Chicken Pasta in Bianco - the SO CALLED Alfredo Sauce

First, did you know there's such a thing as the "Umami Information Center?" It's predictably amateurish and is clearly the project of specialists with terrible social skills and the dating lives of eunuchs. Pity them. 

Second, I'll admit the title of this post is mysteriously inflammatory - at least if you consider the unnecessary capitalization of words to be the visual equivalent of raising your voice indignantly, as opposed to underlining, which connotes severity, bolding, which is to make a point, and italicizing, which is subtly prurient or merely identifying that something is written in another language. I have faith that my readership can tell the two apart.

There is actually little reason for controversy over the (SO CALLED) Alfredo sauce - it was "invented" by Alfredo Di Lelio for his restaurant, Alfredo, in Rome in 1914. The "Alfredo" was in reference to his restaurant/his name/his ego and had little to do with the actual ingredients, which were fabulously minimal. The original recipe was (pause a moment): fettuccine + butter + Parmesan cheese, which was tossed while the pasta was still hot and moist, allowing the melted butter and the cheese to form a smooth white sauce that evenly coated the noodles. I've never had it, but it (and its descendant in his follow-up venture, Il Vero Alfredo) is reputed to have been quite tasty by the types of assholes who write travel guidebooks. 

Of course, white sauces made of Parmesan cheese and butter had existed before Alfredo's fortuitous combination, and are still generally just called "in bianco". In fact, before the importation of the tomato and pepper a short few centuries ago, there wouldn't have been a lot of options other than cheese, herbs and oil of some sort (see pesto), so take that "invention" line as skeptically as you wish. 

My main problem with Alfredo's recipe is that it's terribly boring conceptually and I can't exactly write up a blog post telling people to just mix cheese and butter. It'd take seconds and, (admit it), you'd never read me again. Even the Pinterest crowd would spit on me. 

You may also notice that I fail to mention any sort of roux here. Although the combination of flour and butter that forms the base of so many amazing dishes and sauces is generally indispensable, I've actually dispensed with it here to let the other flavors shine as they may. Seriously, it won't need a thickener, and roux based white sauces tend to be kind of pasty and filling. Yes, this is actually the light  version. 

So, in the interest of keeping you impressed with me, I've complicated the recipe a bit, but it's really, really worth it. 

A warning (see above): 

Use boneless-skinless chicken thighs (see above...) for this recipe. First, when you brown them, they're fattier and release the oils that you're going to use to flavor your sauce. Plus, bits stick to the pan, get hard and taste like bacon cracklins. You're welcome. 

You'll also want to prepare the ingredients beforehand so you'll have them ready to go at the appropriate moment. If the butter is burning and you're still chopping onions, shame on you (see above). 

A suggestion: 

Why not saute some mushrooms to go with it too? Or bacon. Bacon. Bacon (see above). 

Another suggestion: 

This pairs well with wine. But make it something heavy enough to handle the cheeses.   

INGREDIENTS

4 boneless skinless chicken thighs, thawed 

olive oil 

salt 

pepper

lemon wedge

Fettuccine or Spaghetti noodles

1/4 c minced shallot or onion

3 crushed garlic cloves 

1/2 c butter

1/3-1/2 c light cream

1/2 c milk 

3/4 c shredded Parmesan cheese (off the block is best, not the powdered stuff) 

1/4 c Keshkaval/Romano/Provolone, etc. (something with a bit of umami to it - admittedly, the website dedicated to promoting "umami" does a terrible job of explaining it - just make sure the cheese is a bit funky)

salt

pepper

The Chicken:

Step 1: 

Heat a large flat bottomed (saute) pan on medium high heat until it's quite toasty (if you have a coated pan, this may not be a good idea since you'll burn off your non-stick surface), then add olive oil and salt. I salt the oil to ensure my meat is uniformly seasoned.  

Step 2: 

Add the chicken to the oil once it heats, spreading out the thighs with your spatula or fork or anything other than your hand for Christ's sake and let them brown nicely without fiddling with them too much. Add the pepper and a squeeze of lemon juice on them towards the end and let them cook a bit to form a crust and make your pan look like a nightmare. 

When they're done, (firm, not spongey), put them on a plate and set aside. Hopefully there's a bunch of brown gunk stuck on the bottom of the pan, which you'll want for your sauce - but you can also scrape up a bit of it as a garnish (again, it tastes like bacon!) 

Let the pan cool a bit. 

The Pasta:

Start boiling water with some salt and olive oil. Begin cooking the pasta early, but remember you'll need it just past al dente so keep an eye on it. Hopefully it'll finish at roughly the same time as the sauce. Drain it when it's done, salt  and add a bit of olive oil to keep it from forming a Gordian pasta knot. 

The Sauce

Make the sauce last. Why? Because I said so dammit. Also, because you want the sauce hot and not all congealed on the bottom of the pan when you plate up. 

Step 1: 

Heat the pan on medium heat with all of the residual the olive oil, salt, lemon juice, pepper, and chicken crud, then add the butter and deglaze the pan a bit (scrape it to dislodge the crud and dissolve it into the butter). The butter will take on a golden hue, at which point you toss in the finely minced shallot and cook for about 30 seconds until they soften a bit. Now add the garlic and cook for another 30 seconds, trying to keep it from burning. 

Step 2: 

Turn down the heat a bit, then add in the cream, stirring to mix it, then immediately add the cheeses. Stir until they are melted, then add the milk until the mixture is smooth. 

Step 3:

Crack some pepper over the top and salt it if it needs it (it shouldn't, but you don't want to underseason your food). Fresh parsley is a nice touch, if you're so inclined. 

Plate it up with the pasta on bottom, sauce next, then the chicken, thinly sliced over the top. Seriously, this is damn good and really easy to make. 

Cauliflower Pizza Crust: Or Why Pinterest Will Destroy Us All

I'm going to try to keep this relatively short today since I have little time and I'm actually much more interested in posting about my awesome lentil soup, and my equally awesome stick blender.

However, since cauliflower crust seems to be a current Pinterest star, I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon to make vicious unprovoked attacks on the people who have already posted about this before me - all of whom made tonight's dinner possible. For the record, I hate Pinterest. I joined it a long time ago to share my bad attitude with other people through my cruel and misanthropic "Stupid Shit People Post on Pinterest" board, which has probably made people cry. But it's okay, because it's the internet and I don't know them. Right?

Don't get me wrong, I love the taste of cauliflower and it's got all sorts of wonderful antioxidants (plus nicotine!) that make consuming it much more nutritiously rewarding than the the savory, soft, crisp yet yielding crust that usually bears my pizza toppings. However, Pinterest has two primary flaws that always draw my ire (even though I've found my favorite cookie recipe there):

1. 90% of things include cheese. Lots and lots of cheese.

2. People make bizarre substitutions for no apparent reason and people want to try it because they think it makes them foodies

These are actually just symptoms of the main problem, which is that the vast majority of the random bored people who make up the site's usership are completely devoid of taste or sense. If there is any way that the apostrophized plural becomes acceptable in standard English usage, Pinterest will be to blame.

But I digress. Actually, this whole article has been a digression.

Anyways, the origins of this recipe are apparently Weight Watchers, or some other fraudulent support organization. The aim of using cauliflower rather than flour was to cut out the carbohydrates and gluten in the recipe that make pizza crust so delicious and yet so invariably fatal in the first place. As I sympathize with the gluten free crowd, I can't knock them for wanting a nice pizza crust recipe, but my ongoing irritation with the posted recipes is that people who don't have gluten allergies insisted on cutting out the flour while complaining about second degree burns received when their crust dissolved in their hands.

Flour is a great binding agent, so I added it back to the recipe. It also makes the recipe taste wonderful, gives it a firmer texture, and absorbs the moisture of the cauliflower, which means  you don't have to squeeze it in a teacloth and accidentally get water all over the young child who's always playing near your feet with glass or rusty things he found under the stove.

Also, I scaled back the amount of cheese and egg demanded by the bloggers - one person, who was clearly a jerk anyways, called for 2 goddamn cups, which her pictures show had clearly incinerated in the oven. Use flavorful, dry cheese, not tons of it.

Also, some other crank claimed you needed 2-3 eggs, which is insane since you're  not making omelet pizza.

A word of warning: the operation is a two stepper.

1. Construct and bake the crust

2. Load and rebake the pizza.

Since I trust you know how to make tomato sauce, add cheese, etc., I'll just give instructions on the crust.

Apologies for lack of pictures, we immediately devoured the pizza. If you want to visualize it, take a few seconds to imagine a pizza, then continue reading.

Ingredients
1 cauliflower
1/2-2/3  cup shredded pungent cheese (I used emmental and a touch of pecorino for its sheepy sharpness)
1 egg
1 cup flour
2 tsp or more salt
pepper
1 tsp basil

THE STEPS
1. Chop up and boil your cauliflower until it smushes nicely with a potato masher. Mash it as much as you like, if it's smoother it'll have fewer protrusions to burn in the oven.

2. Preheat the oven to 425

3. Add the rest of the ingredients, saving the flour for last. Mix it in until it's a nice paste (you may need more or less than a cup, but 1 cup is a good estimate for most cauliflowers.), then spread it over a piece of baking paper in whatever crust shape you like. A thicker crust is less likely to burn or fall apart, so I'd say make it at least 1/2 inch. (Like you know what that looks like by eyeballing.) Smooth the edges and stick it in the oven when it's hot enough, perhaps making a little dam around the edge for your ingredients to make it look like your crust rose, much like McDonald's does with its wretched compressed pork product sandwich, the McRib.

4. Bake for about 12 minutes, turn, then bake another 12. The crust should be golden brown and might bulge in the middle. This is good since it means it's holding together.

5. Remove crust, add pizza ingredients, then reinsert for another 5-10 minutes.

Voila. 1 hour and you've got weird vegetarian pizza that tastes pretty good.

I'm still not a convert from real crust, but this is a nice change of pace if you're feeling pudgy. 

Persian Pomegranate Walnut Chicken Stew and Spiced Rice

Even with the crazily broad range of things we experiment with  in our kitchen, such as letting an 18 month old beat his own scrambled eggs, there are times when we hit ruts. "Doro Wat again?!" Tam will pout sadly into her plate. For the  most part, we fall back on certain recipes because they are easy, cheap, delicious, or in season (which is a matter of special concern in the winter time in Beirut), or just because we were thinking of the country in which they are popular.

It's on this last point that we've sadly been neglecting Persian food. (Sidenote: thanks to our awesome landlord, we are also now curling our toes on a freshly lent old Persian carpet).  Though one tends to hear a lot about Iran in the news here in Beirut, the non-political aspects of Persian culture tend to slip one's mind due to the fact that there is a real paucity of actual Persian people here. I'll not speculate on the reasons behind this, but suffice to say that many Persians and Turks still seem to hold rather unflattering views about the lands of "Arabistan" that are more bound to stereotype than reality.

Of course, at times through history, Persia was roughly equivalent to the Asian version of 18th century France. Their smooth, rather cutesy language was the patois of the obnoxiously cultured, their luxurious artisanal goods ubiquitous, and their fine dining contagious. The meze consisting of small dishes of vegetable and pulse appetizers so closely associated with Eastern Mediterranean cuisine nowadays had their origins in the Persian east, and were readily adopted by the Farsophile Turkish tribes in Anatolia, the Arab Mediterranean, and even Greece and Cyprus. Tapas? The thought at least owes some credit to the guys who sat on their stolen Peacock Throne, but  not much, because Tapas are terrible.

Because this is so different from anything I usually cook, I have to give credit where it's due. However, I've made a few improvements on the recipe to give it some richness, so I feel less bad about posting my version.

Be sure to check out the aromatic "pilau" recipe linked in the original recipe, which is a nice starch pairing that this obscenely rich dish desperately needs. (That's the first time I've used "aromatic" unironically in a long time). I'll give my own version as well, but just because I know some of you don't know how to operate hyperlinks. I cannot claim that this is in any way authentic, because, you know, I'm not Persian, but it's damn good. And pretty terrible for you. .

If you have good Lebneh or Greek yogurt that isn't just regular yogurt with thickeners added to it, try that as a garnish with a sprig of cilantro. If you don't have pomegranate molasses, try melting down grape jelly and cutting it with pomegranate juice to get the sweet/tanginess of the "Dibs Roman."

Persian Pomegranate Chicken "Fesenjan"

Ingredients:

1 tbsp butter
3 tbsp olive oil
3 chicken quarters
2 big onions - finely cut in the food processor
2 cups walnuts, finely chopped in the food processor (seriously, make 'em like flour)
3 cloves garlic, crushed
2 cups water or broth
2 tbsp brown sugar or sugar in the raw
5 tbsp pomegranate molasses
1 tsp cinnamon
1 1/4 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp pepper
salt

Step 1:
Toast the walnuts in a pan on medium low heat until they start to smell nice. Don't burn them. I don't even have to tell you why that's bad. When they're done, dump them on a plate or in a bowl and set aside. When they're cool, blend them into a fine powder and set aside.

Step 2:
Blend up 2 onions finely in the food processor and set aside. Now mix the spices and the sugar into a bowl, and set that aside too.

Step 3:
Brown the chicken in a deep pan with the olive oil, searing the outside and making sure to leave some of the delectable little brown chunks in the bottom of the pan for the onion frying. Take them out when the outsides are nicely browned and set aside. Notice a pattern here? You'll be doing dishes for days.

Step 4:
Add the butter and 2 tbsp of oil to the pan, allow it to heat, then add the onions. Cook them until they're clear and most of the moisture has evaporated off of them (much like you'd do for a curry), then add the chicken and water, bring to a boil and then cover and simmer for about 20 minutes.

Step 5:
At this stage, the pot looks really gross. Pull the chicken for a moment to help you mix better, then suppress your gag reflex and add the ground walnuts, garlic spices, pomegranate molasses and sugar. Stir well and put the chicken back in. The resulting glop will remind you of when you forgot to wash your lettuce when in Mexico, but as I always say, if it looks about the same going in as it does coming out, you've probably made the right choice. Cover and turn heat to low and slow cook for another hour, stirring occasionally and salting frequently (this needs a lot of salt to balance the sweet).

Step 6:
If you'd like, pick the meat from the bones with about 15 minutes to go, which should make for easier eating.

Serve with the rice recipe below, perhaps a daub of lebneh (strained yogurt) and a sprig of cilantro.

Aromatic Rice Recipe

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups Jasmine or Basmati Rice
3 tbsp oil
3 cups water or broth
1 tbsp safflower
1 bay leaf
1 cinnamon stick
6 cardamom pods
8 cloves
1/4 tsp coriander seeds
1.4 cup raisins (yellow preferably)
salt
lemon juice

Step 1:
Fry your spices in the oil to release their flavors, then add the rice and sautee until it turns white-tan. Many people screw up their flavored rice dishes, and it's usually because they didn't fry it up first to neutralize all the starch.

Step 2:
Add water, bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer. Cover and let it sit for about 5 minutes. Then fish out the sticks, pods, leaves and other offal that would otherwise cause a major dental catastrophe for the smartass who thinks it's cute to eat the whole spices or the clueless neophyte who doesn't know any better and who will never try anything more exotic than scalloped potatoes because of you.

Step 3:
Add the raisins and recover (adding more water if you need it), letting it cook until the steam starts to ebb. Check the firmness of the rice, adding water if needed or uncovering if it's a bit soft.

Step 4:
Taste for salt, then add a squeeze of lemon juice and let sit covered for 10 minutes, then fluff and serve.

Filipino Adobo Chicken and Fake Filipino Veggies

Since my more exotic recipes tend to get the most views, today I've decided to whore myself out to he mob and provide something from my southeast Asian repertoire. For those of you who flunked 5th grade geography, that's where the Philippines are located.

Shredded from the bone for Tam

Americans seem to know tragically little about the Philippines and their culture outside of Manny Pacquiao and Imelda Marcos' collection of between 2700 and 3000 pairs of shoes. This is especially unfortunate since we actually colonized them at one point - and isn't that how we know most of our obscure geography in the states? The Spanish-American war was actually largely started by U.S. naval actions in the Philippines, when Theodore Roosevelt, while filling in as Secretary of the Navy while his boss was gone on leave, unilaterally moved the U.S. fleet to the Philippines to attack once war was drummed up, pretty much instigating the ensuing American conquest of the Spanish colony. The upside (for the U.S.) is that Spanish fort was apparently armed with nerf weapons and the naval fleet lost only one person to heat stroke in the battle of Manila Bay.

Apart from the proliferation of Filipina nannies raising 30% of Lebanon's children, our little country has ties to the islands as well. Not surprisingly, of course, since Lebanese people wind up everywhere. Three of the Salibi (of Kamal fame) brothers made their way to the Philippines following the conquest of Cuba, where they made names for themselves as part of the U.S. medical and cultural projects in the islands. One of them actually served as an emissary to a group of Muslim Filipinos, who had resisted dealing with the conquerors, eventually winning them over AND translating the Quran into their native dialect. One of the brothers died in a Japanese internment camp, and another was carried at his funeral by General Douglas MacArthur.

Anyway, back on topic. Filipino food is an interesting mix of its cultural heritage (notably the its centuries of Spanish subjugation) and its local ingredients, which combine to form a truly vibrant and fascinating cuisine. It's got a lot of similarities to other regional fare, but lacks the flamboyance of Thai food or the measured elegance of Vietnamese. Some will love it, others despise it - Filipino food is a party in your mouth, but not everyone may be invited. I was only recently introduced to it by my parents when I was back in the states, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Today's recipe is for Chicken Adobo, which some faker on the internet claims gives it a Mexican origin. This is riotously incorrect, as Mexican Adobo (or adobado, as it's usually called) is made with red chiles and is nothing like the Filipino version apart from the fact that they're both stewed, which is where the damn word came from in the first place (etymology anyone?). So today's first lesson is don't believe everything you read online.

As a bonus, I'm including a recipe for a vegetable dish that I used as a side for this that I invented completely on the spot because I thought we needed something other than rice. It's delicious, but by no means authentic. And it's yours, so you're welcome.

ADOBO CHICKEN
oil
4 chicken quarters (skin on you pansy)
8 bay leaves
12 black peppercorns
1/2 cup low sodium soy sauce
1 cup apple cider vinegar
3 tbsp raw sugar
10 garlic cloves

That's it.

A warning, the smell of this will peel paint while it's cooking, but it miraculously condenses into a delicious, not overly acidic dish at the end with a nice sauce. Don't taste it while cooking and recoil in disgust, it's always that gross until it reduces.

1. Your one prep duty is to husk, crush and sliver your garlic and put it aside. You can crush the whole cloves against the knife blade, pull away the paper/skin, and loosely dice.

2. Heat then oil a large deep pan that you can throw a lid on, then deposit your chicken quarters face down once the pan is hot. Brown them a bit to release the flavor.

3. Unceremoniously dump the rest of the ingredients into the pot and stir to combine. Bring to a simmer then reduce heat to low and cover. Cook for about 30 minutes until the vinegar and heat make the chicken tremendously tender, then uncover and cook for about 20 minutes until the sauce reduces down to a thick goo. Adjust sugar levels according to your preference, at this stage, and voila.

Sit for 5 minutes and serve with jasmine rice. Some like to strain the sauce, but this is absurd. It's delicious with all of the flotsam, just don't eat the bay leaves, which haven't become edible since my last post.

FILIPINOISH COCONUT VEGETABLES

Again, this was inspired by whatever I had lying around in the fridge and an investigation of other Filipino recipes, so it's in no way authentic. But it's damn good.
oil
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 green onion, minced
1 tomato, cored, seeded and chopped
1 potato cut into steaks
1 carrot cubed
1 cup shredded cabbage
thumb sized piece of ginger cut in thin slices
6 garlic cloves, crushed and slivered
1 tbsp sweet chili sauce
1 tbsp raw sugar
1/8 cup shredded coconut
1 tsp ginger
salt
pepper
1 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp fish sauce
1/2 c coconut cream (or 2 tbsp powder and a half cup water)

Step 1:
Prep vegetables according to their description above and mix the raw sugar, coconut and ginger together in a bowl to dump in. Keep the onion and raw ginger aside and put the tomato, green onion and garlic in a bowl to add at the same time. Everything else can go in together.

Step 2.
Heat a deep pan, add the oil and then the onion and ginger and let 'em soften a bit. After a few minutes, add the tomato/green onion/garlic mixture and cook until the tomatoes start to break up and lose their liquid. Finally, add the rest of the veggies and stir fry for about 2 minutes.

Step 3
Add the sauces, coconut cream and the sugar/coconut/ginger combination, stirring to combine, then cover and simmer for about 20 minutes or until the cabbage is soft and the potatoes are done. If you need, add more coconut cream or water to prevent it from drying out and adjust the salt, sugar and pepper as needed. In lieu of salt, you can also add more fish sauce.

It should smell gloriously coconutty, be sweet and savory and go well with rice. 

How Not to Ruin Scrambled Eggs: For Sara

Here's a quick post that's more a "for dummies" instructional guide than a real recipe, but since almost everyone I know makes eggs and a lot of them make huge messes in the process, I thought I might do some charity work on this fine Saturday morning.

Whether you know it or not, eggs are a vital part of your alimentary experience. They allow your baked goods to bake properly. When mixed with milk they do magical things (which is why you must never substitute out milk in a recipe that has eggs. It's chemistry, don't fight it). They contain protein, vital amino acids and zinc, which aid in muscle development and immune function. Plus, new research has emerged suggesting that they won't cause you to have immediate heart attacks, though new research emerges all the time purporting to prove all sorts of dubious claims, so perhaps you shouldn't go crazy with this newfound freedom.

Historically, eggs were one of the most important elements of daily life. Since most of the peasantry in Europe couldn't afford meat, or to buy new chickens, they substituted in "white meats" like cheese and eggs, which were free if you were lucky enough to own a cow or chickens. Chickens were especially important since they basically wander around consuming things and befouling their environment, much like common street gangs, but more edible. Though ownership has decreased significantly in recent years, especially with the increase in apartment living (the mess would be appalling), eggs themselves are generally still a highly affordable protein that even brain damaged monkeys could figure out how to cook adequately.

But, of course, there are tricks to that.

These tips are for those cooking with stainless steel or cast iron - if you use nonstick pans you could do whatever you wanted and the egg would come out basically okay.

Ingredients:
olive oil
2 eggs
1-2 tbsp milk
salt

other potential seasonings: pepper, thyme/zaatar, paprika, vegetables, cheese, truffle salt - the latter two should go in after the cooking process.

Steps:

1. Crack eggs into a bowl (practice doing it one handed - you'll get all the ladies/dudes) and mix in the milk and herbs (if you're using them). Beat the hell out of them with a fork or a whisk.

2. THE IMPORTANT STEP. DO NOT SKIM THIS. Heat a small pan on low-medium heat until it's actually hot (this makes the egg solidify quickly, makes cleanup a snap and shortens cooking time). Add a bit of oil to the pan and coat the bottom and the edges of the sides. If it's too hot, you'll get a singed crust on your egg and/or weird bubbles, which might taste just fine but isn't as nice to eat. If it's not hot enough, you get a mess.

3. Wait until oil heats up forming a barrier between the pan and the egg, then dump the well beaten mixture in. If you cover it, it'll fluff up faster.

4. Cook about 30 seconds until the egg starts to rise and the amount of liquid egg has decreased, flip, turn off the heat, wait 5 seconds and you're done. If you want cheese, add it now, cover to melt then serve.

If you follow my directions, you'll find I've changed your life forever. If you get different results, it's your fault. Try again.

Baked Provençal Whitefish: the Laziest of Dinners

Living in Arizona, where there is no sea, and then in Beirut, where there is a sea but no fish, it took a long time for me to develop a taste for seafood. If purchased thawed from the store, you could be assured that it had been a chunk of ice not 48 hours before, leaving you mere seconds to throw it in a pan or a marinade before it began to smell and taste of unlaundered underpants. I considered crustaceans like shrimp and crab even worse since freezing them turns them rubbery and malodorous, plus they are basically large aquatic bugs that nibble on garbage and dead things all day.

So I didn't eat much of it, and if I did, I rarely enjoyed it as much as I would have something hooved or winged.

However, since my wife somehow managed to develop a near maniacal obsession with seafood in the wilds of Minnesota, I've had to sacrifice my body a number of times in the service of her dark addiction. In Cyprus we once ordered the fish meze - 18 dishes of fish to share - in spite of the facts that 1) she was pregnant and could only have 3 servings a WEEK and 2) most of the dishes involved tiny fish that one ate whole, which she hated. I had to stagger 1/4 mile back to the hotel, distended, weeping and trying to clear mullet bones from my throat.

Somehow, amid all the suffering, I actually started to develop a taste for fish, in no small part because it's so damn easy to cook when you don't really feel like cooking. I first started dabbling in white fish in college when I discovered the discount frozen fish bin at Safeway, where I could acquire fluffy lumps of frozen Vietnamese catfish for something like $2.00 a package. These "Basa" fillets were a surprisingly neutral meat that cooked well on the stovetop, in soups and the oven, and while I had never really enjoyed eating them,  I was nevertheless delighted to find them here in Lebanon at prices far below that of chicken, which retails for something like $6 a pound for breastmeat.

Since I keep a handy supply of breadcrumbs in my freezer, it's no chore to thaw a few fillets while I'm gone, then dress and bake them - requiring a grand total of 10 minutes of very mild effort. Since you probably don't have homemade breadcrumbs on hand, I'll include a basic recipe for them as well - I called them "Provençal" this time since I included a few nifty herbs of that persuasion that matched nicely with the fish.

A note: "whitefish" is a catchall for white fleshed fish of various origins. I'd recommend Basa, Roughy or something that's not excessively flaky and dry. Cod is awful, Haddock worse, and Tilapia is fishy and texturally repulsive. Please don't use storebought crumbs, it's easy enough to make your own.

The Recipe
olive oil
2 fillets of whitefish
juice of 1/4 lemon
1/4 cup mayonnaise
bread crumbs (recipe follows)
2 tbsp flour for crumbs
2 tbsp crushed roasted almonds
salt

Step 1: Crumbs.
Ingredients:
1/2 baguette (or 6 or so pieces of bread)
1 1/2 tsp oregano
1 1/2 tsp basil
1 tsp marjoram
1 tsp thyme
1/8 tsp rosemary (ground)
1/8 tsp lavender (ground in a mortar and pestle)
1/8 tsp anise seed (ground)
salt
pepper

Take a few pieces of bread, tear them up and toss them in a food processor. Baguettes are ideal, but really any bread that doesn't contain bits of wood, birdseed and other unnecessary fibrous detritus will do. When they are crumb sized, stop.

Heat a pan, toss them into it (dry) and toss them around until they start to turn golden, then remove them to a bowl. Try not to burn them or melt anything. Mix in your herbs, salt and pepper, taste, and add whatever herbs you feel they are lacking.

Step 2:
Oil a glass pan and place your thawed, pat-dried fish onto it. If one of the ends is really thin, you can curl it up so it will cook on itself and not get all leathery by overcooking on the pan. Preheat the oven to 375.

Step 3:
Mix the mayo and the lemon juice together and slather on to coat the fish generously. It sounds gross, but it keeps the meat moist and gives it a great flavor. Salt lightly when finished.

Step 4.
Mix breadcrumbs, almonds and flour together and apply liberally to the fillets, which should look dry when you are done.

Step 5:
Insert into the oven for 25-30 minutes, then pull and rest for a minute and serve.

Sauteed vegetables and rice are nice sides for this, just keep 'em light. 

Intestinal Casings of the gods: German Apple Cabbage with Potato and Sausage

Few today would consider cabbage to be an underused ingredient. In fact, few probably think of cabbage at all these days unless they are German, Korean or particularly Kentuckian, who consider coleslaw to be an acceptable accompaniment to everything but dessert. Typically cabbage is used as either a vehicle for other, “better” food (as in cabbage wraps here in Lebanon), a side, or a textural addition to a dish intended to stretch and flavor it a bit. But even this is often done somewhat apologetically, with the cabbage shredded and hidden away like some sort of denatured hunchback child. In the states, supermarkets cram them in the back of the produce aisles next to the esoteric tubers and leeks to keep them out of sight of the more respectable customers and to protect clueless husbands who might mistake the green ones for lettuces.

And I won’t even mention red cabbages. Okay, just one thing. Apparently pregnant women used to make broth of the juice and then micturate into it to see if they were having a boy or a girl since one or the other was supposed to make your pee more acidic. According to whatever witchcraft devised this notion, the pH of the pee would affect the color of the broth, making it slightly more purple… or less, I never remember which. Regardless, it all sounds like a load of micturition to me.

When properly done, cabbage is a thing of beauty. It conveys flavors and richens food like few other vegetables can, and it’s mercifully cheap for those eating on a budget. This almost makes up for the gaseous side effects which probably contributed to cabbage’s exile in the first place, which actually makes a lot of sense since the cultures that feature it most prominently also tend to be the ones that also cook with large volumes of vinegar and onion.

In Lebanon, cooking with cabbage presents its own unique challenges. Namely getting the damn things home. Because the Lebanese usually use them for wraps, they favor the larger varieties, which often reach about 2 feet in diameter and a few kilos in weight. You can often see the sympathy in the eyes of the vendors when you desperately ask them if they have anything smaller. But they do not.

Since we can’t get the German sausage that would go most naturally with these dishes, I’ve decided to use the aromatic Lebanese maqanaq sausages, which my wife hates, but which are oddly apt for the task with their cinnamon, clove, nutmeg and caraway seasonings. Plus, they’re cheap, like sausage is supposed to be.

The preparation requires a few steps that I like to keep separate. If you’re going to throw everything in a crock pot and ruin the individual flavors, you may as well stop reading now and go onto pinterest, you animal. You’ll need a big stockpot for the initial stewing, a frying pan and a baking pan.

Ingredients:

Oil

2 potatoes

2 apples

2 onions

1 pound of sausage

1 cabbage (red would be best, it’s milder and richer)

1/3 cup raw sugar

1/3 cup apple cider vinegar

1/2 cup dark beer

1 tsp grainy mustard
1 tsp caraway

2 bay leaves

Salt 

Pepper

Step 1: Preparation

Shred the cabbage and put it in a big bowl. Slice the onions in half and then into thin rings, put them in another bowl. Peel the apples and slice them thinly, put aside. Slice the potatoes as you would steak fries, rinse and put aside in their own bowl.

Step 2: The Stew

Mix the sugar, vinegar, beer, bay leaves, mustard and caraway in a bowl and set aside.

Heat a pan, then add a few tablespoons of oil to it. When it’s hot, toss in the onions and caramelize them halfway, then remove ¼ of them for future use on a page. Add the apples and cook for a few minutes, then dump in the sweet, vinegary mix you’ve made in the first step above. (Rinse the bowl with beer to ensure you get all the sugar in. Plus, more beer!).

Add the cabbage, mix to coat and cover. As it cooks down begin to salt and test it. You’ll want to do this several times since the cooking cabbage will change the flavor over time and you'll end up needing quite a bit to tame the sweetness.  Stew for about an hour while attempting to manage your irrepressible impulse to idly stir it every few minutes.

Step 3-4ish

Heat a pan and then add the sausages, browning them on their sides. Remove and reserve.

Add oil to the pan, salt it, then dump in your potatoes. Fry them up until they darken a bit on the sides but aren’t necessarily cooked through. Remove, drain and reserve for later.

Step 5: Baking.

Preheat the oven to 400. Add the cabbage and remaining liquid to the bottom of the glass pan, top with the reserved caramelized onions  then the potatoes and sausage. Cover with foil and bake for 20 minutes, then 20 minutes uncovered. The oils will seep down into the cabbage and the flavors will meld nicely. 

Serve in a big pile on a plate, fishing out bay leaves so that the ignorant don't try to eat them. Sour cream or lebneh (strained yogurt) is actually a nice accompaniment.