Comfort Foods and Indulgences

At an "early 60's tacky tiki" theme party this weekend, it occured to me how sometimes the most retro recipes can also be very of-the-moment. At this particular party there were modern takes on all sorts of things. In each case very high quality ingredients were used and, you know the saying, "quality in, quality out." There was a cucumber gelatin mold salad, only the cucumbers were fresh from the farm, agar-agar was used to gel it and fresh dill and citrus flavors punctuated the dish. It was so good I took some home!

Another dish that hasn't been popular in a while was the cheese ball, though at this party there were three of them. When made with the best cheeses, fresh roasted red peppers and rolled in nuts, it was positively delicious. The dish I had the hardest keeping my paws out of was nothing more than a premium "seven layer dip". Seven layer dip is made from refried beans, sour cream, guacamole, salsa, cheese, olives and green onions or some similar combination. But imagine a version where each layer was made from scratch or with the best products available. It was a far cry from the versions I've had that were made mostly from mundane canned ingredients.

I was methodically chopping chives into 1/4 inch batons to balance on top of the mini crabcakes I would soon serve. I was lost in thought about my 4 ½ year relationship that I had ended earlier that day. 4 ½ years. Sigh. I was thinking about the love and all the amazing moments we shared over that time. images (1)I have no regrets, only appreciation for the incredible man that Shannon is and an understanding that love sometimes changes into something else. I glanced down at the cutting board and realized I had cut enough chive batons to feed a sizeable army – which this crowd was not. I slid the greens into a bowl as one of the servers walked into the kitchen.

“Do you have sugar for the coffee and tea service?” the waiter asked the house manager of the apartment on the 33rd floor of the Ritz Carlton Residences where we were catering. The manager opened the ample pantry and started off-loading sweeteners to the side table. “We’ve got Splenda. We’ve got Equal. We’ve got Truvia. We’ve got Sweet and Low.”

A small herd of boxes – yellow, blue, green, and pink - collected on the table.

“We’ve got agave. We’ve got honey. We’ve got stevia. And we’ve got gluten free sugar.” We all stopped and looked at each other. “Gluten free sugar? Huh?” the waiter said. “I thought sugar WAS gluten free.” And he turned to me because, well, because I was the one in the chef jacket.

It's hard to say no to cheese. Since I never tasted Parrano cheese I was more than happy to accept a sample to try. Apparently it has been around since the 1970's but I can't recall ever seeing it at the market. It's a semi-firm cheese created by a Dutch cheese maker who went to Italy and was inspired to create a Gouda that would be reminiscent of Northern Italian style cheese. It's aged for at least 5 months and often described as tasting like a cross between Gouda and Parmesan. I'm not sure I agree with that assessment, but I can tell you it's buttery and has a caramel like flavor that complements tomatoes beautifully.

I've been inundated with cherry tomatoes recently and decided I would use them on a pizza with Parrano cheese. I also happened to have some grilled marinated artichokes and that combination is really something. I added chives for a little color and oniony flavor, but really, just a plain cherry tomato pizza would be delicious too. The good thing about using cherry tomatoes instead of tomato slices and Parrano cheese instead of mozzarella is that neither will make your pizza soggy. That said, biting into a cherry tomato half can be a deliciously juicy experience.

I am an A+ eater and a B- cook.  Sad, but true – I’d be so much better off if it were the other way around.  I have a couple of A+ dishes in my repertoire, but by and large, I haven’t had the time to hone my kitchen skills.  Having to bring home the bacon and cook it too is hard work!  So I’ve eaten out as much as I’ve eaten in for the last 20 years.  Nowadays, I’m trying to reverse the trend.

I began my career in Manhattan around the same time that many famous, formal temples of gastronomy like Lutece and La Cote Basque were being replaced in the hearts and wallets of many New Yorkers by small, unpretentious, artisanal restaurants that cared more about the content than the packaging.  So I consider myself very lucky to have been there when Trattoria d’Alfredo changed the rules of the game.  Alfredo Viazzi introduced New Yorkers to simple, inventive, Italian regional cooking, as familiar to us today as spaghetti and meatballs were then.  I loved how this gracious, Savona-born, WWII partisan fighter, writer and cook presided over his flock nightly; I loved that he opened a supper club nearby where his actress/singer wife performed; and I loved the exquisite mocha dacquoise cake made daily for the restaurant by James Beard’s partner, pastry chef Gino Cofacci.