I have a little problem. I'm addicted to cookbooks, food writing, recipe collecting, and cooking. I have a lot of recipes waiting for me to try them, and ideas from articles, tv, and restaurants often lead to new dishes. I started losing track of what I've done. So now I'm taking photos and writing about what I've prepared—unless it's terrible in which case I forget it ever happened.
I love the simplicity of cooking fish. There isn’t much to it, but as usual when it comes to things that are simple, it has to be done right. Timing is everything, and the timing for cooking fish is directly related to the type of fish and the thickness of the piece being cooked. My preference for most fish is for it to be just cooked through so that the center is less cooked than the edges but not completely raw. Wild salmon is easy to cook because you can keep an eye on the thick edge to see the color change as it cooks through. And, I’m enjoying as much of it as possible right now since the season for fresh, wild salmon is coming to an end. Last weekend, I was thrilled to try a new pan I received from All-Clad that’s perfect for cooking fish. It’s the d3 ARMOR Fish Pan (Retail Price: $199.95), and you could win one of your own! It has a riveted surface on the bottom of the pan that makes it easy for the fish to release after being cooked. It is an oval shape that’s 13 inches long with flared sides to contain splatters, and it has a long handle. I used the pan to sear a salmon fillet and made a chunky, nutty salsa to serve on top.
I learned a brining tip from the book Ad Hoc at Home that I always use when cooking salmon. It only requires about 10 minutes of brining, and it adds great flavor to the salmon and prevents the white spots of coagulation from forming on the surface when it cooks. You just mix cold water with sea salt at a 10 to one ratio, stir to dissolve the salt, pour the mixture over the salmon, and leave it for 10 to 15 minutes. Then, I dry the salmon, season it, dredge with flour, and it’s ready to sear. After brining, only a very small amount of salt is needed for seasoning, and I also season it with black pepper and piment d’espelettte. For the salsa, I took inspiration from a recipe in The New Spanish Table but made a few changes. I used Marcona almonds, a mix of green and black olives, added lemon zest and juice, and used sherry vinegar. Garlic, parsley, fresh oregano, and olive oil were added to the salsa.
Cooking with this new pan was fantastic. It’s just the right size and shape for fish so the heat is focused right where it needs to be. The flesh-side of the fillet released easily after cooking, and turning the piece was a breeze.
Brining makes the salmon deliciously seasoned all the way through, and the nutty olive salsa was crunchy and zesty on top. Now, for a chance to win one of these pans, just leave a comment on this post including your email address so I can contact you. A winner will be randomly selected on Friday October 14th, and the winner must be a US resident. Good luck, you’ll love this pan!
Seared Salmon with Marcona Almond, Olive, and Caper Salsa
For the salsa: 1/3 cup Marcona almonds, chopped 1/3 cup mixed green and black olives, pitted and chopped 2 tablespoons capers, rinsed and drained 2 garlic cloves, minced 1/4 cup parsley leaves, chopped 1 tablespoon fresh oregano leaves, chopped Zest and juice of one lemon 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil Black pepper and piment d’espllette to taste
For the salmon: 1 lb. fillet of salmon, bones removed Sea salt and cold water for brine Salt, black pepper, and piment d’espllette for seasoning All-purpose or rice flour for dredging Olive oil for searing
To prepare the salsa:
Combine all ingredients in a small bowl and allow to rest at room temperature while the salmon is brined and cooked.
To brine the salmon, place the fillet in a baking pan. Combine enough water to cover the fillet with 10% by weight sea salt. I use a digital scale and place a measuring pitcher on the scale and zero it out. I add enough cold water that I’m sure will cover the salmon and check the weight. Then, I add 10% of that weight of salt and let it dissolve in the water. The salt-water mixture is then poured over the salmon, and it’s left to brine for about 10 to 15 minutes. After brining, remove the salmon and pat it dry. Season very lightly with salt, normally with freshly ground black pepper, and to taste if using piment d’espelette. Dredge the top of the fillet with flour and shake off excess.
Heat the All-Clad d3 ARMOR fish pan over medium heat with enough olive oil to barely, thinly cover the pan. After a few minutes, when you’re sure the pan is hot, carefully place the salmon flesh-side (the side that was dredged in flour) down in the hot pan. Leave it to sear for about five minutes. Shake the pan gently to see if the fillet is loose enough to turn. Use a wide spatula to turn the fillet and guide the cool side of the salmon with your free hand to carefully turn it to skin-side down. Let cook for another four to five minutes depending on the thickness of the fillet. Remove from heat and let the salmon sit for a few minutes before serving.
Transfer the salmon fillet to a serving platter and spoon the almond and olive salsa over the top.
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I started the story of a dinner party the other day, and here it continues with two more parts of the meal including an asparagus salad and seafood paella. I thought I knew paella, but I learned so much more from The New Spanish Table. For authentic Paella Valenciana, you must use the proper rice and cook it in a wide, flat paella pan outdoors over a fire of burning vine branches or orange tree shoots. It contains chicken, rabbit, possibly duck, and occasionally vaquetes, which are land snails, but never seafood or chorizo. Traditionally, the only allowable additional garnishes were flat green beans, artichokes, and butter beans. The focus of the dish is always the rice. There’s also a suggestion that paella is only for lunch and never for dinner, and any dish that includes those other ingredients like seafood should be called something other than paella. To be named Valenciana, it has to be exactly right. Clearly, I didn’t really know paella at all. The good news is that there are also recipes in the book for ‘paellas’ which make no attempt at being by-the-book, traditional Paella Valenciana. I decided to make one of those, chiringuito seafood paella, which Von Bremzen describes as ‘a minimalist affair, with few other ingredients besides seafood and rice.’ The one important garnish, which I almost completely forgot to serve, was the saffron allioli.
Before I get into the specifics of making the paella, I also wanted to show a simple asparagus salad I served while the rice simmered. This is called asparagus on asparagus, and it’s another playful and easy dish from Happy in the Kitchen. You start with a bunch of peeled asparagus and set four spears aside and then cook the rest until tender. Those were left whole and chilled. The four reserved spears were chopped and added to a saucepan with a little water and olive oil. They were simmered until very tender and then pureed with dijon mustard, lemon juice, and salt. What results is a thick asparagus sauce which was served in cups for dunking the whole, chilled spears.
So, back to the seafood paella. I prepared a shrimp stock and cleaned and cut the seafood in advance. The stock was warmed with some saffron while the paella prep began. Olive oil was heated in a large saute pan because I don’t yet own a proper paella pan, but now I really want one. The recipe suggested using monkfish, but that’s not a sustainable choice and is on the avoid list right now. I used true cod instead. Cod, cut into one-inch pieces, was added to the olive oil and seared for about a minute. It was removed from the pan, and squid tubes cut into rings were added. The squid was seared and then pushed to the outside of the pan. More olive oil was added to the pan, and minced garlic was cooked until fragrant. Tomatoes that had been grated on a box grater were added followed by some paprika. Then, the rice was added. In the book, there’s a thorough explanation of types of rices to consider for paella. The most reliable and easiest to locate is Italian Arborio rice, and that’s what I used. The rice was stirred in the pan until well coated, and then the warmed shrimp and saffron stock was added. From that point on, the rice was no longer stirred. The pan was shaken to distribute the stock throughout the rice, but otherwise, the rice was left to cook undisturbed. Chopped parsley was added, and after about five minutes, the cod was returned to the pan along with some littleneck clams. Once the stock had absorbed down almost to the surface of the rice, the pan went into a 425 degree F oven for 15 minutes. The pan was then removed from the oven, covered, and left to sit for five minutes. The lid was removed, and it was left to sit for another five minutes. The sitting improves the rice. While it sat, shrimp were sauteed in a separate pan with some minced garlic.
The paella was served in the pan with the sauteed shrimp on top with no garnishes other than some lemon wedges. I wasn’t sure I had seasoned the rice carefully enough during the cooking time, but the seafood, and particularly the clams, added such a nice taste of the sea that it worked out fine. Just as everyone was taking their last bites, I realized I had completely forgotten the saffron allioli which was to have been served with the paella. Our guests, and this is truly a sign of the best kind of dinner guests, said ‘go get it, let’s have a taste!’ So we all piled one more scoop of paella onto our plates and topped it with the allioli. The garlicky, saffron-scented, thick sauce added a lovely something extra, but the plain paella wasn’t bad at all on its own. Up next, I’ll show dessert.
I love it when I have an opportunity to plan a dinner party. Choosing each course and beverages, deciding on a dessert, and figuring out how much can be prepared in advance is a fun challenge. Last week, friends who now live in Dublin were in Austin for a visit, and we were excited to invite them for dinner one evening. When your dinner guests happen to do a lot of traveling and happen to know food, it makes menu planning a little more stressful, but I knew we’d have a fun time regardless of the meal. Since I’ve been so interested in The New Spanish Table lately, I chose several things from that book for our menu. First was a sangria made with tempranillo, brandy, and my favorite liqueur Paula’s Texas Orange. Along with tapas of olives, nuts, and Spanish cheeses, I wanted to serve something a little different which was an idea that actually came from the dessert chapter in the book. There is a suggestion to use a blood orange and campari granita with shrimp or scallops, and I was intrigued. There’s a small amount of sugar in the granita, but the blood orange juice and campari made it more tart and fruity than sweet. The idea of a frozen, brightly colored topping on a scallop was something I had to try.
Making the granita was straightforward. I juiced some blood oranges after zesting one of them. The juice and zest were added to one quarter cup of sugar in a saucepan, and the mixture was warmed until the sugar dissolved. It was left to reduce for a few minutes, and then allowed to cool. Once cool, about one-third cup of campari was added. Freezing a granita is easiest in a wide, shallow pie dish. The juice mixture was poured into the dish and placed in the freezer for about an hour before being stirred and scraped. Then, every 30 minutes for the next couple of hours it was scraped and flaked. It takes a little longer to freeze a mixture with alcohol in it, but soon enough it became grainy and icy as it should. Then, I seared large sea scallops and allowed them to cool to room temperature so that the granita topping wouldn’t melt instantly. I topped each scallop with a little scoop of granita and some chopped cilantro.
The bitterness of blood orange and campari balanced the sweetness well and mingled nicely with the mild flavor of scallops. Next time, I might sear the scallops earlier and even chill them a bit before topping them with granita since it did melt more quickly than I would have liked. The bright orange color of the frozen granules was as pretty as can be, and it was a fun play on sweet and savory expectations. There was more to come after the tapas, and I’ll show the rest of the meal in upcoming posts.
As I was readingThe New Spanish Table, I was so excited about the tapas, seafood, and rice chapters, I didn’t really even expect much from desserts. I should have known better. There are ice creams, sorbets, and granitas with flavors ranging from honey and cinnamon to beet and strawberry. There are also confections and cookies such as the orange and pistachio magdalenas seen here. These light, little, tea cakes are made with olive oil instead of butter and are flavored with orange juice, orange zest, and orange flower water. Something about the fragrance of orange flower water seems like summer to me. Is there a flower that blooms in the summer with a similar scent? Whatever it is about it, I like it, and it added another dimension to the Moorish-inspired flavors of these delicate, mini cakes. They’re similar to French madeleines but were baked in a mini-muffin pan.
The batter was started by mixing eggs and confectioners’ sugar. Then a combination of flour, salt, and baking powder was added alternately with a combination of cream, orange juice, and olive oil. Last, chopped, toasted pistachios, orange zest, and orange flower water were added. The batter was covered and left to rest for 30 minutes before being baked in buttered mini-muffin cups. After the cakes cooled, they were dusted with a sprinkling of confectioners’ sugar.
It’s a good thing these are simple to make because they disappear from a serving platter quickly. They’re cute and so light that when you pick up the bite-sized morsels, you quickly lose count of how many you’ve sampled. Since I hid some away to ensure they’d last a few days, I can also report that they keep very well, and the layered orange flavors are perfect with a cup of tea.
My blue theme for snacks on Oscar night only went so far. I made a blueberry crumble tart that I really enjoyed, and I tried a blue cheese and apple hors d’oeuvre that I ended up not loving. The third item I made completely abandoned that theme but was delicious. These manchego cheese crackers with marcona almonds are from The New Spanish Table. I just finished the book after reading it off and on since November when I tried a few tapas from it. There’s a lot of information in there. Anya von Bremzen covers regional preferences, historical facts, and modern takes on Spanish cuisine. There are many interesting side notes with explanations about ingredients and origins of dishes. Some of the recipes are very traditional, some are chefs’ contemporary twists on classics, some are more involved than others, and a few, like these cheese crackers, are simple ideas that she learned from friends. This recipe was given to her by Melissa Clark, and the intro note about how hard the crackers are to resist is definitely true.
To make the dough, softened butter and grated manchego cheese were creamed together in the bowl of a mixer. Flour and salt were added, and the dough was supposed to form itself after a bit more mixing. Mine remained very crumbly and wasn’t sticking together at all, so I dribbled in just a tablespoon or so of milk and let the mixer turn a few more times until it seemed like dough. It was then formed into a log, and I flattened that into more of a long, square-ish shape which was wrapped in plastic and left to rest in the refrigerator for an hour. One quarter inch thick pieces were cut from the dough, and each was brushed with egg wash and topped with a marcona almond before being baked for 15 minutes.
The crackers were crunchy on the edges and a little tender in the middle and full of great manchego flavor. Marcona almonds are pretty addictive all by themselves, and they made the crackers even better than they already were. This was a very basic cracker with just butter, cheese, and almonds for flavor, and I’m not complaining about that at all, but I was thinking about how it might be fun to add a little smoked paprika or a pinch of cayenne next time.
I have two more tapas to continue the story from The New Spanish Table that I started other day. I would have loved to try the bacalao hash, but I haven’t found salt cod locally and will have to place an order online. The tuna-stuffed tomatoes and scallops with pistachio vinaigrette both sounded great too, but they’ll have to wait until our next tapas party. This time, I was determined to stuff some piquillo peppers, and try the black olive, anchovy, and caper spread. I was certain I had purchased piquillo peppers at my usual location of Central Market before, but of course, when I needed them this time they weren’t there. I called around and found they did have the lovelies at the south location of Central Market, so they were mine in the end. In the book, piquillos are described as “the caviar of capsicums.” The roasted, flat-packed peppers are mostly sweet with a little earthiness, and their small size makes them perfect for stuffing just a bite or two.
The stuffed piquillo recipe in the book is found under the title veal-stuffed piquillo peppers. In the intro to that recipe, von Bremzen explains that the classic version usually involves a stuffing of seafood with bechamel sauce, and she suggests alternate ideas instead of veal. I went the seafood route and made a shrimp stuffing. I chopped some shrimp, sauteed them in olive oil with a little chopped garlic, and then added a bechamel. Once cool, that mixture was stuffed into the piquillos, and the peppers were chilled in the refrigerator to set. Meanwhile, a sauce was made by sauteing finely chopped onion and garlic in olive oil, and to that, chopped piquillos and grated tomato were added. I’d never grated a tomato before, but you simply cut it in half, grate it on a box grater, and discard the skin. After the sauce with the tomato added had reduced, sweet and hot paprika and white wine were added. Last, a little cream enriched the sauce. Some of this sauce went into the bottom of a baking dish, the stuffed peppers were placed on top, and the remaining sauce was poured over the peppers. I should explain, an optional step in this recipe is to bread and fry the stuffed piquillos just before placing them in the baking dish with the sauce. I skipped that option and baked the naked, stuffed peppers in the sauce until warm. These little guys were delightful with chunks of shrimp in the smooth bechamel and the paprika and cream in the sauce. This was a plate and fork kind of tapa, and it was hands-down our favorite if we had to pick only one.
The olive spread was next. I already have a favorite black olive tapenade, but I wanted to try this one just to see how it compared. I was intrigued by the use of anchovy and a hard-cooked egg yolk here. The entire mixture included black olives, anchovies, capers, garlic, one cooked egg yolk, rum, yes rum, mustard, and olive oil. This was a rich and flavorful olive spread and the anchovies and rum gave it spunk. I like a good bit of parsley in an olive spread, so I sprinkled some on top. I already declared the stuffed piquillos our favorite item of the night, but there were no disappointments here. I’ll be making all of these again, and from now on whether I’m making this olive spread or my old stand-by, it will have some rum in it.
I’ve finally started reading The New Spanish Table after it sat in my stack of unread cookbooks for almost a year. I’m only about 50 pages into it, but I can tell that it’s going to be a delight to read. Already, I’ve learned about the different regions of Spain, regional cuisine specialties, and a little history of each area. The first chapter of recipes is Tapas, and each item is introduced with some information about where it originated and variations on how it might be prepared. As usual, I wanted to make each and every item as I began this chapter, and this time I almost did. I chose several dishes including the first two in a row and spent an evening imagining I was in Seville on a tapeo that happened to take place entirely in one establishment (my house) rather than several. For today, I’m showing the first three tapas I prepared, and I’ll continue the story in a second post. Tangerine-marinated olives, Sevillian marinated carrots, and smoky fried almonds are up first.
I wasn’t able to locate a tangerine for the olives, so I used an orange instead. Cracked green olives were marinated with orange zest and juice, lots of crushed garlic, lemon slices, sherry vinegar, olive oil, bay leaves, a crumbled dried chile, and a pinch of ground cumin. To prepare the carrots, they were peeled but left whole and cooked in boiling water in a large pot just until crisp-tender. The marinade was made by combining garlic, cumin seeds, dried oregano, red pepper flakes, fresh parsley, salt, and olive oil in a food processor and pulsing to a fine paste. Lemon juice was then added to the mixture. The carrots were cut into quarter inch or half inch pieces, tossed with the marinade, and left in the refrigerator overnight. The almonds were very simple to prepare. Marcona almonds were suggested, and that’s what I used, but blanched almonds would have been fine too. The almonds were fried in olive oil until golden and then were transferred to a paper towel lined tray to drain before being placed in a paper bag. Salt and smoked Spanish paprika were placed in the bag with the almonds, and the bag was shaken to distribute the seasonings.
The great thing about a tapas party is that a lot of the preparation can be done a day or more in advance. However, the almonds are at their best served warm, but they could be re-heated in the oven right before serving. These were three very simple items, but the flavors were addictive. I know I have a good snack in front of me when I'm incapable of controlling my hand repeatedly reaching for the serving dish. The citrus and garlic combination in the olives was a winner, and the marinated carrots will make you wonder why bars ever offered pretzels as snacks. And, warm, smoky, paprika-scented Marcona almonds don’t even require a flavor description. Pour me another glass of Garnacha, and let me continue to pretend I’m in Spain.
that I always use when cooking salmon. It only requires about 10 minutes of brining, and it adds great flavor to the salmon and prevents the white spots of coagulation from forming on the surface when it cooks. You just mix cold water with sea salt at a 10 to one ratio, stir to dissolve the salt, pour the mixture over the salmon, and leave it for 10 to 15 minutes. Then, I dry the salmon, season it, dredge with flour, and it’s ready to sear. After brining, only a very small amount of salt is needed for seasoning, and I also season it with black pepper and piment d’espelettte. For the salsa, I took inspiration from a recipe in The New Spanish Table
but made a few changes. I used Marcona almonds, a mix of green and black olives, added lemon zest and juice, and used sherry vinegar. Garlic, parsley, fresh oregano, and olive oil were added to the salsa.
Cooking with this new pan was fantastic. It’s just the right size and shape for fish so the heat is focused right where it needs to be. The flesh-side of the fillet released easily after cooking, and turning the piece was a breeze.
. For authentic Paella Valenciana, you must use the proper rice and cook it in a wide, flat paella pan outdoors over a fire of burning vine branches or orange tree shoots. It contains chicken, rabbit, possibly duck, and occasionally vaquetes, which are land snails, but never seafood or chorizo. Traditionally, the only allowable additional garnishes were flat green beans, artichokes, and butter beans. The focus of the dish is always the rice. There’s also a suggestion that paella is only for lunch and never for dinner, and any dish that includes those other ingredients like seafood should be called something other than paella. To be named Valenciana, it has to be exactly right. Clearly, I didn’t really know paella at all. The good news is that there are also recipes in the book for ‘paellas’ which make no attempt at being by-the-book, traditional Paella Valenciana. I decided to make one of those, chiringuito seafood paella, which Von Bremzen describes as ‘a minimalist affair, with few other ingredients besides seafood and rice.’ The one important garnish, which I almost completely forgot to serve, was the saffron allioli.
. You start with a bunch of peeled asparagus and set four spears aside and then cook the rest until tender. Those were left whole and chilled. The four reserved spears were chopped and added to a saucepan with a little water and olive oil. They were simmered until very tender and then pureed with dijon mustard, lemon juice, and salt. What results is a thick asparagus sauce which was served in cups for dunking the whole, chilled spears. 
, I was so excited about the tapas, seafood, and rice chapters, I didn’t really even expect much from desserts. I should have known better. There are ice creams, sorbets, and granitas with flavors ranging from honey and cinnamon to beet and strawberry. There are also confections and cookies such as the orange and pistachio magdalenas seen here. These light, little, tea cakes are made with olive oil instead of butter and are flavored with orange juice, orange zest, and orange flower water. Something about the fragrance of orange flower water seems like summer to me. Is there a flower that blooms in the summer with a similar scent? Whatever it is about it, I like it, and it added another dimension to the Moorish-inspired flavors of these delicate, mini cakes. They’re similar to French madeleines but were baked in a mini-muffin pan.
The stuffed piquillo recipe in the book is found under the title veal-stuffed piquillo peppers. In the intro to that recipe, von Bremzen explains that the classic version usually involves a stuffing of seafood with bechamel sauce, and she suggests alternate ideas instead of veal. I went the seafood route and made a shrimp stuffing. I chopped some shrimp, sauteed them in olive oil with a little chopped garlic, and then added a bechamel. Once cool, that mixture was stuffed into the piquillos, and the peppers were chilled in the refrigerator to set. Meanwhile, a sauce was made by sauteing finely chopped onion and garlic in olive oil, and to that, chopped piquillos and grated tomato were added. I’d never grated a tomato before, but you simply cut it in half, grate it on a box grater, and discard the skin. After the sauce with the tomato added had reduced, sweet and hot paprika and white wine were added. Last, a little cream enriched the sauce. Some of this sauce went into the bottom of a baking dish, the stuffed peppers were placed on top, and the remaining sauce was poured over the peppers. I should explain, an optional step in this recipe is to bread and fry the stuffed piquillos just before placing them in the baking dish with the sauce. I skipped that option and baked the naked, stuffed peppers in the sauce until warm. These little guys were delightful with chunks of shrimp in the smooth bechamel and the paprika and cream in the sauce. This was a plate and fork kind of tapa, and it was hands-down our favorite if we had to pick only one.
The olive spread was next. I already have a favorite black olive tapenade, but I wanted to try this one just to see how it compared. I was intrigued by the use of anchovy and a hard-cooked egg yolk here. The entire mixture included black olives, anchovies, capers, garlic, one cooked egg yolk, rum, yes rum, mustard, and olive oil. This was a rich and flavorful olive spread and the anchovies and rum gave it spunk. I like a good bit of parsley in an olive spread, so I sprinkled some on top. I already declared the stuffed piquillos our favorite item of the night, but there were no disappointments here. I’ll be making all of these again, and from now on whether I’m making this olive spread or my old stand-by, it will have some rum in it.
I wasn’t able to locate a tangerine for the olives, so I used an orange instead. Cracked green olives were marinated with orange zest and juice, lots of crushed garlic, lemon slices, sherry vinegar, olive oil, bay leaves, a crumbled dried chile, and a pinch of ground cumin. To prepare the carrots, they were peeled but left whole and cooked in boiling water in a large pot just until crisp-tender. The marinade was made by combining garlic, cumin seeds, dried oregano, red pepper flakes, fresh parsley, salt, and olive oil in a food processor and pulsing to a fine paste. Lemon juice was then added to the mixture. The carrots were cut into quarter inch or half inch pieces, tossed with the marinade, and left in the refrigerator overnight. The almonds were very simple to prepare. Marcona almonds were suggested, and that’s what I used, but blanched almonds would have been fine too. The almonds were fried in olive oil until golden and then were transferred to a paper towel lined tray to drain before being placed in a paper bag. Salt and smoked Spanish paprika were placed in the bag with the almonds, and the bag was shaken to distribute the seasonings.
The great thing about a tapas party is that a lot of the preparation can be done a day or more in advance. However, the almonds are at their best served warm, but they could be re-heated in the oven right before serving. These were three very simple items, but the flavors were addictive. I know I have a good snack in front of me when I'm incapable of controlling my hand repeatedly reaching for the serving dish. The citrus and garlic combination in the olives was a winner, and the marinated carrots will make you wonder why bars ever offered pretzels as snacks. And, warm, smoky, paprika-scented Marcona almonds don’t even require a flavor description. Pour me another glass of Garnacha, and let me continue to pretend I’m in Spain.