Pan Broiled Shrimp in the Shell
Leaving shrimp in the shell is not a lazy person’s out. You still have to clean (i.e. devein) them before you cook them. I’m sure some people would be happy not cleaning them and just pulling or wiping out the vein as you eat them, as is done in most peel-your-own places. But that skievs me out a little. And I don’t get skieved out easily. One of the many great things about the beach at Puerto Vallarta is the vendors who walk up and down selling food—cups of fruit sprinkled with chili, salt and lime, whole little fish on a skewer and shrimp on a stick. For a dollar (or so) you can get half a dozen skewered shrimp which can be doused with hot sauce and/or lime if you like. I like. The first time I went, I was peeling the shells off each shrimp until I saw I was the only one on the beach doing that. Then I just starting tearing into them, shells and all, and all of a sudden shrimp-on-a-stick wasn’t just a snack, it was the best thing ever invented. If the shells on your shrimp are thin enough, like those in the picture, just chomp away. Maybe the wild American shrimp folks can confirm this, but the shells on the ‘white’ variety of wild-caught US shrimp always seem thin and crisp enough to eat. I don’t eat any other kind of shrimp but wild-caught anymore , so I haven’t done any comparison eating to confirm. Make 6 appetizer or at least 2 main course servings 1 pound large (about 20 to the pound) shrimp 2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus more for cooking 1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger 2 large garlic cloves, peeled and minced ½ teaspoon crushed red pepper 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice 1 teaspoon salt Clean the shrimp: With a kitchen shears cut through the shell along the curved outer side of each shrimp. Cut only deep enough to remove the dark vein. Rinse the cleaned shrimp briefly under cold running water, leaving the shell intact. Heat the vegetable oil, ginger, garlic and red pepper in a small skillet over medium heat until the spices start to sizzle. Cook, shaking the skillet, one minute. Remove the skillet from the heat and cool. Stir in the lemon juice and salt. Pour the marinade over the shrimp in a medium bowl. Marinate at room temperature, losing frequently, one to two hours (Alternately, marinate the shrimp in the refrigerator up to 6 hours.) Choose a heavy skillet large enough to hold the shrimp in a single layer (a 12 inch cast seasoned cast iron skillet is ideal.) Oil the skillet lightly and place over medium heat. Jusst as the skillet begins to smoke, add the shrimp carefully. Cook, turning once, just until cooked through at the thickest part and the shells are deep golden brown, with a few charred spots. Serve the shrimp hot or at room temperature. A FEW MORE QUICK SHRIMP MARINADES: Shrimp cooked in the shell, whether broiled, pan-fried or grilled are delicious, and leaving the shells intact yields moist and firm shrimp. Prepare one pound of large shrimp as described in step one of Pan-Fried Shrimp in the Shell (recipe, p. 00) and...
read moreLinguine with Smoked Salmon, Peas, and Leeks
Pasta with smoked salmon was once a New York City restaurant staple. Usually angel hair pasta or thin house-made noodles were sauced with an abundance of heavy cream, thin strips of smoked salmon, cracked black pepper and grated lemon zest. Good and really, really bad versions abounded. Fewer years ago than that, I wrote a book on stovetop smoking and developed a version of that pasta recipe using ‘hot-smoked’ salmon* I made myself in place of the usual cold-smoked salmon. I liked its more assertive flavor and the fact that a little of it went a very long way. If you don’t have a home smoker, hot-smoked salmon is widely available in supermarkets. Food producers, never knowing when to call it quits, have developed a variety of seasonings like “Asian” and pastrami for their hot-smoked salmon. Call me cranky, but pastrami rub belongs on pastrami and, ideally, should be limited to the Lower East Side of Manhattan. And call me cranky again, but I refuse to refer to the Lower East Side as the LES or the Upper West Side as UWS. I’m still trying to get over “Tribeca.” This incarnation of my recipe calls for a mix of half-and-half and cream cheese which lightens and tarts things up. Depending on the smokiness of your salmon you can use even less than the 4 ounces listed below. Save the rest for your next batch of scrambled eggs or crumble it over deviled eggs. Makes 2 main course servings Sea or kosher salt 4 ounces hot-smoked salmon 2 tablespoons olive oil or unsalted butter or a mix of both 2 small leeks or 1 large leeks, white and light green parts only, cleaned and sliced ½ inch thick ½ cup frozen baby peas, defrosted and drained ¼ cup half-and half or light cream 2 tablespoons cream cheese 1 tablespoon tomato paste 2 teaspoons chopped fresh tarragon or 3/4 teaspoon dried tarragon 4 ounces fettuccine (one-quarter of a 1-pound package) 3 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley or chives Freshly ground black pepper Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Meanwhile remove any skin and shred the salmon coarsely, keeping an eye out for bones as you go. Set the shredded salmon aside. While you’re waiting for the water to boil, heat the olive oil/butter in a medium skillet over medium heat. Stir in the leeks, cover the skillet and cook, stirring often, until the leeks are tender, about 8 minutes. While the leeks and are cooking, stir the half-and-half, cream cheese, tomato paste and tarragon together in a small bowl. Stir the peas into the leeks and cook for a minute. Stir in the tomato paste mix and bring to a boil. Set the sauce aside. Stir the linguine into the boiling water. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the linguine is al dente, about 8 minutes. Ladle off and reserve about ½ cup of the pasta cooking water, then drain the pasta in a colander. Slide the fettuccine back into the pot and place the pot over medium-low heat. Scrape in the sauce with a rubber spatula and add the parsley/chives and salmon. Bring to a gentle boil, season with pepper and, if necessary, salt. Cook until the salmon is heated through and there is just enough lightly thickened sauce...
read moreBlack Bean Burgers That Don’t Suck
I love these burgers and I treat them like any other burger, i.e. put them on toasted bread/rolls and top them with rings of sliced red onion, lettuce leaves and sliced tomatoes. Sometimes ketchup, sometimes mustard, sometimes equal parts mayo and harissa. Cheddar cheese, feta or Swiss are nice. So is serving the burger open-faced and topped with the cheese of your choice and sautéed onions and mushrooms. That calls for a knife and fork. When pan-fried, these BB burgers have a creamy texture with a browned and near-crisp surface. One of life’s little hurdles that I haven’t been able to clear: I haven’t come up with a formula for these that makes these burgers grill-able. By the time I add enough oats to make them firm enough to not break apart and fall through the grill, the creamy texture is gone. If you’re jonezing for that bbq/burger feel, pan-fry them indoors and bring them up to the roof or out to the deck. I cook my own black beans instead of using canned for this recipe. I guess that’s because I always have black beans in the house and I love the smell of simmering beans. If you’re not as wild about the smell of black beans as I am, this is the place to use canned beans. Makes 4 hefty (7-ounce) burgers or 6 smaller (about 4 1/2-ounce) burgers 1 cup black beans (2 cups cooked) or one 19-ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed 1 tablespoon olive oil 1 small red or yellow onion, diced 1 carrot, peeled and coarsely grated 1 celery rib, trimmed and diced 1 clove garlic, minced 1 red pepper, roasted, seeded and peeled and cut into small dice ¼ cup chopped parsley or chives or a mix 1 tablespoon mustard 1 tablespoon Worcestershire ½ cup oatmeal Sea salt and freshly ground pepper For on top: Sliced tomato Lettuce leaves Mustard or mayo or a stirred-together mix of the two Anything else you may like (sliced peperoncini, sliced dill pickles, bread and butter pickles…) Cook the black beans: Put the beans in a small (1-quart) saucepan and cover with water by 2 inches. Bring them to a boil. When the water is boiling, lower the heat so the water is simmering. Skim the foam off the surface as it rises. It will do this for about 4 to 5 minutes. After that, no skimming. Simmer the beans until they are tender but still firm, about 1 hour and 15 minutes. Check the beans out from time to time and if the water dips below the level of the beans, add just enough hot water to cover the beans. Toward the end of cooking, you won’t need to add much (if any) water. By the time the beans are tender they should be barely covered with a thick cooking liquid. This will come in handy for soups, stews, chilis, etc., but we don’t need it for BB burgers. You can skip this whole step by using canned beans and draining and rinsing them. Heat the oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add the onion, carrot, celery and garlic. Cook, stirring, until the vegetables are tender and just starting to turn brown, about 10 minutes. Turn the heat down a little if...
read moreEggs Florentine
For worse or better, Florentine has come to mean a dish cooked with spinach. Worse are some of the gloppy dishes dubbed alla fiorentina in pseudo-Italian restaurants. Better is this elegant and old-skooly breakfast or lunch dish The cleaning of the spinach may seem a little fussy but it’s worth it. Flat leaf spinach with thin stems has enough body to stand up to baking but is tender enough to go with the eggs. If you do use bagged spinach leaves, choose the thinnest, lightest in color leaves with the thinnest stems possible. I imagine this can be made with packages of baby spinach (three 5-ounce packs) but I don’t imagine there would be a lot of body to the finished dish. You can try it and prove me wrong. I love to proved wrong. Makes 4 servings 2 bunches (about 14 ounces each) flat leaf spinach, preferable with thin stems or 2 packages (10 ounces) fresh spinach 2 to 3 tablespoons butter 2 tablespoons whipped or regular cream cheese, at room temperature 2 tablespoons half-and-half or light cream ¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese Sea salt Freshly ground black pepper Freshly ground nutmeg, optional 1 tablespoons thinly sliced chives, optional 4 extra-large eggs If you’re feeling fancy: Hawaiian red sea salt, Himalayan pink salt or any other “hey-I-know-my-stuff” salt Remove the ties that hold the bunches of spinach together. Cut off most of the stems in one fell swoop. Don’t worry if you get all the stems off or if some of the leaves are left with the stems. Pick quickly over the pile of stems and add any leaves to the leaf pile. Do the same to the leaf pile, getting rid of any wilty leaves and any stems that seam too thick for you. Don’t spend a ton of time doing this; even if you’re left with some stems in the leaf pile, they will cook just as quickly at the leaves. Wash and rinse your sink. Fill it with cool water. Add the leaves and swish them around. Wait a minute or two and repeat. Waiting gives the dirt and grit time to settle to the bottom. Spin the spinach leaves dry, preferably in a salad spinner. Heat the oven to 400°F. Heat 2 tablespoons of the butter in a heavy 4- or 5-quart pot over medium heat until foaming. Stir in the spinach, a handful at a time, and cook just until wilted, about 1 minute. Remove the pot from the heat. Add the half-and-half to the cream cheese, whisking constantly until smooth. Pour over the spinach. Add about 3 tablespoons of the Parmesan cheese, the salt, pepper and nutmeg (if using) to taste. Arrange the spinach in an even layer over the bottom of a 12-inch oval or 11- by 7-inch baking dish. This much can be done up to a few hours before serving and left at room temperature. Cover with a piece of plastic wrap pressed lightly onto the surface of the spinach. Using the back of a large kitchen spoon or ice cream scoop, make four indentations (more or less evenly spaced) in the spinach for the eggs to rest in. Break the eggs into their spinach nests without breaking the yolks. Sprinkle the eggs with the remaining 1 tablespoon cheese,...
read moreAsparagus with Orange and Pine Nut Dressing
Makes 6 servings Spring hasn’t quite sprung, the grass is barely riz. But spring is definitely on the way and I’m ready. The orange pith (the white part between the orange zest and pulp) gives a slightly bitter edge to this delicious sauce that is as fresh as the asparagus itself. It makes a beautiful first course or a side dish for grilled or roasted meats. 1 orange 2 tablespoons pine nuts 1 tablespoon finely chopped Italian parsley leaves 3 tablespoons olive oil 1 tablespoon lemon juice Kosher salt Freshly ground black pepper 1½ pounds thick-but-not-too-thick asparagus Cut two very thin slices from the center of the orange. Cut each slice into 8 pie-shaped wedges. Squeeze the orange and reserve 2 tablespoons of the juice. Grind the orange wedges, pine nuts and parsley in a mortar until coarsely pureed. (Or skip ahead to the food processor directions.) Beat the olive oil, lemon juice, reserved orange juice, and salt and pepper to taste in a small bowl until blended. Drizzle this mixture into the pine nut mixture while continuing to grind . Transfer the sauce to a jar with a tight-fitting lid or to a small bowl. (To make the sauce in a food processor, place the orange wedges, pine nuts and parsley in the workbowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade. Chop until coarse, using quick pulses. Add the olive oil-orange juice mixture in a steady stream while continuing to pulse. The mixture should be finely chopped but not smooth. Transfer to a bowl and beat in salt and pepper to taste.) When ready to serve, trim the asparagus: Bend the asparagus until they break. Discard the tough lower part. If you like, peel the bottom 1 or 2 inches of the stalks. Pour 1 inch of water into a large skillet with a tight-fitting lid. Add 2 tablespoons salt. Heat over high heat to boiling. Add the asparagus. (If the asparagus is more than 3 layers deep, cook in 2 batches.) Cover the skillet and cook the asparagus until tender, about 4 to 5 minutes. Drain. Arrange the asparagus on a serving platter. Shake or whisk the sauce until thoroughly blended and pour over the asparagus. Serve hot or at room temperature....
read moreBourbon-Soaked-Raisin Bread Puddings with Built-In Caramel Sauce
Hell of a title, no? Wanted to make sure I got it all in there. These started their lives as a bread pudding version of flan—with plain caramel poured into the cups and the pudding mix spooned in over that. After baking, the caramel stuck to the cup; it didn’t flow nicely over the puddings and onto the plate like it does with flan. Then I thought of making a caramel sauce and much flowing ensued. A word about caramel: Take it seriously—it can cause some of the nastiest burns in the kitchen . Use a deep, heavy saucepan, and wear an oven mitt when swirling the pan and adding the cream to be extra careful. If you make sure the sugar is dissolved before the mixture comes to a boil you will avoid turning the caramel into a crystallized mess that will take hours of soaking to get rid of. If you’re new to this, start over low heat until the sugar is dissolved, then raise the heat to medium-low or medium. Once the caramel starts to color it will go pretty quickly. If the above scared you out of making caramel—and it shouldn’t, caramel is pretty easy to make—you can make the bread puddings without the caramel. They will still be delicious. Makes 4 servings For the pudding: 1/3 cup dark raisins 2 tablespoons Knob Creek or other top-notch bourbon 1/3 cup sugar 2 eggs 2 egg yolks 2 cups milk (or substitute heavy cream for up to 1 cup of the milk) 4 cups cubed (1-inch) day old French bread or challah For the custard cups and caramel sauce: Softened butter 3 tablespoons water 2/3 cup sugar 1/4 cup heavy cream Toss the raisins with the rum in a small bowl and let them soak until they absorb the bourbon (or rum) about 30 minutes or up to one day. If you’re keeping them overnight, cover the bowl with plastic wrap so the bourbon is absorbed and not evaporated.) Beat the sugar, eggs and egg yolks together in a medium mixing bowl until smooth. Beat the milk into the egg mixture slowly, whdisking constantly. Stir until the sugar is dissolved. Add the soaked raisins and bread to the bowl and let stand, tossing occasionally, until the bread is soaked through. Heat the oven to 350° F. Heat a kettle of water to a boil, then turn off the heat. Butter four 8-ounce heatproof custard cups, soufflé dishes or ramekins. Stir the sugar and water together in a medium skillet over medium heat until the sugar is dissolved and just about to boil. Don’t stir the caramel once it comes to a boil. Continue cooking, swirling the pan constantly, until the syrup darkens to a medium amber. If sugar crystals begin to form around the edges of the skillet, wash them back into the syrup with a pastry brush dipped in cool water. You will know that the caramel is about to color when the bubbles get larger and slower. When the caramel is ready, pour the cream into the pan—careful, it will bubble up pretty quickly. Stir until smooth. Pour the caramel into the buttered cups, dividing it evenly. There will be about 3 tablespoons for each cup. Divide the bread pudding mixture among the custard...
read moreJersey City Bouillabaisse
Bouillabaisse is one of those things—like barbecue, cassoulet or cioppino—that people will never agree on. I think that’s a good thing. I wouldn’t want to live in a world where every bouillabaisse tastes the same. On a drive along the French Riviera several years ago, I tasted bouillabaisse in restaurants that ranged from total dives and family restaurants to a Michelin two-star restaurant, where a captain in a white blazer filleted all the fish and returned them to the broth. No two tasted alike. (Again, good thing.) When I asked people what went in them it all boiled down to one thing: whatever the guys in the fishing boats brought back. So I follow the same line of thinking whenever I undertake this soup—and undertake is the right word. Just look for whatever is good in the market. (Thank you Jersey City Fish Stand.) You will need at least two whole fish; it’s their bones that make the stock that makes the base that makes the soup. Got it? I mapped out a little time frame for you below. Which takes you all the way from the fish store through faire chabrot. When it comes to the croutons, I usually make half the batch plain and half with cheese. I put them in the same breadbasket and let people choose. Makes 6 servings (really more like 8, but you try to stop people once they get going) For the stock: 2 ½ cups dry good Provencal rosé (you’ll be drinking more with dinner and if you decide to faire chabrot**) ½ teaspoon (or more) saffron threads 2 tablespoons olive oil 1 medium onion, cut into large chunks 1 celery stalk, coarsely chopped Stalks from 1 bunch fennel Greens from 2 leeks, well trimmed and washed Head and bones from the fish (see below) For the rouille: 2 to 3 tablespoons of the rose (or wine of your choice) Large pinch saffron A 2 x 2 x 3 crustless piece rustic bread, day-old or toasted at 250 F until dry 1 egg yolk 1 cup good olive oil 1 head garlic, roasted (traditionally made with raw garlic, I like this better) 1 red pepper, roasted, peeled, seeded and diced For the base: 2 tablespoons olive oil 1 bulb fennel (the stalks went in the stock), quartered, cored and cut into ½-inch strips 2 leeks, white and light green parts, split lengthwise, washed and cut crosswise into ½-inch pieces 1 tablespoon tomato paste 4 tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped (can be canned; if using fresh, save the skins, juice and seeds for the stock) 2 tablespoons Pernod Sea salt and freshly ground pepper For the soup: 4 small (about 12 ounces) Yukon Gold potatoes, sliced thin 1 small red snapper (about 2 pounds) cleaned* and then filleted, save the bones for stock 1 small dourade or branzino (about 2 pounds) cleaned* and then filleted, save the bones for stock 1 ½ pounds assorted fish fillets (I used cod, monkfish, tilefish and whiting—I bought all the little tail and odd pieces, the fish guys loved me) More Pernod 3 to 4 tablespoons really good olive oil For the croutons: 1 thin, long, crackly-crusted baguette Olive oil ¾ cup grated Guyere, optional Make the stock and marinate the fish: Heat the rosé...
read moreMeatloaf Bánh Mì
Two traditional sources of the Great Sandwich are a near-empty refrigerator and overlapping cultures. The bánh mÌ falls into the second category, a byproduct of the French occupation of Indochina. In retrospect it makes great sense (the sandwich, not so much the occupation). Two great French staples—crispy baguettes and slices of rich pate—are balanced with tart and crispy daikon-carrot pickles, a jolt of heat and the unique flavor of cilantro. In this version, turkey meatloaf stands in for pate. I make meatloaf mostly for the leftovers, as I imagine many people do. The daikon-carrot pickle is a must as are the sprigs of cilantro. After that, you’re on your own. I suggest mayo mixed with sriracha for the heat and to add a little of the richness of the original pate. But you can use slices of not-too-hot chiles like jalapenos or serranos. I had half a cuke on hand, so in it went. Red onion or thinly sliced tomato wouldn’t make a bad addition. All you need to make this a spur of the moment dish (besides the leftover meatloaf) is the pickle which is essential and needs at least a day to come into its own. Here’s what I do: while the meatloaf is cooking, I put together the pickles and refrigerate them. By the next day, when cold meatloaf is ready for slicing, the pickles are ready for adding. Amounts are vague because each bánh mÌ should be built according to what you like and what is on hand. The finished sandwich should be fairly full and just a little bit messy but not overflowing. Makes 2 sandwiches 1 thin and crisp baguette, about 16 inches long and 2 inches wide 2 tablespoons mayonnaise 2 teaspoons to 1 tablespoon Sriracha 2 teaspoons soy sauce or Asian fish sauce Daikon and Carrot Pickles (see below) Thinly sliced leftover meatloaf Lettuce leaves Cilantro sprigs Sliced cucumber Thinly sliced jalapeno or Serrano chiles, optional Thinly sliced tomato and/or sliced red onion, optional Heat the oven to 350° F. Put the bread in the oven, turn off the oven and let the bread crisp up for about 5 minutes. Meanwhile, stir the mayonnaise, sriracha and soy or fish sauce together in a small bowl. Cut the baguette lengthwise. Spread the top and bottom halves with the mayonnaise. Pat dry enough of the daikon and carrot pickle strips to more or less cover the bottom of the bread. Lay the meatloaf slices on top. Layer the cucumber slices, cilantro sprigs, chiles, if using, and the lettuce leaves over the top of the bread. If you’re using onion and/or tomato, layer over the meatloaf. You also might want to avoide using some or all of the cucumber or lettuce to avoid overstuffing. Close up the sandwich and cut it in half crosswise. Cut the halves in half again, if you like. Daikon and Carrot Pickles Found in many, many Viet dishes, these pickles are simple to make and delicious on their own. Because these are a ‘refrigerator pickle,; i.e. not processed in hot water, they should be eaten within 3 to 4 weeks. The quantities can be easily doubled. Makes about 2 cups ½ pound daikon ½ pound medium carrot ¼ cup plus 1 teaspoon sugar ½ teaspoon salt ½ cup white...
read moreFoolproof Creamy Polenta
I guess if I were to keep it current, I would call this “No-Fail Polenta.” But using verbs as nouns and vice versa (“I was tasked with making no-fail polenta,” e.g.) annoys me. And being annoyed is the opposite of what cooking is all about. So Foolproof Polenta it is. Polenta, like risotto and soufflés, has an unearned reputation for being finicky. Polenta is as unfinicky as it gets. Traditionally, polenta is made by bringing a copper potful of water to simmering over low heat and then sifting the cornmeal through your fingers almost a grain at a time while stirring constantly. I have made polenta like that (minus the copper pot) many, many times and the results never disappoint. I still make polenta that way when cooking doubles as stress relief. But most of the time I use the cold water method: stirring cornmeal and cold water together and bringing the mix to a simmer over low heat and then moving on from there. That’s pretty much all there is to it if you keep two things in mind: First rule: the cornmeal of choice should be coarse-ground. Goya (of all people) sells coarse yellow cornmeal in 1-pound bags. (And it’s cheap!) If you want fancy, try Bob’s Red Mill Coarse Grind Cornmeal. Second rule: you can always thin out polenta as it cooks, but once it passes a certain point—see below—you can’t thicken it up. So, if you are someday tasked to produce an epic no-fail polenta and are looking for a hack, this is how you do it. Makes enough for 2 large main course servings, with a topping of sautéed mushrooms or other vegetables or at least 4 as a side dish. ½ cup coarse yellow cornmeal 2 cups cold water, plus hot water on the sidelines as needed Salt ¼ cup Microplaned Parmesan cheese 1 tablespoon butter, optional Whatever else you’d like (see below) Heat a kettle of water over low heat to keep it hot. Stir the cornmeal and 2 cups cold water together in a small saucepan over low heat. If the saucepan is wider than it is high, so much the better. Bring to a simmer and add a pinch of salt. Whisk and cook until the polenta becomes very thick, about 5 minutes. Switch over to a heatproof spatula and continue cooking over very low heat until for a few minutes until you’re sure the polenta won’t thicken any more. Keep the polenta at a very low heat. Perking is nice; not so nice is when the polenta starts to bubble up like lava and splatter all over your unprotected hands and arms. Now is the time for your backup water. Add it, a little bit at a time, until the polenta ‘relaxes’ a little. Keep stirring and adding water a little at a time until the cornmeal is tender about 10 to 15 minutes. Every time it tightens up a little, add a little water. Soon you will find the polenta stays the same consistency after you’ve added water. This is when a lot of polenta goes wrong. Don’t add any more water until you remove the polenta from the heat. If the polenta is the right consistency but the cornmeal is still not tender, just keep stirring without...
read moreSecret Weapon: All-Purpose Sauteéd Mushrooms
Mushrooms of one kind or another are always on my shopping list and sautéeing them is almost always on my Prep Day list. With sautéed mushrooms in the fridge I am halfway to a mushroom-spinach omelet or a grilled cheese and mushroom sandwich—two dinner-in-a-pinch ideas no one is ever disappointed to see. Makes about 2 cups 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, olive oil or a mix of the two 1 pound button or cremini mushrooms, wiped clean (see Note) and sliced fairly thick 2 tablespoons chopped fresh chives or parsley 1 clove garlic, finely chopped Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper Heat 2 tablespoons of the butter/oil in a large (12-inch or so) skillet, over medium-high heat until the butter (if you’re using it) begins to bubble or the oil thins out enough to slide easily across the pan Add the mushrooms and cook, stirring occasionally, until the mushrooms have given off their liquid and that liquid is evaporated (this can take up to 10 minutes). You’ll know when they’re almost there when they start to “squeak.” Stir in the chives or parsley and garlic and cook until the mushrooms are lightly browned, 3 to 4 minutes, stirring well. Season to taste with salt and pepper and take the pan off the heat. When the mushrooms are cool(ish) scrape them into a storage container where they will keep in the fridge for 4 to 5 days. Just about any mushroom or mix of mushrooms will do. Follow two general guidelines: Slice firmer mushrooms (Portobello, e.g.) thinner than suggested in the recipe and cook them over lower heat. Leave tender mushrooms (oysters, hen-of-the woods) in bigger chunks. If using a mix, start off with the firmer mushrooms and add tender varieties a few minutes into cooking. It might be necessary for a little of the mushroom liquid to cook off after you add each new type of mushroom before they begin to brown in the oil. Note: It’s not a good idea to wash mushrooms because they will soak up a lot of water that they never quite get rid of through cooking. Wiping them with a damp paper towel is the way to go. I started prepping mushrooms this way about a year ago and still feel clever every time I do it: If you are buying the kind of mushrooms that come in perforated plastic trays, turn the mushrooms out onto the cutting board. Rinse out the plastic container under cold water—there’s usually a lot of who-knows-what in the bottom. Use a paper towel to dry out the container. You now have the damp paper towel you need to clean the mushrooms and a little tray to put them in when you’re done cutting them up. It’s the little...
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