MITCH IN THE KITCHEN

spaghetti alla puttanesca

Yummy dish, dirty name. “Whore’s spaghetti” has a sauce made from easy pantry items: canned tomatoes, olives, capers, red pepper flakes, and anchovies. Wikipedia includes three theories for how spaghetti alla puttanesca got its name:

• An Italian restaurateur found himself with hungry guests who had dropped in late at night. The ingredients he had on hand were limited, but his guests insisted that he use whatever garbage was around (using the word puttanata, which translates to “garbage” but comes from the word for “whore”). Interestingly, this origin story (the last-minute improvisation) is also thrown around for Caesar salad and the reuben sandwich, to name a few.
• Back in the 1950s, brothels were state-owned in Italy (wha??). Prostitutes were were only allowed to go to the market once a week, so they had to create meals using odds and ends from the larder.
• This is a dish that’s easy, quick, and cheap enough for prostitutes to whip up in between turning tricks.

Well, it’s easy and tasty enough for us ordinary non-prostitutes too. Though my John (omg get it? gross) and I over-achieved a bit by making fresh spaghetti with that brand new pasta machine that I can’t get enough of.

midnight’s pasta

(photos by the lovely Jocelyn Voo)

I finally got to make pasta with Ashwin again, this time with the very talented Mr. Rajen (who was visiting). Our follow-up to Spaghetti Made by Drunk People was (to borrow more than just photos from Jocelyn) something that made everyone go “aw yeah.” We cleared off as much counter space as we could, cracked open a few bottles of wine, and broke in the pasta machine that Jocelyn found in her office and gave me (yes, she is all over this post, because it wouldn’t have been possible without her).

It took a few tries to get the hang of the machine, but we ended up with fresh fettuccine that we tossed with a cream sauce and some greens. Very few things make me happier than a night with good food and good friends, no matter what time we end up eating.

Here’s how we made the pasta:
We loosely followed the recipe on a package of semolina. Combine equal parts unbleached all-purpose flour and semolina (made from durum wheat, a hard species of wheat) with olive oil, salt, and a few eggs. Knead until elastic. Add more flour if the dough is too sticky. Let rest for about 20 minutes. Roll out dough in the pasta machine  (photo tutorial here), then use the noodle cutting attachment. Boil noodles in salted water for a few minutes, until tender but not falling apart.

Mushroom and Leek Cream Sauce
Melt a pat of butter in a heated pan, over medium heat. Add sliced leeks (just the white and light green parts). Cook for a few minutes, until leeks are soft. Add minced garlic and sliced mushrooms (we used crimini mushrooms). Season with salt, pepper, and thyme. When mushrooms are cooked, add heavy cream. Lower heat to low and let the cream sauce thicken. If it starts getting too thick, add a little more cream. Add cooked pasta to the pan and toss to coat. Top with grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese.

Broccoli Rabe with Garlic and Crushed Red Pepper
Heat olive oil in a large pan over medium heat. Add chopped broccoli rabe, minced garlic, and a lot of crushed red pepper flakes. Saute until broccoli rabe stems are tender and leaves are wilted. Add chopped olives (chopped anchovies could also be good). Season with salt and black pepper. Toss with cooked pasta and extra virgin olive oil. Top with fresh bread crumbs.

zha jiang mian (noodles with pork sauce)

I’ve been having about one wedding-related nightmare each week. In the most recent one, I was at a Chinese restaurant ordering lunch with my friend Jeanice. After mulling over my options, I decided to get a basket of xiao long bao (soup dumplings). When the gruff, middle-aged manager-cum-waiter came to take our order, I asked him if he also had zha jiang mian (炸酱面). As he walked back to the kitchen to check, Jeanice asked me if my flowers were ready. I dashed out of the restaurant to arrange for flower arrangements, two days before the big day, leaving the possibility of zha jiang mian for lunch behind.

A few days later, I decided this was inspiration enough to make zha jiang mian, possibly the only Chinese dish I’ve come anywhere close to “mastering” (yes, it’s that easy). You can also find versions of zha jiang mian at Korean restaurants (jajangmyeon) and Japanese restaurants. The noodles should be wheat noodles (made from wheat flour), and the sauce should be pretty salty thanks to all the fermented bean products that go into it. Zha jiang mian is usually served with crunchy vegetables on top, typically bean sprouts, cucumbers, and shredded carrots. I like to cook diced carrots in the sauce (what my mom does) and top it with matchstick-sized strips of cucumbers and blanched bean sprouts. It’s a nice contrast of hot and cold, salty and cucumber-y, and soft and crunchy.

vegetable oil
1/2 medium yellow onion, chopped
1 medium carrot, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 pound ground pork
1 teaspoon corn starch
1 tablespoon light soy sauce
3 ounces pressed five-spice tofu (looks like this)
1 tablespoon broad bean paste
1 tablespoon hot broad bean paste (or substitute with more regular broad bean paste)
1 tablespoon sweet bean sauce (or hoisin sauce)
3/4 cup water
sesame oil

thick wheat noodles, cooked according to package directions

Heat vegetable oil in a large pan or wok over medium heat. Add onion and carrot. Cook until onion is translucent.

Combine pork with corn starch, garlic, and soy sauce. Add to pan and cook until pork is browned. Add tofu, bean paste, and bean sauce. Toss to coat everything evenly. Add water and bring sauce to a simmer. Turn heat to low and continue to simmer until sauce has thickened. Add a tiny bit of sesame oil at the end. Serve over noodles with blanched bean sprouts and julienne cucumbers.

my hangover helper

Here’s a tip unrelated to cooking: after a night of moderate to heavy drinking, make yourself a hangover-preventing solution of sugar, salt, and water. Simply dissolve 1 tablespoon of sugar and 1/2 teaspoon of salt in about 12 to 16 ounces of water. It doesn’t taste great, but it tastes better than a nasty vomit session. If for some inexcusable reason you don’t have salt, sugar, or water in your home, a glass of Gatorade or any other sports drink works too.

Without the ever-responsible John by my side the other night, I completely forgot to partake in this prophylactic measure and awoke the following day feeling not-so-great. Thankfully, I’m always ready to comfort my hungover self with my first meal of the day. One package of instant ramen (I had Sapporo Ichiban), a handful of shredded cabbage or other leafy vegetable, an egg (quickly poached in the pot of noodles at the end of cooking), some tofu, scallions, and a big dollop of chili-garlic sauce are all I need to feel better.

spaghetti made by drunk people

A couple weeks ago, I found myself sitting in apartment 5A, contemplating dinner with some of my favorite people. A trek to the biryani cart in Midtown? A short stroll to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for a Sunday night feast? Tacos from downstairs?

Three hours and a few bottles of wine later, our inaction gave our adventurously resourceful host Ashwin no choice but to scrape up whatever was edible in the kitchen to create a meal. I stood by as he began boiling water for pasta and chopping some vegetables. By the end of it, he had also created an “orange” sauce made with whole milk and canned tomato sauce, which we rounded out with a small squirt of agave nectar. We kept talking about impressing everyone with a secret ingredient, a concept on which I was so fixated that I barked “secret ingredient!!” everytime someone tried to guess.

Below is my best attempt at recording a recipe for this creation.

(serves 1 to 8, depending on how drunk you are and how many friends you have over)

2/3 of a 1 pound box of spaghetti

1 small red bell pepper, halved and seeded
1/2 small red onion, chopped
1 small bunch of asparagus, trimmed and cut into 2-inch pieces
3 large white mushrooms, sliced
about 1 teaspoon whole black peppercorns
olive oil

small pat of butter
a sprinkle of flour
about 1 cup of whole milk
lots of salt and black pepper
1 can of tomato sauce (not sure if the size matters)
3 cloves of garlic, minced
large pinch of Kashmiri mirch, a red chili powder (thanks Ash, for the update)
small squirt of agave nectar

a lot of freshly grated Parmesan cheese
6-8 Flamin’ Hot Cheetos®, crushed (secret ingredient!)

Cook pasta in boiling salted water, according to package directions.

Meanwhile, lightly roast the bell pepper in a dry skillet over medium-high heat. Once it begins to char, remove it and set aside. After it has cooled down, chop into bite-size pieces.

While the bell pepper is cooking, prepare the sauce. In a medium saucepan, melt butter over low heat. Add flour to create a little bit of roux. Add milk, and try to get all the lumps out. Let this janky bechamel heat through for a few minutes (long enough to tell a funny story about another friend), stirring occasionally. Season with lots of salt and black pepper. Add tomato sauce, garlic, and cayenne pepper. Let simmer while you prepare the vegetables.

In the same skillet that the bell pepper was in, heat some olive oil. Add peppercorns, letting them lightly fry for just a bit. Add onion and wait a few minutes, then add asparagus, then mushrooms. Saute until everything is slightly softened. Season with salt.

Stir grated cheese into the sauce. Taste it. Does it need more salt? No? But something’s missing right? Add a pinch of sugar. Oh, or agave nectar. That should work. Combine pasta with sauce and vegetables, coating evenly. Plate, and garnish with additional cheese and crushed Flamin’ Hot Cheetos®.