Culture Bitch

Yes, this is my blog.  I’m paying for the hosting and domain name and something inside me really wants to write about all my fabulous food and wine experiences but I have to say that I just don’t have the energy.  I’m busy at work (which is a non-food related job) and when I get home, all I want to do is relax.  Sometimes writing for the blog is very stressful.  Is my punctuation correct?  Typos?  I know if I spelled something wrong, my sister (who should be the Grammar Bitch) will let me know - so this is stressful.  But tonight, the eve of Thanksgiving, I feel compelled to give a little bitch.

Tomorrow I will be cooking for two: me and the Beer Bastard (who also sucks at posting).  If ever there is an opportunity to play with the Thanksgiving standards, this would be the year.  If I really had balls, I would roast the turkey on The Egg…but I don’t have balls.  So, I’m thinking about playing with the side dishes.  To get my creative juices flowing, I decide to search www.epicurious.com.  Here’s my bitch…how can you possibly rate a dish that you haven’t actually cooked?  Almost every single review contains at least one of the following qualifications:

“I made this exactly as the recipe indicates EXCEPT…”

• I didn’t have x, y, or z or I substituted a, b.
• I added x.
• I didn’t have x so I omitted it

This utimately results in comments like

• It wasn’t that great, I wouldn’t make again (maybe you should try making it first, not your ‘creative’ interpretation, which apparently sucked)
• It was too x.  (maybe that’s because you deviated from the f’ing recipe, Idiot)
• It was lacking something (gee, maybe the f’ing ingredient that you omitted!)

I get so irritated when I read these reviews.  I don’t mind people saying “I tried the recipe as written and it was ____ then I tried it by substituting x for y and I enjoyed it much more”.  I just really have an issue with people reviewing a recipe that you didn’t actually try.  You modified it.  You cannot rate a recipe that you did not actually make.  Period.

But here are the people I especially like.  The budding chefs who say stupid things like “I haven’t made this recipe but just looking at the ingredients, I wouldn’t like it”. These people are the worst.  What the heck?  Why are you even reviewing a recipe that you didn’t try?  I hate these people, they suck.

Ahh.  I feel so much better now.  Of course this doesn’t really help me with what to do with my Brussels sprouts tomorrow but you know what, I’m going to take some of these recipes and use the techniques and ingredients to make my own recipe.  One thing I will not do is rate the recipes that I didn’t actually make.

Thanks for reading the bitch.  There are lots of great things that I should write about including:

• Paris and La Tour D’Argent

• Truffle Dinner #2

• What I did with my first fresh white truffles

Maybe a long weekend will motivate me to write.  You should be so lucky.  Happy Thanksgiving!

Like most foodies (which in my definition simply means anyone who loves and appreciates a truly well-cooked meal), I owe a lot to Julia Child. She was an inspiration to many, and continued to entertain, enlighten and encourage many a home cook well into her 80s as she cooked her way through classics and updated dishes alike. Her autobiography, My Life in France, was, for me, one of the most inspiring books on perseverance and living life to the fullest.

With the recent movie Julie & Julia, there has been a resurgence of interest in Julia’s classic Mastering the Art of French Cooking. It seems the reprints are on every bookstore’s front table, and there are numerous reviews of the book and its recipes. A good bit of the discussion centers around whether the recipes contained therein, which Julia worked on for many, many years with her co-authors, Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle, are really applicable to the the modern home cook in 2009.

While the movie touched upon it some, her autobiography gives a much fuller picture of Julia’s goal with that book. She was attempting to make French cuisine - which at the time almost no American wife even considered making at home - accessible and realistic, without dumbing down the recipes. They are still authentically French in spirit, but sometimes substitute ingredients that would be more commonly found in a suburban supermarket in the 1960s. For example, she regularly lists dried herbs where now it is more common to find fresh.

I’ve had the cookbook for some time, but had yet to really try any recipe in full; I use it more as a reference/resource. After seeing the movie, however, I figured I owed it to myself to try the boeuf bourguignon recipe. Now, I’ve made boeuf bourguignon many times…but not Julia’s recipe. The only recipe I ever use is the one from Anthony Bourdain’s Les Halles cookbook. (Actually, I did once try a Cook’s Illustrated recipe that was ridiculously complex (7 hours! 4 pots! Egads, Julia’s recipe takes under 4 hours and only three pots) and which resulted in a good, but not spectacular, stew.)  I’m a huge fan of Tony Bourdain, his cooking, his personality, his style. The cookbook is well laid out, every recipe is wonderfully written, and the ones I’ve tried produce classic bistro dishes that make you feel like you’re in France (the soupe a l’oignon, for starters). His irreverent style comes through, but does not get in the way of explaining the details you need to understand to do things correctly.

Tony’s boeuf bourguignon recipe is incredibly easy and consistently produces one of the best plates of food I’ve ever had. I have no qualms about making this for company, as it always turns out perfectly. So, yesterday it was with some trepidation and feelings of disloyalty that I set out to make not Tony’s, but Julia’s boeuf bourguignon.

As with many “classic” recipes, especially a rustic country dish such as this one, there are many variations on the recipe. (Do you know any two people who make a chicken pot pie the same way?) Some use pearl onions, some don’t; amounts of wine vary; some use bacon, etc. The basics don’t change, however: cubed beef is seared in some type of fat, some aromatics are added, wine/water/stock is added, and it is left to cook for hours until the beef is fork-tender.

So, some general observations about the differences between the recipes: Where Tony’s recipe uses only one cup of wine, Julia’s uses a bottle. Julia’s calls for a good amount of bacon, none in Tony’s. Tony’s recipe includes carrots as a true ingredient of the finished stew (6 whole carrots added near the beginning, to Julia’s one); Julia’s includes mushrooms, sautéed separately in butter and added at the end to the finished pot, and Tony’s does not. And then there’s the matter of onion: while Tony’s recipe has you add four thinly sliced onions at the beginning, which cook down with the stew and almost melt into the sauce, Julia’s adds only one, but then includes pearl onions (once again, cooked separately in butter and then braised in beef stock) added to the finished stew at the end.

The verdict? Well, Julia’s was good, there’s no doubt. But overall, not better than Tony’s, if I’m being completely honest. I like the un-fussy-ness of the Les Halles recipe. I’m not really a fan of pearl onions, and for me there’s no reason to add an hour-long sauté-and-braise step into the mix. I also like carrots as a real presence in the final dish. What I will steal from Julia, though, is the full bottle of wine (is anyone reading this surprised?). This undoubtedly added to the body and texture of the finished sauce, which was excellent. I also think I will continue to add in the sautéed mushrooms at the end; this was an easy enough step that did add something wonderful to the flavor.

So, in the end, I may end up with something of a hybrid recipe; Boeuf Bourguignon à la Wine Bitch, anyone?

Santé!

Perhaps its the fall temperatures that blew in a few weeks ago, but I’ve been on a cooking binge. I have always enjoyed cooking, but lately I find I’m really throwing myself into it with new purpose. I made fresh pasta for the first time (so easy and soooo good), and cooked with short ribs, which I’d never used before. However, I do find that I still tend to gravitate to the same dishes week after week. Good though they are (one can never have too much spaghetti aglio olio), I really want to expand our culinary horizons, and not just when we have company.

Unfortunately, I have an extreme distaste for visiting supermarkets, to a degree most people find odd. This, combined with a lack of imagination when suddenly confronted with piles of produce, whether at a farmer’s market or a store, leads me to buy the same old standby vegetables and make the same old dishes I’m already comfortable with.

For that reason, as well as the fact that I want to support local food sources, and try to buy organic as much as possible, I joined my first CSA last week. It actually took me a while to find a CSA that worked for us both in terms of pickup location, and wasn’t already full. Hence, the reason I’m just getting to one in October. I found Enterprise Farm via the Boston Localvore blog, and discovered they had a fall share that runs September through November; because I was joining a bit late (last week), they offered a pro-rated rate, as well as a “small” share size, and had a pickup right near my house. Perfect!

Last Wednesday I arrived at my pickup location to get my box of goodies. A newsletter had been emailed the day before, so I had an idea of what might be in the box, but as with all CSAs it depends on the crop. There appeared to be just about everything that had been on the list. I received:

2 tomatoes
6 tomatillos
3 pears
one delicata squash
a bag of baby potatoes
2 bunches of baby bok choy
a huge bag of arugula
2 onions
a bunch of carrots
a bunch of collard greens
one head of green cabbage

I suspected (and was right) that the CSA box of veggies would push me to find new recipes for items I may not normally buy. As a friend recently commented to me, “it’s like your own Iron Chef show.” (Thankfully I’m not being timed.) So, how did I fare with this first week? Well, over the course of the seven days, I have used:

• the delicata squash and several potatoes, cubed and roasted in the oven with oil, thyme, salt & pepper
• all of the onions & carrots, two ways: in a pan sauce for duck breasts, as well as to make a shrimp stock
• about half the arugula, for a shrimp risotto with arugula pesto
• all of the collard greens, sauteed with pancetta as a side dish
• the cabbage, from which I made a gigantic bowl of coleslaw
• one of the tomatoes, in grilled cheese & marinated tomato sandwiches
• all of the bok choy, sauteed with garlic as a side dish
• one pear, brought to work for a snack

I still have the tomatillos, two pears, one tomato and half a bag of arugula left. I had never had a delicata squash before, and discovered it is really delicious, so hopefully I’ll get another one this week (it’s on the list). The arugula pesto is something I never would have thought to make before, but was good and is definitely a keeper. The collard greens and boy choy are items I probably never would have bought on my own, so I’m glad I tried them, and would buy them again, though as a leafy green I still prefer swiss chard.

Not being a fan of cooked cabbage, I discovered there’s really no uncooked dish you can make with a cabbage beside coleslaw. And a head of cabbage makes a LOT of coleslaw. Thankfully, cabbage is not in this week’s distribution.

Some of the items in this week’s list are the same (carrots, potatoes, onions, tomatoes), as well as a few new ones that I’m looking forward to (spinach, sweet corn, eggplant, peppers). A couple of things I’m completely unfamiliar with are on the list: Mizuna and Tatsoi. I don’t have the slightest idea what do to with either of those. (Food Bastard, any suggestions?)

All in all, I enjoyed my first week of challenging myself not just to find new recipes, but use as much of the produce as possible. Hopefully I can keep up the pace. Stay tuned!

“One who does not know how to entertain, should not entertain.”

“If one cannot entertain, do the dishes.”

It has been about a month since I returned on a very special trip to the region of Galicia and the city of Barcelona.  Having traveled through Spain years ago, I left the first time with a sense of disappointment about the food.  I felt like I totally missed the boat on what Spain had to offer in the culinary world.  This trip definitely made up for it.

Galicia - Palmeira

Most people have never even heard of this area of Spain.  In my mind, this little fishermans town is what heaven looks like.  I felt as if I was taken back to an era long forgotten.  Little terra cotta roofs of stone houses line tiny cobblestone streets with the ocean in the foreground and the lush green mountains in the background.  Some of the worlds best seafood comes from this area which is comprised of a series of bays the lead into Portugal.  The people ( affectionately called Gallegos) are as warm and welcoming as can be.  Below are a few of my favorite food moments;

A Kunka:  A small but bustling tapas bar in the center of a little town called Puebla.  Traditional plates such as patatas bravas, Tortilla Con Patate Y Queso, Queso Tetilla, and Pimiento Di Padron were all briskly brought to the table.  As I sat there drinking a glass of local Albarino and aggressively sampling all these simple dishes I realized how amazing Spanish culture is.  It’s a Monday night at 11:00 p.m. and the locals are all out enjoying conversation over a glass of wine or a beer and eating delicious local fare.  Before I could reflect for another minute, more food came to the table.  Pulpo Alla Feria (octopus), Razor clams, and baby fried calamari (some with the ink still present).  This seafood is literally traveling an 1/8 of a mile to get to the bar to be served.  Note; if you have a problem with copious amounts of sea salt and fried food, don’t come to Spain.

El Meson and Arume; One of the things I found so amazing about Spain was that even the worker or laborer during the day needs a nice hot meal during lunch time (the main meal of the day).  So there are many bars / cafes that serve the “menu del dia” or menu of the day.  It is usually three courses and includes wine, water and a delicious cortado (espresso with steamed milk) at the end.  I’ll never forget going to Arume and sitting down to a lunch of fresh steamed mussels (the best in the world and the best I’ve EVER tasted) that were served on a platter that could have fed 3 people.  It was followed by churrasco which was pork spareribs roasted in the oven with herbs and olive oil.  They were served on yet another silver platter with fried potatoes.  I was wondering if they were being served family style for the table but I was informed by my gracious hosts that the platter was in fact just MY portion.  I probably looked like an animal eating these pork ribs and drinking my red table wine but it was just that good!  I didn’t want to leave anything on the plate.  Just when I thought I couldn’t eat or drink anymore I was served a Torta Di Santiago; a warm almond cake dusted with powdered sugar which is named after the major city nearby.  A hot cortado and a “copa” of brandy was served alongside and I was in heaven.  Here’s the kicker of these meals.  All of this was 9 Euros per person.  That equates to roughly $14 dollars per person.  No this was not an unusual instance.  These places exhist all over.  So who says that all of Europe is expensive.  If I ate like this at $14 per meal I’d be a very happy man.

Olagar (Condado 7 15940 A Pobra A caraminal A Coruna):   My hosts that were from this area of Spain were so incredibly gracious.  They decided to take me to a very special dinner to their local “high end” restaurant.  The spot was beautiful and you could tell that this type of restaurant in this area was few and far between.  We in fact were the only table for dinner which didn’t actually surprise me since most people have their main meal at lunch time (hence the restaurants busy time).

First Course:  Mussels a la Plancha, Roasted bay scallops in the shell, fresh melon with a yogurt sauce and aged balsamic, potato croquettes with serrano ham and cheese.  They may have been the most delicious croquette known to man.  (My quest for the best croquette in Spain continued to Barcelona as well)

Entree:  Risotto of fresh seafood (similar to a paella but richer), Lenguada (sole) over poached potatoes with baby shrimp and leeks.   This sole may have been of the most memorable seafood entrees I’ve ever had as it should since seafood is king in this area.

Dessert; We were all way too full to enjoy dessert so little “piedras” or stones of almonds coated in dark chocolate and cocoa powder were brought to the table.  They were the perfect way to end the evening.  We also enjoyed a bottle of Peccado which is a very up and coming red wine from the area of Galicia.

The next morning I sadly left Palmeira and this beautiful piece of heaven.  I hopped on the plain from Santiago and by 4:00 p.m. I was in Barcelona ready to party.

Barcelona

Barcelona was quite interesting in many ways.  The language was different (Catalan) and the scenery was quite a change from what I had just experienced.  My life long friend picked me up at the airport and off we went back to his 7th floor flat that had the most amazing terrace overlooking the city.  Barcelona is very gothic in its architecture and at times one can find it very mysterious and almost scary.  The people of the city are quite the opposite; friendly and hip.  I unpacked my luggage and my friend told me, “I hope you are ready to walk a lot, eat a lot and drink a lot” LETS GO!

“Canya’s” of Estrella beer (the beer of Barcelona) begin the evening.  It’s great to see old friends doing so well in BCN (the airport code for Barcelona which I will use from here on out).  My host whisks me and his girlfriend off to this amazing rustic spot for dinner called:

Taverna Can Margarit (Poble Sec);  An amazing rustic trattoria of sorts that is run by a bunch of old gay men that are completely entertaining.  We walk in and see huge barrels of wine lining the walls.  The place looks as if it’s been around for 100 years.  The walls are stone and everything is old.  As we wait for our table (you always wait in Europe.  No one seems to ever be in a rush to get things done.  This was hard for me being a NY’er but I appreciated it).  We are offered little glasses and take them to the barrels to fill up on our choice of wine.  We chat while drinking delicious house wine.  Once seated I’m informed that the roasted rabbit here is the thing to get.  I’m all for it so I let my host do the ordering.  Before I realize it, food starts to appear at the table.  When in Spain don’t plan on ordering your own entree like we would do in the USA.  The portions in Spain are HUGE and everything is meant to share.  Fried white beans come out, bacala with olives and potatoes served chilled as a salad, fried potatoes and very large slices of rustic bread slathered with a tomato spread.  My friend tells me that bread is almost always served this way in BCN unless you ask for it without tomato.  Next course comes out; the rabbit!  It’s a baby rabbit broken down and roasted until the outside is almost mahogany color.  It is served on a bed of whole roasted garlic cloves and tons of onions with fresh rosemary.  The meat is salty and delicious.  For dessert they offer something very good for the table; a tastings of custards/flans.  They arrive and all dive in with spoons.  Almond, coconut, chocolate, raisin and peach all were served in the family style tasting dessert.  Overall, another amazing dinner and that was when the night really started to get good.  Shots of absynthe at BCN’s oldest bar and more beers dragged late into the night but then again I’ll save that for another blog hehehe.

Enopia:  So everyone hears about Ferran Adria @ El Bulli.  I admire his cooking and his success but I honestly have more respect for his brother Albert who owns this hip tapas bar called Enopia.  It was so damn cool and so hip I wanted to throw up.  Where else is there a tapas bar with a red velvet rope in front where the guy takes your name and puts it on the wait list.  If you ask how long he replies “I dont know.”  Despite the laissez faire attitude once you’re inside the staff is friendly and down to earth.  Here’s my advice at Enopia, just continue to order.  The croquettes (a tie with Olagar) were so damn good I ordered them two times.  Tapas from tuna to mixed olives came to the tiny table.  The food here was treated with amazing care and technique.  The best part about this restaurant besides the fact that it was remarkably cheap for the high level of food we received was that everyone around you (including the staff) was having a great time.  No one looked pissed off.  It was impossible not to smile and want to order another bottle of wine.  If I lived in BCN I’d def be regular here.  Check this place out online.  Their website is absolutely off the wall.

I won’t bother you with all the amazing pastries and croissants I enjoyed while walking around BCN but make sure you take time to stop and enjoy them over a hot espresso.  There were really too many other little dining experiences to list and quite frankly I’m getting sick of typing (as I’m sure you’re getting sick of reading about all my “amazing, life changing food moments) so I will leave you with one final story / tip of a great place to go

Saturday morning we all wake up and head to the Mercado which is the covered markets that host vendors of all types selling seafood, meats, cheese and amazing Spanish hams.  There are also produce vendors selling beautiful fruits and vegetables.  Inside this particular Mercado was Bar Boqueria;

Basically this spot is a tiny 30 foot by 15 foot cube that all the employees are inside by the plancha and flat tops etc etc cooking the food and serving beer/ wine to the bar stools that surround it.  You bascially have to stalk people eating and wait behind their bar stool to grab a place to eat so coming here with a party of six is not happening.  We finally grab bar stools for us all (it was like being in a trendy NY bar trying to grab seats at the bar).  Cava and beer start flowing and we all start ordering out of control.  All your basic tapas start showing up but platters of fresh fried seafood and broiled fish appear as well.  The seafood was glistening in olive oil with wedges of lemon on the side.  I knew I was enjoying when I saw the olive oil start dripping down my arm.  It was the most raw and unpolished form of Spanish food I had the entire time and a memory I will not forget.  Everyone sitting at these bar stools was having a great time enjoying simple spanish tortillas, croquettes, ham, and seafood while drinking a cold beer or a glass of wine.  No frills but tons of flavor!

This trip to Spain is going to be hard to top.  I owe it all to my friends who graciously showed me around and introduced me to the greatest restaurants, bakeries, coffee spots and little holes in the walls of their respective towns.  I am so fortunate to have had this experience.  These opportunities cannot be bought with money.  They simply happen by fate and are to be cherished!  Bon Profit! (Bon Apetit in Catelan).

…there were two foodies in search of a great meal, reasonably priced. Lo and behold, they found something special: an underground supper club, of a sort.

I had come across the concept of these secret dining events in various articles and blogs, and finally found one that seemed right up our alley: O.N.C.E., or “One Night Culinary Event”. Run by a local chef, it’s an almost completely locally-sourced meal, made of seasonal ingredients, prepared and served by the chef and her several assistants, in a location to be determined, scheduled as the whim strikes them.

We found out about the most recent one just a few days before it was to happen, so we had to move fast, sending off a check and hoping we got our money’s worth.

Did we ever.

Advertised as a “multi course locavore familystyle dinner party,” the theme for this O.N.C.E. was LOL, or Lots of Lobster. We were assured there would be at least four tastings of lobster. Best of all, the event was BYOB. How bad could that be?

On the appointed evening, Book Bastard and I showed up, two chilled bottles of Macon-Villages in hand to a large non-descript building near Union Square in Somerville, which apparently houses some sort of artist cooperative. There was a large kitchen/office/living space that had been converted into a makeshift dining room, set with some real tables, a few folding tables, lots of tray tables in front of couches & comfy chairs. It was like some huge, crazy dinner party and the atmosphere was convivial and fun. Just about everyone had a view of the open kitchen where the chef and her team worked to prepare and serve each course.

Although there were a couple of tables for two set, Book Bastard and I decided to be social and chose a table of four, mainly so we could have a better view of the kitchen, and hoping we got some good dinner companions. Happily, a lovely older couple sat with us, and we had a great time talking about our shared love of food and, especially, travel. We exchanged travel tales, and picked up some great recommendations for a potential future barge trip in France.

The meal itself - seven courses in all - was well paced and delicious. The first course, a sort of amuse-bouche, was what the chef referred to as “the world’s tiniest surf & turf”. Servers came around with one platter of toothpicked-skewered cubes of a roast with au jus to dip it in, and another platter of lobster chunks with a rich butter sauce. I could easily have eaten the entire platter of lobster. It was a deliciously cruel tease.

Next up was a pumpkin risotto, which was creamy and very good, though I thought it could have had a little more seasoning. Not a huge complaint though, as the pumpkin flavor was clear and good.

Another lobster course, a chilled lobster salad atop a fried green tomato. This was one of my favorites of the night. I confess I’d never had a fried green tomato, and it made me a fan. The tartness of the green tomato was a great complement to the sweet lobster, and the crispness of the breading gave a great texture. A third lobster dish followed, lobster ravioli with a butternut squash sauce, which contained a hint of vanilla. Each component separately was delicious, but Book Bastard and our tablemates all thought the sauce was too overpowering for the ravioli. I found them good, and the lobster taste evident, provided you didn’t put too much sauce on the pasta. (Side note: I think the ravioli would have been amazing in the butter sauce passed with the first course.)

Next up was an arugula and apple salad, and the apples had been sauteed in bacon fat. ‘Nuff said. Yum.

And finally, my absolute favorite dish of the evening: Goan Lobster Curry. I love spice, and heat. This curry had some serious heat, but not just heat, as you could really smell and taste individual spices, including the sweetness of cinnamon, combined with the heat of cayenne. The sweet richness of the lobster was perfect for this curry, which was served over a fragrant basmati rice. I could have eaten several bowls.

After that, what could you have but dessert? To cool the palate, there was a lychee icecream served over wedges of local pale green watermelon. This was a lovely, refreshing finish to a great meal.

There is no question that we will be keeping an eye out for the next O.N.C.E., and looking forward to another fun evening shared with foodies like us.

So I must admit I’ve been rather absent from this site over the past few months.  In all honesty I’ve been enjoying food at home and growing my heirloom tomatoes on my deck.  This sunday I embark on a tour de force through the western coast of Spain by Portugal in search of the best seafood I’ve ever tasted and then off to Barcelona.  I’m sure I will have quite a few things to write about after I return so stay tuned.  Ciao.

Food bastard

…as in, the big four-oh. Forty. 40. I’m typing it a few times, in an attempt to become comfortable with it. Because, you see, this Wine Bitch is turning forty (gulp) in seven days.

I woke up this morning and had a moment of sheer panic. When did this happen? I feel like it was only yesterday I was turning 30. Those ten years - the best of my life so far - have flown by in a blur of apartments, job changes, travel, family, friends, travel, buying our first home, and more travel, all shared with the best man in the world, Book Bastard. So fun, but so fast.

Actually, it’s not that I mind having a birthday, per se. I don’t mind that I’m getting older; everyone does, it’s no big deal. I’m certainly not one of those people who bemoans the loss of my misspent youth. I love my life, I’ve done lots of cool things and plan to do more.

No, what I’m having a hard time with is the sound of it, the actual word: forty. FORTY. I loved turning thirty. Thirty sounded fun, exciting, mature in a good way. Forty, on the other hand, sounds old.

And the problem is, I don’t feel old. I certainly don’t feel forty. A couple of years ago there were articles declaring that “Fifty is the new thirty!”. So does that make forty the new twenty? Well, I guess I don’t really want to be 20 again. But I also don’t want to “be” forty.

Perhaps the problem is the way it sounds in English. Quarante. Definitely sounds better in French. Je suis quarante. OK, not so bad, I can get used to that. I could embrace it: Ich bin vierzig! That sounds fierce, like some Germanic tribeswoman. Er, not quite the image I’m trying to project. Jeg er førti. Not enough subterfuge in my Norwegian heritage, alas. Sono quaranta. You can always count on Italian for making anything sound sexy.

But in my head, I can distinctly hear my very sensible Scottish great-grandmother, who lived to 84 and looked at everything with a glass-half-full eye, say, in her inimitable brogue: “Och, aye, so you’ll be forrrty, dinnae greet abou’ it, lass! Hav’ a wee cup o’ tea.”

Quite right…with one exception: my wee cup o’ tea is going to be a big ol’ bottle of Veuve Clicquot, shared with good friends. Eh bien, je suis quarante. Santé!

One thing I love about where I live is the abundance of farmers’ markets from which to choose. I’m lucky enough to have two during the week right near my office, as well as one a short walk from my house on Saturday mornings, which means from May to October, I can spend much less time at my local supermarket. Which makes me very happy, as I’m coming to detest supermarkets lately, but that’s for another blog.

Aside from getting delicious fresh veggies and supporting local farmers, a wonderful benefit of shopping the markets is that you get more in tune with what’s in season throughout the year. This is the first year I have discovered the wonders of Swiss chard - the red variety particularly. Sautéed with garlic, fresh nutmeg and folded into a gruyère tart, it is sublime.

The greens have been out in the markets for a while, but what I’ve really been waiting for are the first zucchini, tomatoes and eggplants to make their appearance. Along with some basil, these are the foundations of any good ratatouille, a staple dish in the south of France and, with a slight reinvention, now the WineBitch/BookBastard household.

While ratatouille is typically a side dish, it’s been so humid lately that I was not in the mood to cook much and thought it would be good as the main dish for dinner the other night. I didn’t think to pick up a baguette on the way home, which would have been my accompaniment of choice, so I turned to my second-favorite carb: pasta. Having perused a good number of ratatouille recipes in the past (which, among French chefs, appear to have infinite variations), I went back to a recipe from Jacques Pepin’s Cuisine Economique. Rather than slices, he cuts the vegetables into (roughly) 1/2 inch pieces (so they are about all the same). The recipe is also unique in that it is a simpler, faster assembly - just what I was looking for on a hot weeknight.

Using Jacques’ recipe as a base, but with a few variations, this became a phenomenally simple and delicious sauce for penne rigate. So delicious that Book Bastard commented, twice, “this is really good, we should make this again!”  The amounts below made just enough for a hearty dinner for two, with a bit leftover for a solo lunch the next day (which, I might add, was even tastier).

Ratatouille Pasta

1 small onion
1/2 green bell pepper
1 small or 1/2 large zucchini
1 small eggplant
crushed red pepper, to taste
dried thyme, about 1/2 tsp
salt & pepper to taste
1 large ripe tomato
6-8 cloves of garlic
large handful of basil leaves, ripped, chopped or chiffonaded (however fancy you’re feeling)

Sauté the onion and bell pepper first in a large skillet with a generous amount of olive oil for about 3-4 minutes until soft, then add the zucchini, eggplant, and spices. Cook over a med/low flame for 15-20 minutes; enough liquid comes out of the veggies that they shouldn’t scorch, but stir them now and then to prevent any sticking. Meanwhile, boil whatever pasta you’re using.

Towards the end of the cooking, add the tomatoes & garlic; cook another minute or two, then toss in about a glassful of white wine. Let this simmer on low for a few more minutes, then add your cooked pasta to the skillet (save some of the cooking water in case you need to enhance the sauce). Add the basil, toss to be sure everything is mixed well, and serve with, bien sur, a cold glass of provençal rosé. Santé!

Last night, Book Bastard and I decided to check out Ronnarong, a small place in Union Square, Somerville which bills itself as a “Thai Tapas Bar”. We originally heard about it from a neighbor, and the reviews on Yelp have been great.

When we arrived, we realized the place was indeed tiny, with about 8 seats at the bar and only a handful of tables, all of which were full. The proprietor, a petite Thai woman, greeted us warmly and said it would be about 15 minutes for a table, so we decided to wait. There was one seat open at the bar, which I took, and no sooner had I done so than she reappeared with a stool for Book Bastard, two glasses of water, and a basket of those delectable shrimp chips I love at Thai restaurants. Even though the place was tiny and there was very little room, she made us feel welcome and brought menus right over for us to review while we waited.

Ronnarong has a decent selection of wine and beer. The wine list was not huge but thoughtfully covered a range of styles and grapes, including Verdejo, Riesling, Gewurtztraminer, Torrontes, as well as the usual Sauv Blanc & Chard. Just one wine of each type, but well chosen for the given style.

I actually decided to start with one of their “house” cocktails, an unusual choice for me, but this sounded very good for such a warm night: Thai Sangria, which was a combo of sake, rosé wine, basil, lemongrass, ginger and tropical fruit. It was sweet, as you’d expect, but not overpowering and a really nice starting drink for what turned out to be a delicious meal.

Within about ten minutes a table opened up. All of the tables are lined up along one long wall, with the wall side being a bench seat with large, comfy pillows behind your back. It’s cozy without being awkward.

The menu included one page of “tapas” - small plate items that you could combine to make a meal, or simply order as a starter. We opted for three of the tapas: Spicy Asian Broccoli, Paradise Beef, and a Shrimp Fresh Roll. All three were very good. The first was lightly sauteed with a rich sauce that had a tangy and garlicky flavor. Not as spicy as I expected, but delicious nonetheless. The Paradise Beef was a dried beef, that was then deep fried and had a sweet, sticky glaze.  Definitely a more unusual appetizer - a bit like a dried satay, it had a lovely flavor but there was more than we really wanted even on the small plate.

Easily the standout of the three was the Fresh Roll. On the plate were two whole spring rolls, sliced into five pieces each, and they had clearly been freshly made, with large chunks of shrimp and crisp vegetables rolled inside the rice wrapper. The dipping sauce was a light, sweet/sour sauce with minutely diced cucumber and carrot. At only five dollars each, the tapas are an amazingly good value and great way to try a few different tastes.

For an entree, we shared an order of Pad Kee Mao, or “Drunken Noodles”, is a dish made with wide egg noodles, chili peppers, garlic, and both yellow and green squash as well as whatever protein you choose to order with it. We decided on chicken, which was good - nice strips of white chicken, well cooked but still moist. The dish was a great size to share; anything more would have been too much food.

We will definitely be going back to Ronnarong, especially to try other of the tapas. The service was lovely, the atmostphere comfortable, and the food very, very good. I suspect this may supplant Tamarind House (Mass Ave, Cambridge) as our new favorite Thai place.

Ronnarong
255 Washington Street
Union Square, Somerville