Home cooking comfort

 In less than two weeks I’ll be landing at Boston’s Logan International Airport (May 16). I am scheduled to start a three-month internship at America’s Test Kitchen in Brookline, Mass. The internship starts on May 26, so I’ll have some time to get acclimated to the area and the new living quarters.

Ah, I’ve been spoiled living at home, especially with cooking. Between equipment, fresh herbs in the backyard and spices in the cabinet, I’ve rarely given thought to the fortunes of having access to these items. Now, with moving to Massachusetts, the thought of baking brownies only to realize the apartment doesn’t have a suitable pan makes me tremble. My dad and I visited the place in March, but didn’t take a thorough kitchen inventory. Questions circulate such as: Will there be a coffee pot,  rubber spatula and a whisk? I guess I could ask the man renting out the room.

And what to do when the cupboard contains salt, pepper and cinnamon and I have a piece of fish, some brown rice and Swiss chard? Oh, it will be an adventure in more ways than one. Please check back as I will try to give updates to the meals I’m cooking.

So while I had some time at home and mom and dad were away in Lake Arrowhead last weekend, I made brown sugar shortbread, a recipe that appeared in Jenn Garbee’s story for the Los Angeles Times. On Saturday, for lunch, I baked red snapper filets. I topped the snapper with a mixture of bread crumbs from the freezer, a bit more than a tablespoon of mayonnaise-relish combination, a half to a teaspoon of Dijon mustard, chopped capers, chopped, fresh flat-leaf parsley and lemon zest. The fish baked in a 425-degree oven for about 14 minutes. The bread crumbs turned golden (dark in spots) and crisped atop the tender fish (left side of plate).

The capers provided a salty punch to the tasty topping. I took some inspiration from America’s Test Kitchen’s television episode on oven-fried fish. Click here for a brief overview.  One tip: if the filet thins out toward one end, tuck it underneath, so the fish cooks evenly.

 

 I am a purist when it comes to shortbread. I prefer granulated sugar to brown sugar. This shortbread is buttery, crumbly, and moist. Just four ingredients, parchment paper, two eight-inch cake pans (ah the pans) and an oven and there’s shortbread to eat right now and some in the freezer. I could take some to Bible study on Wednesday night.

For dinner Saturday night, I made the fried pepper pasta recipe from this May’s edition of Saveur magazine, roasted asparagus finished with lemon-horseradish butter and bread with parsley butter.

I substituted dried guajillo chiles for the peppers and anchovy paste for filets. I cut 2 1/2 tomatoes into 1-to-1 1/2-inch pieces instead of cherry tomatoes. It was a good thing there were extra chiles. I burnt the first batch.

The recipe calls for you to toast the chiles in olive oil for 45 seconds. I went beyond that. Below left is the first batch. Below right is the second.

The anchovy paste sizzled, spread and sent smoke from the skillet. I turned the fan on and opened the side door.

If you are concerned about oil splatters on the stovetop, arrange towels around the pan. Didn’t do this, so cleanup also included time at the stovetop with glass cleaner and paper towels.

But dinner turned out tasty. The play of the  chiles, with a texture like a soft, thin and brittle beef jerky, with the sauce of sweet tomatoes

( I added some sugar), garlic and anchovy paste, and the bread crumbs was a delight. If you like heat, keep the seeds from the chiles. I took one bite and needed a few minutes for the tastebuds to calm.  I would make this dish again.

I kept the asparagus warm in a 200-degree oven, but the tips shriveled. The stalks still tasted earthy with the subtle addition of butter with horseradish and lemon zest. Hmmm…this butter may go well with salmon!

The 2007 Sainte-Croix, a blend of 50 percent  Syrah and 50 percent Merlot, tasted of sweet cherries. May not have been the best blend for this meal with the garlic, but it was a pleasure to drink.