed peas and the rice are thoroughly heated.  Serve in small bowls. 


Pork & Sauerkraut

The Pennsylvania Dutch believe that because it is not possible for a pig to look backwards without turning completely around, therefore pork is associated with moving forward.
 
Amazing Breaded Pork Chops

bone-in pork chop

2 bone-in pork chops, about an inch thick
1 t. salt
generous amount coarsely ground black pepper
4-6 whole dried sage leaves, finely crumbled
1/4 c. mild red wine vinegar
1/4 c. balsamic vinegar*
1/4 c. water
1/4 - 1/2 c. flour
1 egg, beaten
1/4 - 1/2 c. Italian-style bread crumbs
1 t. dried thyme
1 t. dried oregano
1/2 t. salt
1/2 t. freshly ground black pepper
1/4 c. olive oil, for frying*

Rub the pork chops with the salt, coarsely ground pepper, and half the sage leaves (reserve the other half for later).  Place the pork chops in a shallow dish with the wine vinegar, balsamic vinegar, and water.  Marinate for 30 minutes, turning the pork chops halfway through. 

chops cooking

Set up three plates in the following order - first, flour, second, egg, and third, bread crumbs.  Add the thyme, oregano, salt, pepper, and remaining sage leaves to the bread crumbs, mix well.  Heat the olive oil over medium-high heat in a large, heavy bottomed frying pan (preferably cast iron).  While the oil is heating, bread the chops by dredging (lightly coating) each chop with the flour on both sides, then dipping each chop in the beaten egg, and then coating each of the egged chops with bread crumbs in a thick, even layer.  Coat generously; no moisture should come through. 

Once the oil is heated, add the chops to the hot oil and cook for 4-5 minutes on each side.  Once they are done cooking, set aside to rest for 5-7 minutes, then serve with sauerkraut. 

* No need to use an expensive aged balsamic vinegar for this marinade; the cheap stuff in the salad dressing aisle will work just fine for this purpose. 

Sauerkraut

To step up your sauerkraut, simply add a splash of gin, a generous grind of coarse black pepper, 2 halved garlic cloves, and 2 teaspoons of caraway seeds to store-bought sauerkraut (just don't buy the stuff in a can, it's crap - the stuff in plastic bags and glass jars has a fresher flavor).  Cook it over medium-low heat for 20-30 minutes, drain, and serve with pork chops. 



Longevity Noodles

The Chinese eat uber-long noodles called li mein during new year's celebrations.  The length of the noodles symbolizes a long life, and therefore cutting the noodle with a utensil is symbolic of cutting one's life short - never cut the noodle!  You can, however, chew them once they're in your mouth.  Chinese folks also serve steamed dumplings called "jiaozi" or "Yuanbao," both of which contain pork and cabbage. 

While I'm not familiar enough with Asian noodles to take a stab at this recipe, I've been told that many authentic Chinese restaurants serve longevity noodles, and in some restauarants, diners can watch as the chefs make the noodles - quite a process, which involves pulling and stretching the dough, not unlike taffy.  I find it so incredible that cultures on opposite ends of the globe include the same types of ingredients in their traditional dishes!



Hot-Blooded Mary

This isn't really a tradition, but if you're going to party on New Year's Eve, you might wake up on January 1 with a hangover that makes you curse the day your father met your mother.  If that happens, sometimes a little hair of the dog is the best cure.  Even if this doesn't cure your hangover, its spiciness will certainly wake you up! 

juice of 1/2 lime
1/2 t. prepared horseradish
1/4 t. Old Bay seasoning
splash worcestershire sauce
2 oz. vodka
6 oz. tomato juice
splash ghost pepper oil*
dusting of freshly ground black pepper
celery stick with leaves to garnish

Cmbine the lime juice, horseradish, Old Bay seasoning, worcestershire sauce, and vodka in a highball glass.  Mix well.  Add an ice cube or two, then pour in the tomato juice.  Stir again.  Top with a few drops of ghost pepper oil and a dusting of freshly ground black pepper. 

Be prepared to forget that you were hung over!!!

* If you haven't made ghost pepper oil, substitute a few drops of ultra-hot hot sauce and a few drops of olive oil.

Ingredient Spotlight - Concord Grapes

Concord grapes.  Their unmistakable aroma caught me by surprise as I scanned a produce market with my mom.  I picked up the container of grapes, breathed in their scent, and put them in my basket.  "What are you going to do with those?" my mom asked.

"No idea," I replied.  "Smell them?" 

Just one sniff of Concord grapes always manages to transport me right back to my childhood in Erie, Pennsylvania.  For those unfamiliar with the dot on the map where I spent the first 18 years of my life, Erie is home to more than decaying industry, lake effect snow, and the infamous pizza bomber.  Seated on the shore of the shallowest Great Lake, Erie has miles of sandy beaches and truly gorgeous sunsets.  Head east on PA Route 5, pointing away from the rusted out city, and you'll find acre after acre of vineyards belonging to local wineries, where seemingly endless rows of native grapes grow atop cliffs overlooking the lake's blue waves. 

As a child, I had access to a grapevine.  Yup, a single grapevine.  A sore thumb in my working-class neighborhood of brick rowhouses, postage-stamp yards, and blue-collar folks more loyal to beer than Barolo, my neighbor's vine of Concord grapes grew along the wire fence separating her yard from ours.  Although the scent of the grapes was intoxicating in the fall, my mom's flower garden didn't appreciate the shadows cast by the grapevine's broad leaves.  My neighbor, who canned and preserved whatever she could get her hands on, often juiced the grapes.  I don't remember her doing this so much in later years, but man, oh man, did those grapes smell delicious. 

Reminiscing aside, I still had no idea what to do with my grapes after I purchased them.  I don't know how to make wine, and even if I did, Concords are a "foxy" grape ("foxy" refers to a musty characteristic in grapes), and as such, they aren't generally used in winemaking.  Concords are pretty tart to eat out-of-hand, and their large seeds offer a crunchy, bitter surprise to the unsuspecting eater.  I wasn't quite convinced that I wanted to use the grapes as anything more than a catalyst to ignite a stroll down memory lane, but in the end, I decided it was time to make new memories and a new recipe. 



Grilled Pork Tenderloin with Concord Grape and Wild Boar Bacon Reduction

1 pork tenderloin, about 1.5 pounds
1 c. Concord grapes, halved
2 large garlic cloves, minced
2 T. olive oil
2 T. balsamic vinegar
2-3 sage leaves, minced
1 T. coarsely ground black pepper
1 T. butter
2 ounces wild boar bacon, cut in 1/4" dice*
1 small shallot, finely minced
1/3 c. light-bodied white wine
1/3 c. chicken or ham broth
Concord grapes on the stem, to garnish

Combine the grapes, garlic, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, sage leaves, and pepper in a large glass or plastic container with a tight-fitting lid.  Using a potato masher or the back of a fork, mash all the ingredients together until a fragrant paste is formed.  Place the pork in the dish with the grape paste, rubbing the paste on the pork.  Marinate up to 24 hours, shaking the dish occasionally.  The longer you marinate the pork, the fuller the flavor will be. 

When you are ready to cook the pork, heat a grill or grill pan over high heat.  In the meantime, brush the grape marinade off the pork, reserving the marinade.  Grill the pork on each side until no pink shows.  Each side should take about 5 minutes; the pork is ready to turn when the pork easily releases from the grill/grill pan.  If you are using a grill pan, transfer the pork loin to a shallow ovenproof dish or a baking sheet lined with foil, and bake for 10-15 minutes.  This step is not necessary if using a charcoal grill. 

While grilling the meat, make the grape and boar bacon reduction.  Place the reserved marinade in a small saucepan with the wine and chicken broth.  Bring to a quick boil, then reduce heat to a low simmer.  Keep covered so liquid does not evaporate, and simmer for about 10 minutes. 

In a separate saucepan, melt the butter over medium-high heat.  Add the diced wild boar bacon and saute until the fat has melted and the boar bacon is crispy.  Add the minced shallot and saute for another 3-5 minutes, stirring frequently, until the shallot is soft and translucent.  Do not let the shallot burn. 

Now it is time to add the marinade liquid.  Place a very fine sieve (or a strainer lined with cheesecloth) over the saucepan containing the boar bacon and the shallot.  Pour the contents of the marinade pan through the sieve, pressing the remaining solids with the back of a spoon to release as much liquid as possible.  When all the liquid has been squeezed out, discard the solids and bring the grape liquid to a boil, and whisk the sauce until it begins to thicken.  If it does not thicken up, you can "cheat" by blending 1 T. cold water with 1/2 t. cornstarch, and then whisking this into the sauce. 

Once the meat is done, take it off the grill or out of the oven and let it rest for 10 minutes.  Slice into 1/2" thick rounds, and arrange the rounds over polenta squares.  Spoon the grape sauce over, and garnish with a small bunch of Concord grapes. 

* If you cannot find wild boar bacon, you can substitute regular bacon or pancetta.  Wild boar bacon is available by mail from Savenor's, one of my local butcher shops.

New England-Inspired Pasta with Pumpkin, Cranberries, and Spice-Crusted Duck

Pumpkin, cranberry, and duck - all autumn foods, all native to New England, but not necessarily anything you’d associate with linguine and cream sauce!

My intention for tonight’s dinner was to use the pumpkin I had left over from Sunday’s broiled polenta squares. I was going to cube and cook the pumpkin, add it to alfredo sauce with a little bit of nutmeg and black pepper, and serve it over radiatore, a type of short dried pasta. Still, I felt the recipe was bland and needed a kick, but I had no clue what that kick would be. Then I saw a bag of cranberries, and I found the kick. After I threw the cranberries in my basket, I went straight for the poultry section and picked up a fresh duck breast.

I had no idea how cranberries would work with pasta, but I was willing to find out. I had a recipe in mind - which is what I’m sharing with you below - but several kitchen mishaps and zone outs prevented my final dish from coming into fruition the way I would have liked. First, as I was stirring my pasta, I managed to splash boiling water out of the pan and straight onto my hip, so instead of attending to my food I was attending to my skin. Then, I completely zoned out, and instead of waiting until the pasta was plated to add the duck, I added it with the cream sauce. Oops. Finally, when I tasted it, I realized that it was missing something - I forgot to add the salt. So, I added a generous pinch of salt, stirred, dealt with the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to take a pretty picture, and mourned for the crispy spice crust on the duck that got lost once I added it to the cream sauce. Put it this way - if Gordon Ramsay was in my kitchen tonight, he probably would have told me to piss off. That being said, he wouldn’t have spit my food out, because despite my little string of disasters, the final product was delicious!

Here is the recipe as it was intended to be. Enjoy the flavors of fall in New England!


Linguine with Spice-Crusted Duck Breast, Pumpkin and Cranberries

10 oz. Linguine
1 duck breast, skin removed and reserved
½ t. nutmeg, separated in half
½ t. finely ground black pepper, separated
2 T. butter
2 cups cubed pumpkin
2/3 cup cranberries, halved
1 T. grappa
1 cup light cream
½ c. grated pecorino
Salt to taste

Cook the linguine. In the meantime, heat a heavy bottomed pan over high heat. Once it is hot, place the duck skin in the pan and cook it for 2-3 minutes until the fat begins to melt and coat the pan. While duck skin is cooking, rub the duck breast with ¼ t. of the nutmeg and ¼ t. of the pepper.

Remove the duck fat and place the duck breast in the pan. Cook each side for approximately 4 minutes, then remove from pan and set aside. Lower heat, add the butter and stir until it melts, then add the pumpkin, cranberries, and grappa. Cook for 8-10 minutes, or until the cranberries have begun to break apart. In the meantime, slice the duck breast crosswise into 6 slices approximately ½” thick.

Next, add the cream and pecorino, stirring until the cheese has melted into the cream and the sauce has thickened. Add the remaining nutmeg, pepper, and salt to taste, stir a few times, then add the cooked pasta. Cook for an extra minute, then serve, dividing pasta into 3 portions and topping with 2 slices of the cooked duck breast.