An Ode to Summer

Truth be told, I’m not one of those summer fanatics. In my mind, it generally means mosquito bites, obscenely stinky subways and generally city-scum-sticking-to-skin-griminess. On the other hand it also means flip flops (the easiest shoe solution ever), tans, my birthday, a certain sexy sweaty sultriness and an overflowing farmers market. Sadly, I haven’t taken as much advantage as I have in past years, as my proximity to the greenmarket has widened considerably (one of the only downsides of moving to an outer borough). So, as Labor Day imminently looms on the horizon, I figured it was time to do some carpe dieming and get some summer in my kitchen.

Now, my goal in going to the market was to get some plants for the house. But I spied with my little eye all sorts of things that simply wouldn’t allow me to focus on the task at hand. So quickly I bought some Swiss Ivy to provide a green cascading curtain down the frame of the porch and moved right along to the tomatoes. Now, Heirloom tomato shopping is a truly overwhelming experience sometimes. So many different colors and shapes and sizes each beckoning you to try their distinct juicy goodness-- how do you choose? I couldn’t. So instead I bought a little pre-arranged basket of mixed tomatoes, let someone else deal with that struggle! I also got some mini bell peppers (about the size of munchkins), some plums and some blueberries. Contentedly, and with rather full arms, I made my way home.

A certain gentleman, knowing my inability to eat wheat and occasional need for something sweet (the rhyme was an accident, I swear), bought me an ice-cream maker for my birthday this year. It’s bright red and I love it. But, given the move and all that I haven’t had a chance to use it in the past month that I’ve had it, so finally yesterday I did. I made Blueberries and Cream Ice Cream and not only was the color stunning but it tasted good too. I loved just standing over the machine watching the arm churn as my purple puddle turned into ice cream. There is something very pleasurable about taking a scant few ingredients and transforming them into something totally different, but still altogether familiar.

The plums and peppers got eaten as is, some just wiped off on the edge of my t-shirt and consumed before they even made it to Queens. The tomatoes got turned into a very basic Heirloom Tomato and Basil Salad. I must admit that making that salad was so much fun. Not that there was any actual cooking involved. But slicing into each tomato was like a discovery. Each was different in color and texture than the one before. Much like the ice cream, this was about taking a flavor that exists in nature and doing very little tinkering just to enhance it.

In fact, a lot of this “cooking” I did was more assembling and observing. I rather enjoy observational cooking, especially on those muggy days of summer when a blasting oven simply does not sound appealing. But for right now, as I anticipate the nostalgia I will feel for the summer when the streets are filled with mucky slush, I will enjoy the simplicity that is summer cooking. And maybe, in the meantime, I’ll sneaky a passing glance or two at some foxy sweaty thing walking by me on the street . . .

Blueberries and Cream Ice Cream
adapted from, Williams-Sonoma Ice Cream
2 cups fresh blueberries (or frozen)
3/4 cup water
1 cup sugar
1 cup heavy cream
1 T fresh lemon juice

1) In a heavy 2-qt saucepan combine blueberries, water and sugar. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally to help dissolve the sugar. Reduce the heat to medium and simmer for about 1 minute. Remove from heat and let stand for 30 minutes to steep.
2) Transfer mixture to food processor. Process until smooth, about 1 minute. Strain through a fine-meshed sieve in a bowl. Cover and refrigerate until chilled, at least 3 hours up to 24.
3) Add the cream and lemon juice to the blueberry puree and stir to combine.
4) Pour the mixture into an ice-cream maker and freeze according to the manufacturer’s instructions. Transfer to a freezer-safe container. Cover and freeze until firm at least 3 hours or up to 3 days, before serving.
yields 1 quart

Heirloom Tomato and Basil Salad
1 quart small Heirloom tomatoes, quartered
2 T good extra virgin olive oil
1 t good coarse seal salt
1/2 clove garlic, minced
2 T basil, chiffonade

1) Put oil, garlic and salt in the bottom of your serving dish. Mush everything together with you fingers.
2) Add the tomatoes, a handful at a time. Gently tossing to coat with the oil mixture.
3) Once all tomatoes have been added sprinkle with basil and lightly toss once more.
2 to 4 servings
* feel free to saving the tomato/oil juices at the bottom of the bowl for the base of a salad dressing, it would be a waste to throw away anything that came from those beautiful tomatoes...

Day Trippin'... to Italy

Sometimes, when you’re having one of those days when it seems your stars simply aren’t aligning or you’re just feeling awfully grumpy, it’s important to escape. Whether it’s to the park or to the movies, you have to get away. For me, when I need to clear my head, I go to Italy... because that’s how I roll. Sadly, yesterday, when I called my personal assistant she informed me that she could find no first-class tickets to Rome and I simply won’t travel any other way. So, I told her to mind her back, another slip up like this and she might find herself without a job.

In the mean time, I decided the next best thing would be to eat and drink as if I was there. In the afternoon, my unpleasant moodiness precluded my ability/desire to cook lunch. Instead, I went to the local salumeria and bought some goodies-- all I had to do was assemble. After a good little wander around I returned with some prosciutto di parma (thinly sliced so it almost melts on your tongue), piave vecchio (a favorite Italian cheese, at once nutty and salty), some cracked green olives and artichoke hearts (both cured at the shop) and a jar of pepperoncini. Set out on a nice little dish they made for perfect effortless afternoon nibbling.

By the time evening rolled around I got myself motivated enough to cook some dinner. Back out to my favorite markets I went. Meditatively meandering from fish shop to vegetable market with a quick stop back at the salumeria, dinner began to slowly take shape. I decided on a menu of Black Taglierini with Baby Clams, Flounder with a Lemon-Garlic Sauce, and Broccoli Rabe with shaved Piave. This is the kind of cooking I am most comfortable with, seeing as I was Italian in my previous life (in case you wondering, in the life before that I was Indian, but am not yet as comfortable with Indian cooking), and as such I more or less did not use any recipes.

The squid ink in the pasta contributed a wonderful briney-ness that the clams compliment perfectly. Some white wine, tomato and chile tied the whole thing together while still letting the oceany flavors of the dish shine through. The flounder was simple, summery and light-- though next time I would cook it a couple minutes less. Lastly, the broccoli rabe (a favorite veggie of mine) was really enlivened by some of the nutty cheese, which also contributed to a lovely texture. A thoroughly satisfying meal, and today with a lesser pout on my lips, I look forward to leftover fish and broccoli rabe for lunch.

You’ll have to bear with me through my write-up of my recipes, as this is a first for me. The good news is, in general, this type of cooking is rather forgiving. So have fun with it, play a little, taste as you go and most importantly, sip a glass of cold Gavi while you cook-- that always makes things a little bit better. And if all else fails, sit down with some Chocolate Raspberry Ice Cream and wallow in it. But tomorrow, you’d better wake up with a better attitude, jerky!

Black Taglierini with Baby Clams
1/2 lb squid ink pasta, cooked al dente in water that tastes like the sea
1 lb baby clams (New Zealand Cockles, if possible), clean and rinsed
1 28oz can of San Marzano tomatoes, drained and chopped
6 whole dried chile peppers or 1 t dried chile flakes
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/4 dry white wine
1 T heavy cream
3 T extra virgin olive oil

1) Add olive oil to 10” saucepan over medium-high heat. Saute onions until softened slightly, about 4 minutes. Add garlic and chile, cook until aromatic about 2 minutes. Add tomatoes, stirring so flavors are incorporated. Lower heat and let simmer for 5 minutes. If the pan looks a little dry feel free to add a splash of chicken stock, though this is intended to be a pretty light sauce.
2) Add white wine and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat. Allow some of the alcohol to cook off for a few minutes. Add clams and cover pan until all clams open, about 4 to 6 minutes.
3) Pick out any closed clams and the chiles if you used whole ones. Add a swirl of heavy cream and stir in. Remove from heat and pour over pasta. Serve immediately.
serves 2

Broccoli Rabe with Piave
1 bunch Broccoli Rabe, rinsed, bottom inch cut off, rest cut in half
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 T extra-virgin olive oil
1/3 cup grated Piave Vecchio

1) Bring a big pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Add broccoli and cook for 2 minutes. Drain immediately and submerge in a bowl of ice water to stop cooking.
2) Add olive oil to a large skilled over medium heat. Add garlic, cook for 1 minute, do not let it brown. Add the broccoli, toss around so oil coats all, lower heat and cover. Cook just long enough to let it heat through, tossing as necessary, approximately 3 minutes.
3) Place broccoli in serving dish and top with grated cheese.
Serves 4

Flounder with Lemon-Garlic Sauce
adapted from, How to Cook Everything
1 1/2 lb flounder or other white fish
1 t minced garlic
1/3 cup minced parsley
1/4 fresh lemon juice
Salt and Pepper

1) Preheat broiler. Get rack as close to heat source as you can.
2) Combine oil, garlic, lemon and parsley in a small bowl. Season with salt and pepper
3) Line baking sheet with tin foil, lay fillets on it and brush generously with olive oil mixture.
4) Broil fish for 2 to 4 minutes (without turning).
5) Serve with fish with lemon wedges and the remaining olive oil mixture.
Serves 4

I got a cookbook, hey hey hey hey

In case it wasn’t immediately clear, that was meant to be sung to the tune of The Little Rascals’ “I gotta pickle/dollar” song. There are few things in life that make me as happy as getting a new cookbook. I can sit there pouring over the pages for hours, brownie points for porntastic pictures and a gold star for some good story-telling along with the recipes.

So this week I acquired The Splendid Table’s How to Eat Supper, based on Lynne Rossetto Kasper’s NPR food radio show. It has all of the above requisites for a great cookbook. Lots of pictures, interesting recipes, informative stories and some overall great advice. I’ve skimmed through the book a few times now, and the first recipe that caught my eye was for Tomato-Cheddar-Packed Turkey Burgers. The recipe has you first saute tomatoes and onion with some garlic until the flavors are melded and the veggies have soften and browned nicely. Then you combine that mixture with the ground turkey and add some seasonings. Finally, you create a small pocket where you tuck some nuggets of cheddar cheese that melt into the center of the burger when they’re cooked, yummm. 


Making them is a little tricky as the meat mixture is extremely moist and it’s hard to keep the burgers together. It seems like a sure thing that once you try to flip them in the pan that they will undoubtedly crumble. But, lo and behold, they stay together perfectly and cook exactly as they should. Topped with a little dijon mustard and a side of Melting Dandelion Greens they were a true success, even if the greens weren’t quite ideal. So focused was I on not crumbling my burgers that I failed to give the greens proper attention. So, I forgot to trim the leaves from the ribs, or even to trim or cut the greens at all. So, as a result they were quite the tangle of rather bitter vines. Not inedible, though they did taste mildly poisonous.

As a side note, I stuck two of the unmade burgers in the fridge and cooked them about 12 hours later. These were much firmer and easier to maneuver in the pan. Also, topped with some avocado this time, they might have even been better than the first round. Either way, expect to be seeing more recipes from this book in the upcoming days. I can’t seem to get my nose out of it. Though who knows, I’ve been known to wander... (p.s. my apologies, as this was not the most photogenic food I've ever made)

Tomato-Cheddar-Packed Burgers
adapted from, The Splendid Table’s How to Eat Supper
4 T extra-virgin olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 C grape tomatoes, halved
2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 lb ground turkey
1/4 C dry red or white wine
3 oz extra-sharp cheddar cheese, cut in 1/4” cubes
Salt and Pepper

1) Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in a 12” nonstick skillet over high heat. Add the onions and tomatoes with generous sprinkles of salt and pepper. Saute over high heat, stirring frequently, until the onions begin to brown, about 3 minutes. Add the garlic and saute for 1 more minute. Remove skillet from head. Scoop half of onion mixture into a large bowl and the rest into a small one. Rinse skillet and dry.
2) Add to the large bowl the ground turkey, 1/4 teaspoon salt, 1/8 teaspoon pepper and the wine. Blend well, and shape the mixture into 4 balls. Makes a deep hole in each ball with your finger and insert one-fourth of the cheese into each hole. Pinch holes closed, and flatten the balls into 1”-thick patties with no sign of cheese on the outside. These will be quite stick.
3) Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil in the same skillet over medium-high heat. Sear the burgers for about one minute on each side, until they are browned. Turm them carefully with a pancake spatula, as they are fragile
4) Lower the heat to medium low and cook the burgers for about 5 minutes per side, or until there is no pink in the center. Serve with your favorite condiments, topping each with some of the reserved onion mixture.
serves 4

Melting Dandelion Greens
adapted from, The Splendid Table’s How to Eat Supper
4 garlic cloves
1 whole dried red chile
1 bunch dandelion greens, washed, stripped from rib and torn to pieces
1/3 C chicken stock
Extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and Pepper

1) Generously film the olive oil over the bottom of a large saucepan and heat it over medium-high heat. Add the garlic and the chile. Saute them for 30 seconds.
2) Add the greens and the broth. The pan will look like it’s overflowing, but it will all shrink down.
3) Reduce the heat to medium low, cover and cook the greens for 10 minutes or until tender. Check occasionally to see if they need more liquid.
4) Before serving remove the chile and season generously with salt and pepper, as well as more olive oil is desired.
serves 2

So that's what that means...

Food for thought. I’ve never given much thought to that phrase before. It’s meaning has always been pretty intrinsically understood. In fact, it goes something like this, “Hey, here’s some advice. It will provide nourishment for your brain. Think about it. Maybe it will eventually feed you something deliciously useful”. Yesterday as I walked home from the market I began to rework another way of interpreting it and it went something more like this, “Hi, I’m a delicious shrimp and white bean salad. You are going to have a thrilling time making me. It sure is going to suck when you take that new job and you don’t have any time to make me any more.” Whoa, where did that come from?

Maybe a little backstory is in order here. Here’s the really short version. I went to undergrad at NYU and studied Psychology. I went to grad school and got a Masters at Columbia, in Psychology. Next, I worked for two years at a hospital in Manhattan doing research in a psychological capacity. See the trend yet? Then, I realized one day (more like over the course of some months) that I spent all my down time cooking, reading cookbooks and asking other people about their cooking. See another trend? So, I bit the bullet and left my stable job doing admirable work. You know the one with amazing benefits, 29 PTO day’s (!) and a 401K, to wait tables. I decided to give myself some time. To stop being an overachiever and instead step back, take a moment and figure out what I really want to be doing with my life. I had been coasting on psychological autopilot for the better part of seven years, I needed a break.

So, in mid-May, I found myself working at a pretty fabulous restaurant that was very new. I got to experience the opening of a restaurant; including the anxiety of waiting on the New York Times food critic as well as the elation of drinking champagne after being awarded the two stars, from said food critic, that the chef hoped for. And truthfully, while I’m not going to wait tables for the rest of my life, right now I’m loving it. I spend my evenings moving around, talking about food and wine and having fun with my co-workers. “Meetings”, generally speaking, involve tasting wine and/or food and talking about it. This is not to say that waiting tables is a walk in the park, it is most definitely work. It’s just that it is pleasurable work that allots me hours and energy to explore.

This all brings me to my food-for-thought-shrimp-and-white-bean-salad-epiphany. Last week I was approached by the manager of the restaurant to ask if I would be interested in a management position. For all intents and purposes this was a major compliment and would be a definite step-up. I would work get to meet with wine reps, get to diffuse situations with fussy customers and learn to take inventory-- as well as a myriad of other responsibilities. I was asked to give an answer the next day. Reverting to my overachiever ways (also, slightly insecurely thinking that it’ll be a lot nicer to tell people I’m a restaurant manager than a server) I assumed that the only sensible thing to do would be to say yes. So, I did. I was slightly ambivalent about being an authority figure, about going from working the 30 hour weeks I currently work to doing 50 instead. And perhaps more than anything else, I was ambivalent about the commitment of at least one year there. No, I told myself, these are just normal nerves how silly you would be to pass up this opportunity. And so, that was that.... I thought.

Until yesterday when food, literally, began to feed my thoughts. How much I have been enjoying cooking lunch every day before work. Having time to meander through cookbooks and browse websites for the perfect recipe for that day. How happy I was to be walking home with spinach and shrimp and white beans and bacon to make a delicious summer lunch. How I truly enjoy waiting tables, working pretty minimal hours and being able to support myself. I realized, if I took this position I would sacrificing my original goal of giving myself time to explore. And so, just like that, the shrimp told me to slow down, take a breath and allow myself this year. And I decided to listen.

With a sigh of relief, and only minimal intrusive thoughts (along the lines of “You’re so lazy. Not taking a promotion just so you have more time to putter around in the kitchen? Who do you think you are?”) I went home and celebrated my reverted promotion by cooking a Warm Spinach Salad with Cannellini Beans and Shrimp, as well as a Lemon-Almond Buttermilk Loaf. And what do you know? The gods were shining on me yesterday as both were a major success.

The salad is really an ideal all-in-one meal. You got your healthy veggies, the creamy white beans which double fabulously as a carb-like substitute, your lean protein in the shrimp and smattering of bacon-- for good measure. The warm shallot and red wine vinaigrette added great acidity and perfectly wilted the spinach. As for the loaf, a perfect summer dessert. Sort of like lemonade, but in cake form. The ground almonds mixed with the flour provide substantial texture and the holes poked in the top of the cake allow the lemon glaze to seep through the top 1/4’’ of the dish. I didn’t have it around this time, but I think that topped with a dollop of creme fraiche and some blueberries this might approach perfection. But for now, I just want to say thank you to food for nourishing my thoughts and providing the advice that I needed.

Warm Spinach Salad with Cannellini Beans and Shrimp
adapted from, Food & Wine, April 2008
1/2 lb. baby spinach (7 cups)
3 slices of bacon, cut crosswise into 1/2" strips
1 lb. shelled and deveined large shrimp
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
One 15 oz can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1/8 cup plus 1 T extra-virgin olive oil
1 small shallot, minced
1 T Dijon mustard
1/8 cup red wine vinegar

1) Spread the spinach on a large platter. In a large skillet, cook the bacon over moderate heat until crisp, about 4 minutes. Drain off all but 2 tablespoons of the bacon fat.
2) Season the shrimp with salt and pepper and cook it with the bacon over moderately high heat until just white throughout, about 4 minutes. Add the beans, season with salt and pepper and toss until heated through, about 1 minute. Scrape the shrimp and beans onto the bed of spinach.
3) In the same skillet, heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil. Add the shallot and cook over moderately low heat until softened, about 1 minute. Add the mustard to the skillet and whisk in the red wine vinegar, then whisk in the remaining 1/4 cup of olive oil. Season the dressing with salt and pepper, pour it over the salad and serve.
4 servings

Lemon-Almond Buttermilk Loaf
adapted from, Bon Appetit, April 1999
2 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 t salt
1/2 t baking soda
2 cups sugar
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
3 large eggs
1/4 t almond extract
3/4 cup buttermilk
3/4 cup ground almonds (from about 3 1/2 ounces whole almonds)
1 T grated lemon peel
5 T fresh lemon juice

1) Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour 9 x 5 x 2 1/2-inch metal loaf pan.
2) Sift flour, salt and baking soda into medium bowl. Using electric mixer, beat 1 1/2 cups sugar and butter in large bowl until well blended. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in almond extract. Add dry ingredients to egg mixture alternately with buttermilk in 3 additions each, beating until well blended after each addition. Add ground almonds and lemon peel and beat 1 minute. Transfer batter to prepared pan.
3) Bake cake until deep golden brown and cracked on top and tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 1 hour 20 minutes. Cool cake in pan on rack 15 minutes.
4) Meanwhile, stir remaining 1/2 cup sugar and 5 tablespoons lemon juice in small bowl until sugar dissolves.
5) Place rack on baking sheet. Turn cake out onto rack, top side up. Using skewer or toothpick, poke holes 1 to 2 inches apart all over cake. Brush top and sides of cake with all of lemon glaze, allowing some glaze to soak into cake before brushing with more. Cool cake completely.
10 to 12 servings

Pork, squared

What better way to bounce back from a couple of unexciting recipes than with some pork? With that inspired thought in mind I scoured my sources for something that seemed like it would have some real oomph. I was seeking out strong flavor and happened upon a recipe I had torn out from an old issue of Food & Wine for Spicy Ginger Pork in Lettuce Leaves, which is essentially a modified larb. Given the fish sauce, chili, cilantro, sesame oil and other goodies that seasoned this dish I figured there was no way I was going to end up with something bland. Fortunately-- as is not often the case-- I was right. The ground pork, red pepper and water chestnuts had a toothsome quality that was perfectly complimented by the cool crisp lettuce leaves that were warmed by the juicy porky goodness. We devoured this dish, nothing left, except for a singular lettuce leaf that Juniper was very grateful for (Schnauzer’s are a pretty easy-to-please bunch). I would make this dish again in a heartbeat, especially now that I have all the requisite sauces (fish sauce, sweet chili sauce, sesame oil, oyster sauce...) at home and don’t have to lug them home from the market in a freak rain storm.

Among other items in my arms as I trekked through the rain were two bundles of Long Beans. You see, in the quest for a more satisfying meal I happened upon a recipe in Saveur for Wok-Charred Long Beans with Black Olives. That’s right folks, two dishes, both with pork; I was not risking disappointment this time around. But back to the beans. I knew I was in the right place in the store when I found myself in front of a basket full of some mutant looking string beans. I took a plastic bag to put these in, but the beans were longer than the bag and seeing as I didn’t want to take two bags even though I had two bundles (dude, I’m looking to reduce my carbon footprint here) I suddenly felt like I was wrestling an alien hand or fighting off some plant come to life (ala Little Shop of Horrors). But, fret not, eventually I beat the legume enemy.

Sadly I was unable to locate the Thai chili needed for the Long Bean recipe at any of the local markets. Instead, on my walk home, I wandered into some local Thai restaurants to ask if they perhaps, might maybe possibly be willing to sell me a chili or two. At the first restaurant I was greeted by an adolescent boy, whose cracking voice and shifty demeanor may have been a result of hormones. Or perhaps it was due to the fact that I looked like a drowned rat being weighted down by arms full of yellow bags overflowing with alien hands. He squeaked “I can’t do that. My boss isn’t here. Have a nice day lady.” I had slightly more luck in restaurant two. The owner empathized with the disappointing lack of Thai groceries in the neighborhood, especially given that this is one of the statistically most culturally diverse blocks in this country. Nonetheless, he hurried downstairs to the kitchen and returned with dried Thai chili powder. Not quite what I had hoped for, but his generosity was lovely and I was ready to get home. “Very hot”, he warned, and sent me on my way.

On to the cooking, the recipe called for a 12” nonstick pan, though my largest nonstick is only 10”. As a result my beans were a little crowded and each step of the recipe took an extra couple minutes (so maybe size does matter after all?). After browning the pork, the beans get caramelized in the rendered pork fat. Next copious amounts of garlic, ginger and chili (in this case, chili powder) are added. Then vinegar, soy and stock-- and finally the cooked pork and olives are reincorporated into the dish. So here’s the thing, the flavors were great; unique, strong, interesting. There was only one problem, when you chew the beans they make this awful squeak sound against your teeth. It made us laugh as we listened to each other squeak through the meal, but it also kinda made my skin crawl in that chalk-on-a-blackboard sort of way. James declared the meal a total success, his only complaint was that the beans lacked proper distribution of sauce, meat and olives-- but then again, he has been spending too much time with his head in a statistics book lately. I say, the distribution was just fine. Amen to the pork.


Spicy Ginger Pork in Lettuce Leaves
adapted from, Food & Wine, September 2006
3/4 lb ground pork
1 red bell pepper, finely diced
1 garlic clove, minced
1 T minced peeled ginger
1 T Thai sweet chile sauce
1 T Asian fish sauce
1 t Asian sesame oil
1 T plus 1 t grapeseed oil
One 8 oz can whole water chestnuts, drained and diced
2 scallions, thinly sliced
2 T oyster sauce
2 T chopped cilantro
1 Head Boston lettuce leaves

1) In a medium bowl, combine the ground pork with the bell pepper, garlic, ginger, chile sauce, fish sauce, sesame oil and 1 tablespoon of the grapeseed oil.
2) In a large skillet or wok, heat the remaining 1 teaspoon of grapeseed oil until shimmering. Add the pork mixture and stir-fry over high heat, breaking it up, until it is cooked through and starting to brown, about 8 minutes. Stir in the water chestnuts, scallions, oyster sauce and cilantro and remove from the heat.
3) Spoon the pork into bowls. Stack the lettuce leaves on plates. To eat, spoon the pork onto the lettuce leaves, roll up and eat.
6 first-course servings

Wok-Charred Long Beans with Black Olives
adapted from, Saveur, Issue #112
1 1⁄2 lb long beans
3 T. canola oil
4 oz ground pork
2 T minced garlic
2 T minced ginger
1 Thai chile, minced
1⁄3 cup chicken broth
2 T Chinese black or balsamic vinegar (I used balsamic)
1 T soy sauce
1⁄2 lb dry-cured black olives, halved and pitted

1) Trim and cut beans into 2"-long pieces. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add beans; cook until crisp-tender, 1–2 minutes. Using tongs, transfer beans to a bowl of ice water; chill. Drain beans.
2) Heat oil in a 12" nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add pork; break into small pieces. Cook pork until browned, about 3 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer pork to a plate, leaving fat in skillet.
3) Raise heat to high; add beans and cook, without stirring, until hot, about 2 minutes. Toss beans; cook, without stirring, until caramelized, 1 minute more.
4) Add garlic, ginger, and chiles; cook for 1 minute. Add chicken broth, vinegar, and soy sauce; cook until almost evaporated, about 2 minutes. Add olives and reserved pork; cook for 1 minute more.
4 servings