Valentine’s Day Dinner: Duck Breast with Red Wine Sauce and Cauliflower Two Ways

Lest you think I cooked my devoutly carnivorous boyfriend a mere salad for valentine's dinner, there was much more in store.  Admittedly, despite my affection for kale, a kale salad does not a valentine’s meal make. Though I'd told him a few times that I was planning on an entirely vegan valentine's feast (which he had, in fact, assured me he would devour without question), my plan was to cook something out of the ordinary. 

Yes, that is a little heart drawn in red wine sauce. Yes, I am a dork.

 I wracked my brain a couple of weeks ago, trying to remember the last time I cooked a piece of meat at home (bacon, soup and random meats cooked in the homes of others excepted).  From my recollection, it had been about four years.  Yes, seriously, four fucking years.  I am not a big meat eater - this we know - but this still shocked me.  Sure, I’ve cooked a few pieces of fish here and there, but even those were few and far between.  Valentine’s Day seemed as good a reason as any to test my meat-cooking chops again and see just how rusty I’d become.  This is not to say that, prior to the last four years, I’d been a huge meat eater / cooker – I never really have been, and my meat eating tends to be relegated to restaurants and the homes of family and friends.   Since this was a special meal, though, I decided to go big, and settled on duck breasts.  Duck, done well, is awesome – tender, juicy and so flavorful that any comparison to its poultry brethren is entirely misguided. 

So after our salads, I left Rob for a few moments with bread and room temperature Icelandic butter sprinkled with crunchy sea salt, and of course a glass of red, to keep him occupied for the few minutes it would take me to retreat to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on and plate our second course.  Everything was pretty much ready – the duck was removed from the fire just before I served the salad, so it was able to rest while we filled ourselves with roughage.  I had prepared the sauce and cauliflower puree earlier in the day, and had kept them over low heat during kale time, so those were the perfect temperature.  The only aspect I didn’t time quite well enough was the roasted cauliflower, which sadly got a bit cold – but it was delicious nonetheless.

Rob admitted as we were eating that he had been a bit skeptical when I told him I was making duck.  I don’t think he realized it’d been four years since I cooked a nice piece of meat, but he knew that it’d been a damn long time.  As we were eating, he admitted this to me, and said that he’d been worried for no reason.  I had to agree – the duck was really great – the skin was perfectly crisp, the meat soft and tender, and the simple flavorings spot-on.  The wine sauce was the perfect accent – leading with wine, deepened by the flavor of duck tenderloins; rich, yet light.  Since the red wine imbued a bit of sweetness to the plate, I paired the dish with cauliflower, which I find has a subtle, natural sweetness.  I also love having a range of textures on my plate, so I opted to treat the cauliflower two ways: pureed for velvety smoothness, and roasted for crunch.  The roasted cauliflower, which I took from Smitten Kitchen, was topped with pomegranate arils post-roasting, which provided for a tart-sweet-juicy pop; a bit of a surprise texture that also served to highlight the sweet notes in the cauliflower and tie it together with the sauce.  Once plated, I took a step back and felt pretty proud of myself.  It was a well-composed, pretty, thoughtful and frankly delicious plate of food.   And I didn't go bonkers in the process. 

Peppered Duck Breasts with Red Wine Sauce

From this New York Times recipe

Serves 2

My duck breasts were significantly smaller than those called for in the original recipe, so each serving was a full breast.  I couldn't finish nearly all of it, but Robbie cleaned his plate with no problems.   Though I thought the duck could have been taken from the heat a good 45 seconds earlier, Rob thought they were cooked perfectly. 

2 duck breasts, about 6 ounces each

Kosher Salt

1 tablespoon freshly crushed black peppercorns (I laid them out in a bowl so they wouldn't escape and used the bottom of a glass bottle to crush them)

2 garlic cloves, sliced

Thyme sprigs

1 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 small shallot, sliced thinly

1 1/2 teaspoons tomato paste ( I like to use the tomato paste in the tube so that you don't have to open up a whole can for just a little bit)

2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons medium-bodied red wine

1 cups unsalted chicken broth

1 1/5 teaspoons brandy

1 teaspoons potato or corn starch.

Remove the tenderloins, thin strips of meat on undersides of the duck breast, and reserve for the sauce. (NOTE: My duck breasts were already trimmed for the most part, but there were a couple of small strips of meat that came off with trimming the rest of the fat away, so I used those and a bit of the extra skin for this purpose. I mean, can you go wrong with extra duck skin? (FYI - No.).) With a sharp knife, trim away any gristle from the undersides and trim any excess fat from the edges of the breasts, preferably without slicing away the top four layers of skin on your thumb (cooking with a paper towel bandaged around your finger is inconvenient at best). With a VERY sharp knife, core the skin in a diamond-shaped pattern, without cutting to the meat. Lightly sprinkle salt on both sides, then rub 1 teaspoon crushed black peppercorns all over. Sprinkle with the garlic and a few thyme sprigs, cover, and leave at room temperature for an hour. (For deeper flavor, refrigerate for several hours or overnight, then return to room temperature to cook.)

Heat 1/2 tablespoon of the unsalted butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Add the shallot and the reserved duck tenderloins; let them brown well, stirring occasionally, 5 to 8 minutes. Stir in the tomato paste and a small thyme sprig and let them fry for a minute, then add 2 tablespoons of red wine and the chicken broth. Raise the heat to a brisk simmer and let the liquid reduce to a bit less than 3/4 cup, about 10 minutes. Strain the sauce and return to the heat. Add the remaining tablespoon red wine and the brandy and cook for 1 minute more. In a small bowl, dissolve potato or corn starch in a tablespoon of cold water, then stir into sauce. Whisk in the remaining 1/2 tablespoon butter. Taste and add salt as necessary. (Sauce may be made in advance and reheated, thinned with a little broth.)

Remove and discard the garlic and thyme sprigs from the breasts. Heat a large heavy-bottomed skillet over medium-high heat. When the pan is hot, lay in the duck breasts skin side down and let them sizzle. Lower the heat to medium and cook for a total of 7 minutes, checking to make sure the skin isn’t browning too quickly. With tongs, turn the breasts over and let them cook on the bottom side, 3 minutes for rare, 4 to 5 minutes for medium-rare. Transfer to a warm platter and let rest for 10 minutes. Slice crosswise, not too thickly, at a slight angle. Serve with the sauce.

 Cumin-Roasted Cauliflower with Pomegranate and Mint

 Serves 2 generously

 Adapted very slightly from this recipe over at Smitten Kitchen

I didn't really measure anything for this recipe.  I drizzled olive oil over the cauliflower just until it was evenly coated, then spilled out waht appeared to be a teaspoon of cumin seeds into my palm. I decided to forego the yogurt, since we had a creamy element on the plate already, and I felt the tanginess would overpower the other items on the plate.  This recipe, if you can really call it that, is such a keeper.  The cumin seeds elevate it from the ordinary, and the mint and pomegranate give an otherwise earthy dish a load of brightness and a little bit of spunk.

  

1 tablespoons olive oil

1 medium - large head cauliflower

1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus additional

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Chopped fresh mint

1/4 cup pomegranate arils

Preheat oven to 425°F.Lightly coat a baking sheet with olive oil or cooking spray.

Cut your cauliflower into bite-size florets and place on baking tray.  Drizzle over the olive oil and sprinkle with cumin seeds, salt and pepper.  Toss to coat evenly. Toss florets with remaining olive oil, cumin seeds, salt and pepper and spread out on prepared tray. Roast for 20 to 30 minutes, until the cauliflower is cooked through and well-browned. Keep a watchful eye towards those later minutes - the line between crispy and carcinogenic is sometimes a tough one to toe when you're doing a bunch of things at once in the kitchen.  

That said, I LOVE those near-black pieces. When the cauliflower is done to your liking, remove it from the heat and sprinkle with mint and pomegranate seeds.

Cauliflower Puree with Feta and Garlic

Serves about 4

Inspired by this recipe

This stuff is so good, you may never turn to mashed potatoes again.  May... 

Yes, I put this in a bowl just to get a picture of it and then put it immediately back into the pot. Again, dork.

1 head cauliflower, 2 to 2 1/2 pounds

1 1/2 cup chicken broth

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese

2 cloves garlic, peeled and roughly chopped

Core the cauliflower and cut it into evenly-sized, about bite-sized, florets.  Pour the chicken broth into a steamer pot and add water so that you have about an inch of liquid.  Steam the cauliflower over the liquid until a paring knife inserted into the florets is met with little (but some) resistance, about 15 minutes.  Remove half the cauliflower from the steamer and place in your food processor of blender.  Transfer the cooking liquid (about a cup's worth) to a measuring cup, and pour about 1/2 of a cup of the liquid into the blender / processor.  Puree the cauliflower until it's smooth.  Add the rest of the cauliflower and the garlic to the blender.  Add a few more tablespoons of cooking liquid (just enough to allow the machine to process it) and puree until smooth.  Add more cooking liquid as needed, with the intent of adding as little of possible, as you don't want your puree to be watery.  Once smooth, add the butter, feta cheese, salt and pepper to the machine and process until combined.  Check for flavoring; you may wish to add more feta cheese, salt or pepper to suit your taste. 

I prepared my puree ahead of time, and let it sit over low heat.  This allowed for a bit of the excess liquid to evaporate, so we were left with a smooth, creamy, decadent-tasting puree that was really quite healthy (and really delicious).  

Note: If you're hesitant to plunk some raw garlic into your puree, you can place it in the pot with the cooking liquid while you steam the cauliflower.  This will imbue the cauliflower with a very faint garlic aroma, and will significantly take the edge off of the garlic before you puree it.   You can go halfsies too and keep one raw and one slightly leeched of flavor.

Testing the Waters

I spent the last few Saturdays taking a cooking class at the Institute of Culinary Education. It was a five-week course meant to introduce us to the "Elements of Fine Cooking," which I couldn't see being a bad idea. The course was a great time, an air of camaraderie between the instructor, my classmates and myself was immediately evident and good times were had by all. I'm now far more proficient in the arts of roasting and hollandaise-making than I was before, though it would seem that I could use a bit more practice in the souffle-making arena.

I'm not sure whether it was confidence in my cooking gained from this class or a desire to test my culinary limits that inspired me to attempt a recipe from Eric Ripert. I'd have to say it's more likely the latter, considering this throwdown occurred a mere two weeks into my course. His cooking at Le Bernardin is unmatched - nowhere else in New York will one receive plate after flawless plate of impeccably prepared seafood, as refined and clean as any I've had. I dined there for lunch a couple of years ago, and it remains one of my most memorable meals ever - everything was just so perfect, from my himachi appetizer to my pineapply trio of desserts.

Dishes in fine dining restaurants, even those that appear to be straightforward and simplistic rarely are. Each layer of flavor has often been prepared in some complex fashion. The preparation time and ingredient lists are enough to turn most home cooks off, which is part of the appeal of eating in these establishments in the first place.

However, when a special occasion arises, and one that you have no desire to spend in a restaurant because everyone else in the world is spending that same special occasion in every restaurant, everywhere, the preparation and ingredient lists become less of an obstacle. Why not celebrate with a meal courtesy of the best seafood chef in New York City? And why not enjoy it in your own home, without the pretense of "fine dining?" Not to mention that on top of the fact that you're enjoying an excellent meal, in the comfort of your own home, to be enjoyed at your own pace, without the interruption of servers asking if you're finished

Though this recipe wasn't effortless, it wasn't quite as burdensome as you'd imagine; the most difficult aspect ended up being the timing, since I made all of the components right before we were to eat. And the end result exceeded my expectations (though admittedly, of my performance, not of the dish) - the snapper was cooked perfectly; crispy, delicately spiced skin blanketing perfectly cooked, flaky fish. The mushrooms were earthy, yet vibrant, and the whole dish was brought together by the sauce, which provided a wonderful tang with immense depth of flavor, at once brightening the mild fish and the mountain of mushrooms on top of which it sat.

So we sat down to a wonderful, sophisticated (not to mention rather nice to look at) meal, I gave myself a little pat on the back, and dug right in, immensely proud of creating an experience that would put most restaurants to shame.

Red Snapper and Shiitakes in Port Reduction
adapted from the Le Bernardin Cookbook recipe available on epicurious.com

Ingredients
For the sauce:
1 cups high quality port (the recipe suggests 10-year old, I'm not sure how old the port I used was)
1 cups high quality sherry vinegar
For the mushrooms:
2 1/4 teaspoons corn oil (I used canola oil - the high smoke point is what's important here)
1 pound fresh shiitake mushrooms, stems cut lengthwise into 1/4-inch-thick slices, caps halved if small or cut into 3 or 4 slices if large
2 branches fresh thyme
1 clove garlic, peeled and halved
1 large shallot, peeled and finely diced
5 tablespoons unsalted butter
Fine sea salt, to taste
Freshly ground white pepper, to taste
For the fish:
2 1/4 teaspoons corn oil
2 (6-ounce) red snapper fillets
1/8 teaspoon Chinese five-spice powder
2 teaspoons minced fresh chives

Preparation

For the sauce:
1. Bring the port to a boil in a medium-size heavy saucepan over medium-high heat. Lower the heat slightly and simmer until reduced to 1/2 cup (if using a gas stove, never let the flames extend above the bottom edge of the pan). Add the vinegar and simmer until reduced almost to a syrup consistency, lowering the heat as necessary to keep the sauce from burning around the edges—you 'll have around 3 1/2 tablespoons (10 1/2 teaspoons). (Note: The sauce can be made to this point up to 1 week ahead; cover and refrigerate.)

2. Heat 1 1/2 teaspoons of corn oil in a skillet and place over high heat until the oil is just smoking. Place the mushrooms, thyme, and garlic in the skillet and lower the heat to medium. Sauté until browned, about 4 minutes. Turn the heat to low and add the shallot and 1 tablespoons of butter to the skillets. Season with salt and pepper. Cook until the shallot is softened and the mushrooms are tender, about 6 minutes more. Discard the garlic and thyme. (Note: The mushrooms can be made to this point up to 1 day ahead; cover and refrigerate).

3. Season both sides of the snapper with salt and pepper. Sprinkle the five-spice powder over the skin and rub it into the fish. Clean the skillet and add the remaining tablespoon of corn oil. Place over high heat until the oil is just smoking. Add the snapper to the skillet, skin side down, and briefly hold the fillets down with a spatula to prevent the skin from shrinking. Sauté until the bottom of the fillets are dark and crusted, about 5 minutes. Turn and cook for about 5 minutes longer, until a metal skewer inserted into the fish for 5 seconds is met with medium resistance and feels warm when touched to your lip. Keep the fillets warm until you're ready to plate.

4. Meanwhile, if mushrooms had been prepared ahead of time, set them in a skillet to reheat. Bring the sauce to a boil over high heat. Cut the remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons of butter in to 1/2-inch pieces. Lift the saucepan a few inches above the heat and add the butter. Shake the pan back and forth until the butter is melted and incorporated into the sauce; this will take about 3 minutes. Do not stir or whisk the butter into the sauce. The sauce will be very shiny and clear.*

5. To serve, stir the chives into the mushrooms. Divide the mushrooms evenly among the two large plates, arranging them in the center of each plate. Top the mushroom mountain with the snapper. Drizzle the sauce around the mushrooms and serve immediately.

* Seriously, don't stir it - I grew impatient at this point, didn't read the instructions closely enough and stirred the butter in; this caused a bit of separation that I think would have been avoided had I just been patient - regardless, it tasted divine.

Undeservedly Underappreciated

I've never understood those who claim they never liked brussel sprouts. I have always had a soft spot for those little green nuggets. I suppose I was always a vegetable fan, though. My parents never had to trick me into eating them, and I never had to hide half-chewed greens in napkins or feed them to an ungrateful dog. (Milk, on the other hand, was an entirely different story - my grandmother soon realized that triggering my competitive side was the only way to get me to down a glass of that stuff...but enough about that.)

It's hard to really dislike something that comes to you bathing in giant pools of butter. And that's always how brussel sprouts were served when I was young. My impression is that most people have memories of overcooked, bland, soft, mushy little things. Such things never taste good, regardless of what they are. Soft, mushy, bland and overcooked anything is going to be a loser in any kid's eyes. Not to mention that when overcooked, brussel sprouts emit sulfur compounds, the smell of which would turn most people off. There may also be no other food on earth that looks so - I don't know - just so good for you, which to most kids equates with gross. It seems I have to take back my earlier statement - I do understand those who claim never to have liked them; I just feel a bit badly that they've lost so much time with such a delicious little vegetable.



My appreciation for the alienesque green sprouts has not died out, not in the least, but it has surely matured. I am no longer satisfied with the little packages of frozen sprouts emerging doused in "butter," piping hot from the microwave (though I do admit that such things are sometimes totally called-for). Nope, now I take 'em roasted, pan-fried, hashed, whatever; as long as they're slightly browned and crispy, and cooked perfectly to ensure that their nutty, complex flavor really shines through, they are truly without equal.



These little guys I found in the Union Square Greenmarket. They just looked so dainty on their stalk, almost elegant. Such a far cry from the bad-smelling, shrunken cabbage heads that have given brussel sprouts their bad name. There was no question - they were coming home with me.

I was unsure how I was going to cook them, though I was pretty sure a simple roasting would pay them the homage they truly deserved. A quick saute in a pan to develop a crispy golden crust, a quick pop in a hot oven and that would be that.

Honestly, though, what is not better with a little bit of bacon?* Add the golden, rich, unctuous liquid of a runny egg yolk (a/k/a egg butter**) to the equation, and all the makings of a homey, rustic, delicious meal were in order.

Pan-Roasted Brussel Sprouts with Bacon and Poached Eggs



There's really not much of a recipe to be shared here, but I will try my best to quantify it. The key, really, is to make sure that the brussel sprouts are browned sufficiently, because that's pure flavor.

Also, choose smaller brussel sprouts, with tight leaves. Larger brussel sprouts tend to have less flavor and be a bit tougher.

If you've purchased your brussel sprouts on the stalk, like I had, simply cut the sprout from the stalk just below the base of the sprout. I found, after realizing how long this was going to take me, that twisting the sprout until it pops off is another good option.

1 1/2 to 2 pounds brussel sprouts (I truly have no idea of the weight of the brussel sprouts I used, though I'd venture to guess it was around this amount)
3 rashers bacon, chopped
1 tablespoon butter (optional)
Salt and Pepper
Parmagianno-Regianno Cheese
4 eggs

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Cut the stem off of the base of the brussel sprout and peel away any tough, outer leaves. Slice each sprout in half.

Cook bacon in an oven-proof skillet over medium heat until browned and crispy.

With a slotted spoon, remove bacon from skillet and place on a plate covered in paper towel to drain. If desired, remove a bit of the rendered bacon fat from the skillet, but keep a good amount in the pan to cook the brussel sprouts. If your pan is a bit dry, melt the tablespoon of butter in the skillet.

Place the brussel sprouts, cut side down, in the skillet. Cook for about 5 minutes over medium heat, until browned. Don't be tempted to move the brussel sprouts around, since they won't brown properly that way. If you're scared they're burning, check just one of them. Place the skillet in the hot oven for about 3-5 minutes. Remove, and return to medium heat, flipping the brussel sprouts with tongs to get a bit of browning on the other side. Return the bacon to the pan, season liberally with salt and pepper, toss around the brussel sprouts and divide among two plates. Grate to taste with cheese.

Meanwhile, heat a large skillet of water to a boil, then reduce it to a simmer. Add a tablespoon of vinegar to the water to help the whites to set. Remember, the fresher your eggs, the better they'll set. Add the eggs, two at a time, gently into the skillet. Cover and allow to cook for about 3-4 minutes, or until the whites are set and the yolks are still runny. With a slotted spoon, remove the poached eggs from the water and place atop a pile of sprouts. Repeat with the other two eggs. Sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste.

Make sure to serve with great, crusty bread to sop up all of that deliciousness.

* Answer: Very, very few things.
** That is a technical term, obviously.