Dates add a wonderful sweetness to this simple dinner in which your protein and veggies are cooked in one pan.
Salmon rillettes have been welcoming guests to Le Bernardin for many years. More than a canapé, they’re a convivial offering that invites guests to share and enjoy – something I hope sets the tone for their dining experience.
It’s important that the salmon is cold when you mix it with the mayonnaise; otherwise, the sauce will break. You want the mayonnaise to be creamy, not oily. If you are making it from scratch, I recommend grapeseed oil, as it stays emulsified and doesn’t congeal when chilled. Add the chives at the last minute so as not to overpower the salmon with a heavy onion taste. You can refrigerate the rillettes (without chives) for up to 2 days, but once the chives are added, the rillettes last only a few hours before they develop an overwhelming onion flavor.
Linguine with clams, white wine, fresh garlic, lemon, and parsley– Francis Lam’s One is a nod to a childhood dish his parents used to make when family or friends came for dinner. It’s a simple and loose recipe that can be adjusted based on desire– add more wine and butter to make it more saucy, use additional clams for extra dinner guests, add herbs, or not depending on what you have on hand.
Attend a festival in Le Marche, and you may sample one of the greatest snacks you’ll ever have: olive all’ascolana. Crisp-coated, salty fried olives stuffed with a rich meat filling are a culinary marvel of taste and texture that originated in the town of Ascoli Piceno. We just had to try making these delightful bites, but we suspected it might be a challenge—after all, we’d have to figure out how to pit and stuff an olive! We tried starting with pitted olives as a short-cut, but found them lacking in color, texture, and overall olive flavor. Instead we used large, mild-flavored Cerignola olives, which are easy to find in delis and prepared food places. To remove the pits, we left the olive flesh in one piece, slicing down one side of the olive and cutting around the pit with a paring knife as if we were peeling an apple. We were pleasantly surprised to find that the process went quickly after we got used to pitting the first few. With these olives, the filling shares the spotlight, and we found a lot of impractical recipes calling for a menagerie of meat scraps or specialty cuts. We started with ground pork; while uninspiring by itself, additions of prosciutto, sautéed carrot, and shallot built beautiful layers of flavor. A little nutmeg provided the classic warm spice and aroma, while wine added brightness. One large yolk and Parmigiano gave the filling richness and a creamy texture. We prefer to use Cerignola olives, but other large brine-cured green olives will work, too. To allow for practice, the recipe calls for extra olives.
This soup of pasta and clams is a Sardinian classic that’s all about simplicity. It relies chiefly on the flavor inherent in the soup’s two main ingredients: chewy, toasty spherical fregula, and arselle, the small, briny, succulent hard-shell clams found along the coast.
A classic Roman peasant meal, coda alla vaccinara is a lush braise originally prepared by slaughtermen (vaccinari) who were often paid with the undesirable parts of the animal. It’s from these parts, like oxtail, that they made delicious dishes and proved the underestimated worth of these inexpensive cuts.
For a turkey gravy that really tastes like the bird but doesn't require drippings, we began by making a full-flavored turkey stock that included not just the neck and giblets but also some excess skin and fat from the turkey—powerhouse sources of turkey flavor. We started our untraditional method for making turkey stock by simmering the neck, giblets, and trimmings in chicken broth in a Dutch oven (chosen instead of a saucepan for its greater surface area); doing so efficiently extracted flavor-packed juices and fat from the parts that browned and formed a rich fond once the liquid evaporated. We then sautéed chopped carrot, celery, and onion for aromatic depth; deglazed the pot with white wine; added more chicken broth; simmered the stock (covered to prevent evaporation) for about an hour; and strained out the solids. We didn't defat the stock, since the aromatic compounds in the bird's fat contributed a significant amount of turkey flavor. Then, to turn the stock into a gravy, we made a roux by toasting flour in melted butter and whisking the stock into the roux.
We first had this in Sydney in a funny little tapas bar we used to go to called Capitan Torres. When we were in Spain we discovered that it was a staple of most traditional tapas bars. We liked the fact that you could use a plain cultivated mushroom and turn it into something with so much flavor.
Tarragon was made for chicken and mushrooms. Its muted aniseed flavour is somehow both bold and gentle; the sponginess of the mushrooms just soaks up the tarragon and their earthiness marries with it beautifully. The second wonder of this dish is its simplicity – just throw everything into the pan, place the chicken on top and roast.