My new favorite squished potatoes...

As a child, we had potatoes with just about every meal. I chalk a lot of this to my paternal grandmother's immigration from Ireland, and her subsequent influence on my father. A meal was not complete without a potato of some kind. I remember my grandmother visiting us, and accompanying our meal of spagetti, we had... potatoes. Her idea of health food was a McDonald's fried fish sandwich and a large order of french fries.

Potatoes have always been a symbol of comfort and stability for me. I could eat them every day, in varying forms. Unfortunately, I can also eat way too many of them - somehow the section of my brain that says "stop eating" turns off when potatoes are around. Like other things that accompanying getting older, I am trying to limit my consumption of starches - not for some Adkins like diet thing, but just an acknowledgement that I can't eat as much of them (or anything) anymore, and I don't feel particularly good when I do.

But there are still days that I crave potatoes. I love french fries (the way my dad used to make them), but fried food is a big no-no. I used to make over roasted french fries, but I always have had problems with them sticking to the pan or foil. It's like the raw potato starch solifies and sticks so you can't turn the potatoes to get them evenly browned. Maybe I'm the only one who ever has this problem.

My inspiration came after reading a recipe for mashed, roasted potatoes. First, boil the potatoes, THEN roast them. Given, you're not going to be able to cut them into those little french-fry strips, if that's what you're craving, but I am in shock and awe of how much better the potatoes turn out.

First, scrub some red-skinned (or other waxy type) potatoes. Boil them in enough water to cover until a fork pierces the potatoes easily. You want the potatoes to be pretty tender because you need to be able to squish them with a fork.

Next, spread them out on a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil, and use a fork to gently squish and break up the potatoes. Now, I like lots of little crunchy pieces, so I break them up quite a bit. Drizzle with olive oil (or a butter/olive oil combo if you're feeling really daring), salt, and maybe garlic if you are so inclined. You want all the pieces to be coated.

You're going to look at the pan (above) and think, 'This is going to turn into a goopy sticky mess' , but I swear, it's not.

Bake at 400 or 450 until the potatoes are as crispy as you like. All those little bits will become like little potato croutons. Because they have been pre-cooked, the insides are fluffy and tender, but the outsides and skins are so crispy.

Serve them with ketchup or aoli, or I even use them in my potato salad now. I also like to serve them as a tapa (potato bravos)...

White anchovies of love...

I've been gone for a long time. I know that. I feel bad. In fact, several times I have come back to this page, sincerely looked at the posting box, picked out a topic to write about, but then felt so overwhelmingly guilty about the length of time from my last post I left without writing anything. I have a similar relationship with hairdressers and the dentist. Somehow I always feel I'm going to have to do penance for my absence. So when my dear friend poked me about writing again, after I had been tossing around the idea of writing in my head again, I thought I would just plunge right in and do the Hail Marys (or is that Maries?).

I love anchovies. When I was a kid, my family would pile into the car and drive up to Michigan to visit my father's family. My dad was one of six kids. His oldest brother (whom I was named after) was over 20 years older than him (this thought makes my uterus cringe into a little ball). When we would arrive, all the crazy brothers and sisters and their kids would come over to my grandmother's house and they would laugh and talk and be loud and play cards, and drink tea and eat eggs, and, at a very late hour of the evening, order a pizza with everything, including ANCHOVIES. I remember sneaking down to eat a slice of pizza and the anchovies tasted like forbidden salty fruit. And I would then have to run up the scary stairs, past the boarded up butler pantry in the dark because my grandmother didn't believe in anything more than 40 watt bulbs in the house.

I distinctly remember my first white anchovy - it was at a restaurant in Columbus called Spagio on a ceasar salad about 8 years ago. It was nothing like I had ever tried before. They are not salty. They aren't "hairy." The flesh is firm and vinagar-y because they have been preserved in oil and vinegar rather than salt. The color is white. They are beautiful and tasty and I challenge anyone who does not like anchovies to try them at least once (as I did at my friend's house this weekend).

Alas, in this area, they are difficult to find. And they are expensive. Mr. H ordered me two bottles from Parthenon Foods and they are really lovely. I like them better than the last brand I had (don't ask me what they were). Shipping is what really kills you, although it's still cheaper than a two hour drive to a city that does have the little gems.

My first pate

There are a lot of people who don't like liver. I suspect it is because there are a lot of people who have never tried liver. As a child, I remember my irish-immigrant grandmother used to order liver and onions if available (that is, when we weren't eating at McDonalds which along with it's never ending supply of fish sandwiches seemed to represent to her all that was good with this country America). I remember my aunt making pate for special occasions - big bowls of the brown squishy stuff slabbed on crusty bread. All the adults ate it. I don't recall liking it back then, but I used to like the smell of it. Earthy and meaty.

Mr. H's grandfather used to make liver and onions as well, and regale with great horror stories of the smell of liver and onions in the house. I never thought it smelled that bad, but I always liked onions.

In Las Vegas one year, I ordered an appetizer of duck ravioli served on seared foi gras at Sensi (don't hate me for the foi gras). Mr. H recoiled at the idea, but I asked him to try one bite. His eyes lit up, and marveled at the texture and taste. He practically ate the whole thing. Over the next few years, I have gotten him to try pate as well. He likes it, kind of (grumpily mumbling "not as good as foi gras") and not enough to cook it at home, so when we had an improptu get together this weekend for a few friends, I ventured to make my first pate. I had it on good authority that at least one other person liked pate, so I was hopeful that it might get consumed.

It was fairly easy to make, and the liver did not smell up the house when cooking (one of my biggest fears. I was concerned that I might throw Mr. H into a full-fledged psychotic breakdown re-living childhood memories of beef liver). It was also well-recieved. I thought it had a bit more of a "liver" aftertaste than I usually like. Plus, it's so damn rich, you can't really eat much of it. The eight of us ate about a quarter of it. I split it into two crocks, so I hope to freeze the other one.

My final rating: Good, but I'm not sure it's worth the calories. So few people actually like liver, and many won't try it because it IS liver, or like my mom, can no longer eat liver due to health reasons. I have a reciped for a lentil pate that tastes remarkably like the real thing, so I'll probably stick to that from now on.

The original recipe came from Epicurious. The below contains my modifications.

Liquored up Pate

1 1/2 sticks (3/4 cup) unsalted butter
1 medium onion, chopped
1 large garlic clove, crushed
1 teaspoon minced fresh thyme
1 teaspoon minced fresh sage
1 tbls minced fresh parsley (plus some for garnish)
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 lb chicken livers, trimmed (I wish I knew what you were supposed to do to trim the liver. That will be my next step)
2 tablespoons whiskey (because I didn't have bourbon)
1 tbls Port wine (because I have a whole bunch of Port)

Melt 1 stick butter in a large nonstick skillet over moderately low heat, then cook onion and garlic, stirring, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add herbs, salt, pepper, nutmeg, and livers and cook, stirring, until livers are cooked outside but still pink when cut open, about 8 minutes. Stir in bourbon and port and remove from heat. Purée mixture in a food processor until smooth, then transfer pâté to crock and smooth top.

Melt remaining 1/2 stick butter in a very small heavy saucepan over low heat, then remove pan from heat and let butter stand 3 minutes. Skim froth from butter, then spoon enough clarified butter over pâté to cover its surface, leaving milky solids in bottom of pan.

Chill pâté until butter is firm, about 30 minutes, then cover with plastic wrap and chill at least 2 hours more. Garnish with additional parsley. Serve with mustard, and those little french pickles.

Dinner Club - Appetizer Edition...

In an attempt to meet some people in our new neighborhood, I signed the poor, unsuspecting Mr. H and myself up for a dinner club. Although I am a bit of an introvert, Mr. H. loves a random social engagement, and could quite possible entertain anyone on his own for several hours.

Our job was an appetizer. When I spoke to our most gracious host to inquire what she was making so I could coordinate the appetizer, she replied "a meat." So, assuming that she had not settled on the main dish yet, I was left to my own devices. Which, for the first time, I could not come up with a damn thing. It's not like me not to know what appetizer to bring. I totally love appetizers. But we had some considerations - because we were going to someone else's house, it needed to be portable, able to travel easily, not needing to be cooked and immediately served.

So I tried something new that I found on the Epicurious web site - dates stuffed with parmesan cheese and then wrapped in bacon. I'm rather unfamiliar with the whole date thing. I'm not a big fruit person in general. But I love parmesan cheese, and I liked the concept of the salty cheesey and the sweet date (even though I almost gagged when I tried a date by itself). And who doesn't like bacon? I could eat just about anything wrapped in bacon.

So here we go.

My first surprise was the need to pit the dates. I had never seen a pit from a date before, and was very surprised at how much they look like beetle larvae (unfortunately my picture of it did not turn out well).

After pitting them however, I had a gaggle of hungry little mouths like wrinkly pac-men.

Next, came the cheese. Little wedges of my good parmesan (you know, the stuff that has the crunchy crystalized salt or something in it - I love it. I really love it melted) shoved into these bad boys' mouths. I kind of felt like I was in Little Shop of Horrors and danced around the kitchen singing "Feed me Seymour".

Then, after squeezing the little mouths closed, wrap them in bacon (I partially cooked mine because it was thick-cut) and bake at 400 degrees until the bacon is crispy and golden.

This picture was taken before the final baking, but you get the drift. They were all that they were promised - gooey, sweet, salty and smokey. They were best right out of the oven, but they held up well on the ride over, and they were surprisingly almost completely consumed. I wasn't sure how they would go over. Even if you are a little concerned, give them a try!