Tomato Kumato

May 13, 2010

Paella and Cannes

Filed under: Pork, Rice, Seafood — Tags: , , , , — emiglia @ 2:11 am

There’s something really lovely about the beach.

Cities are great and I love skiing, but when it all comes down to it, there’s something pretty magical about going to sleep and hearing waves outside your window.

Before anyone asks, yes, I do still want to live in Paris. No question. But no one ever said I couldn’t make weekend jaunts down to Cannes, especially when the sun is out and the beach is warm and everything seems absolutely perfect, like it did around this time three years ago, when I had just spent four months living in Cannes.

But I don’t want to talk about that today. I’m here for three weeks–there will be more than enough time for strolls down memory lane. Today, I’m actually going to talk about food. I know… it’s rather shocking. I’ll let it sink in.

…

OK? Food. This is a food blog, after all.

I’m not sure if I mentioned it here before, but in the four months leading up to this epic traipse through Europe, while I was living in New York, I was working at Weight Watchers, translating articles. Translating articles as a trade means that you read a lot of articles, and I read a lot about Weight Watchers over the past couple of months. It really started me thinking about approaches to eating–a lot of us, especially in the food blogging community, sleep, breathe and live for food. Even if we’re not actively consuming all the time (that would be a little bit ridiculous), we are thinking about it, jotting down notes for later or taking pictures of things to post on our blogs when the time is right.

I remember reading an article once that said that obsessing that much over food makes weight loss or having a healthy weight in general nearly impossible. I disagree… but I do think that a change in the way that we Americans as a culture, and I personally, view food is necessary… and it’s something I thought about a lot today as I walked the promenade in Cannes watching people eat their lunches at outdoor cafés.

If we can say that a culture in the world is obsessed with food, it may be the French. They are, after all, the masterminds behind such classics as boeuf bourguignonne and coq au vin, not to mention all the especially southern French dishes like salade nicoise and bouillabaisse and soupe de poisson. But as I strolled past the tables, couples sitting facing the beach and smoking endless cigarettes over their cups of coffee or cutting delicately into cracker-thin pizza, I realized that just because the French have all of this heavy, wonderful food, it doesn’t mean that they gorge on it.

I have a bit of paper where I scrawled something in a somewhat inebriated state–I don’t know where it came from, and I don’t remember writing it down, but I keep it because of how true it is: “It would be quite unpleasant to binge eat foie gras.”

Think about it: when you have those moments of shoveling food into your mouth (don’t even pretend you don’t have those moments) what sort of food is it? Is it roast chicken or chips? Beef stew or pretzels? Steak tartare or ice cream? There are certain foods that you just don’t need that much of to be satisfied, and most, if not all, of the French foods are this kind: the kind that is best eaten seated at a table instead of on the couch, with company instead of in front of the television. French food seems suited to three-hour dinners, and when you’ve eaten your fill, there’s no reason to eat anymore; the French don’t snack, so why should I?

This paella is actually a Spanish dish, but it’s very popular in the south of France, especially with all the abundant seafood everywhere. Besides, the Spanish are not that much different from the French, in that respect: the Spaniards may sit down to dinner at nine, but they often don’t get back up until midnight. It’s my mother’s version of paella–very different from the versions you’ll find in Spain, but delicious nonetheless.

Paella

6 T olive oil
7 whole sticks pepperoni, cut into thick slices (you could also use chorizo–my mother uses pepperoni because when we were kids, we wouldn’t eat chorizo. Now we all like it better this way.)
6 chicken breast halves, cut into chunks
3 onions, diced
1 lb. shrimp
2 lbs. clams
2 lbs. mussels
1 lb. scallops
2 jars artichoke hearts
1 package frozen peas
1 jar roasted red peppers
4 cups rice
8 cups chicken broth
a few pinches of saffron

3 tomatoes, sliced into rounds
2 lemons, sliced into rounds
1 cup kalamata olives
fresh parsely, chopped

In a large, heavy-bottomed skillet, sauté sausage and remove to a paella pan or large stockpot. In the fat left by the sausage, saute the chicken and remove to the side. Add oil if needed, and brown the onions. Remove to the side. In this fashion, adding oil as necessary, brown the scallops and the shrimp.

Add the artichokes, peas and peppers to the paella pan. In another pot, steam the clams and the mussels, and add these to the paella pan.

Cook rice in scant 2 to 1 ratio with the saffron: 2 parts chicken broth to 1 part rice. Toss everything together in the paella pan and reheat in the oven at 300 degrees, if necessary. Garnish with kalamata olives, lemon slices, tomato slices and parsley. Serve with hot sauce.

This paella reheats well: my mother always makes piles of it, and we eat it for lunch for days afterwards.

December 19, 2009

Christmas

Filed under: Seafood — Tags: , , , — emiglia @ 4:20 pm

Christmas means different things to different people.

To some, it’s all about stress. To others, a time to get together with family. Sometimes, these two coincide.

Christmas when I was growing up was all about the city where I lived: New York. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, decorations would go up: the Rock Center tree would be lit, the windows at Macy’s filled with new things to peer at while being hustled and pushed by hundreds of other people in fur coats and heavy boots. I didn’t mind, although I hated going inside and suddenly sweating in all of my layers, only to go back outside and freeze.

For a little while, Christmas coincided with panic… go figure, as pretty much everything else in my life, at one time or another, has coincided with panic. I remember panicking because I was growing up, panicking because suddenly things that seemed so easy to believe were difficult to fathom. I panicked because I wasn’t ready to have to deal with being an adult, and for some reason, at Christmas, growing up seemed much closer and much more difficult than anything else.

I’m still not quite sure how I got from where I was then to where I am now, but somehow it happened, and I like Christmas again, although it’s not nearly as magical as when my father would take me by the hand and bring me to the huge department stores to pick out a gift for my mother and look at the windows, finishing up with lunch at Fred’s (in Barney’s New York), where I would undoubtedly order risotto, which at the time seemed like a magical transformation of rice, which I didn’t like (still don’t), into a silky, savory pudding I wished would never end.

I’ve learned the magic behind risotto and that behind Christmas, and perhaps that’s why I don’t get the anxious flutter in the pit of my stomach when I buy my Advent calendar or start shopping for Christmas presents. I still get it when we sing Oh come, oh come Emmanuel, but since I don’t go to Catholic school anymore and Advent masses are typically in French, not English, the times when I sing that song are few and far between.

Sometimes, I wonder about what Christmas means to other people: after all, Christmas means something different to everyone, even to the people in my house, who were all raised with the same Christmas and finished by growing up with distinctly different views of the holiday. I always wanted the Christmas of Italian feast of fishes: staying up all night on Christmas Eve to go to midnight mass and eating our huge meal to break the fast instead of after a morning of opening presents.

This years windows at the Bon Marché in Paris.

This year's windows at the Bon Marché in Paris.

Instead, I have a strange mix of my old Christmas, when I slip back into my childhood bedroom and pretend that I never left, and my new Parisian Christmas, where I let the windows of Le Bon Marché stand in for those of Macy’s and make myself a mini fish feast, with two instead of seven in a spicy tomato sauce that reminds me of home.

Pasta Fra Diavolo

2 cups pasta, cooked

2 tsp. olive oil
1 onion, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp. chili flakes
1/2 cup white wine
2 cups tomato coulis
250 g. shrimp, heads and tails removed
250 g. calamari rings
salt and pepper

Heat the olive oil in a wide, heavy saucepan over low heat. Add the onion and a pinch of salt, and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent, about 10 minutes.

Add the garlic and chili flakes, and cook until fragrant, 1-2 minutes. Add the wine and stir to encorporate. Add the tomato coulis and stir to combine. Season with salt and pepper.

Cook the pasta according to the directions. When it is nearly ready, bring the tomato sauce to a simmer and add the shrimp and calamari. Cook for 2 minutes, until cooked through. Add a ladleful of sauce to the pasta to keep it from sticking, and then serve the rest of the sauce on top of the spaghetti. For a true, traditional experience, do not serve this pasta with cheese.


November 10, 2009

Markets

Filed under: Fish, Seafood — Tags: , , , , , , , — emiglia @ 4:09 pm

For those of you who do not speak Basque and may have been confused by yesterday’s post, agur is Basque for “goodbye.”

Yes, I have left San Sebastian, back in my home of Paris. So what’s with the piquillo peppers? I’ll get to that.

Coming back to Paris was a little bit of a shock for me: I wasn’t entirely sure if I would be happy to be back, miss Spain, be too cold, get along well with my cousin with whom I am now living… However I needn’t have worried: Paris welcomed me back with open arms. I am loving living with my cousin (back in my old neighborhood), and as far as this city is concerned… well, it feels so close to home after exploring and discovering a new city that three times today I’ve been convinced I was actually back in New York. (Granted, I was inside working, but still: it was strange to realize that my mother was not on the same time zone as I was, that there was no way I could go out to a SoHo bar tonight, and that the people I should be sending my “wanna do something tonight?” texts were my friends from here, Paris, my new home. Not New York.)

I guess what I’m trying to say in a strange and roundabout way is that coming back to Paris from San Sebastian was a bit like coming home: you drop your luggage and instead of looking around excitedly for new things to discover, you just fall back into an old and comfortable routine, like a pair of flannel pants: worn, used, familiar. Perfect.

But that doesn’t mean, in any way, that I miss San Sebastian any less. Luckily, I still have these market pictures, which I have been meaning to post for you, which means that I can go on a gastronomical walk down memory lane to all of the things that are no longer available to me, like bacalao, which became a food group for me while living there: salty and tasting of the sea.

In contrast with the Parisian markets (which you can see in the first two photos), everything in the Spainsh markets seemed to be personalized. I’ve been to tons of markets in Paris, and wherever you go, you find the same things. The same was true in San Sebastian, but little personal touches, like putting olives on toothpicks, made the vendors seem different to me.

I love that they’ve marked that the oranges are “very sweet.”

These cabbages were larger than anything I’ve ever seen, even in the States.

I don’t remember what these were called, but I remember the woman who urged me to take a taste: they have the texture of a light apple, and they’re tiny, about the size of a kumquat. I loved the acidic taste, almost too sour to eat out of hand, but with a hint of sweetness that makes it possible and even enjoyable for those like me, who like to eat baking apples and used to eat lemons from the rind.

Beans are an important part of a Northern Spanish diet. These black alubias, which turn brick red when cooked, are used to make a traditional dish of stewed beans served with various meats and cabbage. It’s delicious and extremely filling!

I’m no stranger to cheese after the markets of Paris, but the varieties offered in Spain are much different from what you would find in France. Many of them are sheepsmilk cheeses, and often, the vendor comes with his or her own cheeses straight to the market to sell directly to customers, which makes cheese an affordable luxury.

Membrillo is the typical Spanish accompaniment to cheese: sweet quince jelly that can be sliced and stacked atop wedges of manchego…

…or paired with already spreadable cheese! Nuts, called nueces in Spanish, round out the tastes. The three items never seem to be far apart on menus or in markets in Spain.

These squash were massive and bright orange in the center.

Two lone pigeons lay amongst a display of apples, for sale as-is, with the feathers and head still attached.

Guindillas became one of my favorite foods: I ate them by the kilo roasted simply with salt, olive oil and garlic.

One of my favorite things were these red piquillo peppers, bright red and shaped like tongues. They were featured on nearly every restaurant menu in some form, but I didn’t buy mine here.

Or here.

At one market, I found a stand selling peppers roasted to order. They would dump massive buckets of the peppers into this roasting machine, and out they would pop, charred black on the outside.

Crates stacked up all around of peppers they had already sold throughout the day. Customers were buying them by the kilo, ready to jar them for the winter.

I myself bought a kilo and set about making peppers stuffed with bacalao, a typical pintxo in San Sebastian, and one that I love.

The peppers are stuffed with brandade, as it is also called in French, oddly enough. It’s a combination of bacalao, garlic and cream, and is divine. Unfortunately, when in San Sebastian, I was in a wetsuit every day… not terribly forgiving material. Luckily, I put my thinking cap on and came up with a version that is both delicious and not quite as high calorie as the traditional version, which I assume you would need to eat every day if you were herding your own sheep, making your own cheese and carting your own peppers to market.

I am back in the land of mini-légumes, and I’m happy about it, so please excuse the occasional post that sounds a little bit nostalgic: I can’t help it if I left part of my heart back in San Sebastian.

Roasted Guindillas
2 cups guindillas, washed and dried
1 tsp. salt
1 clove garlic, crushed
1 tsp. olive oil

Preheat your oven to 450 degrees F. Toss all the ingredients together in a pan, and place in the oven. Roast for 15 minutes total, tossing once halfway through cooking time.



Not-So-Bad-For-You Brandade-Stuffed Piquillo Peppers with Piquillo Pepper Sauce
2 pounds roasted piquillo peppers, the skins removed
1 tsp. olive oil
1 onion
2 cloves garlic
3 small potatoes
250 g. salt cod, rehydrated
1 T. whipping cream
salt and pepper

If your peppers were fresh, carefully remove the stem and seeds without ripping the pepper, so that it retains its cone form. Reserve 10 of the best-shaped peppers, and dice the rest.

Heat the olive oil in a saucepan and add the onion, diced, and one clove of garlic, minced. Sauté until the onion is translucent, and then add the diced red peppers. Cook over low heat, stirring occasionally. Add water by the half-cupful until the peppers have fallen apart and formed a chunky sauce, about 30 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, heat the cream, salt cod, potatoes and other clove of garlic (whole) in a saucepan. Add 1 cup of water and cook, stirring occasionally, until the cod has broken down and has a creamy texture. When the clove of garlic has completely broken down and been incorporated into the mixture, it’s ready (about 30 minutes). Season with black pepper.

Using a spoon, stuff the cod mixture into the reserved peppers, and carefully place into the sauce. Heat until just heated through, and serve.

June 24, 2009

Shrimp with Mint Pesto and Sweet Pea Risotto

Filed under: Beans and Legumes, Rice, Seafood — Tags: , , , , — emiglia @ 5:00 pm

I eat fish on Fridays.

I don’t go to church (except on Christmas, Easter, or if for some reason I’m feeling particularly devout). I don’t say evening prayers. I don’t go to confession, wear a promise ring or deserve to wear white on my wedding (I will anyway).

I was born and raised an Irish-Italian-American Catholic which, for many of us, means nothing more than getting together for 13 fishes on Christmas Eve, even more food on Christmas day, and one more time for the cheap seats in the back at Easter.

That’s it.

No fasting on Ash Wednesday or going to Church on First Friday or giving up flour and eggs and sugar for Lent, although it’s never stopped me from celebrating Fat Tuesday with relish (and pancakes).

And yet, I eat fish on Fridays.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision… not at first, anyway. I don’t recall my mother ever doing it, but I know that fish was served on Fridays in the dining hall at my boarding school. It just sort of snuck in through the back of my mind, the same place where I keep the Pledge of Allegiance, the Hail Mary and the numbers 1-10 in a variety of languages from German to Korean. It snuck out without letting me know and integrated itself into my life before I even noticed.

As I started to accumulate recipes and cooking knowledge, as I started to piece together menus from new recipes I wanted to try and old recipes I wanted to recreate, here and there, a fish or seafood recipe would sneak in, and somehow, my mind would automatically stick it in on a Friday–not for any religious reason, but just because it seemed right: fish on Fridays.

I still do some form of fish or seafood on most Fridays, and if it’s not fish or seafood, it’s usually vegetarian. I like to get in the health benefits of these foods, and if I make sure to stick a seafood recipe in on Friday, I know I’m getting them in at least once a week. I guess it’s one of those inexplainable things now: I don’t really think the devil is looking over my left shoulder when I spill salt, but I toss some over, just in case. I don’t know why I kiss my fingers and then touch the roof of my car when I drive under a yellow light, why I snap if someone says “thank you” as a response to “God bless you” after a sneeze. I do it and don’t think about it, and I think I like it that way.

This recipe was an idea I got from Well Fed which I then riffed on: she calls for cooking the shrimp with rosemary and lemon, which I’m sure is lovely, but I get 5 euro pre-cooked shrimp at my market, and so I just tossed them with the pesto and threw the whole thing in a skillet just long enough to warm through. It’s a great spring recipe, with tons of fresh mint and fresh spring peas, both of which I picked up at my local market.

If you get the shrimp with heads and tails on, you can make a lovely shrimp broth to use as the liquid when making the risotto. Otherwise, chicken broth or veggie broth are fine.

Shrimp with Mint Pesto and Sweet Pea Risotto (adapted from Well Fed)

24 large, cooked shrimp, peeled, deveined, tails removed
1/2 cup pine nuts, toasted
3 garlic cloves, peeled
2 tablespoons (packed) feta cheese
2 tablespoons (packed) Parmesan cheese
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
2 cups (packed) fresh mint leaves
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

2 cups fresh peas, cooked
8 cups stock, heated
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
1/4 cup finely chopped shallots
2 cups Arborio rice
1 cup dry white wine
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons butter, room temperature
1/2 cup grated Parmesan

Set aside the cooked shrimp, and take the shells and tails and place them into a pot of water. Bring to a simmer and then allow to cook, skimming off any residue from the top of the pot, as you prepare the rest of the dish.

Combine all the ingredients from the pine nuts to the lemon juice with a mortar and pestle. Stream in the olive oil and stir until combined. (Note: The pesto, when left to sit, starts to discolor. This does not change the taste, but if you would like a brighter green, store the pesto with a layer of olive oil over the top.)

Purée 1 cup peas with 1/3 cup of the stock and set aside. Heat the olive oil over medium heat and add the shallots and a pinch of salt. Cook until soft, 2-3 minutes, and then add the rice. Cook until translucent, an additional 2-3 minutes, stirring to make sure that nothing burns. Pour in the glass of wine and allow the liquid to cook out, stirring all the while.

Add stock by the half-cupful, stirring until each addition is absorbed. When the rice is al dente (still firm), turn off the heat and cover.

Combine the shrimp with the reserved pesto and heat in a skillet, stirring frequently, until just heated through (no more than 2 minutes.) Meanwhile, add the pea puree, peas, butter and parmesan to the risotto and stir until everything is combined (the residual heat should help it achieve the proper consistency.

To serve, plate a portion of risotto in a wide, shallow bowl and place some shrimp and pesto on top. Serve with sprigs of mint and additional parmesan cheese for sprinkling, if desired.

April 1, 2009

Pink Risotto

Filed under: Seafood, Side Dishes — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 6:19 am

First, some housekeeping: I got a comment saying that my font is difficult to read. Is this the general consensus? I find it quite easy to read, but then again, I’m on a Mac. Anyone on a PC having trouble reading it?

Moving on.

Today, I want to talk about risotto.

My first risotto was an experience… a food memory I’ll never forget.

Every Christmas, my dad would take me to Barney’s to go shopping for my mom: we were nearly the same size, and so I would try on different things for her. Eventually, we nearly always got her jewelery, and my dad would let me help pick what he would buy.

Afterwards, we would go to the restaurant Fred’s at Barney’s. One particular time, I ordered parmesan risotto as my main dish. It was the most incredible thing I had ever tasted: salty and sweet and soft and creamy. It was absolutely perfect: I never wanted to finish it.

I ordered risotto many times after that. Sometimes it was gloppy and not so great, other times it was just as good as that first time. I’ll always remember that first bite: a combination of such simple ingredients coming together in a way that made each one sing.

I’ve made a few risottos in my day. I tried this one after seeing it on Beyond Salmon. A combination of three citrus fruits and cream, of light constant stirring, of starch envelopping each grain until the dish becomes one cohesive mass of flavors.

When you’re used to parmesan risotto, like I am, the flavors can come as a shock at first: the citrus risotto is part sweet part acid with only the cream and starch to keep it soft the way I remembered my first risotto. It’s the perfect risotto for springtime: hot and hearty enough to fill you and keep you warm, but with light tastes that surprise the palate: the little tiny “grains” of citrus mimic the shape of the grains of rice, but the jolt you get when they burst in your mouth is nothing like the gentle give of a perfectly cooked grain of rice.

It’s not at all what I expected, but if I hadn’t been expecting anything, I would love it in its own right.

Sometimes, you can fall in love when you’re not expecting it. I think that’s the best kind.

This is my submission to FIC - Pink, hosted by Priya (I’m six hours past the deadline… I really hope that’s OK!) You can read more about FIC here at Harini’s blog.
Pink Risotto (serves two, adapted from Beyond Salmon)

1 medium grapefruit, supremed, plus juice
1 lime, supremed, plus juice
1 orange, supremed, plus juice
1 Tbsp unsalted butter
1 shallot, finely diced
1/2 cup Arborio rice
1/4 cup white wine
2 cups home-made shrimp stock, kept warm over low heat
1/3 cup creme fraiche
Salt

Supreme all the citrus fruit. In order to supreme fruit, cut away all of the peel and pith from the outside, and then slide your knife in between each section and the pith surrounding it. The section should just fall away from the rest of the fruit. Reserve all the juice.

Heat the butter over medium heat in a saucepan. Add the shallot and cook until fragrant and soft, about two minutes. Add salt to taste, and then add the rice. Cook the rice in the butter until the grains are translucent, about two minutes.

Add the wine to the saucepan, stirring as you do. Cook until the wine has cooked off and the grains are starting to look dry. At this point, begin adding stock by the ladleful, stirring all the while. Add stock one ladleful at a time, stirring until the grains have absorbed the liquid before adding another ladle. Continue this way for about twenty minutes.

When the grains are beginning to look plump, begin tasting. You want the rice to be completely cooked but still be toothesome. When the grains are cooked to your liking, add half the supremed fruit and juice, stirring vigorously to break up the sections. Taste and see if you would like to add the rest of the fruit.

When all of the fruit has been incorporated, add the creme fraiche and salt to taste until the flavor balance is to your liking. Serve immediately.

March 24, 2009

Lemon-Butter Shrimp with Basil and Feta

Filed under: Pasta, Seafood — Tags: , , , , — emiglia @ 7:37 am

This past December, I received a package from England.

When I opened it, I found this:

There’s a reason your best friend is your best friend: the English One knows me all too well, and he sent me this kit to grow my own hot peppers. The package said that the optimal time to plant them was March/April, so last week while the sun was shining in Paris, I planted the little seeds and wrote their names on popsicle sticks so I would remember which was which.

Too bad they haven’t born fruit yet: I would have loved to have used my own home-grown peppers in this Grow Your Own Challenge! I guess I’ll have to wait. In the meantime, I’ve been using the basil plant you can see hiding behind my peppers.

Basil is probably my favorite food ever. I adore the smell: it makes me think of summer days picking basil in my mom’s garden. I’ve been known to pick the leaves and chew on them all alone, but of course they’re better when they’re accompanying something.

I found a recipe for Gulf Shrimp with Feta Cheese and Lemon Butter Sauce over at Running with Tweezers, which has quickly become my go-to blog since I found it just a few short weeks ago. I edited the recipe a bit: Tami used tomato, which definitely isn’t in season yet, so I left it out. It’s harder to find uncooked shrimp here, and nearly impossible to find peeled ones, so I peeled my own cooked shrimp and used the shells to make shrimp stock to use for later. Feel free to use uncooked shrimp if you like: just head over to Tami’s site to see how she did it.

She also used cilantro, but I’ve recently learned that the boy is one of those weird people who doesn’t like cilantro. Since I have fresh basil, I decided to use that instead.

The result was a restaurant-quality dish that we both adored. I love to use angel hair pasta with seafood, and the delicate balance of the lemon-butter sauce over the capellini was incredible. I served it with a simple salad of soft lettuces with lemon vinaigrette. It was a delicious meal to remind us that spring is here, and, of course, it was great to use some of my own basil to make the recipe.

This is my submission for this round of the Grow Your Own challenge. Feel free to head over and submit your own recipes!

Lemon-Butter Shrimp with Basil and Feta (adapted from Running with Tweezers)

1 pound cooked shrimp with heads and tails
1 clove garlic, cut in half
2 tbsp white wine
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 ounce feta cheese
1 tbsp butter
5 leaves basil, ripped into pieces
salt and pepper, to taste
7 oz. cappellini

Melt the butter over low heat and add the garlic to infuse it. Meanwhile, remove the heads and tails from the shrimp and boil water for the cappellini.

Increase the heat under the butter and add the wine. Cook for two minutes to reduce slightly. Remove the garlic cloves.

Add the cappellini to the water and add the shrimp to the skillet. Toss and cover. Cook for one minute, just to heat through: be careful not to overcook the shrimp!

Remove the skillet from the heat and add the lemon juice. Stir to combine. When the cappellini is done (it cooks for about three minutes total) use tongs to remove it from the pot and add it to the skillet, stirring to combine. Add some pasta water if necessary. Taste for seasoning.

Move the pasta and shrimp to a serving dish. Top with basil and feta cheese. Serve immediately.

December 27, 2008

Maple-Soy Glazed Salmon

Filed under: Fish, Seafood — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 10:48 pm

See Accidental Hedonist for a new recipe!

August 25, 2008

Paella… Again

Filed under: Restaurant Reviews, Rice, Seafood, Uncategorized — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 5:10 pm


I wrote once before about paella, a while back, but I have to do it once more, mostly because paella in Mallorca, just as it is vastly different from the version my mother makes at home, is also vastly different from the ones found in Barcelona.

When Alex and I were in Barcelona, I let him know about my personal obsession with sticking with native food. Whenever I travel, I feel the need to always eat that which the region is known for: never mind that I may be in the mood for simple spaghetti with tomato sauce (a craving that hits more often than I’d care to admit), in Interlaken, I’m eating rosti, in Rome I’m sampling the cacio e pepe or amatriciana, and in Barcelona, I’m most definitely going for tapas or paella, which is how I managed to eat tapas at least five times during my stay in the city, and paella twice.

The first thing I noticed about this paella marinara that Alex and I ordered to share (and failed miserably at finishing) was the abundance of both tomato-based sauce and whole pieces of seafood. I had always thought of paella as a rice dish, but this pile of mussels, squid and prawns most definitely considered rice the afterthought. While this particular version was a bit too heavily salted for my liking, both of the two versions I tried in Barcelona were a far throw from the tinted yellow rice I knew. I loved it.

My main problem with paella had always been its tendency to become dry: I love the crispy, crunchy bottom layer of rice that clings to the paella pan (which this dish did not lack at all), but I always find myself sprinkling Tabasco over the rice of a “typical” (as I knew it) paella, not only to pump up the spice, but to keep the starchy grains from growing too dry. The abundance of sauce along with the massive shellfish reminded me more of similarly spirited Italian pasta dishes, where the carb becomes secondary to the fish and sauce. It’s a different method and attitude towards paella, but I embraced it thoroughly.

February 27, 2008

To Cheese or Not to Cheese?

Filed under: Pasta, Seafood — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 4:28 pm

OK… so here’s the thing. I call myself an Italian-American, but the truth of the matter is, I’m only half. My mother, who does the majority of the cooking in my house, is actually German-Irish, and so she sees no issue with serving cheese with fish-based pasta dishes.

Personally, I never used cheese on these dishes. The only pasta and seafood meal she made was Shrimp Fra Diavolo, and she almost never made it. I worshiped the spiciness of the dish, and I refused to dull it at all with cheese. In fact, as I got older, I would often add more hot pepper.

So it wasn’t until I went to Italy that I realized that you are technically not supposed to eat cheese with these dishes. My brother or sister would order cheese with their Spaghetti con Vongoli, and the server would look at us as though we all had two heads.

I suppose my father never put cheese on his seafood pasta either… I guess I just never noticed. No Italian I’ve ever asked has really been able to explain the reasoning behind this… but then again, no French person can ever tell me why they think peanut butter and jelly is a disgusting combination.

So when I couldn’t tell the Canadian why “you can’t eat seafood pasta with cheese!” he used our brand new cheese grater to cover his liberally with parmesan. I just added extra pepper and shook my head.

Spicy Shrimp and Spaghetti (adapted from Culinary in the Desert)

3 ounces dry spaghetti
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon Cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon chili paste
2 garlic cloves, minced
8 ounces frozen pre-cooked shrimp, thawed
1 28-oz can whole tomatoes
2 tablespoons sour cream
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook pasta and drain, reserving some of the pasta liquid.

Meanwhile, heat oil in a large saucepan. Add Cayenne, chili paste and chopped garlic and cook just one minute. Lower heat and add shrimp. Stir in tomatoes, tomato paste, basil and salt. Simmer 10 minutes until sauce is slightly reduced. Remove sauce from heat and stir in crème fraîche and pasta. Add pasta water if needed. Serve with extra pepper on the side, or cheese for your non-Italian guests.

Serves one and a Canadian.

February 10, 2008

Gambas Diavolo

Filed under: Restaurant Reviews, Seafood — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 9:03 pm


If you hadn’t guessed it yet… I’m a little bit of a travel-o-holic.

Not only is my ideal job to be a travel journalist (journalism school… my new job at wCities…), but since starting this blog, I’ve lived on Long Island and in New York City, Toronto, and Cannes. Oh… and Paris. Almost forgot. ;)

So it should come as no surprise to any of you that I also love to take little trips. Nothing can beat living in a new place, but when I’m scrimping and saving, buying the half-off ham at our cheap supermarket, all I’m thinking is about the savings I can deposit to put towards a new trip. I travel cheap, staying in hostels and either buying food at local outdoor markets or cooking for myself mostly (OK… and treating myself to one or two nice meals out), so I can afford to go away pretty often thanks to my shiny, new student rail pass. Since starting in Paris this past September, I’ve been to London twice, Amiens, Amsterdam, and Toronto. Lucky me!

One of my favorite trips this year, though, was of a slightly more… expensive type. This was probably one of the last vacations I’ll take with my family, so I didn’t feel the slightest bit badly about being spoiled with a post-Christmas trip to Mexico, staying in a resort in the west (by Manzanillo, Jalisco) with my family and my cousins.

There was a swim-up bar. Heaven.

The odd thing? I almost missed my cheap backpacking adventures. And so, one morning, instead of heading straight down to the pool with my new Christmas books (three travel narrative anthologies… *squeal*!) I got myself a dollar to get onto the boat to Barra Navidad, the town near the resort.


I realized then that the thing I adore most about travel is the people. The real, true life. Yes, I love a swim-up bar, but even more, I loved getting my feet dirty walking along the dusty roads. It was nice that all of the native Mexicans working at the hotel had some ability to speak English, but it was so much more fun to break out my rusty Spanish on the streets as I bartered for a tiny Mexican hat to put on the Canadian’s three-liter bottle of Crown Royal, affectionately called Steve. The food at the resort was divine, but how can you beat an authentic Mexican taco, bought for eight cents at an outdoor stand? The mere idea makes my mouth water.

Yes, this is a food blog, not the story of my life, and this story, like most stories of my life, does have a food-related point: Gambas Diavolo. Devil’s shrimp. How odd, because to me, they tasted like heaven, served with the heads and tails on, a pile of napkins, and a basket full of fresh corn tortillas on the side.

Older Posts »

Powered by WordPress