Two dinners:
1. Pan-seared white beans, celery, garlic, almonds, green onions, parsley, basil, chile in some format or another. Ricotta and fresh-basil-infused olive oil. Made after (but not exactly) this recipe from 101 Cookbooks.
2. Wheatberries, some gorgeous green (and almost purple) tomatoes, sautéed onion and anchovy, green onions, mint, parsley, feta. Arugula. Needed green hot sauce at the table.
Pretty much everywhere, it’s gonna be hot. For now, at least.
How about some gazpacho while the heat lasts?
But let’s do it properly. Please, please, please, do not just cram some tomatoes, red onion, and bell pepper in a blender and hit “go”. You might as well blend up a jar of salsa.
(Lest you think that is a brilliant shortcut, oh my goodness do not blend up a jar of salsa to make gazpacho. No. No, no, no no no. No.)
One issue with cold food is that cold mutes flavors. Something that tastes subtle and sophisticated when warm will often taste flat and muted served cold. To boot, raw tomatoes lose a crucial flavor compound when chilled.
You see why a chilled purée of raw tomato will basically taste like the most boring salsa of all time. Yet most gazpacho recipes — from reputable sources! — direct you to produce just that. This is unacceptable.
A recent issue of Cook’s Illustrated featured an interesting method for maximizing the tomato flavor in a chilled tomato soup: roasting half the tomatoes to deepen the flavor, and using a wodge of tomato paste in the mix.
Using concentrated flavors like that, along with the brightness of raw flavors, is brilliant. Requiring gazpacho, I added cucumber, bell pepper, red onion, breadcrumbs, and certain spices. You could add some parsley, cilantro, or basil, but for once I didn’t find it necessary.
Personally, I like soups with bits of things in them. So this recipe calls for some of the ingredients to be reserved, diced small, and stirred in after blending. If you don’t care about that, feel free to blend everything up together. It’s also faster that way, if you’re into that sort of thing.
Avocado made a fantastic, if non-traditional, garnish. If you want some protein, a chopped hard-boiled egg works well; and please don’t tell anyone in Spain but I liked it with diced firm tofu too.
This surprisingly filling soup begs for a piece of quality crusty bread for dunking, and a simply-dressed arugula salad on the side is a no-brainer. For wine, nearly anything with higher acidity will work well, but a crisp white seems most appropriate. Spanish wines are a good choice (um, obviously).
And please, save the salsa for the tortilla chips.
Inspired by Cook's Illustrated and Alton Brown
I don't specify a particular type of bell pepper; I have used green and red in this, and both were lovely. I default to green, but that's just a personal preference.
As for the chile pepper, if you like it spicy, use a Serrano. If you are a wuss, use a jalapeño.
No, you don't have to line your baking sheet with aluminum foil to roast the tomatoes, but the acid in the tomatoes will permanently discolor (etch? mar? stain?) your pan if you don't. Fair warning.
Ingredients
Instructions
1. Preheat oven to 375º F. Position a rack in the center of the oven. Line a rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil, and coat lightly with olive oil.
2. Cut 1 pound (about 3) of the tomatoes in half horizontally, and remove the core. Place cut-side up on the prepared baking sheet, drizzle lightly with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt and black pepper. Place unpeeled garlic cloves on one corner of the baking sheet.
3. Roast tomatoes and garlic for 25 to 30 minutes, or until tomatoes are softened but not browned. Remove from the oven and let cool for 30 minutes, to approximately room temperature.
4. Meanwhile, prepare the remaining ingredients. Core the remaining tomatoes. Cut 1 pound of them (about 3) into eighths, and place in a blender. Chop the other 1/2 pound (about 2) into very small dice, and set aside in a medium bowl.
5. Prepare the cucumber, bell pepper, and red onion as directed. Chop half of each into 1-inch chunks and add to blender. Cut the other halves into very small dice, and add to the reserved diced tomato.
6. Chop the jalapeño or Serrano roughly, and add to the blender, along with the panko, tomato paste, cumin, paprika, cayenne, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon black pepper, sherry vinegar, and Worcestershire sauce.
7. When roasted tomatoes have cooled, add to the blender, along with the roasted garlic (squeezed from the papery peel). Blend until smooth, stopping and scraping the sides down if necessary. With the blender running, drizzle in the olive oil. Stop the blender (I really hope I don't have to tell you that, but hey hey). Taste, and correct seasoning if needed with salt, pepper, olive oil, and/or sherry vinegar.
8. Pour gazpacho into a suitable storage container (a gallon zip-top bag works well in a pinch). Stir in reserved diced tomato, cucumber, bell pepper, and red onion (reserve some for a garnish, if desired). Chill for at least 2 hours and up to 2 days. Serve cold, with a drizzle of olive oil on top, any garnishes, and a generous piece of crusty bread. Best eaten outside on a sultry day, around sunset, with good company.
https://onehundredeggs.com/gazpacho/
Recently, a dinner party client requested a strawberry salad for the meal I was cooking for him. And I don’t know the last time you searched for “strawberry salad”, but 99.99% of the recipes out there involve two things:
1. Spinach
2. Poppy seeds
Not that there’s a thing in the world wrong with a good strawberry-spinach-poppy seed salad. It’s a lovely little thing, simple, tasty, and pretty, which is why it’s ubiquitous.
But my clients don’t pay me to make exactly what the next guy is serving. My clients hire me because they want something bespoke, something more thoughtful. And I thought I could do better.
So I brainstormed. At the top of the page, I wrote “NO GODDAMN SPINACH OR POPPY SEEDS”, just in case I needed a reminder. I laid out some flavors: watermelon, arugula, pistachios, lime, balsamic vinegar, mint, shallot, cardamom, vanilla.
Peppery arugula made the base of the salad, while chopped watermelon and strawberries marinated in a bath of lime, herbs, shallot, olive oil, a splash of vanilla, and this incredible Strawberry White Balsamic Vinegar that I discovered from Our Dearly Departed Gourmet Magazine. If you try nothing else from this recipe, make that. You could practically drink it.
(Note to self: develop cocktail recipe using Strawberry White Balsamic Vinegar.)
(Edit: Done.)
The pistachios got candied with some egg white, sugar, and a heavy dose of cardamom. They might seem like a fussy afterthought, but they go a long way towards tying everything together. Besides, crunchy bits are requisite on moderately-fussy salads like this. (And they’re a lovely little snack to boot, if you happen to make extra.)
These pictures are from the test run I did many weeks ago, and I can just about smell it through the screen. This is one super fragrant salad, y’all.
We paired it with a punchy rosé, and oh my goodness if you make this salad, you really ought to have a bottle of rosé on hand. It was one of those situations where one legitimately could not tell if the wine was making the food better, or the food was making the wine better. There was a lovely roasted salmon too, but it became incidental.
My client, by the way, was thrilled. And so was I. I think you will be too.
If you choose to make the Strawberry Vinegar (which you absolutely should; recipe linked below), plan a little in advance, as it requires at least 1 hour to make. You can make it well in advance, and it's wildly versatile, so you have very little excuse.
If you don't have time for that, though, I specify white balsamic vinegar, only because regular balsamic vinegar will muddy the appearance a little. If that doesn't bother you, by all means use regular balsamic vinegar.
This strikes me as an ideal picnic salad, or contribution to a potluck dinner. While the strawberries and watermelon marinate in the dressing, that gives you ample time to get to, you know, wherever you're going. Once there, serve them with the arugula and the pistachios. Wham. You look like Martha Stewart.
Ingredients
Instructions
1. Preheat oven to 300° F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. In a bowl, whisk the egg white with the water until foamy. Whisk in the sugars, cardamom, salt, and pepper until combined.
3. Add the pistachios and mix until coated.
4. LIft the pistachios out of the bowl, letting any excess liquid remain in the bowl, and spread in an even layer on the prepared pan. Do not crowd the nuts (use a second pan if necessary).
5. Bake, stirring every 10 minutes, until the nuts look dry, 20 to 30 minutes. Cool to room temperature, stirring occasionally to prevent them from sticking and clumping together. Store in an airtight container at room temperature.
1. In a large bowl, combine the Strawberry Vinegar (or white balsamic), shallot, mint, basil, lime zest and juice, vanilla, and cardamom. Add a three-fingered pinch of salt and a few grinds of black pepper.
2. Slowly whisk in 1/4 cup olive oil (it's okay if it doesn't emulsify). Taste. If the dressing seems too tart, add additional olive oil one tablespoon at a time until it tastes more balanced. When it tastes good to you, proceed with the recipe.
1. Toss the quartered strawberries and diced watermelon with the dressing in the bowl. Let stand for at least 10 minutes at room temperature, or up to 2 hours in the refrigerator.
2. When ready to serve, add arugula and toss to coat with the dressing. Divide into bowls or plates, top with Cardamom-Candied Pistachios, and serve.
https://onehundredeggs.com/strawberry-watermelon-arugula-salad-with-cardamom-candied-pistachios/
Don’t tell my clients this, but much of the time, the “recipes” I use are little more than a list of ingredients, and the vaguest notion of a method.
In putting a client’s weekly (or monthly) menu together, I pore over food preferences and sort through endless recipes, trying to find the one dish that will bring their menu together in perfect harmony. Occasionally, that one flippin’ dish eludes me. It can drag on for hours if I let it.
Sometimes in a fit of frustration, I scribble a list of ingredients I want to use. More often than not, I can at least see a theme, if not the barest bones of a recipe. I refine it, I call it good enough, and I call it a day.
This method generally results in something that falls between “pretty good” and “very tasty” (to my chagrin, because I’m always aiming for “holy crap, this is awesome”). When I get very lucky, though, I get something that comes awfully close to my target descriptor. I smile, jump up and down, and all becomes right with the world.
With this recipe, I got very lucky. But this one particularly surprised me, mostly because I’d hardly give this recipe a second glance in a cooking magazine or on another blog. It’s full of things I don’t love and never crave. (But then, I’m not the one I was trying to please here.)
Sun-dried tomatoes, for one. They’re often leathery and too sweet, and I don’t remember the last time I voluntarily brought the stupid things into my house. Beans, for another. Nothing against beans, there are just other foods higher on my list that I’d rather eat.
And let’s not even start a discussion about that adjective: “Tuscan”. Again, nothing at all against Tuscany. It is a stunning place, full of wonderful people and incredible food. But use that word to describe a food of American provenance, and I’d probably drop it faster than a red-hot poker.
But dang, you guys. Dang. This is a killer recipe.
It reads as slightly indulgent, with voluptuous Parmesan cheese and olives, but it’s full of nutritious ingredients, and it’s not so rich that you can’t have a spot of dessert afterwards. And please don’t forget to pour a glass of wine with dinner, either.
As for technique, the idea is to add the ingredients to the pot as you chop them, so it all comes together in a streamlined and simple way. Easy peasy.
Sun-dried tomatoes, beans, and “Tuscan” notwithstanding, I liked it so much, I made it again at home the next day. And clearly, I still liked it enough to share it with you all. That should tell you all you need to know.
Just don’t expect any more sun-dried tomatoes anytime soon, okay?
It's true, I typically don't like sun-dried tomatoes. But here they are. Be sure to get the ones packed in olive oil; they tend to be more flavorful and not so leathery.
Cook the onions as slowly as you have time for. I made this twice, and found the lower-heat/longer-time method resulted in something just a skosh more flavorful. Once the dish sat in the fridge for a day, however, I think it was probably all equal.
It occurred to me while writing this that a splash of white wine, or maybe a few anchovy fillets would work beautifully in this dish, but it was really quite good as is. If it ain't broke, and all that jazz. Enjoy as is, then tweak it if you must. I probably will next time.
Ingredients
Instructions
1. Bring a large pot of water to boil. Salt heavily, and cook the pasta until just al dente. Drain, toss with a little olive oil, cover, and set aside.
2. Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil over medium-low heat in a Dutch oven or any other big, heavy pan. Add the bay leaf, fennel seed, herbes de Provence, and crushed red pepper. Cook until fragrant, about 1 minute.
3. While the spices and herbs cook, chop the onion. Add it to the pot, sprinkle with a pinch of salt, and stir to coat with the oil.
4. As the onion softens, chop the next three ingredients in the order listed (garlic, then olives, then tomatoes), and stir each into the pot as it is prepared.
5. Stirring occasionally, cook until the onion is well softened, but not browned, 10 minutes or so. Depending on your stove and your pot, this may take longer or shorter than indicated.
6. Add the beans with their liquid, and stir to combine. Increase the heat to medium-high and bring to a rapid simmer. Lower the heat as needed to maintain the simmer and prevent scorching.
7. Simmer uncovered until the liquid has reduced and the beans are no longer soupy, 5 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from the heat, and mix in the Parmesan, lemon zest, lemon juice, and several grinds of black pepper. Taste, and correct seasoning as needed with salt, pepper, and a splash or two of olive oil (a good time to use the oil left over from the sun-dried tomatoes).
8. Stir in the cooked pasta. Serve at once sprinkled with minced basil and a gratuitous drizzle of olive oil, with a lovely little green salad on the side and a nice Italian wine.
https://onehundredeggs.com/tuscan-white-beans-and-pasta-but-dont-hold-it-against-me/
Sometimes, one is faced with a dental emergency.
And in such dire times, there are many foods that simply will not compute: things crunchy, chewy, sticky, crumbly, grainy, seedy, with skins, or anything that requires the generally under-appreciated act of chewing. With teeth.
One’s usual diet is immediately pitched off the rails, replaced by, essentially, anything that can be poured.
So I made soup, because one can only eat so much yogurt.
This was a completely off-the-cuff recipe, centered around the desire for something to do with eggplant and tahini. I picked up some onion, celery, and green pepper, because the trinity is mandatory for soup in my house.
The eggplant got roasted, for a richness that you just can’t get in a pot. Spices happened. Wine got splashed in. It smelled almost as incredible as it tasted. And it only tasted better the next day, as these things often do.
I served it with tofu for extra protein, and because my little corner market started carrying the awesome local tofu that I used to have to make a special trip for. It’s not necessary, but it was nice to have something to chew on.
More or less.
I served this with diced extra-firm tofu at the bottom of the bowl, ladling the hot soup over the top to warm it. The tofu would've been more flavorful if it had simmered with the soup for 10 to 15 minutes, but ain't nobody got time for that after waiting an hour and a half for soup.
For the hot sauce, I used a reasonably hot verde-style sauce (unfortunately, a limited edition flavor), because I cannot seem to get enough green foods in my life these days. I'm sure whatever hot sauce -- red, green, yellow, whatever -- you have on hand would be lovely. Heck, try a blend of two or three.
Ingredients
Instructions
1. Preheat the oven to 400º F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. Roughly chop the eggplant into 2-inch chunks. Spread in an even layer on the prepared pan. Drizzle lightly with 1 to 2 tablespoons of olive oil, and sprinkle with cumin, cayenne pepper, a few pinches of salt, and some grinds of black pepper. Don't bother tossing it; it'll be just fine. Tuck the bay leaves around the eggplant.
3. Roast for 30 to 40 minutes, or until the edges are browned and the flesh has softened.
4. Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large stock pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the diced onion, and stir to coat. While the onion softens, dice the remaining vegetables and add to the pot in the order listed (celery, green bell pepper, leek, and then garlic). Salt lightly. Stirring occasionally, cook until vegetables have softened (do not let them brown much).
5. Push the vegetables to one side, and add the anchovy (if using) to the bottom of the pan. Let it melt a little, then add the wine/vermouth/beer, and cook until nearly evaporated.
6. Add the stock, and increase the heat to high. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to maintain a simmer.
7. When the eggplant is finished roasting, add to the soup. This is easily done by lifting the parchment and sliding the whole business into the pot, including the bay leaves.
8. Cover the pot and simmer for 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until the eggplant skin has thoroughly softened. Remove the bay leaves.
9. Purée the mixture in a blender (and for gosh sake, be careful blending hot liquids), or with an immersion blender (which is much easier).
10. Whisk in the tahini, lemon juice, lime juice (if using), and a few shakes of hot sauce. Be conservative at first with the hot sauce; you can always add more later. Taste, and correct the seasoning as needed with salt, pepper, and hot sauce. The flavor should be a little tangy from the lemon juice, a little nutty from the tahini, and just hot enough to make you notice.
11. Serve hot, with a drizzle of olive oil on top and some grainy bread on the side.
https://onehundredeggs.com/roasted-eggplant-soup/I made some food recently. Maybe you’d like to see it?
This was a smoked duck and soba noodle soup, made with an ultra-reduced rabbit and pork stock, and garnished with a heavy hand of cilantro and green onions. AKA: stuff I had sitting around in the fridge (one of the perks of my job).
That stock was so thick with gelatin from being so concentrated, it did that gorgeous thing where it makes your lips all sticky, and you just sit there pressing your mouth together like a dweeb for five minutes just to feel it.
It’s a fried egg! Can’t beat a fried egg. This one seems to be on asparagus. I actually have no recollection of cooking this, but I like the photo.
We snagged some of that phenomenal Copper River salmon when it was here, and served it with a raw kale-avocado-lemon salad.
Here are some blueberries. They were lovely, but I didn’t do anything with them worth noting.
There’s a new recipe coming soon. I think you’ll like it.
Look at this pizza.
Just look at it.
Doesn’t that make you want to reach through the screen, pick a piece up, and eat the ever-lovin’ daylights out of it?
That’s precisely what I want to do every time I see a picture of a crust like that. Those uneven curves and bubbles. That char. The stray dust of flour on the edge. My god, I can smell it.
So it was when I saw the recent post on Lottie & Doof, about the latest pizza dough recipe from Jim Lahey. I saw it. I had to have it. And my life will never abide a lesser pizza from my oven again.
I thought I had found a great pizza crust recipe. Twice. Well, three times counting the recipe I turned to most often, scribbled in my all-purpose notebook with no source (of course).
But this one. Oh, this recipe.
Just delete all the other links you have to other pizza dough recipes, because this is the only one that will be worth making ever again. It’s dead simple, and it’s phenomenal. A crust like this from your own oven will make you think you can open your own pizza restaurant. You may want to resist that temptation.
Be warned, this no-knead beauty takes about 20-24 hours to prepare (mostly hands-off time, of course). Sure, you’ll fool around with some same-day recipes, and they will be… fine. They’ll do the job well enough. But you will know. You will dream of this crust. You will bite into The Other, and you will know what is lacking. And it will not satisfy you any longer.
Here is the recipe. I got 8 portions of dough out of that (use one per person). Halve it if you want, but be prepared to make it again immediately, because you will want it again immediately. Freeze what you don’t need after letting it rise the first 18 hours. And for the love of Pete, weigh your ingredients. In grams. Even the water (3 cups = 680 grams), because your measuring cup is not that accurate, and this recipe is perfect.
And then, as if it couldn’t get any better, I topped Plato’s Ideal Crust with salty country ham, tangy-sweet Boat Street pickled figs, crisp arugula, and blueberries. And my good god, it was only sublime.
If you think I’m exaggerating, behold. This pizza is so nice, I made it twice. I never make the same thing two nights in a row.
The proof is that the drinks in the photos are different. The first night was beer, the second night was white wine. Proof!
Seriously, though, go make you some pizza.
This recipe was born, as so many are, out of the random detritus found in my fridge. On this occasion, it included some Broadbent country ham left over from our Kentucky Derby party, and a jar of Boat Street Pickled Figs, which are one of the best things I've ever put in my mouth. I can't say good enough things about those pickled figs. Go get you a jar.
So once again, I am compelled to offer substitutions for obscure delicacies. Instead of country ham, use thickly-sliced prosciutto. Instead of pickled figs, use fresh (if you can stand to cook with them while they're in season). Or reconstitute some dried figs in a simmer of vinegar and red wine, port, orange juice, or all of the above. Throw in some herbs if you get a wild hair.
This is a white pizza. Don't go asking where is the tomato sauce, because there isn't any.
Ingredients
Instructions
1. Prepare the oven as directed here. They will do you right. If you need further assistance, maybe the advice from Lottie & Doof can help.
2. In a bowl, mix together the ricotta, mascarpone, thyme, cayenne, and pepper. Break or cut the country ham into bite-sized pieces.
3. To assemble the pizza, gently and evenly spread the ricotta mixture over the shaped pizza dough, leaving a 1-inch border around the edge. Top with the country ham and pickled figs.
4. Follow the baking instructions found here.
5. Remove from the oven, and scatter the arugula and blueberries over the top. Drizzle with a good-quality olive oil. Slice, serve immediately, and eat it with your hands.
https://onehundredeggs.com/country-ham-pizza-with-figs-blueberries/
Cauliflower roasted with curry, tossed with herbs. Served with bread, salad, cheese, and wine. A lovely Spring dinner.
On the first Saturday of May each year, I throw a Kentucky Derby party. It might just be my second favorite holiday, a close second to Christmas, which has significant charms (the tree! eggnog! sparkly lights!). Derby does have its significant charms as well (hats! Bourbon! ponies!).
Every Derby, I make a ridiculous hat, I have more Bourbon on hand than is humanly possible to consume (one assumes, anyway), I make sure the television is showing the race, and I like to serve deviled eggs. It just seems fitting.
Once in a great while, though, one makes too many deviled eggs. Hard to believe, but it does happen.
In such a case, one eats leftover deviled eggs for a day or two until there are no more hard-boiled egg whites left. (You do keep the prepared yolks and whites separate, and pipe your deviled eggs as needed throughout the party, yes? Which means that you don’t have to refrigerate precariously toothpicked and plastic-wrapped platters of eggs, and your set-out platters of eggs never get all dried out and nasty-looking, yes? Good. We’re all on the same page here.)
So let’s say that you’ve got about half a cup of deviled egg yolk action sitting in your fridge. And you’re all out of hard-boiled whites. What now?
Oh, honey child.
You make this, is what now. It’s so good you won’t even know what to do with yourself.
This was one of those dishes that gave me a moment of terror while making it. You know the moment: despite your most educated judgement, it’s the moment when you are deeply uncertain whether things are going to turn out completely awesome or completely horrible.
It’s a smashed-up avocado, mixed with spicy egg yolk, and briefly sautéed garlic and sardines (for umami and your sustainable Omega-3s). Thin the whole deal with pasta water and lemon juice, and toss it with your long, skinny pasta of choice. To seal the deal, top everything with a brave handful of smoked paprika bread crumbs. Because deviled egg requires paprika on top.
Can you tell that it was completely awesome? Do I even have to say it?
This is best served with a bowl of arugula drizzled with olive oil, and a glass of white wine made solely of grapes from Southeast-facing vineyards in the Beneventano appellation. Or, you know, whatever you’ve got on hand.
It's helpful to have everything ready to go before you start cooking (get yer mise en place!). Once that's done, it's basically: bang bang bang, dinner.
Okay, yes, I acknowledge that not everyone is going to have some leftover deviled egg yolk business sitting around. Or anyone, really. Since you probably don't, and you still want to make this recipe, you could just mix together two raw egg yolks, plus a tablespoon or two of mayonnaise, a spoonful of coarse mustard, and a heavy dose of sriracha (it needs more than you'd think). Smush or whisk in the avocado and sautéed garlic and sardines. When mixed with the hot pasta, it will thicken and cook slightly, carbonara-style.
If raw yolks aren't an option for you, just hard-boil a couple of eggs and eat the whites separately. It's all the work of deviled eggs, and none of the deviled eggs. But there is some incredible pasta instead.
Ingredients
Instructions
1. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a rolling boil. Cook pasta until just al dente, according to package directions. When done, drain, reserving about 1 cup of the cooking water. Keep warm.
2. Meanwhile, heat a sauté pan over medium heat. Add the sardines with some of the oil they were packed in, and the garlic. Cook briefly, breaking up the sardine fillets a bit, until garlic is fragrant and not too brown. Remove from heat.
3. While sardines and garlic cook, halve, pit, and scoop out the avocado into a large bowl. Smash together with the deviled egg yolks. Add the cooked sardines and garlic, and stir in the juice of half a lemon. Taste, and season to your liking with salt and pepper. The sauce will be very thick; whisk in some of the reserved pasta water as needed to thin (you will not need all of it).
4. In the same pan the sardines were cooked in, heat 2-3 teaspoons of olive oil over medium heat. Add the smoked paprika, thyme, and red pepper flakes. Cook for about 30 seconds, or until fragrant, to bloom the spices. Toss in the breadcrumbs, and stir to coat with the oil. Cook until crunchy and well-browned, 1-2 minutes. Remove from heat.
5. Toss the warm cooked pasta with the avocado-egg sauce, drizzling in additional reserved pasta water as needed to thin the sauce. Serve immediately, topped with a liberal handful of the spiced breadcrumbs.
Notes
Did you catch that deviled egg recipe in the headnotes, more or less? Here it is, and it rocks: smash up your hard-boiled egg yolks with some mayonnaise (use a light hand at first, you can always add more later). Add half as much coarse, spicy mustard. Add about the same amount of sriracha (it will look like you're adding way too much, but you really aren't). Mix together, and add salt and black pepper to taste. If it's too thick to pipe, add more mayonnaise (or sriracha) by the spoonful until it's just right. If it's too spicy for you, get over it. They're called "deviled" for a reason.
I know it’s probably dreadfully boring, and I promise this isn’t going to become a blog about rusks. But I thought I’d share photos from the Official Launch of Good Hope Rusks last Sunday at Dose Market, just in case some of you were interested. Hope you don’t mind.
Did I mention you can now order rusks online? Because you can order rusks online. That is all.
(And now, back to our regularly scheduled food programming.)
We had a Launch Party at a fabulous little restaurant, just the two of us, because I’ve never had a Launch Party for anything and it seemed like a wonderful thing to do.
Man, was it ever.
There was Champagne. Lamb sweetbreads with sorrel, asparagus, and feta. A hedonistically lush foie gras torchon. Crisp-skinned trout and lentils. After-dinner drinks. And there was an impeccably textured cream cheese panna cotta with strawberry compote and housemade graham crackers. With a candle, even. I love that restaurant so hard.
Happy Launch, rusks.
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