http://www.saveur.com/rss_DailyFare.jsp Latest Daily Fare from saveur.com en-us Copyright @ 2012 Bonnier Corporation. All rights reserved. Fri, 25 May 2012 07:18:03 EDT Fri, 25 May 2012 07:18:03 EDT http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/100-savuer_logo_rss.jpg http://www.saveur.com http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/Spring-Flowers <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Borages-400-new.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Edible Flowers-photo" title="Edible Flowers" border="0"/> <br/>by Katrina Moore<br/> As springtime flowers bloom, we're bringing the edible ones into our kitchen. From herbaceous blossoms to textured sprigs, flowers add sweetness or spice to a variety of dishes. Here are five of our favorites; look for them in your garden, farmers' market, or order online from <a href="http://www.chefs-garden.com/"> The Chef's Garden</a>.<br><br><h4>1. Borages</h4>Sweet and herbaceous, these star-shape blossoms of an herb found throughout the Mediterranean release a cucumber-like fragrance and flavor. The powder-blue flowers, a traditional garnish for a Pimm's cup, are a natural match with cucumbers in salads and sauces.<br><br><!-- image block start --><div id="article-image-left"> <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Nasturtiums-400.jpg" width="80"></div><!-- image block end --><h4>2. Nasturtiums</h4>These spicy flowers come in shades ranging from pale yellow to deep red. Drop a bloom onto a bowl of gazpacho, or fold chopped petals into softened chèvre or herbed butter to unleash their peppery flavor.<br><br><!-- image block start --><div id="article-image-right"> <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-French-Marigolds-400.jpg" width="100"></div><!-- image block end --><h4>3. French Marigolds</h4>These yellow-trimmed vermilion blooms taste like a blend of tarragon and radicchio. Toss the petals into a salad in place of bitter greens, sprinkle them over grilled fish, or lay them on a stack of sautéed prawns. Often used in orange dyes, the flowers will also lend their color and flavor to rice dishes the same way that saffron does.<br><br><!-- image block start --><div id="article-image-left"> <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Cornflowers-400.jpg" width="100"></div><!-- image block end --><h4>4. Cornflowers</h4>Also called "bachelor's buttons" (supposedly because love-struck lads once wore them on their lapels), these blossoms have a subtle, sweet spiciness. Toss them into salads, add them to tea blends for a clovelike aroma, or nestle them onto frosted cakes as a garnish.<!-- image block start --><div id="article-image-right"> <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Amaranths-400.jpg" width="75"></div><!-- image block end --><br><br><h4>5. Amaranths</h4>Despite their berry-red color, these textured petals taste exactly like sweet corn. Sometimes known by their poetic common name, "love-lies-bleeding," the sprigs add color draped over poached eggs or tucked into a fruity beverage. http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090327 Thu, 24 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Corsican-Chestnut-Tart <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-PleasureIsland-3-400x546.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Torta Pisticcina (Chestnut Flour Tart) orange, almonds, vanilla-photo" title="Torta Pisticcina (Chestnut Flour Tart) orange, almonds, vanilla" border="0"/> SERVES 8-10<br><br><h4>INGREDIENTS</h4>12 tbsp. unsalted butter, melted, plus more for greasing pan<br>1 cup sugar<br>½ cup milk<br>1 tsp. vanilla extract<br>1 tsp. kosher salt<br>Zest of ½ orange<br>2 cups chestnut flour<br>½ cup whole blanched almonds<br>¼ cup sliced almonds<br><br><h4>INSTRUCTIONS</h4>Heat oven to 375°. Grease a 10″ cake pan; set aside. Whisk butter, sugar, milk, vanilla, salt, and zest in a bowl. Add flour and whole almonds; stir until smooth. Pour batter into pan; sprinkle with sliced almonds. Bake until browned and set, about 25 minutes.<br> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090104 Thu, 24 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/One-Ingredient-Many-Ways-Rhubarb <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/Rhubarb_300.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="One Ingredient, Many Ways: Rhubarb-photo" title="One Ingredient, Many Ways: Rhubarb" border="0"/> <br/>by Leah Koenig<br/> My mother was our household's primary cook while I was growing up, and she is allergic to rhubarb's most faithful companion: strawberries. Her severe aversion (she recoils at a mere <i>mention</i> of the crimson fruits) meant no strawberry-rhubarb jam to spread on our toast, and certainly no strawberry-rhubarb pie with its sweet-tart juice running like a river underneath a layer of butter-browned crust. Without a classic like that - in America, rhubarb is colloquially known as "pie plant," after all - what do you have left?<br><br>As it turns out, quite a lot. After leaving my parents' house and establishing my own home where strawberries were welcomed, I also opened my kitchen to rhubarb. In the spring I regularly picked up bunches of the sour, blushing stalks at the farmers' market, and back home I stripped off their crown of toxic leaves, then simmered hunks of the fruit with lime zest, ginger and sugar until it softened into pink compote, perfect for topping rice pudding, yogurt, or ice cream. Other times I'd take a cue from the British (among the first culture to elevate rhubarb from medicinal plant to culinary champion) and baked it into glistening tarts. And of course, I made lots of strawberry rhubarb pies, happily enjoying the previously forbidden pairing.<br><br>More recently, I learned of rhubarb's applications beyond dessert. In some countries, rhubarb is treated as a savory vegetable - in Poland, it marries with potatoes and mushrooms in a gratin. Rhubarb's lemon-sour flavor also blends well with fish and meat dishes, and it's a tart addition to soups. The vibrant red-green stalks can typically be found in the markets from early spring through mid-summer, and I plan to indulge accordingly.<br><br><h4>SWEET</h4><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/recipes/Rhubarb-Muffins-with-Almond-Streusel"><b>Rhubarb Muffins with Almond Streusel</b></a><br>Sour cream and lemon zest support tart rhubarb in streusel-topped muffins, while vanilla seeds and brown sugar mellow its edge.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Rhubarb-Pie"><b>Rhubarb Pie</b></a><br>A specialty in Iowa, this pie is made with fresh rhubarb when in season, although frozen will do when not in season. Finish it off with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Rhubarb-Strawberry-Pie"><b>Strawberry Rhubarb Pie</b></a><br>This classic springtime baked good gets its complex flavor from tart rhubarb and sweet strawberries.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Yogurt-Parfait-with-Vanilla-Rhubarb-Compote"><b>Yogurt Parfait with Vanilla Rhubarb Compote</b></a><br>Breakfast is a lot more interesting with vanilla-scented rhubarb topping your yogurt.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Stewed-Rhubarb-1000059355"><b>Stewed Rhubarb</b></a><br>Serve sugar-sweetened rhubarb with creamy ricotta.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Bluebarb-Pie"><b>Bluebarb Pie</b></a><br>Blueberries replace the more commonly-found strawberries in this pie.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Rhubarb-Ginger-Crumble"><b>Rhubarb Ginger Crumble</b></a><br>Spicy ginger is the perfect foil for rhubarb in a sweet crumble.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/RhubarbStrawberry-Jam"><b>Strawberry Rhubarb Jam</b></a><br>Enliven your morning toast with a spoonful of bright red jam.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Rhubarb-Custard-Pie"><b>Rhubarb Custard Pie</b></a><br>This rustic custard pie is commonly found in the American south.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Sweet-Brown-Rice-Pudding-Rhubarb-Ginger-Compote"><b>Sweet Brown Rice Pudding with Rhubarb Ginger Compote</b></a><br>Top sweet and creamy rice pudding with tart and spicy rhubarb compote.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Rhubarb-Financiers-with-Vanilla-Ice-Cream-and-Poached-Rhubarb"><b>Rhubarb Financiers with Vanilla Ice Cream and Poached Rhubarb</b></a><br>Rhubarb's flavors shine beautifully in this sophisticated dessert.<br><br><h4>SAVORY</h4><em>The Daily Spud: </em><a href="http://www.thedailyspud.com/2011/06/19/rhubarb-potato-gratin/"><b>Rhubarb Potato Gratin</b></a><br>Top rhubarb, potatoes and mushrooms with savory bread crumbs for a delicious gratin.<br><br><em>Food 52: </em><a href="http://food52.com/recipes/13379_home_on_the_range"><b>Bison Flank Steak with Rhubarb</b></a><br>Marinated steak gets cooked with rhubarb, bourbon and spices for a tangy main dish.<br><br><em>Bon Appetit: </em><a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Roasted-Salmon-with-Rhubarb-and-Red-Cabbage-358209"><b>Roasted Salmon with Rhubarb and Red Cabbage</b></a><br>Top sautéed rhubarb and cabbage with roasted salmon.<br><br><em>La Cucina Italiana: </em><a href="http://lacucinaitalianamagazine.com/recipe/sweet-and-sour-rhubarb-soup"><b>Sweet and Sour Rhubarb Soup</b></a><br>This unusual rhubarb soup is enriched with bread.<br><br><em>The Guardian:</em> <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2011/apr/30/beetroot-salad-stuffed-artichoke-recipes"><b>Beetroot and Rhubarb Salad</b></a><br>A delicious spring salad by Israeli-British chef Yotam Ottolenghi.<br><br><h4>DRINK</h4><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Strawberry-Rhubarb-Smash"><b> Strawberry Rhubarb Smash</b></a><br>The iconic spring pair is mixed with bourbon and mint in a refreshing spring cocktail.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Whiskey-Rock-Roller"><b>Whiskey Rock-A-Roller</b></a><br>Rhubarb bitters and strawberry liqueur add depth of flavor to this drink.<br><br><br><em><a href="http://leahkoenig.com">Leah Koenig</a> is a freelance writer and author of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hadassah-Everyday-Cookbook-Contemporary-Kitchen/dp/0789322218/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8andamp;qid=1320976185andamp;sr=8-1">The Hadassah Everyday Cookbook: Daily Meals for the Contemporary Jewish Kitchen.</a></em> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090300 Wed, 23 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/Senegal-Cuisine <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-senegal-800.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Senegal-photo" title="Senegal" border="0"/> <br/>by John O'Connor<br/> The heat is gathering, driving everyone indoors. It's midafternoon in Dakar, Senegal, and the foot traffic in this narrow, two-story home in the working-class Gibraltar neighborhood is seriously congested. More people arrive every minute-relatives, neighbors, an imam-and collapse in the dark, cool refuge of the living room. In a small kitchen off the courtyard, a handsome, tall woman named Khady Mbow puts the final touches on the <i><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipe/Senegal-Okra-Seafood-Stew">soupoukandia</a></i>, a fiery, gumbolike stew of okra, palm oil, Scotch bonnet peppers, and shellfish served over rice. She and her 30-year-old niece, Sini, have spent the morning pounding vegetables in a mortar and pestle, scraping the mash into a steaming pot and stirring relentlessly. The Gueyes own a food processor, but Khady-the family's matriarch and chief culinary architect-believes the mortar and pestle better preserve flavor. Everything is done by hand.<br><br>And so I wait, with the other male guests. In Senegal, the women cook while the men sit in thumb-twirling inertia. Finally, Khady and Sini ladle the <i>soupoukandia</i> into a pair of large metal bowls and trundle them inside. Twenty or so people, including four generations of Gueyes, gather around the bowls, spoons hovering. Then Khady gives the order to eat in French, the country's official language: "Mangez!" The spicy <i>soupoukandia</i> delivers a swift roundhouse kick, making our noses run and sweat bead up on our foreheads, but our spoons continue to shovel away, clinking off the bottom of the bowls. The dish-sweet and sharp and hot all at once-elicits a chorus of contented grunts and lip-smacking. It's difficult to fathom, here, now, that during my first stay in Senegal, it took me awhile to come around to the cooking.<br><br><blockquote class="pullquote-left">Half a lifetime of Midwestern meat-and-potato standards had not prepared me for the rich, prodigiously spiced cosmos of Senegalese cooking.</blockquote>Ten years ago, when I was in my late-20s, I lived briefly in Dakar, a city of a million people on an arrow-shaped peninsula pointing into the Atlantic. The contrast between this place of white sand and red-tile roofs and morning air perfumed by baking bread, and my own hometown of Kalamazoo, Michigan, couldn't have been starker. After a month of French classes, I moved on to Thiès, a city about 30 miles inland, where my girlfriend at the time worked for an NGO. Things began inauspiciously, as I faced the reality that roughly 50 percent of Senegalese still face: unemployment. This new idleness required a period of acclimatization, as did the food. Half a lifetime of Midwestern meat-and-potato standards had not prepared me for the rich, prodigiously spiced cosmos of Senegalese cooking.<br><br>The country's cuisine reflects the influence of its west African neighbors and Morocco, to the north, as well as recent patterns of immigration-particularly, since the 1950s, from Vietnam. There are also the legacies of French and Portuguese colonialism, and a varied topography ranging from a seafood-laden coast to a semi-arid interior awash in millet and peanuts. Despite its recent election turmoil, Senegal has been an oasis of stability and democratic rule in west Africa since winning independence from the French in 1960. Still, hunger is endemic in rural areas, and the country continues to suffer from periodic food shortages. All these factors converge in the capital, Dakar. Here and throughout the country, meals tend to be single-dish affairs, with everyone grazing from one bowl or platter, using spoons or bare hands to scoop up meat and vegetables-always supplemented with rice or couscous. <i><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipe/Senegal-Chile-Sauce">Sosa kaani</a></i>, an incendiary sauce made from Scotch bonnet peppers, is on every table at every meal.<br><br><!--- image block start ----><div id="article-image-left"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-Senegal-2-400x267.jpg"><div class="photo-credit"><small><i>Credit: Penny De Los Santos</i></small></div></div><!-- image block end -->Although it's borderline sacrilegious to say so in Senegal, I never took to the national dish of <i><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipe/Senegal-Fish-Rice">thiéboudienne</a>:</i> rice, fish, and vegetables stewed in a chile-hot tomato base that gets its signature saline funk from two essential Senegalese flavorings, <i>gejj</i> (dried fermented fish) and <i>yéet</i> (dried fermented snails). The clamor of intense flavors and sensations-the concentrated sweetness of tomato paste, the searing heat of Scotch bonnet peppers, and that profoundly fishy bass note-was just too loud for me. I'll confess it wasn't the only one of Senegal's boldly flavored foods that my palate didn't prove equal to at the time. I did, however, come to love <i><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipe/Senegal-Peanut-Chicken-Stew">màfe</a></i>, a delicious peanut stew made with chicken, fish, or lamb. And I developed what my girlfriend considered a troubling obsession with a tangy sauce of cooked-down onions and peppers called <i>yassa</i>, served with grilled chicken or fish. My favorite meals were eaten at friends' houses, prepared in sparse courtyards by women and girls using little by way of equipment besides a mortar and pestle, some dull knives, a propane tank, and a small charcoal grill. As I quickly learned, a guest in Senegal is treated like a king, given the best seat, the biggest cut of meat, and encouraged to eat until he or she is bursting.<br><br>For my girlfriend and me, Senegal was an exercise in blind optimism that didn't pan out. After 11 months, I went home. She stayed. Back in the States, living in New York City, I occasionially felt pangs of regret. I wondered if I'd stayed long enough, made the most of my time there, seen enough, done enough. <i>Thiéboudienne</i> became for me a symbol of all that I'd failed to embrace in Senegal. As luck would have it, a Senegalese restaurant opened around the corner from my Brooklyn apartment, and the chef, Pierre Thiam, became a friend. When I confided in Pierre my sense of longing for a Senegal I never fully knew, he pointed out the obvious: What was keeping me from going back?<br><br>As my plane lands in Senegal this time, I'm determined to hit the ground running. Pierre's advice: Get myself invited into homes, because that's where the best Senegalese cooking happens. Landing at the Gueyes' turns out to be a terrific stroke of luck. To counterbalance my deplorable French, worse Wolof (the main indigenous language), and appalling sense of direction, I've hired as my translator and guide Medoune Gueye, Khady's 33-year-old son, whose first act of business is to steer me into his mother's kitchen. I eat a lot of Khady's cooking during my week in Dakar, including her <i>yassa jën</i>, the piquant onion-and-pepper sauce, served with grilled grouper. I've had several variations across Senegal; Khady's irresistibly tart, sticky <i>yassa</i> makes liberal use of cayenne, lime, garlic, and mustard. Eating it after so much time away breeds a curious dissonance. Still, it's good to be back.<br><br>After a few days in Dakar, I decide to return to my old town, Thiès, and Medoune accompanies me. I'm curious to see how it has changed. After Dakar, the place feels provincial, quaint. But there's another side to Thiès: an exuberant, frantically emergent city. Half a million people now live here, in tracts of beige cinderblock homes. Freshly minted buildings stand where I remember there being only sandy lots. My friend Samuel's grocery store has vanished, absorbed by a massive new house.<br><br><blockquote class="pullquote-left">In the midst of a busy day, the ritual of drinking tea is an excuse merely to sit and chat and enjoy a mellow moment of quiet</blockquote>As we make our way around the city, the heat index spikes, and Medoune suggests we pause for tea. Dethie Mbow, Medoune's garrulous cousin, shepherds us into the courtyard of his breezy, low-slung house and promptly dispatches a neighbor boy to fetch some snacks from a vendor around the corner. The boy returns with two classic Senegalese street foods: <i>pastels</i>, tiny empanadas stuffed with fish and onions; and <i><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipe/Senegal-Black-Eyed-Pea-Fritters">accara</a></i>, black-eyed-pea fritters. We plunge the <i>pastels</i> and the <i>accara</i> into <i>kaani</i> sauce, and pop them into our mouths.<br><br>While we eat, Medoune commences the <i>ataya</i>, an elaborate, three-cup tea ritual that is ubiquitous in west Africa. Chinese gunpowder tea is brewed with sugar and mint and served in a tiny glass called a <i>kas</i>. The first serving is strong and bitter; the second a tad sweeter, with a little mint added; the third is a mint-infused sugar-bomb. Each serving has a heady top layer of foam, achieved by pouring the tea from one <i>kas</i> to another from a great height. Boys apprentice at the <i>ataya</i> for years before they master the proper foam-to-tea ratio. Medoune, who considers himself something of an <i>ataya</i> savant, clearly relishes the opportunity to showcase his talents. In the midst of a busy day, the <i>ataya</i> functions as a social and gustatory salve-an excuse merely to sit and chat and enjoy a mellow, if highly caffeinated, moment of quiet.<br><br><!--- image block start ----><div id="article-image-right"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-Senegal-3-400x600.jpg" width="300"><div class="photo-credit"><small><i>Credit: Penny De Los Santos</i></small></div></div><!-- image block end -->Caffeine notwithstanding, the tea has a narcotic effect on me. By round three, I'm laid out on a futon in a back bedroom, drifting off to sleep, the flavors of the <i>pastels</i> and <i>accara</i> lingering on my tongue.<br><br>After a week of outright gluttony, I've taken all the culinary spoils Senegal has to offer, with one exception: my old nemesis, <i>thiéboudienne</i>. It's time for a reckoning, and also-despite the tacit ban on men in the kitchen-time to do some cooking myself.<br><br>My last meal in Dakar takes place at the home of Didier and Marie Jeannette (nicknamed Jeanine) Diop. Didier is a childhood friend of my pal Pierre back in Brooklyn. Pierre has assured me that Jeanine's <i>thiéboudienne</i> will change my mind about the dish.<br><br>The day before the meal, Jeanine and I go grocery shopping at a large covered market downtown called Marché Kermel. Its symmetry and order are impressive. The building is vaguely octagonal, with concentric rows of produce, meat, and fish stalls spiraling neatly inward from exterior archways. Still, navigating any Dakar market requires great tactical sense, and it's all I can do to keep up with Jeanine as she swoops from vendor to vendor, picking through vegetables and haggling over prices. Normally a sweet, soft-spoken woman, she transforms into a cold and ruthless negotiator.<br><br>"I love to bargain," she says. After hearing a vendor's price for a bushel of okra, Jeanine bursts out laughing, waves him away, and descends on the next stall, where the vendor quickly bends to her will. "You can't let them hustle you," Jeanine tells me. By the time we drive back to the Diops', the trunk of their blue Chevrolet Optra is sagging with produce-onions, turnips, eggplants, Scotch bonnet peppers, squash, manioc, carrots, cabbage, tamarind, cauliflower, and I forget what else, but so much that we had to hire a porter to lug it to the car for us-plus a grouper the size of a small submarine, purchased at another market, on the beach.<br><br><!--- image block start ----><div id="article-image-left"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-Senegal-4-400x572.jpg" width="300"><div class="photo-credit"><small><i>Credit: Penny De Los Santos</i></small></div></div><!-- image block end -->Preparing the <i>thiéboudienne</i> takes all day. We start at 8 a.m. in the Diops' rear courtyard, with sunlight slashing through the palm trees and a pair of disheveled chickens scraping around. My first job is to make the <i>rof</i>, or stuffing, for the grouper. It requires mashing vegetables into a thick paste. This I can do. An onion, a head of garlic, a bunch of parsley, and a handful of dried chiles gradually yield to the pestle. I turn to the grouper, which has been cut into eight or nine steaks. I poke two holes in each, stuff them with the <i>rof</i>, and then coat them thoroughly with the vegetable paste.<br><br>Under Jeanine's supervision, I sauté onions and green peppers in a large pot heated by a propane tank, then stir in some tomato paste. Once the sauce starts to come together, we add a few cups of water to thin it and let it simmer a while. I carefully arrange the grouper steaks in the pot, followed by some cabbage; dried <i>bisaap</i> (hibiscus) leaves and tamarind paste, both of which impart a wonderful tartness; and four or five Scotch bonnet peppers. As the pot continues to simmer, we add other ingredients: hunks of salted, fermented cod (<i>gejj</i>) and some dried snails (<i>yéet</i>), turnips, eggplants, squash, manioc, carrots, cauliflower, and okra.<br><br>Once the vegetables have cooked through, I pluck them out and place them in a large bowl, followed by the fish. Rice is added to the pot, where the remaining sauce quickly stains it a deep red. Finally, the cooked rice is scraped into a waiting bowl and the blackened crust at the bottom of the pan-a much-loved delicacy called <i>xóoñ</i>-is plated to be served on the side.<br><br><blockquote class="pullquote-left">Preparing the thiéboudienne takes all day. We start at 8 A.M. in the courtyard, with the sunlight slashing through the palm trees</blockquote><br>It's nearly 3 p.m. by the time we finish. Didier returns from work just as Jeanine's parents, Joseph and Marie Thérèse Nesseim, arrive, and the five of us arrange ourselves on a mat in the basement next to an open window. A heaping platter of <i>thiéboudienne</i> appears, with the grouper sitting atop the rice, and the eggplant and manioc and cauliflower on the sides. With a breeze buffeting us, we dig in.<br><br>Pierre is right. Jeanine's is the Cadillac Fleetwood of <i>thiéboudiennes</i>. The tamarind cuts through the pungency of the <i>gejj</i>, and the dried snails, used to enrich the base, lend a hint of umami flavor. It's a more nuanced version of the pungent <i>thiéboudienne</i> I had recalled. But it's also familiar, with a distinctive peppery finish. Didier reminds me that <i>thiéboudienne</i> originated in Saint-Louis, the former colonial capital in the country's north, near the border with Mauritania. Over time it became the national dish, so rabidly and universally was it loved by all Senegalese-and now, at long last, by me.<br><br>Jeanine's mother reveals that the recipe has been passed down in her family for generations, that her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother all made <i>thiéboudienne</i> like this. She taught Jeanine how to prepare it, and she believes her daughter has done well today. "I'm proud of you," she says, and Jeanine beams.<br><br>Dusk is approaching. After a long, hot day, I'm stumbling with fatigue. But I linger for a while, chatting with the Diops on their patio. This is the kind of occasion that I remember best from my time in Senegal: unwinding with friends after a meal in a cool, shady place, the early-evening sky turning a livid orange as the muezzins sing out the call to prayer. I'd like it to last a little longer.<br><br><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/gallery/A-Feast-For-All-Recipes">See all our Senegalese recipes in the gallery »</a></b><br><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/The-Guide-Dakar">See a guide to where to stay and where to eat in Dakar »</a></b><br><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/Senegal-Regional-Cuisine">See a guide to the regional cuisines of Senegal »</a></b> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090139 Wed, 23 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/Napa-Valley-Sweepstakes <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV1110_cellar_vineyard_P.jpg.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Win a Wine and Food-Filled Weekend in the Napa Valley with SAVEUR and Schemer-photo" title="Win a Wine and Food-Filled Weekend in the Napa Valley with SAVEUR and Schemer" border="0"/> We've been having a lot of fun lately playing around on <a href="https://www.schemer.com/">Schemer</a>, Google's new site that lets you find and keep track of things you want to do-from what to cook for breakfast (<a href="https://www.schemer.com/scheme/cuilocno5m1he/qml3m015e30ho">chilaquiles!</a>) to big once-in-a-lifetime experiences, like spending a romantic week in Paris or tasting soup dumplings in Shanghai.<br><br>To celebrate Schemer's launch, we're giving SAVEUR readers a chance to do something on our bucket list: spend a lush the weekend in Napa Valley touring wineries and dining on the area's extraordinary cuisine. One winner will score a two-night stay for two people at the <a href="http://www.thecarnerosinn.com/thecarnerosinn/">Carneros Inn</a> in Napa, California, with all the trimmings: a two-night stay in a Harvest Cottage at the Carneros Inn; two breakfasts for 2 at Boon Fly Café or Hilltop Dining Room; dinner for 2 with wine pairings at FARM; a 60 minute Couples Massage at THE SPA at Carneros Inn; 5 hours of private transportation for winery visits; and $500 towards winery visits and meals at restaurants of your choice.<br><br>Sound like something you want to do? Here's how to enter:<br><br><ol><li><b>Join Schemer</b> by <a href="https://www.schemer.com/">clicking here</a>, and make sure you <b>follow <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/saveurmag">@SAVEURMAG</a> on Twitter</b>.</li><li>Scroll through SAVEUR's culinary schemes at <a href="https://www.schemer.com/profile/i0urnqdmvsupq">schemer.com/saveur</a> and <b>click on an activity you would like to do</b>.</li><li><b>Tweet the link</b> to your favorite SAVEUR scheme and include the hashtag <b>#SchemeSaveur</b></li></ol><div><br></div><div>You'll need both a Google account and a Twitter account to enter this contest; you can join Google by clicking <a href="https://accounts.google.com/NewAccount?continue=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.schemer.com%2Fhome%3Fss%3D1andamp;service=schemer">here</a>, and Twitter by clicking <a href="https://twitter.com/signup">here</a>. The sweepstakes begins at noon ET on Tuesday, May 22, and concludes at 11:59 p.m. ET on May 29, 2012.<br><br><em><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Contest-Rules/Scheme-Saveur-Napa-Valley-Sweepstakes">Read the official sweepstakes rules »</a></em></div> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090259 Tue, 22 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/20-Great-Bread-Bakeries <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-ACME.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="20 Great American Bread Bakeries-photo" title="20 Great American Bread Bakeries" border="0"/> <br/>by Meryl Rosofsky and Alex Rush<br/> <h4><a href="http://www.acmebread.com/">Acme Bread Company</a></h4><em>Bay Area, California<br>510/524-1327</em><br> This nearly 30-year-old Berkeley institution, helmed by co-founder and Chez Panisse alum Steve Sullivan, is not content to rest on its yeasted laurels. Committed since 1999 to using only organic flour, these days Acme, with its original bakery in Berkeley and an outpost in San Francisco's Ferry Building Marketplace, is working closely with flour supplier Keith Giusto and his cadre of California farmers to find hearth bread-friendly wheat varieties suited to the local climate. A loaf to look out for: Acme's new hand-formed "Edible Schoolyard Loaf," a tasty homage to Alice Waters' groundbreaking program, a toasty bread made from California-grown, stone-milled Yecora Rojo wheat. A point of pride for Sullivan: five current or former employees now have an ownership stake in this much-loved pioneering bakery.<br><br><h4><a href="http://www.balthazarbakery.com">Balthazar</a></h4><em>Englewood, New Jersey<br>201/503-9717</em><br>Like watching the Yankees, riding the Cyclone and shopping in SoHo, eating Balthazar bread is a quintessential New York experience. Okay, so it's technically baked at a 14,000-square foot warehouse in Englewood, New Jersey, but Balthazar's dozens of products fill the breadbaskets of hundreds of eateries in the five boroughs, including the bakery's sister brasserie of the same name. And despite the large-scale operation, each bread tastes like the work of a single boulangerie. The French Baguette, Rye Boule, a beer-infused Olive Bread and Chocolate Bread loaded with morsels of bittersweet chocolate are just a few of Balthazar's greatest hits.<br><br><h4><a href="http://www.berkshiremountainbakery.com">Berkshire Mountain Bakery</a></h4><em>Housatonic, Massachusetts<br>413/274-3412</em><br>Baker Richard Bourdon's shop may be tucked away in a Western Massachusetts village with a population just over 1,000, but it has garnered nation-wide attention. The calls for road trips to Berkshire Mountain Bakery are certainly warranted, as Bourdon, who hails from Quebec, has been committed to the art of natural sourdough baking for more than 35 years - long before this wild yeast process became en vogue in America. Some of the his most legendary products are Bread and Chocolate, a white boule studded with Callebaut chocolate chunks, the Multi Grain covered with rolled oats and the Cherry Pecan, which makes for incredible French toast.<br><br><div id="article-image-left"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Bien_Cuit.jpg" width="300"><div class="photo-credit">Credit: Alan Tansey</div><div class="photo-caption">Bien Cuit Bakery</div></div><h4><a href="http://www.biencuit.com">Bien Cuit</a></h4><em>Brooklyn, New York<br>718/852-0200</em><br>Zachary Golper's stories of his first baking experiences as a 19-year-old in rural Oregon sound like generations-old folklore - but they happened a mere 15 years ago! He worked by candlelight under the guidance of a man known to him only as Carlos, hand-mixing dough and raking the embers of the wood-burning oven. These days, Golper uses electric mixers in the one-year-old Boerum Hill bakery and café he owns with his wife, Kate Wheatcroft, but his techniques are as meticulous as ever. For instance, he blends six different flours and then ferments the dough for 68 hours to craft the miche, a round French-style loaf with a dark, chewy crust and a slightly sour flavor.<br><br><div id="article-image-right"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Blue_Duck.jpg" width="300" "=""><div class="photo-credit">Credit: Meg Matyia</div><div class="photo-caption">Blue Duck Bakery and Café</div></div><a href="http://www.blueduckbakerycafe.com"><h4>Blue Duck Bakery Café</h4></a><em>Eastern Long Island, New York<br>631/629-4123</em><br>Keith Kouris has been raising the bread bar since the mid-1990s, when, as a visionary young baker in a suburban King Kullen, he introduced artisan breads to one of Long Island's largest supermarkets. In 1999 he and his wife Nancy opened Blue Duck in Southampton, in a building that had housed a bakery since the 1930s, turning to Europe for inspiration for their traditional, hand-made baguettes, bâtards, and focaccias. We love their chewy, hearty Pain Rustique; gorgeous, cake-like Pain Chocolat; super aromatic fennel-scented Swedish Limpa with raisins and spices; and a stunning seed-studded sunflower loaf. What makes Blue Duck breads so delicious? Proximity to the water - the Atlantic Ocean on the South Fork and the Long Island Sound on the North - may be part of the secret, fortifying Kouris's cultures with moisture and a lick of salt air. But it's the baker's passion that elevates Blue Duck above the flock.<br><br><h4><a href="http://www.breadalone.com">Bread Alone</a></h4><em>Boiceville, New York<br>845/657-3328</em><br>This pioneering bakery nestled in New York's Hudson Valley churns out more than 55,000 pounds of organic bread each week, sending freshly baked loaves to supermarkets, specialty shops and farmers' markets throughout the Northeast, not to mention its three Upstate New York cafes. But Bread Alone wasn't always such a major operation. Artisan Dan Leader moved to the Catskills in 1983 to escape the New York City rat race and sold bread out of his Mazda Hatchback. But he was back in Manhattan soon enough, hawking Bread Alone loaves at city greenmarkets. And despite Bread Alone's expansion, Leader and his team still use locally sourced ingredients for everything from their golden Challah to their rustic Ciabatta.<br><br><div id="article-image-left"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Della_Fattoria.jpg" width="300"><div class="photo-credit">Credit: Ed Anderson</div><div class="photo-caption">Della Fattoria Bakery</div></div><h4><a href="http://www.dellafattoria.com">Della Fattoria</a></h4><em>Petaluma, CA<br>707/763-0161</em><br>Started in 1995 by Edmund and Kathleen Weber at their family ranch, an old chicken farm that today supplies eggs and produce to their café in downtown Petaluma, Della Fattoria began quite by accident back in 1994 after Kathleen installed a wood oven outside the kitchen ("a lifelong dream!") and began baking breads for friends, neighbors, and soon, the chef at Sonoma Mission Inn where her son Aaron was working. These days Della Fattoria turns out 400-1,200 hand-shaped loaves a night, crusty beauties crafted from 100% organic flour, Brittany sea salt, and a natural starter that began life years ago with yeast from Weber Ranch grapes (they still grow Pinot Noir at their small vineyard). Their breads - campagne, levain, ciabatta, polenta, pumpkin seed, and more - are all naturally leavened and baked on the bottom of their two wood-burning ovens using retained heat. Find them at restaurants like Napa Valley's Auberge du Soleil and the Marin and San Francisco Ferry Plaza weekly farmers markets. Della Fattoria's Rosemary-Meyer Lemon bread is a knockout: salty, lemony, herbal, with a beautiful sheen to the well-structured crumb and a crust that bears beauty marks from the floor of the hearth it baked upon.<br><br><h4>Gerard's Breads of Tradition</h4><em>Westford, Vermont<br>Available at <a href="http://www.citymarket.coop/bakery">Onion River Co-Op</a>, Burlington, Vermont</em><br>It's a good thing Gerard Rubaud set up his bakery next to his Vermont home, as he often works 15 straight hours to hand-form and wood-fire hundreds of his signature item, the wild yeast-based 3 Grain Country Loaf. "I like baking through the night, under the stars - that's my life," said Rubaud, a Savoie-native who took his first apprenticeship at age 13. Vermont's beloved artisan (he has a street named after him!) still employs many of the same techniques that he learned as a teen in the 1950s, including using a manual grinder to mill flour and feeding his organic levain three times a day. It's methods like these that make Gerard's sourdough arguably the most deeply flavored bread in the state.<br><br><div id="article-image-right"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Grand_Central_Bakery.jpg" width="300"><div class="photo-credit">Leslie Cole (courtesy of Grand Central Bakery)</div><div class="photo-caption">Grand Central Bakery</div></div><h4><a href="http://www.grandcentralbakery.com">Grand Central Bakery</a></h4><em>Portland, Oregon and Seattle, Washington</em><br>This Pacific Northwest pioneer, founded by Gwenyth Bassetti in 1989, grew out of her little Seattle sandwich shop The Bakery, which when it opened in 1972 served a custom "Bakery Blend" coffee made for them by a new local company called Starbucks. Today Grand Central Bakery has three locations in Seattle and another six (soon to be seven) in Portland, and is run by Gwen's son Ben, a onetime geologist and fisherman in Alaska; daughter Piper, the "soul" of the company; and an assortment of friends who share their passion. Grand Central's rustic European-style hearth baked breads are made from sustainably grown white flour from Shepherd's Grain in Palouse, Washington and whole wheat flour from Camas Country Mill in Oregon's Willamette Valley, which is bringing back heirloom wheat varieties like Red Fife well suited to the local climate. In addition to their classic baguettes, levains, ciabattas, sour ryes, and their famous white Italian-style Como Loaf, with its crisp crust and glossy crumb, Grand Central Bakery has just started a seasonal loaf program, kicking off this past winter with a rye-based Swedish Limpa, scented with anise, coriander, caraway seeds, and orange zest.<br><br><h4><a href="http://www.hungryghostbread.com">Hungry Ghost Bread</a></h4><em>Northampton, Massachusetts<br>413/582-9009</em><br>The Hungry Ghost feeds more than spirits with its spectacular breads, among them French, organic raisin, and a dense rye topped with toasted black kalonji seeds. Baked in a wood-fired masonry oven baker/owners Jonathan Stevens and Cheryl Maffei helped build themselves, many of Hungry Ghost's breads are made from locally grown, freshly milled wheat and spelt, cultivated as part of the bakery's "Little Red Hen" project to restore grain-growing in the Pioneer Valley. Like the Johnny Appleseeds of wheat, Stevens and Maffei started several years ago doling out handfuls of wheat berries to eager customers to plant in their yards and gardens. By now, one local farmer delivers 400 pounds of flour to Hungry Ghost each week. Try the Hungry Ghost's Trinity bread, made from local spelt, wheat, and triticale (a wheat-rye cross). Another curious specialty is annadama, a corn flour-and-molasses New England bread born, the legend goes, when a hungry fisherman, tired of the cornmeal and molasses porridge his unimaginative wife served him day after day, added yeast and flour, muttering "Anna, damn her" as he baked the concoction.<br><br><div id="article-image-right"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Iggy's.jpg" width="300"><div class="photo-credit">Credit: Lawrence Mambrino</div><div class="photo-caption">Iggy's Bread of the World Bakery</div></div><h4><a href="http://www.iggysbread.com">Iggy's Bread of the World</a></h4><em>Cambridge, Massachusetts<br>619/924-0949</em><br>Husband-and-wife team Igor and Ludmilla Ivanovic changed the Boston bread scene when they opened their groundbreaking Watertown bakery on a nondescript industrial block in 1994. Their creations, from moist focaccia made from naturally leavened dough to hearty 7-Grain roll laced with wildflower honey, were revelations to locals raised on overly processed supermarket bread. Iggy's, whose breads are available at the bakery's storefront, New England farmers markets and grocery stores, prides itself on using organic ingredients sourced from sustainable farms.<br><br><h4><a href="http://www.kensartisan.com">Ken's Artisan Bakery</a></h4><em>Portland, Oregon<br>503/248-2202</em><br>Inspired by the late famed French baker Lionel Poilâne, Ken Forkish ditched his career in the high-tech world of Silicon Valley in search of something more craft-driven. The result: this warm, welcoming bakery, started in 2001 and now a neighborhood institution, serving up traditional European-style hearth-baked boules and baguettes that fans say rival the best in Paris. Clearly, the career move has paid off, with Forkish recently garnering his third nomination for a prestigious James Beard Award for Outstanding Pastry Chef. Look out this fall for his first book, <em>Flour Water Yeast Salt: The Fundamentals of Artisan Bread and Pizza</em> (Ten Speed Press, September 2012). In the meantime, if you're in the area, treat yourself to Ken's soulful walnut levain, with its gorgeously irregular honeycombed crumb and notes of lavender, or a nice Country Blonde, its thin crisp exterior cloaking a light, subtly tangy sourdough crumb.<br><br><div id="article-image-left"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Milo_and_Olive.jpg" width="300"><div class="photo-credit">Credit: Emily Hart Roth</div><div class="photo-caption">Milo andamp; Olive Bakery</div></div><h4><a href="http://www.miloandolive.com">Milo andamp; Olive</a></h4><em>Santa Monica, California<br>310/453-6776</em><br>Fans are already flocking to this tiny Santa Monica bakery and pizzeria that turned out its first breads just last November. Run by husband-and-wife team Josh Loeb and Zoe Nathan, whose nearby much-loved restaurants Rustic Canyon and Huckleberry Bakery ensured an instant following, Milo andamp; Olive brims with playful energy: the place was named for the couple's young son and the daughter they may one day have, and Tartine-trained Zoe cheerfully confesses that the inspiration for her out-of-sight Cheese Bread, packed with parmesan, Grana Padano, Gruyère, and cheddar, was childhood favorite Cheez-It crackers. But don't be fooled: her multigrain baguette, swoon-worthy Cinnamon Sugar Brioche, and jewel-studded Fruit andamp; Nut Bread are as sophisticated as they come.<br><br><div id="article-image-right"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Orwashers.jpg" width="300"><div class="photo-credit">Credit: Josh Shaub</div><div class="photo-caption">Orwasher's Bakery</div></div><h4><a href="http://www.orwashersbakery.com">Orwasher's</a></h4><em>New York City<br>212/288-6569</em><br>Even the newest offerings at this 86-year-old bakery are firmly rooted in the past. Orwasher's line of artisan wine breads, launched in 2008 by new owner Keith Cohen, are based on centuries-old French recipes that feature the yeast of fermented grapes. Of course, the Upper East Side shop still serves brick oven-baked favorites that were perfected by the Orwasher family (the original owners) like the Jewish Rye and Pumpernickel - edible histories for the Eastern European immigrant experience.<br><br><h4><a href="http://www.paindavignon-nyc.com">Pain D'Avignon</a></h4><em>Long Island City, New York<br>718/729-6832<br>(not open to the public)</em><br>No matter how many restaurants and markets clamor for their bread, the Pain D'Avignon crew refuses to cut corners. Bakers at the 12-year-old Long Island City operation work side by side, cutting and shaping dough by hand before allowing it to slowly ferment en couche - in a cloth that supports the dough as it rises and keeps it from drying out. But while the dough is the tour de force of Pain D'Avignon's product line, intoxicating ingredients like fresh Rosemary, caraway seeds, cranberries and pecans are wonderful supporting players.<br><br><h4><a href="http://www.sevenstarsbakery.com">Seven Stars Bakery</a></h4><em>Providence, Rhode Island<br>401/521-2200</em><br>Baker/owners Jim and Lynn Williams started tending their whole wheat and rye sourdough starters months before they opened their bakery in early 2001, and they continue to lavish the care of a parent on their starters to keep them young and healthy for breads with great flavor and rise and only the mildest tang. The couple have since expanded operations to include three locations around Providence, one on the site of the old Rumford baking powder plant, now a National Chemical Historic Landmark. We especially like the French Rye, the Toasted Walnut and Raisin, and the chewy Olive Batard, strewn with tiny oil-cured Moroccan olives and plump, briny Kalamatas, the essence of the Mediterranean in bread form.<br><br><div id="article-image-left"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Sullivan_street.jpg" width="300"><div class="photo-credit">Credit: Squire Fox</div><div class="photo-caption">Sullivan Street Bakery</div></div><h4><a href="http://www.sullivanstreetbakery.com">Sullivan Street Bakery</a></h4><em>New York City<br>212/265-5580</em><br>The innovator whose no-knead bread recipe became a <em>New York Times</em> sensation in 2006 and who invents bread names - truccione , cruccolo, doni - that quickly take on the patina of authenticity, Jim Lahey also embodies a back-to-basics classicism that prizes skill, repetition, and craftsmanship, even as his breads and business continue to evolve. He lauds the local flour movement and quests for exotic yeasts, but at the end of the day, he says, "it's the primacy of the bread, feeding someone, that really matters." Bite into his succulent, slightly salty Truccione Saré, a rustic sourdough with deep, appealing slash marks and a heavily charred, crackly crust, and savor that primal feeling. <br><br><h4><a href="http://www.lafarmbakery.com">La Farm</a></h4><em>Cary, North Carolina<br>919/657-0657</em><br>You know what they say, you can take the baker out of France but you can't take the French out of the baker. That's certainly the case for Paris-native Lionel Vatinet. He left his French bread-baking guild to travel the world and eventually settled in a Raleigh, NC suburb, where he opened La Farm with his future wife, Missy. La Farm reflects the baking traditions Vatinet learned during his seven-year tenure with the prestigious guild, Les Compagnons du Devoir: The dough is made with a natural sourdough starter and unbleached flours before it is baked in a European-style hearth oven. "I wanted to introduce people in the neighborhood to crusty, hand-made bread," Vatinet said. But he does enjoy experimenting with internationally influenced breads, such as the addictive Asiago Parmesan Cheese Bread. "We're a French bakery with the creativity of the American spirit," Vatinet said.<br><br><h4>Standard Baking Company</h4><em>Portland, Maine<br>207/773-2112</em><br>There's often a long line at this 17-year-old bakery located inside a brick warehouse, but that may not be such a bad thing; the wait gives customers the time to inhale the scent of fresh-baked bread and behold the wicker baskets filled to the rim with gorgeous loaves. Husband-and-wife co-owners Matt James and Alison Pray modeled the Standard Baking Company after the neighborhood bakeries of France and Italy, and breads like the flour-dusted Rustic Loaf and Rosemary Focaccia are the edible incarnations of their influences.<br><br><h4><a href="http://www.tartinebakery.com">Tartine Bakery andamp; Cafe</a></h4><em>San Francisco, California<br>415/487-2600</em><br>Elisabeth Prueitt and Chad Robertson's Mission District phenomenon is its city's gold standard for impeccable organic bread. The stone hearth-baked loaves have spawned a café menu of artfully prepared sandwiches, but bread bought unadorned is still the best way to experience Robertson's way with flour, salt, water and wild yeast. His masterpiece is the Country Loaf, which he developed and perfected over the course of two decades. The process takes 24 hours and Tartine loyalists line up to buy this fundamental bread when it's served fresh from the oven after 5 pm Wednesday through Sunday. The Country Loaf is available with walnuts, olives or sesame seeds, but purists prefer it plain and simple. <br><br><br><em>What's your favorite bakery? Let us know in the comments.</em> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090210 Tue, 22 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Senegal-Black-Eyed-Pea-Fritters <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-Accara-400x247.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Accara (Black-Eyed-Pea Fritters)-photo" title="Accara (Black-Eyed-Pea Fritters)" border="0"/> MAKES 30 FRITTERS<br><br><h4>INGREDIENTS</h4>1 cup dried black-eyed peas<br>1 tsp. baking soda<br>¼ small onion, finely chopped<br>Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste<br>Canola oil, for frying<br><br><h4>INSTRUCTIONS</h4>1. Place the black-eyed peas in a large container, and cover with cold water by 2″. Cover, place in the refrigerator, and let the peas soak for at least 8 hours or overnight.<br><br>2. Drain peas, and transfer to a food processor; pulse until slightly broken and skins break away from peas, about 8 pulses. Transfer peas to a medium bowl, and cover with water; rub peas in water between the palms of your hands to loosen the skins. Let peas sit until skins float to top of water. Slowly drain water from peas, allowing skins to drain with water; add more water if necessary, and repeat rubbing and draining process until all skins are removed from peas.<br><br>3. Place peas in a blender along with baking soda, onion, salt and pepper, and 3 tbsp. water; purée, scraping down sides of blender if necessary, until smooth.<br><br>4. Pour oil to a depth of 2″ in a 6-qt. Dutch oven, and heat over medium-high heat until a deep-fry thermometer reads 365°. Working in batches, use two small spoons to drop tablespoon-sized balls of batter in oil, and cook until golden brown, about 3 minutes.<br><br>5. Transfer fritters to paper towels to drain, and sprinkle with salt. Serve with kaani sauce (see below).<br><br> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090107 Tue, 22 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/Links-We-Love-Writers-Fuel-Steak-Frites <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-lwl_greens_400.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Links We Love: Writers' Fuel, Steak Frites, and More-photo" title="Links We Love: Writers' Fuel, Steak Frites, and More" border="0"/> • Perennial Plate wraps up a year of covering food in America with a lovely finale video. [<a href="http://www.theperennialplate.com/episodes/2012/05/episode-103-an-american-food-trip-2/">Perennial Plate</a>]<br><br>• Rosie Schaap at The New York Times makes a case for bringing the wine spritzer out of retirement. [<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/20/magazine/its-time-to-update-the-wine-spritzer.html">The New York Times</a>]<br><br>• Homemade bread, coffee, popsicles and cold toast: The Kitchn takes a peek at a few great writers' favorite snacks. [<a href="http://www.thekitchn.com/food-for-art-great-writers-and-their-favorite-snacks-171508">The Kitchn</a>]<br><br>• Herbicide-resistant "superweeds" are threatening American crops. [<a href="http://www.good.is/post/could-superweeds-mean-the-end-of-genetically-engineered-crops/">Good Magazine</a>]<br><br>• Restaurant Daniel's resident forager, Tama Matsuoka Wong, talks about the food in your backyard in this trailer for the book she worked on with Chef de Cuisine Eddy Leroux. [<a href="http://eater.com/archives/2012/05/21/watch-the-trailer-for-the-daniel-foraging-cookbook.php">Eater.com</a>]<br><br>• These days, traveling by plane requires a stiff drink. To help you with that, Food Republic's got a list of the best airlines for drinking. [<a href="http://www.foodrepublic.com/2012/05/14/8-best-airlines-drinking">Food Republic</a>]<br><br>• Ultimate Paris expert David Lebovitz tells us where to eat the ultimate Paris bistro meal: steak frites. [<a href="http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2012/05/aux-tonneaux-des-halles-paris-bistro-restaurant/">David Lebovitz</a>]<br><br>• Chef Wojciech Amaro is elevating Polish cuisine, experimenting with traditional ingredients like chokeberries, wild herbs and edible flowers. [<a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2012/05/20/world/europe/eye-on-poland-food-chef/index.html">CNN</a>]<br><br>• As world fish populations decline, scientists are wondering about "The End of Fish" and what that means for the way we eat. [<a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/ezra-klein/post/the-end-of-fish-in-one-chart/2012/05/19/gIQAgcIBbU_blog.html">Washington Post</a>] http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090278 Mon, 21 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Apple-Cider-Levain <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-BreadScience-400x653.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Apple Cider Levain Loaf-photo" title="Apple Cider Levain Loaf" border="0"/> <h4>INGREDIENTS</h4>6 ½ cups plus ⅓ cup (3 lb. 6 ⅔ oz.) tap water, heated to 115°<br>¼ tsp. active dry yeast<br>4 ¾ cups plus ⅔ cup and 2 tbsp. (1 lb. 9 ⅓ oz.) all-purpose flour<br>4 cups (1 lb. 4 oz.) bread flour<br>1 cup (8 oz.) apple cider, at room temperature<br>½ cup (2 oz.) dried cranberries<br>2 tsp. (½ oz.) kosher salt Canola oil, for greasing<br>½ cup ice cubes<br><br><h4>INSTRUCTIONS</h4>1. In a large bowl, stir together ⅔ cup water, ¼ cup plus 2 tbsp. all-purpose flour, and yeast until a smooth paste forms; cover with plastic wrap, and let sit for 24 hours. Repeat this process for the next eight days, adding ⅓ cup each water and flour the second and third days and ¾ cup the remaining days, to make the starter (which you can keep alive, in the fridge, by adding the same amounts once weekly.)<br><br><!--- image block start ----><div id="article-image-left"> <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Cider_Levain_collage_400.jpg" width="200"></div><!-- image block end --> 2. On the 10th day, place ¼ cup starter in a bowl and stir in ⅓ cup water, ¾ cup bread flour, and ¼ cup apple cider to create sourdough culture (<i>Figure A</i>); let sit for 12-24 hours, until ready to bake.<br><br>3. Uncover culture and add remaining ⅔ cup water, 3 ¼ cups bread flour, ¾ cup cider, along with cranberries and salt (<i>Figure B</i>). Stir until dough forms (<i>Figure C</i>); let dough sit to let flour hydrate, about 20 minutes. Transfer dough to a floured surface, and knead, using a bench scraper to help remove dough from surface, until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a greased bowl; cover with plastic wrap, and place in a cold oven. Let rest until slightly inflated, about 1 hour. Transfer dough to a floured surface and flatten slightly. Fold top and bottom edges toward middle. Return dough, seam side down, to bowl (<i>Figure D</i>); cover. Let sit until doubled in size, about 3 hours.<br><br> 4. Repeat folding procedure, and place dough, seam side down, into a greased 8″ x 5″ x 2 ½″ loaf pan, cover with plastic again, and return to oven. Let sit until dough reaches top of the loaf pan, about 3 hours. One hour before baking, place a cast-iron skillet on bottom rack of oven; position another rack above skillet; place a baking stone on top of it. Heat oven to 475°.<br><br> 5. Using a razor, slash top of loaf at a 30° angle in four spots. Place loaf on baking stone; place ice in skillet. Bake until brown, about 50 minutes; let cool before serving.<br><br> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090150 Mon, 21 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Wine-and-Drink/Friday-Cocktails-Spicy-Shiso-Smash <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-rum-chile-perilla-cocktail-400.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Spicy Shiso Rum Smash-photo" title="Spicy Shiso Rum Smash" border="0"/> <br/>by Anna Stockwell<br/> It was just this past winter that I had my first taste of shiso (also known as perilla). I was at one of my favorite Thai restaurants, and the delicately thin, jagged-edged leaves were being used as vessels for bites of coconut and chile-studded fluke ceviche. With my date watching in confusion, I couldn't help but grin and dance in my chair as the flavor of that leaf exploded in a pop of fresh spicy flavor. It was almost like basil, hinting at mint, and yet unlike anything I'd had before. I was instantly in love. As we ventured into spring, I planted a little shiso plant in my kitchen window box, whose progress I've been proudly noting each morning. Lucky for me, it's now growing just as fast as I'm discovering new ways to use it: slivered and tossed into salad, garnishing a spicy peanut pasta dish, infused into limeade, nibbled by the whole leaf, and mixed into cocktails.<br><br>Muddled with a bit of spicy Thai red chile and slices of cooling cucumber, the shiso leaves from my window box turn into a refreshing and festive cocktail. Served over crushed ice with a bit of simple syrup, lime juice, white rum, and topped off with plenty of seltzer, it's my new favorite sip to serve for summer. I've been mixing mine with <a href="http://www.denizenrum.com/">Denizen rum</a>, which, though perfectly clear, is blended from filtered aged rums, giving it a subtly more complex and full flavor.<br><br><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/recipe/Spicy-Shiso-Smash">See the recipe for the Spicy Shiso Smash »</a></b> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090262 Fri, 18 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/Essay-Universal-Language-Francine-Prose <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-UniversalLang-400x551.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Universal Language-photo" title="Universal Language" border="0"/> <br/>by Francine Prose<br/> My son Leon and his wife, Jenny, joke that their love blossomed over enchiladas. Jenny prepared them for him on one of their early dates. Jenny is from Mexico, and we couldn't have been happier to discover that she is not only an enchanting person, but also a terrific cook. Like Leon, in no time, we fell for her and her delicious food, too. It's hard to choose between Jenny's pozole, a meaty stew made with hominy and chiles; nopales, cactus paddles peeled, sliced, boiled, and served in a salad; chiles rellenos, poblano peppers stuffed with cheese, then lightly battered and fried. Each time she'd visit Mexico, Jenny would return to New York with a mole sauce that only her aunt knows how to prepare, or with tamales that no one makes like her grandma.<br><br>Ever since a mutual friend in Brooklyn introduced Leon and Jenny, he's made numerous trips to Mexico, where her parents and grandparents rapidly discovered that her gringo boyfriend was a nice guy who loved her. But distance and everybody's busy schedule had conspired to keep the rest of our family-my husband, Howie, me, and our younger son, Bruno-from meeting Jenny's relatives until she and Leon were to be married. It might seem a little unusual to first meet one's new in-laws minutes before the wedding takes place. But when the families assembled on the steps of the Brooklyn courthouse, everyone's affection for Leon and Jenny was so intense that it seemed as if this was how it was supposed to be. Even the judge was visibly moved by the sight of three generations weeping with joy.<br><br>The three-day fiesta that followed was catered by a modest but brilliant Mexican luncheonette in Queens. There were mariachi musicians, a Cuban dance band, plenty of tequila, and a crowd of family and friends from New York, Los Angeles, and several cities in Mexico. The party, in a loft in Manhattan, was the sort of occasion that ends with everyone exchanging heartfelt vows to get together again as soon as possible. Among those promises was one I gave Jenny's mother, Lourdes, to visit Morelia, the capital of Michoacán-the city where Lourdes grew up, where her family still lives, and which, she promised, is the most beautiful in Mexico.<br><br>the night Howie and I arrived in Morelia to celebrate the wedding once more, this time at the home of Jenny's great aunt, it was obvious that Lourdes was right about the beauty of her hometown. The zocalo, the leafy main plaza, was brightly illuminated and gorgeous, as were the towers of the magnificent 17th-century stone cathedral. Founded by the Spanish in 1541, this historic center of the stately colonial city, which was designated a World Cultural Heritage site by UNESCO, evokes its Spanish counterparts-Ávila, Segovia, and Seville. Except that there was livelier music thrumming out of the car radios and playing in the cafés beneath the arched portals of the plaza.<br><br> <blockquote class="pullquote-left"> Though communication with our new in-laws had its limits, the food we shared created an unspoken bond </blockquote>But architecture was only one of the things that Lourdes raved about. Along with Puebla, Morelia is considered a gourmet's paradise, the Lyon of Mexico. In the morning, Lourdes and Jenny's father, Jesus, came to pick up Howie, Bruno, Leon, Jenny, and me from the hotel to take us to the central market for breakfast. Jesus spoke perfect English, while Lourdes was more hesitant about her grasp of the language. It was certainly better than my Spanish, which was virtually nonexistent, except for perhaps 200 words, mostly having to do with food. After a quick coffee, we were off to eat.<br><br>I was astonished by the variety of vegetables at the market, the artistry with which they were displayed, the stalls that sold chiles, spices, shelled beans, straw baskets, bright piñatas, bags of mole sauce, and mounds of the chiles rellenos that are probably my favorite Mexican dish. Jesus ordered several plates of <i>corundas</i>, which he told me are unique to Michoacán. Shaped a bit like pyramids, they're a regional variation on the tamale. Like tamales, they're made of masa and steamed inside the dark-green leaves of the corn plant. They were delicate, served with red or green salsa and a dollop of <i>crema</i>, a pleasingly tart cream, which pleasingly offset the sweetness of the corn.<br><br>Jesus and Lourdes went off to fetch the car, and we set out for Quiroga, a town known for its meat-namely <i>carnitas</i>, giant loins of pork that, in this town, were braised in orange juice and chiles, then deep fried. You purchase the juicy <i>carnitas</i> and tortillas by the kilo from a vendor, then find a seat under the shady awning of the stand, where you can also buy sodas. Jenny appeared with ripe avocados that we sliced and added to the pork, which we tore with our fingers and rolled between fresh tortillas. Though communication with our new in-laws had its limits, the food we shared created an unspoken bond.<br><br>After lunch, we headed back to Morelia to rest and dress for dinner at Jenny's great-aunt's home. Promptly at eight, we arrived at a pretty house in an outlying neighborhood. All day, I'd felt so at ease with Lourdes and Jesus that it slipped my mind that we were the new relations arrived from north of the border. For a moment I became aware of being an outsider, but my anxiety instantly dissipated, because everyone acted as if Jenny had brought home a group of long-lost relatives. The women hugged and kissed us, the men shook hands. Jenny's great uncle, Tío Flor, brought out a volume of photographs, and we marveled over how adorable Jenny was as a baby. The bilingual ones translated and, with a little help, conversation flowed: One of the uncles talked about his racing pigeons; Tèo Flor told us about his passion for dancing and the legendary contest in which he won fourth place.<br><br>All this time the little cousins were eyeing us shyly until everyone headed up to the roof for the breaking of the large, star-shaped piñata. The scene reminded me of my own sons' birthday parties: kids gone wild with baseball bats and blindfolds. It was pure bedlam until finally, the piñata lay in shreds on the roof. Full of candy, the kids led us back downstairs.<br><br>By then, platters of food were appearing from the kitchen: a huge turkey marinated in a spicy mole sauce, fresh tortillas, salads. After dessert-a rum cake iced with buttercream-the tables disappeared as magically as they arrived. Someone put on a CD, and Tèo Flor took the lead. If he won fourth place in a dance contest, I'd like to see the guy who won first. His dove-gray leather shoes skimmed across the floor as he spun and twirled. Lourdes, the family's other passionate dancer-as I recall from the wedding-joined him, and the rest of us watched, awed by their expertise.<br><p>An uncle poured snifters of brandy and led us in a toast. We wished for happiness and health, and raised our glasses to what people everywhere toast when there's love and good will in the room. As I thanked our new relatives for their delicious dinner and warm welcome, and expressed my joy at being part of the family, I found myself in tears-which needed no translation. All of us were moved by the power of love, aided by the fabulous food, to transcend the differences in our backgrounds and to lift us to a higher plane on which we all believed, for the moment, that borders don't exist.<br><br></p> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090123 Fri, 18 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/Costa-Rica-Mercado-Central <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-costa-rica-market-800.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Costa Rica Mecardo Central-photo" title="Costa Rica Mecardo Central" border="0"/> <br/>by Jane Sigal<br/> Most visitors to Costa Rica zip through the capital city, San José, on their way to beaches or jungles. But I like to linger there, if only to spend a morning at Mercado Central, a block-long covered market built in 1880 that contains a warren of produce stalls, <i>sodas</i> (small, family-run eateries), bric-a-brac counters, and cafés. <div><br></div><div>After ogling the spiky red <i>mamon</i> (rambutan) and giant green <i>guanabana</i> (soursop) at the fruit stands, I slake my thirst with a refresco at <b>Soda Los Angeles</b> (506/2223-2606), on the market's southwest side, where freshly squeezed juices such as <i>cas</i> (sour guava), and <i>mora</i> (raspberries) are mixed with water or milk and sugar. </div><div><br></div><div>If I'm hungry, I go for <i>olla de carne</i> (the local pot-au-feu, made with beef short ribs) or a <i>casado</i> (a heaping plate of rice, beans, fried plantains, and salad, with chicken, meat, or seafood), dishes that emerge from the upstairs kitchen at <b>Soda Cristal</b> (506/2223-5002), in the market's center. </div><div><br></div><div>For dessert, there's <b>La Sorbetera de Lolo Mora</b> (506/2256-5000), near the main entrance. This 111-year-old ice cream parlor makes one flavor only: a heady mix of cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and vanilla with a granita-like texture. </div><div><br></div><div>I top off the roving meal on the market's northeast end at <b>Cafeteria y Café Central</b> (506/2222-1769). The local arabica variety here-brewed using mild peaberry beans-is prepared as a <i>café chorreado</i>; hot water is poured into a coffee-filled sock that's set over an aluminum pot called a <i>chorreador</i>, resulting in a fresh, bright cup. Sometimes I stop by <b>Souvenirs Midey</b> (506/2233-4660), at the southeast end, to pick up one of these cute pots to take to someone back home. </div><div><br></div><div>For a potent end to my visit, there's <b>El Gran Vicio</b> (506/2223-5976). At this 130-year-old cantina, shots of Costa Rican sugarcane brandy are spiked with red <i>sirope de kola</i> (kola nut syrup)-a bittersweet San José tradition.</div><div><br></div> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090118 Thu, 17 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Corsican-Lemon-Mousse <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-MousseCitron-400x600.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Mousse au Citron (Lemon Mousse)-photo" title="Mousse au Citron (Lemon Mousse)" border="0"/> SERVES 8-10<br><br><h4>INGREDIENTS</h4>8 eggs<br>1 ¼ cups sugar<br>½ tsp. kosher salt<br>Juice and zest of 4 lemons<br>1 cup heavy cream<br>1 tsp. vanilla extract<br><br><h4>INSTRUCTIONS</h4>1. Whisk together 4 eggs, 4 yolks (reserve remaining whites), and 1 cup sugar in a 4-qt. saucepan. Add salt and juice and zest; stir until smooth. Place saucepan over medium heat; cook, stirring, until mixture thickens to the consistency of loose pudding, about 10 minutes. Pour through a fine strainer into a large bowl, and chill.<br><br>2. Whisk egg whites and remaining sugar in a bowl until stiff peaks form; add to curd. Fold gently until combined; set aside. Whisk cream and vanilla in a bowl until stiff peaks form; add to curd mixture. Fold until combined. Spoon mousse into serving cups; chill before serving.<br><br> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090101 Thu, 17 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/I-Love-My-Kitchen-Because-Michael-Chiarello <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Chiarello_ILMKB-800.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Michael Chiarello Home Kitchen-photo" title="Michael Chiarello Home Kitchen" border="0"/> • Most people spend too much time worrying about what kind of stove to install in their kitchen, and not enough time worrying about the lighting. I don't care what kind of stove I use as long as it heats up nice and fast, but I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the right lighting in this kitchen. I played with directional lighting, but that can create big shadows on your work surface. Overhead lighting doesn't create so many shadows, but at the same time that's not always so flattering and warm. So I changed some lamps, changed some bulbs, and created warmer cooking lighting with a combination of overhead and directional fixtures. I have two skylights in the kitchen that are great because they never have direct light pouring through them, they just sprinkle sunlight on top of you. It's a nightmare for when we're filming in the kitchen, but I love it.<br><br>• My favorite appliance in this kitchen is my wood-burning oven. I just love it because we made it with the hearth high enough to work as a fireplace and a counter. In the wintertime we can cozy right up to the wood-burning oven and cook our food in the fire then eat right there off the hearth.<br><br>• I have power wherever I want to plug anything in. I never need an extension cord. There are power strips hidden everywhere - I requested that when we designed the kitchen. The island has a hollow leg so we could bring power up through the leg. <br><br>• Our youngest son is six now, and he was born here in this house. About two hours before he was born, I baked potatoes to make gnocchi. As soon as he was born I rolled out the gnocchi, and everyone gathered around the table and ate it together. Gnocchi was always my favorite food growing up - it was what I always asked for on my birthdays. So for his birth day, I gave him my favorite birthday meal. <br><br>• I have enough cabinet space that you don't have to see anything. I love that the kitchen's big and open enough that even when I have 20 people over, I can be working at one side of the island and everybody can still be in the kitchen but not be in the way. I can have a glass of wine and cook and still see everybody. Even if I'm at the stove and people are at the dining room table, I can still stay in the conversation.<br><br><br><h4>Previously</h4><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/I-Love-My-Kitchen-Because-Melissa-Clark">I Love My Kitchen Because: Melissa Clark »</a><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/I-Love-My-Kitchen-Because-Kerry-Diamond">I Love My Kitchen Because: Kerry Diamond »</a><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/I-Love-My-Kitchen-Because-Brian-Ray">I Love My Kitchen Because: Brian Ray »</a><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/I-Love-My-Kitchen-Because-Miho-Hatori">I Love My Kitchen Because: Miho Hatori »</a></b><br><br><em>Interview conducted and condensed by Anna Stockwell</em> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090238 Wed, 16 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/Corsican-Cuisine <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-corsica_picnic_640.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Corsica: Pleasure Island-photo" title="Corsica: Pleasure Island" border="0"/> <br/>by David McAninch<br/> In the palm-shaded Corsican city of Ajaccio, I'm standing at an open window overlooking the port, which shimmers in the hot sunlight of a late-spring morning. In the distance, I can make out snow-capped mountains, which rise improbably from the Mediterranean Sea. Carried on the breeze is the incenselike scent of the maquis, the thicket of flowering shrubs and herbs that blanket nearly a fifth of this small island and creep up to the streets of Ajaccio.<br><br>I take this all in from the book-cluttered apartment of a British expat named Rolli Lucarotti. I met her only yesterday, yet we've already learned a lot about each other. I've told her that, ever since I lived in France in my 20s, Corsica-the birthplace of Napoléon, onetime fief of Genoa, now a kind of orphan province of France-has loomed large in my imagination. My fascination increased as I read accounts of the mysterious island's ancient blood feuds, its monumental prehistoric sculptures, and its sturdy cuisine. She's told me about how she and her husband moored their small sailboat in Ajaccio's harbor in 1970 during a storm and, bewitched by the beauty of the place, never left.<br><br><blockquote class="pullquote-right">I watch Rolli in her kitchen, chopping a bunch of wild mint, which she scrapes into a bowl along with six farm eggs and two spoonfuls of <i>brocciu</i>, the moist and crumbly cheese made daily by seemingly every sheep and goat farmer on the island.</blockquote>She's also told me about the years she spent traveling to remote mountain villages, coaxing secrets from grandmothers so she could write <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1903018277/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8andamp;tag=saveur-20andamp;linkCode=as2andamp;camp=1789andamp;creative=390957andamp;creativeASIN=1903018277">Recipes from Corsica</a></i> (Prospect Books, 2004), the first serious English-language account of the island's cooking. It was her book that introduced me to the touchstones of Corsican food: stews made from wild game; hearty fish soups; savory tarts with local herbs; heavenly pork charcuterie; <a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/Corsica-Cheese">fresh farmers' cheeses</a> and pungent, washed-rind <i>tommes;</i> <a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Corsican-Chard-Cannelloni">stuffed pastas</a>; and countless <a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Corsican-Chestnut-Tart">galettes</a> and cakes made from chestnut flour, a native staple that kept many <br>Corsicans alive during times of siege or privation.<br><br>I watch Rolli in her kitchen, chopping a bunch of wild mint, which she scrapes into a bowl along with six farm eggs and two spoonfuls of <i>brocciu,</i> the moist and crumbly cheese made daily by seemingly every sheep and goat farmer on the island. "They add a little whole milk to the brocciu, so it's richer than ricotta," Rolli tells me in a Somerset accent undiminished by her years here. She pours the mixture into a skillet to make an omelet, which she cooks open face, in the unfussy Corsican style.<br><br>Before us on the table is our lunch, a meal of spare, pristine simplicity. On a platter next to the just-set omelet are a dozen sea urchins that we bought this morning at the docks. This, she tells me, is the very essence of coastal Corsican cookery, which isn't so much cookery as it is a matter of acquainting a fresh piece of seafood with a glass of wine, occasionally fire, and some wild herbs. We scoop out the iodine-sweet orange flesh with teaspoons and sip a pale, dry Corsican rosé from mismatched glasses.<br><br>There is also a salad of pleasingly bitter chicory that, like much of the produce we saw this morning in Ajaccio's central market-the mint, bundles of lavender and thyme, fragrant leeks, young asparagus-were foraged in the maquis, or on other tracts of land on this still remarkably unspoiled island, where large-scale agriculture remains relatively unknown. We eat our lunch with thick slices of country bread and end it with a <a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Corsican-Lemon-Mousse">mousse made from tangy Corsican lemons</a>. This is my first real Corsican meal, a taste of what's to come during the rest of my eight-day trip, and an object lesson in what a big-city chef might call "ingredient-driven cooking."<br><br><div id="article-image-left"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-Corsica-2-400x600.jpg" width="250"><div class="photo-credit"><small><i>photo of Rolli Lucarotti by Beth Rooney</i></small></div></div>The next day, Rolli and I follow a hairpin road into the hills far above Ajaccio. We stop for lunch at a rustic inn called <a href="http://u-licettu.com/">U Licettu</a>, which Rolli has described to me as a bastion of old-school Corsican cuisine. This kind of cooking, she says, tends to reflect the culture of the mountains more than that of the coasts, parts of which were infested with malaria until World War II and remained relatively sparsely populated well into the 20th century. The meal-served in a prim dining room crisscrossed with rough-hewn ceiling beams-has no main courses, no lugubrious progression of everweightier dishes. Just small, shared pleasures: <a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Corsican-Chard-Cannelloni">handmade cannelloni</a> wrapped around fluffy <i>brocciu;</i> meaty white beans called <i><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Corsican-White-Beans-Dried-Mushrooms">fasgioli</a></i> slow-cooked in an herb-flecked tomato sauce; light and crisp zucchini fritters brightened by wild mint; a silky terrine of wild boar, an animal that still roams freely in the maquis. And (cured-meat lover that I am) my holy grail: gossamer ribbons of dry-cured ham called <i>prizuttu,</i> generously marbled and dark ruby red, made from Corsican pigs fattened on the chestnuts that grow abundantly on the island. I knew that handmade charcuterie-with names, like <i>coppa</i> and <i>lonzu,</i> that hint at their Italian pedigree-is the coin of the realm here, but Rolli tells me that the extra-fatty charcuterie made from Corsican pigs is a prize on the order of Italy's finest prosciuttos.<br><br>Sated and content, I drive Rolli back to town, retracing our morning route. She spies something out the window and asks me to stop. She walks a few yards down the road and tugs green shoots from the loose dirt alongside the asphalt. "Wild garlic," she calls back to me. I shut off the engine and step out, and instantly my ears are filled with a thrumming sound. It is the noise of bees, millions of them-this, I realize, is the song of the maquis.<br><br>I'm driving over the spine of Corsica, through a stark alpine landscape so unlike the lush coast I left behind a mere 20 miles ago that it seems a continent away. I am technically in France, but not. The road signs, right down to the little tombstone-shaped mile markers, appear to be French government-issue, but the place names are in both French and Corsu, an ancient Tuscan dialect, and I notice that often the French name has been crudely redacted with black spray paint-echoes of an on-and-off independence movement that began in the 1970s. In a one-street village somewhere outside the ancient hilltop city of Corte, I stop at a little café-bar, park myself under the shade of an awning, and overhear men inside speaking Corsu amid the click-clack of dominoes. Their words issue forth in lusty bursts of consonants, in a distinctly Italian cadence.<br><br>A wiry older fellow wearing a gold chain gets up from the table and comes out. He presses a hand firmly onto my shoulder and almost shouts, in French, "Yes, my young man!" I order a glass of chilled red Corsican <i>vin de pays</i>, and <i>a coppa</i> sandwich. It comes with cornichons on a generously buttered baguette stuffed with thin rounds of sumptuous cured meat that could have come from the finest <i>salumeria</i> in Rome.<br><br><blockquote class="pullquote-left">I find that I'm growing accustomed to Corsica's implausible beauty and starting to dread my encroaching departure, after which I'll no longer happen upon these otherworldly sights.</blockquote>A day later, I circle back to the coast via a scrubby headland called the Agriates Desert, a scorched, jagged landscape that merges incongruously with some of the island's most idyllic beaches. I find that I'm growing accustomed to Corsica's implausible beauty and starting to dread my encroaching departure, after which I'll no longer happen upon these otherworldly sights. I decide to commemorate one of my last nights here with a special meal at <a href="http://pasquale-paoli.com/">Pasquale Paoli</a>, a jewel-like restaurant in the port of L'Île Rousse, known for its modern interpretations of traditional Corsican cooking. Like many things on this island, it's named after the 18th-century statesman who was the father of Corsican independence, all 14 years of it.<br><br>I am seated under a plane tree, whose leaves form a canopy over the restaurant's little terrace, in front of a bone-white bowl that has a tiny portrait of Paoli painted on it. In the bowl, nestled in a dark, limpid broth made from spider crabs, are three delicate, hand-shaped <a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Corsican-Chard-Cheese-Dumplings"><i>strozzapreti.</i></a> Each plump, mint-scented dumpling-made with equal parts <i>brocciu</i> and shredded Swiss chard-was strewn with purple borage flowers, just like ones I've seen dotting the maquis. Six bites, and the <i>strozzapreti</i> are gone.<br><br><div id="article-image-right"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-PleasureIsland-3-400x546.jpg" width="250"><div class="photo-credit"><small><i>photo by Beth Rooney</i></small></div></div><!-- image block end -->Soon a new bowl arrives, this one bearing little rectangular sheets of toothsome pasta layered with a ragù of winey, slow-braised beef cheeks. Each bite seems to dissolve on the tongue. And before long, dessert: a sugar-dusted Paris-Brest, typically a wheel of pâte à choux pastry filled with praline cream, reimagined here as a paean to that most cherished Corsican ingredient, the chestnut. The pastry is made with chestnut flour, and the cream filling is flavored with chestnuts. So is the scoop of ice cream on top, which itself is topped with a single candied chestnut. Dessert is served with a nectarlike drink called <i>muscamaru,</i> made from Corsican muscat and chestnut liqueur.<br><br>I sip for a while and reflect on the meal. Here were four pillars of the rustic Corsican kitchen-handmade pasta, seafood, meat stew, chestnut flour-eased gently into a new dispensation, not with any shocking wizardry, but with an eager desire to reanimate the island's bedrock foods. The chef, I found out when he stopped by my table after my meal, is named Ange Cananzi and grew up in a nearby village. "I was taught the value of our island's ingredients from a young age," he says, "and I try not to put 'luxury' ingredients on the menu." I try to imagine foie gras and caviar here, and indeed the notion seems irrelevant.<br><br>I'm due to depart tomorrow, and the spirits of this island seem to know it, for I've stumbled on a spot that no person could ever want to leave: a forested mountain glen on Cap Corse, the isle's remote, fingerlike northern tip. The glen is bisected by a burbling, sun-dappled stream called the Guado Grande and occupied by an ancient-looking stone cottage, the only work of civilization that I can see for miles around. In a grassy clearing next to the cottage, a communal picnic is getting under way-just a few folding tables covered in embroidered cotton sheets, some plastic cups for the wine. A tall man in tinted wire-rimmed glasses detaches himself from the crowd and invites me to join the potluck. His name is Jean-Toussaint. The cottage, he says, houses an old olive oil mill. The picnickers are people from the township, which has been raising money to restore the mill, and they've gathered to celebrate the first pressing of olives here in 70 years.<br><br>In the cool, stone-floored anteroom of the cottage, a half-dozen ladies set finger foods onto platters they've brought from home. Everywhere I turn, a woman offers me something to taste: little squares of homemade quiche, a slice of wild-herb-and-leek tart, farmers'-cheese beignets baked on a chestnut leaf. I migrate outside and loiter by a charcuterie platter piled with the most enticingly fatty <i>lonzu</i> I've ever seen, and links of <i>figatellu,</i> a gamy-tasting air-dried sausage made from pig livers. A stocky young guy in a soccer jersey walks up, plucks a slice of <i>lonzu</i> from the plate, and matter-of-factly tells me the name of the farmer who made it. "Ah," he says, tearing off a bite, "his stuff is always the best."<br><br><!-- image block start --><div id="article-image-left"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-PleasureIsland-4-400x594.jpg" width="250"><div class="photo-credit"><small><i>photo by Beth Rooney</i></small></div></div><!-- image block end -->There are many sweets, too: dense chestnut-almond tarts, chocolate cake, and a fluffy <i>brocciu</i> cheesecake called <a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Fiadone-Corsican-Style-Cheesecake"><i>fiadone.</i></a> And now a napkin-lined straw basket emerges from the cottage on the arm of a pretty blond woman in a purple blouse. She walks over to me. "They're <i>frappes,</i>" she says, raising the basket to show me the little sugar-dusted pastries inside. "Take a few!" I help myself to a handful and find a shady seat on a low stone fence where I can enjoy them. The inch-long curls of fried dough are pleasure-inducing the way cotton candy is.<br><br>And so here I am, licking sugar off my fingers and listening to the Guado Grande's waters as they descend to the Mediterranean. Sharing my patch of shade is an old man in a brimmed cap whose name is Charles Pasquini. He says he was a ship's navigator in the merchant marine. I tell him where I'm from, and he laughs. "Les Américains is the name they used to give people from Cap Corse who left for the New World and came back here to build their great mansions," he says, resting his hands on a wooden cane. I laugh, too, and think, I should be so lucky.<br><br><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Wine-and-Drink/Corsica-Wine">Read more about Corsica's native wines »</a></b><br><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/Corsica-Cheese">Read about Corsica's cheeses »</a></b><br><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/Corsica-History">Read more about Corsica's heritage »</a></b><br><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/Corsica-Sausage">Read about Corsican charcuterie »</a></b><br><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/The-Guide-Corsica">See a guide to where to eat and where to stay in Corsica »</a></b><br><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/gallery/Pleasure-Island/1">See all our Corsican recipes in the gallery »</a></b><br><br> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090129 Wed, 16 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Senegal-Black-Eyed-Pea-Salad <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-SaladuNebbe-400x600.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Saladu Nebbe (Black-Eyed-Pea Salad)-photo" title="Saladu Nebbe (Black-Eyed-Pea Salad)" border="0"/> SERVES 8<br><br><h4>INGREDIENTS</h4>¼ cup fresh lime juice<br>1 cup roughly chopped parsley<br>1 cup canola oil<br>5 cups cooked black-eyed peas<br>10 scallions, roughly chopped<br>1 red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and finely chopped<br>1 medium tomato, cored, seeded, and finely chopped<br>1 medium cucumber, seeded and finely chopped<br>1 habanero or Scotch bonnet chile, stemmed, seeded, and minced<br>Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste<br><br><h4>INSTRUCTIONS</h4>1. In a large bowl, whisk together the lime juice and parsley. While whisking, drizzle in the canola oil to make a smooth dressing.<br><br>2. Add the black-eyed peas, scallions, bell pepper, tomato, cucumber, and chile to the dressing. Season the mixture with salt and pepper. Set aside at room temperature for at least 1 hour, or refrigerate up to overnight to marinate and meld the flavors. Serve chilled or at room temperature.<br><br> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090111 Wed, 16 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Rhubarb-Pie <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Routes_RhubarbPie-400.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Rhubarb Pie-photo" title="Rhubarb Pie" border="0"/> SERVES 8<br><br><h4>INGREDIENTS</h4>3 ¼ cups flour<br>14 tbsp. unsalted butter, cubed and chilled, plus more, melted, for brushing<br>2 tsp. kosher salt<br>4 cups roughly chopped fresh or frozen, thawed, rhubarb<br>2 cups sugar, plus more for sprinkling<br>1 tsp. vanilla extract<br>2 eggs<br>Vanilla ice cream, to serve (optional)<br><br><h4>INSTRUCTIONS</h4>1. Pulse 3 cups flour, butter, and 1 tsp. salt in a food processor until pea-size pieces form. Add ½ cup ice-cold water; pulse until dough forms. Form into a ball; halve and form into two disks. Wrap; chill for 1 hour.<br><br>2. Heat oven to 350°. In a bowl, toss together remaining flour and salt, along with rhubarb, sugar, vanilla, and eggs; set filling aside. Unwrap dough; roll both disks into 11"-wide x 1⁄8"-thick circles. Transfer one circle to a 9" deep-dish pie pan; mound filling inside. Transfer second dough circle over top of pie; trim and crimp edges. Brush dough with butter and sprinkle with sugar. Bake until golden and bubbling, about 1 hour; let cool and serve with ice cream on top, if you wish. http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090235 Tue, 15 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Wine-and-Drink/Portugese-Wines <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-portuguese-crush-800.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Portuguese Wine Making-photo" title="Portuguese Wine Making" border="0"/> <br/>by Heather Laiskonis<br/> Three years ago, I was tasked with building a predominantly Portuguese wine list for the opening of the restaurant <a href="http://aldearestaurant.com/">Aldea</a> in New York City. Having worked for most of my adult life in restaurants, I was confident in my knowledge of wine, but the unique styles and grapes of Portugal were a virtual mystery to me. I had never seen a Portuguese wine on a high-end wine list, and the few $10 bottles that had slowly started to make their way onto my local wine-store shelves didn't particularly inspire me. Fortunately, I had a cadre of Portuguese wine professionals, as well as Aldea's Portuguese-American chef, George Mendes, to guide me. What I discovered was a real surprise: a world of food-friendly wines that I was excited to share with diners.<br><br>Although stateside wine lovers like me think of Portugal as a new discovery, the country-long and narrow and hugging Spain's western border along the Atlantic coast-has a winemaking history that stretches back as far as 1200 b.c. The Phoenicians and the Romans made wine here. Port, the country's iconic fortified wine, has been a sought-after export since the start of the 18th century. But it wasn't until Portugal became a member of the European Union in 1986 that the focus started to shift to unfortified wines. With that new affiliation came a large influx of cash to modernize not only roadways and schools, but also wineries. Efforts began to shift from simple wines made for domestic consumption to wines that could stand up to global scrutiny. Scores of young vintners, many of whose families reflect Portugal's rich heritage of winemaking, began studying abroad to bring some of the latest viticultural innovations back home. Nowadays there is very serious wine being made in Portugal.<br><br>With more than 300 indigenous grapes, plus a growing trend toward wines made with cabernet and other international grape varieties, the landscape is complex to navigate. I've found that it helps to know something about Portugal's notable wine regions. The country is roughly the size of Indiana, but its climate and topography are surprisingly varied.<br><br>In the north lie lush coastal valleys, with rainfall comparable to that of the Pacific Northwest. This region, called Minho, is where the most well-known Portuguese wine is produced. Some say this light, easy white is named vinho verde, or "green wine," because it's meant to be enjoyed young. Others attribute its moniker to the verdant landscapes surrounding the vineyards. Either way, vinho verde is one of the most refreshing ways I know of to start off a summer meal. Usually a blend of local white grapes-floral loureiro, citrusy trajadura, tart paderña, and, for richer wines, aromatic alvarinho-its best examples have one thing in common: freshness, with a touch of effervescence. There are dozens of vinho verdes to choose from, most costing under $15, but <b><a href="http://www.jmftwinvines.com/main.html">JM Fonseca Twin Vines</a> Vinho Verde 2011</b> is my favorite. With hints of lemon and lime, it's low in alcohol (10 percent) and terrific to drink with briny oysters.<br><br>Winemakers in this region also bottle white wines made entirely with alvarinho, a grape more commonly known in the States by its Spanish name, albariño. The terrific <b>Quinta do Louridal Poema 2009</b>, produced by a winemaking family spanning six generations, unleashes hints of nectarine and honeysuckle, and a finish of sparkle. I always recommend it with a spicy seafood dish like shrimp <i>alhinho</i>; its subtle sweetness enhances complex heat and garlicky flavors.<br><br>Below Minho, the large Beiras region spans the country east to west; toward the coast here is an area called Bairrada. The soil is mostly chalky clay, which the vines like, and cool Atlantic breezes help promote the grapes' acidity. While the region is famous for the red grape baga, I look to some of the lesser-known white varietals. The tart grape arinto is usually blended with other grapes, but I like it on its own. A great bottle is the <b><a href="http://www.campolargovinhos.com/vinhos/show.aspx?idioma=pt1andamp;idcont=56andamp;title=campolargo-arinto">Campolargo Arinto 2009</a></b>. Though it sits for six months in oak, this wine shows none of the butterscotch notes we've come to expect from barrel-aged whites. Instead, it's got great minerality, with bright grapefruit notes. It's often paired with seafood, but I think it works surprisingly well with dessert; it cleanses the palate when served with pound cake or creamy custards.<br><br>To Minho's east, the vineyards of the Douro cling to rocky hillsides that plunge into the region's namesake river. Sheltered from moist sea breezes by mountains, the Douro experiences incredibly hot, dry summers, while the high altitudes bring equally cold winter nights. Winemaking here is challenging, but the payoff is fantastic. This is Portugal's premier wine region-the world's oldest controlled domain for wine, established in 1756, and the area where the grapes for port are grown: floral touriga franca, spicy tinta cão, and others.<br><br>The same grapes get pressed for unfortified wines. Traditionally, these have been robust reds with a rich stewed fruit flavor. But there are also Douro wines that are more modern and balanced, with a fair amount of food-friendly acidity. <b><a href="http://www.quintadelarosa.com/QuintaDeLaRosa_E.html">Quinta de La Rosa</a> Reserve 2007</b> is crafted, in part, from touriga nacional, which I often describe as similar to cabernet sauvignon, only lighter and more herbaceous. This grape yields a versatile red that goes with lots of foods, particularly seafood stews.<br><br>In terms of value, Portugal rewards wine drinkers most in the $50 to $75 range, where its world-class wines-ones suitable for aging-are more affordable than comparable bottles from other countries. The Douro produces many of these. The <b><a href="http://www.wine.com/V6/Quinta-do-Vale-Meao-Douro-2008/wine/113689/detail.aspx">Quinta do Vale Meão Douro 2008</a></b>, from a winery founded in 1877, is a stunning wine made from touriga nacional, touriga franca, fairly tannic tinta roriz, and the softer tinta barroca. They have struck a beautiful balance in their winemaking, blending old-world techniques with a modern facility. The grapes are handpicked and (as at Quinta de La Rosa) foot-crushed, but the fermenting tanks are gleaming stainless steel. Then the wine is aged for two years, mostly in new French oak. The result is a powerful red wine, with lush dark-cherry flavor, a bit of smokiness, and a velvety long finish. It stands up to grilled and highly seasoned meats.<br><br>Not to be overshadowed by its reds, though, are the Douro's elegant whites. <b><a href="http://www.vinopedia.com/wine/Wine+%26+Soul+Douro+Guru+2010">Guru 2010</a></b> is a relatively new wine from the veteran winemaking couple Sandra Tavares da Silva and Jorge Serôdio Borges, who call their operation <a href="http://www.wonderfulland.com/wonder2006/wine/wineandsoul/indexwine_en.htm#products_main">Wine andamp; Soul</a>. Aged in French casks for six months, this is a big, complex white. Its sea-breeze aroma belies an oaky creaminess on the palate, and it tastes of nectarines and other stone fruits, but with a long, dry finish. It can stand up to hearty dishes like <i>porco à alentejana</i>, that classic Portuguese marriage of pork and clams.<br><br>While the Douro's tradition is long established, there are up-and-coming regions in Portugal where winemakers are creating some of the coolest wines I have ever tasted. In the westernmost part of the country surrounding Lisbon, there's a newly anointed region, Lisboa, where the gorgeous <b><a href="http://www.empirewine.com/wine/monte-doiro-quinta-do-monte-doiro-reserva-2003/">Quinta do Monte d'Oiro Reserva 2003</a></b> is made. With its leathery fruit and pepper and violet aromas, this wine (96 percent syrah and 4 percent viognier), so embodies Côte Rotie style that if you closed your eyes and drank it, you'd swear you were in the Rhône Valley. If I had to choose one wine to drink forever, this would be it. At the restaurant, I pour it with richly sauced meat dishes, like the full-flavored stewed goat with cherries.<br><br>Toward Portugal's south, the hotter, more Mediterranean region of Alentejo is starting to gain as much attention as the Douro, thanks in part to vintners like David Baverstock, of the winery <a href="http://www.esporao.com/EN/">Esporão</a>. Baverstock, an Australian, makes many wines, but the <b><a href="http://www.wine-searcher.com/find/esporao+reserva/2008">Esporão Reserva 2008</a></b> delivers the most bang for the buck. For just under $25, this blend of native and international grapes delivers beautiful balance with hints of chocolate, spice, and soft tannins. A touch of alicante bouschet gives the wine a striking purple gemstone color. Though most of the bottles I uncork day to day are enjoyed by someone other than me, this is the one I drink at home whenever I barbecue. It reminds me that, no matter how ancient and diverse Portugal's winemaking tradition is, it is still, deliciously, evolving.<br><br><br><h4>TASTING NOTES</h4><br><b><a href="http://www.campolargovinhos.com/vinhos/show.aspx?idioma=pt1andamp;idcont=56andamp;title=campolargo-arinto">Campolargo Branco Arinto 2009 ($18)</a></b> A refreshing white made using all arinto grapes, this smells of melon, vanilla, and pencil shavings, with salty and grapefruit flavors mellowed by oak.<br><br><a href="http://www.wine-searcher.com/find/esporao+reserva/2008"><b>Esporão Reserva 2008 ($25)</b></a> Blueberry aromas, with hints of chocolate and vanilla, yield to ripe dark-fruit flavors and a long finish. Try it with grilled steak or a strong, ripe cheese.<br><br><b>JM Fonseca Twin Vines Vinho Verde 2011 ($8)</b> Floral and citrus aromas characterize this light, refreshing, and subtly effervescent white, perfect as a summer aperitif.<br><br><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0069DFQBA/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8andamp;tag=saveur-20andamp;linkCode=as2andamp;camp=1789andamp;creative=390957andamp;creativeASIN=B0069DFQBA">Quinta de La Rosa Reserve 2007 ($48)</a></b> Made from hand-picked fruit matured in large French barriques for 12 to 18 months, this deep purple blend has persistent flavors of blackberries, plums, and coffee.<br><br><b><a href="http://www.wine-searcher.com/find/caves+alian%E7a+alentejo+quinta+da+terrugem+single+estate">Quinta da Terrugem Aliança Alentejo Single Estate 2007 ($23)</a></b> Aged for a year in new French oak, this medium-bodied, ruby-hued blend has a ripe, sweet nose, with touches of mineral and raisin and a long, licorice finish.<br><br><b>Quinta do Louridal Poema Alvarinho 2009 ($32)</b> Full of ripe golden apple with a great minerality and a light effervescence, this medium-bodied white is a great match for spicy foods.<br><br><b><a href="http://www.empirewine.com/wine/monte-doiro-quinta-do-monte-doiro-reserva-2003/">Quinta do Monte d'Oiro Reserva 2003 ($45)</a></b> This aromatic red smells of both bacon and jasmine, with a chocolately flavor and a sexy velvet finish.<br><br><b><a href="http://www.wine.com/V6/Quinta-do-Vale-Meao-Douro-2008/wine/113689/detail.aspx">Quinta do Vale Meão Douro 2008 ($87)</a></b> Beautifully structured, with great acidity, this red has berry aromas and hints of smoke and vanilla.<br><br><b><a href="http://www.vinopedia.com/wine/Wine+%26+Soul+Douro+Guru+2010">Wine andamp; Soul Guru 2010 ($45)</a></b> A creamy, oak-aged white tasting of stone fruits, this one finishes long and dry and can hold up to hearty pork and seafood dishes. http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090121 Tue, 15 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Seeded-Rye-Loaf <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-SeededRye-400x600.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Seeded Rye Loaf sourdough starter-photo" title="Seeded Rye Loaf sourdough starter" border="0"/> <h4>INGREDIENTS</h4>6 cups (16 oz.) rye flour<br>3 ¼ cups plus ⅓ cup (1 lb. 12 ⅔ oz.) tap water, heated to 115°<br>¼ tsp. active dry yeast<br>2 ¼ cups (12 ⅓ oz.) bread flour<br>1 ½ tsp. (3/8 oz.) kosher salt<br>Canola oil, for greasing bowl<br>¼ cup each sunflower, pumpkin, or sesame seeds, cracked wheat or rye (any combination), mixed together in a bowl<br>½ cup ice cubes<br><br><h4>INSTRUCTIONS</h4>1. In a bowl, stir ½ cup rye flour, ¼ cup water, and yeast until a smooth paste forms. Cover with plastic wrap, and let sit for 24 hours. Repeat this process for the next eight days, adding the same amounts of rye flour and water, to make starter (which you can keep alive, in the fridge, by adding the same amounts once weekly.)<br><br><!--- image block start ----><div id="article-image-left"> <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-Seeded_Rye_collage_400.jpg" width="200"></div><!-- image block end --> 2. On 10th day, place ¼ cup starter in a bowl. Stir in ½ cup rye flour and ⅓ cup water until smooth to create sourdough culture for this loaf. Let sit for 8 to 24 hours.<br><br>3. Uncover culture, and add remaining 1 cup rye flour and ½ cup water, along with bread flour, salt, and half the seed mix (<i>Figure A</i>). Stir until dough forms (<i>Figure B</i>); let dough sit for 20 minutes. Transfer to a floured work surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes (<i>Figure C</i>). Transfer to a greased bowl; cover with plastic wrap. Place in a cold oven; let sit until slightly inflated, about 1 hour. Transfer to a work surface and flatten. Fold top and bottom edges toward middle. Return dough to bowl, seam side down; cover, and return to oven. Let sit until doubled in size, about 3 hours.<br><br>4. Transfer dough to surface. Positioning your hands on outside edge of dough, rotate dough over surface to form a taut dome, pinching edges underneath. Transfer, seam side up, to a floured kitchen towel in a colander. Cover loosely with plastic wrap; let sit until doubled in size, about 3 hours. One hour before baking, place a cast-iron skillet on bottom rack of oven; position another rack above skillet; place a baking stone on top of it. Heat to 400°.<br><br>5. Invert dough onto a parchment paper sheet on a rimless baking sheet. Spray with water, and cover with remaining seed mix (<i>Figure D</i>). Using a razor, slash a hash tag pattern in top of dough. Using paper, slide loaf onto stone. Place ice in skillet. Bake until dark brown, about 1 hour; let cool before serving.<br><br> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090148 Mon, 14 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/Iowa-Tenderloin-Sandwich <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-routes-iowa-800.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Iowa Pork Tenderloin Sandwich-photo" title="Iowa Pork Tenderloin Sandwich" border="0"/> <br/>by Jane and Michael Stern<br/> Of pork products that make Iowans proud, the tenderloin is king. We don't mean a roast that requires marinade or seasonings, then gets carved, plated, and eaten with knife and fork; in Iowa the tenderloin is a sandwich. Sometimes abbreviated to BPT for "breaded pork tenderloin," it consists of a trimmed and pounded-tender slice of pork loin that is battered, fried, and sandwiched in a roll along with pickle chips, raw onion, ketchup, and mustard. (It's not a schnitzel because it's deep-fried rather than pan-cooked, and is always served on a bun.) You'll find BPTs at cafés, diners, drive-ins, and eat-shacks that earn partisans because they serve the juiciest or the widest.<br><br>Why Iowa for such a thing? A stroll through the spectacularly large Swine Barn at the annual State Fair helps explain the local passion for pork. Here you'll learn that pork production adds $2.5 billion to the state's economy and that one out of three hogs raised in America is Iowan. Indiana actually lays claim to having invented the BPT-at <a href="https://nickskitchen.net/">Nick's Kitchen</a> in Huntington, in 1904-but nowhere is the tenderloin more exalted than in Iowa, especially in the farmlands of the western part of the state, where hogs' favorite food, corn, grows especially high.<br><br>Some BPTs, particularly those made in and around Des Moines, flaunt a disk of fried pork as wide as a dinner plate, making its placement between the top and bottom of a standard hamburger bun comical. The Original King Tenderloin, served since 1952 at <a href="http://smittystenderloins.com/">Smitty's</a>, just minutes from the airport, is too broad to be hoisted by the bun in any normal way-even by a person with abnormally long fingers-but it is thin enough to tear off and eat pieces of the circumference until the bun is reachable. Twice breaded with cracker meal procured in Chicago, and then deep-fried in soybean oil ("for the flavor," says third-generation chef Ben Smith), Smitty's tenderloin is all about the crunch that envelops the slim layer of juicy pork.<br><br>Mr. Bibbs Tenderloins, a stark, open-kitchen sandwich shop in Des Moines's Highland Park neighborhood, serves its own double-wide, centimeter-thin 'loin fully accoutred (if you order it "deluxe") with ketchup, mustard, pickles, sliced tomatoes, lettuce, and onions. Essential companion: lushly crusted onion rings. We happened to eat our tenderloins at 10 a.m. on the first day of classes at nearby North High School, since proprietor Kathy Essex fretted that, by noon, her tiny establishment would be overwhelmed with students who come for sandwiches and extra-thick chocolate malts. At <a href="http://bbgrocerymeatdeli.com/">Bandamp;B Grocery</a>, just a few miles away, we ate insanely wide tenderloins alongside lunching local police officers who took great delight in demonstrating how to fold the meat over once or even twice inside the bun to make it easier to handle.<br><br><!--- image block start ----><div id="article-image-left"><img src=" http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-routes-iowa-400.jpg"><div class="photo-credit"><small><i>photo by Ariana Lindquist</i></small></div></div><!-- image block end -->The following day we ventured an hour west to what many connoisseurs consider the heart of tenderloin country. Here in Audubon and Cass counties, the cutlet is significantly thicker and therefore juicier and porkier; some sandwiches overhang their bun, but few are silly-wide. At the Farmer's Kitchen, co-owner Charlene Johnson's fried pork is plump and succulent, merely haloed by a buttermilk-tinged, seasoned breading. At the Chatterbox Cafe in Audubon, Samantha Goetz took our order, cooked it, and delivered a piping-hot slab of sweet pork with an especially gnarled crust, the sandwich sided by a heap of pickle chips and topped with a thick slice of white onion. Samantha also gave us the lowdown on the restaurant's rather goofy signature item, the "hamburloin"-a burger atop a tenderloin in a single bun. She was joined in her regional-food discourse by various men and women from other tables, all of whom treat this place as a second home, pouring their own coffee when they need refills or when they come between meals to chat with friends.<br><br>From the outside, Darrell's Place in Hamlin looks more like a crop-duster hangar than a notable restaurant. The interior is all beer signs and bare Formica. And the tenderloin, made in the thick-patty style, is magnificent. Winner of the first annual Iowa Pork Producers Association Award in 2003, this sandwich sports a wavy, thousand-faceted bread crumb crust that hugs a luscious lode of pork. And by the way, <a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/recipes/Rhubarb-Pie">Darrell's rhubarb pie</a>, made using stalks secured from customers' patches, is peerless in a state famous for its pie: piled into a master-class crust, its tantalizing sugar-tart filling is balanced by the cascade of soft-serve vanilla ice cream that is its traditional garnish.<br><br>Just south of Audubon, in Exira, we had what might be our favorite Iowa tenderloin at a low-slung eatery with four tables called Red Barn. Costing $3.60, it is super wide but also mighty thick, really juicy and snug inside a savory crust, garnished with pickles and onions. The tenderloin is just one item on an exemplary Hawkeye State menu that also includes pea salad with shredded cheese bound in Miracle Whip, a lovely loosemeats sandwich special made of spiced minced beef and onion, and nutmeg-dusted vanilla custard.<br><br>By 11:45 a.m., every seat in the Red Barn was occupied and we were sharing our table with four strangers. Whereas habitués may linger when they come for coffee midmorning or in the afternoon, country-café courtesy at mealtime demands freeing up a seat as soon as one has finished eating. We quickly polished off dessert and paid our check, worrying all the while that we had appropriated two seats from a rotation of customers that rarely includes anyone from out of town.<br><br><br><h4>THE GUIDE</h4><br><!--- image block start ----><div id="article-image-right"><img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-HogHeaven-2-300x450.jpg" width="300"><div class="photo-credit"><small><i>photo by Ariana Lindquist</i></small></div></div><!-- image block end --><b><a href="http://bbgrocerymeatdeli.com/">Bandamp;B Grocery</a></b><br>(515/243-7607)<br>2001 SE Sixth Street<br>De Moines, Iowa 50315<br><br><b>The Chatterbox Cafe</b><br>(712/563-3428)<br>120 N Division Street<br>Audubon, Iowa 50025<br><br><b>Darrell's Place</b><br>(712/563-3922)<br>4010 First Street<br>Hamlin, Iowa 50117<br><br><b><a href="http://farmerskitchen.net/">The Farmer's Kitchen</a></b><br>(712/243-2898)<br>319 Walnut Street<br>Atlantic, Iowa 50022<br><br><b>Mr. Bibbs Tenderloins</b><br>(515/243-0929)<br>2705 Sixth Avenue<br>De Moines, Iowa 50313<br><br><b><a href="http://smittystenderloins.com/">Smitty's</a></b><br>(515/287-4742)<br>SW 1401 Army Post Road<br>Des Moines, Iowa 50315<br><br><b>Red Barn</b><br>(712/268-2645)<br>613 West Washington Street<br>Exira, Iowa 50076 http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090120 Mon, 14 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Wine-and-Drink/Friday-Cocktails-The-Moonwalk <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-moonwalk_cocktail_2_400.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Moonwalk Champagne cocktail-photo" title="Moonwalk Champagne cocktail" border="0"/> <br/>by Helen Rosner<br/> I grew up on the south side of Chicago, just down the street from the <a href="http://www.msichicago.org/">Museum of Science and Industry</a>, which - if you're a particularly nerdy kid between the ages of two and thirteen - is nothing less than an earthly manifestation of heaven. There's a simulation coal mine, a yellow-lit incubator housing dozens of fluffy chicks, and down a darkened corridor lined with automated dioramas of a Victorian-era circus, there's an entire wing dedicated to space travel. Any childhood visit to the museum demanded a stop to see moon rocks and space suits; even more importantly, to go to the astronomy-themed gift shop in order to buy my very favorite treat: astronaut ice cream. At the same time both dry and creamy, strange and familiar, the opportunity to eat these Neapolitan bricks at my leisure seemed a fair reward for the risk astronauts took on, hurtling outside the atmosphere strapped to a tremendous fire-breathing rocket.<br><br>Sadly, actual astronauts never got to eat astronaut ice cream while they were up in space - the freeze-dried chunks are far too crumbly for zero-gravity - but that doesn't mean they don't get their own treats. When Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin returned from their legendary moon landing in 1969, they were met by President Nixon and three weeks of quarantine; after that, they had their very first drinks back on Earth: tall, bubbly glasses of Moonwalk, a cocktail invented in their honor by legendary Savoy barman Joe Gilmore. With contrasting citrus flavors of grapefruit juice and orange liqueur, a few drops of rosewater for smoothness, and a very effervescent booster from a Champagne top, it's exactly the kind of thing you'd want to drink after coming back home from a trip to the moon. It's also not bad as an after-dinner palate cleanser, or as a more nuanced alternative to a Mimosa on weekend mornings - and from experience, I can confirm that it goes surprisingly well as a pairing for freeze-dried ice cream.<br><br><b><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/recipes/Moonwalk-Cocktail">See the recipe for the Moonwalk Cocktail »</a></b> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090234 Fri, 11 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Carrot-Cake-with-Coconut-Cream-Cheese-Frosting <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-gf_carrot_cake_400.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Gluten-Free Carrot Cake-photo" title="Gluten-Free Carrot Cake" border="0"/> SERVES 8-10<br><br><h4>INGREDIENTS</h4>FOR THE CAKE<br>1 tbsp. butter, for greasing pans<br>4 eggs, divided and at room temperature<br>2 egg whites, at room temperature<br>½ tsp. cream of tartar<br>½ cup sugar<br>⅓ cup light brown sugar<br>1 ½ cups shredded carrot (4 medium)<br>1 20 oz. can crushed pineapple, drained and squeezed dry<br>½ tsp. vanilla extract<br>1 cup chopped walnut pieces<br>1 cup cornstarch<br>½ tsp. baking soda<br>½ tsp. salt<br>¾ tsp. cinnamon<br>¼ tsp. ground ginger<br>¼ tsp. freshly grated nutmeg<br><br>FOR THE FILLING<br>8 oz. cream cheese, soft<br>½ cup butter, soft<br>1 (1 lb.) box confectioner's sugar (approximately 3 ½ cups)<br>½ tsp. vanilla extract<br>3 cups sweetened shredded coconut<br><br><h4>INSTRUCTIONS</h4>1. Heat oven to 375°F with rack in the center position. Grease two 8-inch round cake pans with butter and line with parchment; set aside. Combine egg yolks with ⅓ cup brown sugar in a medium bowl and beat on high speed 2-3 minutes until very thick and pale in color. Fold in shredded carrot, pineapple and vanilla extract; set aside.<br><br>2. Pulse walnut pieces in a food processor until finely ground. Add cornstarch, baking soda, salt and spices; pulse to combine and set aside.<br><br>3. Beat egg whites and cream of tartar in a large bowl until foamy. Slowly whisk in ½ cup sugar and beat whites until stiff and glossy. Fold walnut mixture gently into whites, then fold blended whites gently into carrot mixture. Spread mixture evenly in prepared pans and bake 20-25 minutes until cakes are lightly browned and have pulled away slightly from the sides of the pans. Allow cakes to cool 30-45 minutes in the pans. Run a knife around the edges of cakes to loosen from pan, remove parchment and invert onto a wire rack.<br><br>4. Beat cream cheese and butter in a medium bowl until well-blended. Slowly beat in confectioner's sugar and vanilla. Place one cake round on stand or serving dish and spread ¾ cup of frosting evenly over surface, leaving a ½-inch border around edges. Sprinkle with ¾ cup of coconut and press lightly into the filling to set. Top with second layer, using remaining frosting to cover surface and sides of cake. Press remaining coconut evenly around sides and over top of cake. Cover and chill until ready to serve. http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090039 Fri, 11 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Corsican-Cheese-Mint-Omlet <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-SAV147-FrttataIncu-400x600.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Frittata Incu u Brocciu a Menta (Fresh Cheese and Mint Omelet)-photo" title="Frittata Incu u Brocciu a Menta (Fresh Cheese and Mint Omelet)" border="0"/> SERVES 4<br><br><h4>INGREDIENTS</h4>1 cup ricotta<br>¼ cup roughly chopped mint<br>1 tsp. crushed red chile flakes<br>6 eggs<br>Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste<br>1 tbsp. olive oil<br><br><h4>INSTRUCTIONS</h4>Heat broiler to high. Whisk cheese, mint, chile flakes, eggs, and salt and pepper in a bowl until smooth. Heat oil in a 12″ nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add egg mixture; cook until bottom is set but top is still runny, about 5 minutes. Transfer to broiler; broil until lightly browned on top, about 30 seconds.<br> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090100 Thu, 10 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/One-Ingredient-Many-Ways-Lettuce <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/120-iceberg-tip300.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="One Ingredient, Many Ways: Lettuce-photo" title="One Ingredient, Many Ways: Lettuce" border="0"/> <br/>by Leah Koenig<br/> Let us sing the praises of good lettuce. Not arugula, or watercress, or any other dainty-leafed green (though I love them all), but the irreplaceable watery crunch of a sturdy head of lettuce. The foundation of salads from Caesar to Cobb, the sweet crunch on a sandwich or a Tex-Mex taco, and an essential ingredient in any number of other dishes - lettuce wraps, or an Asian-style lettuce stir-fry - too often we take lettuce's many gifts for granted. In May and June, with the farmers' markets just beginning to explode with spring greens, it's the perfect time to renew your commitment to the crisper's favorite vegetable.<br><div><br>Whole heads of lettuce, like whole chickens, have fallen out of favor at the grocery stores in recent years, another casualty of our love affair with convenience. It's not that you can't find a head of romaine or green leaf in the produce aisle, but next to boxed baby romaine and bags of triple-washed salad greens, the leaf in its original form has come to seem cumbersome by comparison. But when it comes to the pure joy of crunch and refreshment, a whole head is worth those extra five minutes with the salad spinner. When you buy a head of lettuce, wash and spin it dry immediately, then store the leaves in the fridge in plastic bags lined with paper towels. The lettuce will stay fresh longer and be ready whenever the craving strikes. <br><br><h4>SALAD</h4><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Iceberg-Wedge-with-Blue-Cheese"><b>Iceberg Wedge with Blue Cheese</b></a><br>This simple salad topped with creamy blue cheese dressing is an American classic.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Salade-Nicoise"><b>Salad Nicoise</b></a><br>An iconic composed French salad is as much a work of art as a meal.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Caesar-Salad"><b>Caesar Salad</b></a><br>Savory, crisp and tangy, the Caesar salad is an uncompromising classic.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Shredded-Beef-Salad"><b>Shredded Beef Salad</b></a><br>Shredded Boston lettuce lightens up this Argentine meat and potatoes salad.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Romaine-Salad-with-Plum-Ginger-Dressing"><b>Romaine Salad with Plum Ginger Dressing</b></a><br>Fans of carrot-ginger dressing will love a stone-fruit variation atop a simple green salad.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Green-Salad-with-Toasted-Pita-Bread"><b>Green Salad with Toasted Pita Bread</b></a><br>Toasted pita wedges make a delicious crouton for a mixture of romaine and mint.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Mixed-Green-Salad-with-Green-Goddess-Dressing"><b>Mixed Green Salad with Green Goddess Dressing</b></a><br>Top fresh Boston lettuce with this rich, tangy dressing.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Cobb-Salad-1000080529"><b>Cobb Salad</b></a><br>This composed salad was all the rage in the 1940s at The Brown Derby in Los Angeles, where it was invented.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Canlis-Salad"><b>Canlis Salad</b></a><br>Canlis restaurant in Seattle pioneered this tasty mix of Romaine, tomatoes and crunchy herbed croutons.<br><br><h4>NOT SALAD</h4><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Vietnamese-Lettuce-Wraps"><b>Vietnamese Lettuce Wraps</b></a><a><br>A fragrant and satisfying appetizer, bundles of pork, shrimp, and scallion are great dipped in </a><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Nuoc-Cham-Vietnamese-Dipping-Sauce">nuoc cham</a>, a sweet and spicy Vietnamese sauce.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Stir-Fried-Iceberg-Lettuce"><b>Stir Fried Iceberg Lettuce</b></a><br>Stir-fried lettuce maintains its crunch in a sweet and spicy Chinese side dish.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Stuffed-Romaine-Leaves-with-Avgolemono-Sauce"><b>Stuffed Romaine Leaves with Avgolemono Sauce</b></a><br>Lettuce leaves stuffed with ground meat and rice are topped with a bright lemon sauce.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Iceberg-Slaw"><b>Iceberg Slaw</b></a><br>Shredded iceberg lettuce replaces cabbage in a tart slaw.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/puffy-chicken-tacos"><b>Puffy Chicken Tacos</b></a><br>Serve flavorful Tex-Mex-style tacos with shredded iceberg lettuce for crunch and lightness.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Fresh-Peas-With-Lettuce-and-Green-Garlic"><b>Fresh Peas with Lettuce and Green Garlic</b></a><br>Butter lettuce pairs with fresh green peas and green garlic for a dish that tastes just like spring.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Lobster-Ceviche-with-Limestone-Lettuce-"><b>Lobster Ceviche with Limestone Lettuce</b></a><br>Bibb lettuce is a perfect base for yuzu-marinated lobster ceviche.<br><br><a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/The-Gatsby"><b>The Gatsby</b></a><br>A spicy bologna and French fry sandwich (yes, really) gets a bit of crunch from shredded lettuce.<br><br><br><em><a href="http://leahkoenig.com">Leah Koenig</a> is a freelance writer and author of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hadassah-Everyday-Cookbook-Contemporary-Kitchen/dp/0789322218/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8andamp;qid=1320976185andamp;sr=8-1">The Hadassah Everyday Cookbook: Daily Meals for the Contemporary Jewish Kitchen.</a></em></div> http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090208 Wed, 09 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Chicken-Hash <img src="http://www2.worldpub.net/images/saveurmag/7-chicken_hash_400.jpg" style="padding:0 5px 5px 0;" align="left" alt="Chicken Hash-photo" title="Chicken Hash" border="0"/> SERVES 4-6<br><br><h4>Ingredients</h4>1 ½ lb. Yukon gold potatoes, cut into 1" pieces<br>½ cup olive oil<br>Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste<br>1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken thighs<br>8 oz. button mushrooms, cleaned and quartered<br>1 small yellow onion, thinly sliced<br>1 tbsp. thyme leaves, chopped<br>½ tsp. crushed red chile flakes<br>4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced<br>½ cup chicken stock<br>2 tbsp. finely chopped parsley<br>Poached eggs, for serving (optional)<br><br><h4>Instructions</h4>1. Heat an oven to 400°. Place potatoes on a rimmed baking sheet and toss with 3 tbsp. oil, salt and pepper; bake until tender, browned, and slightly crisp, about 40 minutes. Set aside to cool.<br><br>2. Heat 3 tbsp. oil in a 6-qt. Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Season chicken with salt and pepper, and working in batches, add to pot and cook, turning once, until browned and cooked through, about 13 minutes. Transfer to a plate and set aside. Add mushrooms to pot, and cook, stirring, until browned, about 6 minutes. Add remaining oil and onion, and cook, stirring, until soft, about 4 minutes. Add thyme, chile flakes, and garlic, and cook, stirring, until soft and fragrant, about 2 minutes. Shred reserved chicken and return to pot along with potatoes and stock. Season with salt and pepper, and cook, stirring occasionally, until all ingredients are warmed through, about 6 minutes. Transfer to a serving platter and sprinkle with parsley; serve with poached eggs, if you like. http://www.saveur.com/article.jsp?ID=1000090159 Wed, 09 May 2012 12:00:00 EDT