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.
There’s pizza and then there’s pizza, and for some reason the topic of authentic Neapolitan pizza keeps coming to my attention. In May, I took a stab at creating a homemade version with the help of the A16 book, and that was great, but it was nothing like sitting back and letting the pros create the real thing in a wood burning oven. Last year, while in Phoenix, we were lucky enough to dine at Pizzeria Bianco whose pizza has been called the best in the US. All the praise this place has received is well-deserved. I would happily go again and wait outdoors in the Arizona warmth for the doors to open and scurry forth in hopes of getting one of the coveted tables next time we visit the area. Now, here in Austin, we have some excellent restaurants and some fine options for pizza, but I’m afraid there’s nothing quite like that. That’s why I was excited to learn of a particular pizzeria located just down the road in San Antonio. In the June issue of Food and Wine, there was an article about pizza artisans from different parts of the country. One of those was the restaurant Dough. Not only do they make Neapolitan-style pizza, they are one of only 32 US restaurants with a certification from L’Associazione Vera Pizza Napoletana. I had to check it out to see what we had close to home. I wanted to find out how it compared to Pizzeria Bianco, and sample as much of the menu as possible. We don’t often find ourselves luxuriating over an Elizabeth David-esque three hour lunch, but if you can skip breakfast and work up a good appetite, it’s a lovely way to spend a Saturday.
We chose a bottle of Fattoria Rodano Chianti Classico Riserva 2001 which was nicely dry and tasted of blackberries. It was a good, sturdy red but not one that dominated the palate. We quite enjoyed it with the starters and pizzas. One of the specials was an imported Puglian burrata di bufala served with heirloom tomatoes, balsamic, basil pesto, and roasted garlic. The bread that came alongside was crunchy-crusted, house-made sourdough. We also sampled the smoked salmon rollatini in fett’unta with red onion and capers sitting on locally grown arugula. Then, the flatbread with oregano, thyme, and sea salt which is made from the same dough as the pizza, came with the antipasto platter that was filled with warm olives, roasted summer vegetables, three types of cheeses, and three types of cured meats. At my next dinner party, there will be warm olives. Last was the arugula salad with green beans, sliced potatoes, and parmigiano reggiano. There was nothing to complain about among these starters. The imported burrata was heavenly. That was the most difficult item with which to show restraint. We knew a lot more food was coming and that we needed to pace ourselves, but that cheese made it very difficult. So did the flatbread. The warm olives on the antipasto platter were buttery and irresistible, and the vegetables were not the afterthought they sometimes are on such platters. These were freshly roasted, warm, and perfectly seasoned. The salad was dressed with lemon juice and truffle oil, the arugula was incredibly fresh, and I could have continued eating that all day. It was a little aggressively seasoned as was the arugula under the salmon rollatini, but not to an extent of disappointment.
We moved on to the pizza. First was the pizza napoletana margherita with house-made fior di latte, heirloom tomatoes, parmigiano, and basil, and it was a beautiful thing. The ingredients were simple but perfect, and this was my favorite of the three we tried.
Next was the pork love pizza with tomato sauce, fior di latte, salami, sausage, pancetta, and speck. Based on Kurt’s reaction, this was one fine pizza. He enjoys meat from time to time but isn’t a huge pork fanatic. This pizza may have changed all that as he raved about this more than any other thing we sampled.
Last, we tried the puttanesca pizza with tomato sauce, fior di latte, rapini, garlic, olives, hot pepper flakes, anchovy, and extra virgin olive oil. This was a spicy, full-flavored pizza that wasn’t shy about the anchovy component. I like anchovies though, and the mixture of big flavors worked well. This was the opposite of the restrained margherita, but delicious in its boldness.
The parade of desserts started with panna cotta made with house-made creme fraiche, cream, and vanilla bean. It was served with raisins and bing cherries that had been cooked in marsala. We learned the restaurant had experimented with other panna cotta recipes before settling on this one which came from an employee’s Sicilian mother. There was also a scoop of peach gelato made with Fredericksburg peaches and a polenta cake with strawberry puree, creme anglaise, and whipped cream. There was, again, nothing to fault here, but it was the panna cotta that stole the show. The texture was perfect, the flavor was lovely vanilla cream, and the fruit in marsala added a nice, sweet-sour accent. Our espresso and cappuccino with dessert were both well-made, and I can be picky about my cappuccino.
The owners, Doug and Lori Horn, have created something exceptional here. They use local sources for the greens, basil, tomatoes, and as much of everything else as they can. They also have a mozzarella bar near the entrance where diners can watch as cheeses are made throughout the day. The restaurant sits in a quiet, little strip mall just off the expressway, but nothing about the outside matters once the food starts arriving at your table. In the end, I’m not sure I can do any useful comparing and contrasting with Pizzeria Bianco. Both serve Neapolitan pizza, and both are doing something special, but they do it in slightly different ways. Dough’s menu offered a few more options than Bianco’s. We visited Dough at an off, mid-afternoon time, so I can’t comment on the dinner-time rush, but I know the setting and very limited seating are a big part of the experience at Bianco. I can tell you that here in Austin, we don’t like driving more than about 20 minutes to get to a destination, but we left Dough feeling like the hour and twenty minutes getting there in the car was well worth it. We now know that we do have authentic, delicious, Neapolitan pizza in Texas, and we’ll be back for more.
Ok, yes, this is another black bean recipe, and another salad, but I have a new book to talk about today, and it’s a really good one. Back in May, I learned of this book on the excellent Dana Treat site. Dana always has beautiful and delicious-looking vegetarian food to share on her site, and she highly recommended this book and the author’s other books as well. I wasn’t familiar with the author, Jeanne Lemlin, but I was instantly intrigued and soon thereafter added Vegetarian Classics to my collection. Lemlin explains that by ‘classics’ she means popular dishes that have become favorites in the vegetarian realm. Rather than referring to ethnically or historically accurate meatless cuisines, these classics may have been adapted from traditional recipes including meat but are now well-loved as vegetarian dishes. Because of a small back-log problem, I only just recently got around to reading the book and cooking from it. I always say this, but every recipe looked like something I’d like as I started reading the book. The first chapter is Basics, and the roasted red pepper and walnut pesto and sun-dried tomato pesto instantly had me planning meals for both. In Soups, the vegetable chowder, the Armenian barley yogurt soup, and the thick corn and vegetable soup with herb dumplings are on my list. Then came Salads, and I headed to the kitchen to try this black bean and mango salad before even finishing the chapter.
I used the last of my freezer stash of cooked black beans. They were rinsed and drained and added to cubed mango, jicama, finely diced onion, and chopped jalapeno. A citrus vinaigrette was made from lemon, lime, and orange juices, red wine vinegar, minced garlic, olive oil, and salt and pepper. The chopped salad ingredients were mixed with some vinaigrette, and it was left to become a little happier for 30 minutes or so. Just before serving, cilantro was added to the salad. I scooped the chunky salad onto a bed of baby spinach leaves and garnished with sliced red, cayenne chiles. It occurred to me while making this that it would also be a great wrap filling with some spinach and some cotija or monterey jack cheese.
As we were eating this for dinner, Kurt inadvertently gave me one of the best compliments he could have. He mentioned something about how canned beans tend to have that particular taste about them, but they seemed different and so much better than usual in this salad. He went on to comment on how he enjoyed all the ingredients and flavors in the salad and that he thought it worked really well. I let him know the beans weren’t from a can and agreed that the salad was a hit.
I looked through my copy of Jamie's Italy last week in search of dinner ideas. I’ve cooked from it a few times before. All of the risottos are tempting, the pasta dishes make me hungry every time I look at them, and then there are a few really simple dishes that just combine a few ingredients. For instance, there’s a sticky fig dessert that just involves slowly baking fresh figs for a couple of hours and serving them with honey and pecorino. Obviously, I got caught up in the dessert chapter wondering why I hadn’t tried anything from it yet and then finally remembered I had opened the book in search of dinners. This farro salad seemed like a good choice for July as it brings together all the usual suspects of summer’s vegetable bin.
Summer squash, zucchini, fennel, onion, bell pepper, eggplant, and garlic were all chopped and roasted. Then, they were simply tossed with cooked farro, lots of fresh herbs like basil, flat leaf parsley, and fennel fronds, and lemon juice and olive oil. I like the way Jamie writes a recipe. The quantity for the herbs is “a good bunch,” and when the roasted vegetables are removed from the oven, you’re instructed to “sprinkle a little vinegar over” them. That works for me considering that I rarely measure out ingredients for a dish like this anyway.
The colorful vegetables give the salad a summery look, and the fresh herbs and lemon wake up all the combined flavors. I was already a fan of farro and its nutty taste and the hearty feel of it. So, I was delighted with the result here. This makes a very big bowl of salad, and I cut the quantities (that were provided) in half. It’s the kind of salad that can sit at room temperature while the rest of a meal is prepared, and it’s the kind of salad you can pull out of the refrigerator and enjoy as a meal by itself, cold the next day. I found a couple of other dishes in the book to try this week too, so those will appear here soon.
I started with a Michael Chiarello recipe and took it in a whole Bobby Flay direction. I hope they don’t mind. You see, the other day on Twitter, Chef Chiarello posted a link to what he prepared that day on the CBS Early Show, and that was white bean waffles with heirloom tomatoes and olive oil basted eggs. I thought it sounded great, and then I remembered the leftover black beans in my freezer. I started mentally re-engineering this into a southwestern-influenced dish. I have to explain right up front that although this is a savory waffle, the flavor isn’t beany. The beans are pureed into the batter and lend a nice texture while not affecting the taste in any negative or even noticeable way. The original dish was suggested as breakfast for dinner, but I served it as breakfast for brunch.
I also cut the recipe in half and still ended up with enough waffles to store some in the freezer for a future use. To begin, I weighed out 15 ounces of thawed, fully cooked, black beans. I brought them to a boil with a half cup of water, a big pinch of cumin, a smaller pinch of cayenne, and a generous sprinkling of ancho powder which made me think of Bobby Flay. The beans simmered for a few minutes, and then they were removed from the heat and allowed to cool. Once cool, they were blended with eggs, milk, and olive oil. That blended mixture was whisked into flour, baking powder, and salt. Then, waffle production began. I always let just enough time pass between waffle preps that I forget if it’s five minutes, six minutes, or seven minutes. Five is definitely not quite long enough to get a nice toasty surface on both sides. Six is ok, but seven seems to be just right for my machine. Once the waffles were finished and placed in a warm oven to wait, I fried some eggs as suggested in the recipe. Chopped chiles were added to olive oil in a saute pan, the eggs were placed in the hot pan, and the oil was used to baste the egg whites as they cooked.
To finish the dish, I strayed again from the Italian flavors intended. I left out the prosciutto and used cotija cheese and some crema instead. The waffles were topped with the eggs, a mix of chopped fresh yellow tomatoes, red cherry tomatoes, sliced red and green serrano chiles, and some cilantro. A nice, runny egg provides a sauce of sorts, and the fresh, juicy tomatoes and crema work in that way as well. It was a plate full of contrasting textures and colors. Of course, the waffles didn’t turn out at all black from the beans, but I wondered if their color would have been more interesting if I had used some blue corn meal. I’ll try that next time. I’m always a fan of spicy toppings with eggs, but this melange was above and beyond my usual southwestern breakfast fare.
UPDATE 15 OCTOBER 2011:
This is such a great eggplant dish, I wanted to update the photos from the original post. The following text is in its original form, but the photos have been replaced.
For my week of French food, I chose one meal from Ina’s Barefoot in Paris. This is easy French food, as the subtitle rightly claims. Eggplant gratin was Ina’s husband’s favorite meal the first time they visited Paris. I can see why. I had an eggplant from my CSA, and in this richly flavored gratin, it made quite a meal. I also served Ina’s green salad vinaigrette and some toasted sourdough baguette with the gratin. The only problem with this meal was that it ended up happening one day later than planned. While prepping the parts of the gratin, I pre-heated my oven or thought I did. Just when I was ready to pop the dish into it, I noticed that it had pre-heated to nothing. This is the same oven that had just baked baguettes the day before, and it sat there, literally giving me the cold shoulder, mocking my dinner-making efforts. Into the refrigerator went the gratin. A pasta meal was prepared instead, and the next morning I set about finding an oven repair person. Unbelievably, I found a repair service that came an hour and a half after being called, fixed the oven quickly, and charged exactly what was quoted. I had forgotten what it’s like to receive such good service.
With the oven back in working order, the gratin was baked at last. It’s really a simple dish. You do have to fry the eggplant slices before layering them into the dish, but that’s the most difficult part of the preparation. The recipe suggests using a store-bought tomato sauce, but I had some left-over, homemade sauce in my freezer. That was thawed and poured over the fried eggplant slices in a baking dish, a second layer of eggplant was added, and a mixture of ricotta, eggs, half and half, and parmigiano reggiano was spread on top. These were supposed to have been individual gratins in separate dishes, but I used one larger baking dish instead. A little extra parmigiano was applied, and it was placed in the once again fully functioning oven.
This is similar to eggplant parmesan, but the ricotta mixture puffed into a nice, custard-like layer making it a slightly different dish. I could see making a larger version of this with several other vegetables included as well, but it was an excellent way to highlight eggplant. The tomato sauce and the cheese mixture were delicious together, and the humble eggplant was made into something really special. With the salad and bread, it was a great meal. I can also highly recommend the green salad vinaigrette made with an egg yolk. Because of my oven issue, I learned that the gratin can be made in advance and baked when you’re ready. Good to know. This was another successful meal from Ina, and clearly Jeffrey has very good taste.
When I finally opened Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Vol. One and got cooking, I couldn’t stop with just one dish. I wanted a dessert from the book to serve after our meal of coquilles st. jacques. I looked through the desserts and cakes chapter and paused at the flan des isles but decided I’d rather try a cake. The babas and savarins I will definitely come back to in the future, but they weren’t exactly what I wanted for this meal. Then, I arrived at the biscuit au beurre described as a “fine, light spongecake [which] may be served with a sprinkling of powdered sugar, and goes well with tea, or with fruits.” A nice, simple cake with fresh, summer fruit sounded perfect. At the end of the recipe, there are three optional toppings. The first, which I chose, is to simply shake powdered sugar over the cake. The second was an apricot glaze with almonds, and the last was a buttercream icing which could be made chocolate. There are actually suggested variations for serving all of the cakes in the chapter which shows how versatile they are.
This is a classic sponge cake and contains only egg whites for leavening. You begin the recipe by melting butter and letting it cool. Sugar and egg yolks were then mixed together, and vanilla was added. Egg whites were whisked with salt, sugar was added, and they were whisked to stiff peaks. Then, the folding and sifting began. Some egg whites were added to the yolk mixture and some cake flour was sifted on top. This was folded until partially blended. Then, the same process was repeated with more egg whites and more flour. It was repeated once more, but before completely blending everything together, the melted butter was added. That seemed odd to me. I wanted to add that butter much earlier, but it went in at the end and I’m not sure why. The cake baked in a ten inch pan for about half an hour and then cooled on a rack. It was a little difficult to wrangle it out of the pan, but I managed to do so without destroying it.
As promised, it was light with a springy airiness about it, and the butter and vanilla gave it nice flavor. The sprinkling of powdered sugar was just enough embellishment. I served the cake with fresh cherries, and that was a happy combination. It’s also mentioned that this cake works well as strawberry shortcake, and I’ll definitely use it that way too. Like so many recipes in this book it’s simple, classic, versatile, and most importantly really good-tasting. Why did I wait so long to start cooking from this book?
My copies of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Vol. One and Vol II have been sitting on the shelf, waiting patiently for years for me to cook from them. I’ve referred to The French Laundry Cookbook as kitchen scripture belonging on a pedestal, but I think I had mentally placed Mastering the Art on an even higher perch. A month or so ago, I read My Life in France which tells the story of the making of Vol I. The hard work and dedication involved in creating that book, not to mention the patience with getting it published, was staggering. This book contains the first published recipes for hollandaise, mayonnaise, and beurre blanc. No one had written them down for the home cook before. Reading about Julia’s life was just a treat, and after finishing that book I had to finally crack open Mastering the Art. You may have heard about a little movie that’s coming soon to every theater near you, Julie and Julia. With news of that popping up everywhere, and with Bastille Day this week, I was inspired to prepare some French cuisine. I chose a couple recipes that seemed pretty straightforward for my first time with this book, and scallops gratineed with wine, garlic, and herbs was one of them.
Now that I’ve actually cooked from this book, I realize how well-written the recipes are. I appreciated how the ingredients are grouped for each step of the preparation. Rather than looking back to the top of the page for the quantity of an ingredient, it’s right there next to the instruction for using it. I should point out that although I have the utmost respect for the book, I of course made a change to the dish. The scallops were supposed to have been cut into one-quarter inch thick slices. I couldn’t do it. I love a nice, tall, plump scallop like nothing else, and I left them full-sized. Other than that, I followed the instructions nearly exactly and resisted the urge to garnish with some parsley or something at the end. I cooked minced onion in butter and added shallot and garlic and then set it aside. I seared the (whole, unsliced) scallops but removed them from the pan to prevent over-cooking. They were to have remained in the pan while the sauce was prepared. I made the sauce with white wine, half of a bay leaf, and some thyme and added the reserved, cooked onion mixture. I returned the scallops to the pan, topped them with grated Swiss (Gruyere) cheese and pieces of butter, and gratineed them under the broiler.
To sum up the flavors, there was butter, onion, shallot, garlic, butter, scallops, wine, herbs, butter, and a little cheese. Delicious. It was somewhat rich, but I kept the portions small and served a simple salad on the side. The sauce was nicely put together, and the intention of pre-cooking the onion mixture was, I believe, to prevent the scallops from cooking too long in the sauce. I have a thing about scallops and wanted to completely avoid an over-cooked situation; hence, I didn’t cook them in the sauce and waited to put them back in the pan before broiling. The cheese and butter topping was extravagant both in taste and calorie-count, but I’m so glad to have followed the instructions for that. This dish was just a pleasure to experience. I think that Julia Child might have known a thing or two about cooking, and I’ll be learning more from her and both volumes of the book.
There’s pizza and then there’s pizza, and for some reason the topic of authentic Neapolitan pizza keeps coming to my attention. In May, I took a stab at creating a homemade version with the help of the A16
book, and that was great, but it was nothing like sitting back and letting the pros create the real thing in a wood burning oven. Last year, while in Phoenix, we were lucky enough to dine at Pizzeria Bianco whose pizza has been called the best in the US. All the praise this place has received is well-deserved. I would happily go again and wait outdoors in the Arizona warmth for the doors to open and scurry forth in hopes of getting one of the coveted tables next time we visit the area. Now, here in Austin, we have some excellent restaurants and some fine options for pizza, but I’m afraid there’s nothing quite like that. That’s why I was excited to learn of a particular pizzeria located just down the road in San Antonio. In the June issue of Food and Wine, there was an article about pizza artisans from different parts of the country. One of those was the restaurant Dough. Not only do they make Neapolitan-style pizza, they are one of only 32 US restaurants with a certification from L’Associazione Vera Pizza Napoletana. I had to check it out to see what we had close to home. I wanted to find out how it compared to Pizzeria Bianco, and sample as much of the menu as possible. We don’t often find ourselves luxuriating over an Elizabeth David-esque three hour lunch, but if you can skip breakfast and work up a good appetite, it’s a lovely way to spend a Saturday.
We chose a bottle of Fattoria Rodano Chianti Classico Riserva 2001 which was nicely dry and tasted of blackberries. It was a good, sturdy red but not one that dominated the palate. We quite enjoyed it with the starters and pizzas. One of the specials was an imported Puglian burrata di bufala served with heirloom tomatoes, balsamic, basil pesto, and roasted garlic. The bread that came alongside was crunchy-crusted, house-made sourdough. We also sampled the smoked salmon rollatini in fett’unta with red onion and capers sitting on locally grown arugula. Then, the flatbread with oregano, thyme, and sea salt which is made from the same dough as the pizza, came with the antipasto platter that was filled with warm olives, roasted summer vegetables, three types of cheeses, and three types of cured meats. At my next dinner party, there will be warm olives. Last was the arugula salad with green beans, sliced potatoes, and parmigiano reggiano. There was nothing to complain about among these starters. The imported burrata was heavenly. That was the most difficult item with which to show restraint. We knew a lot more food was coming and that we needed to pace ourselves, but that cheese made it very difficult. So did the flatbread. The warm olives on the antipasto platter were buttery and irresistible, and the vegetables were not the afterthought they sometimes are on such platters. These were freshly roasted, warm, and perfectly seasoned. The salad was dressed with lemon juice and truffle oil, the arugula was incredibly fresh, and I could have continued eating that all day. It was a little aggressively seasoned as was the arugula under the salmon rollatini, but not to an extent of disappointment.
We moved on to the pizza. First was the pizza napoletana margherita with house-made fior di latte, heirloom tomatoes, parmigiano, and basil, and it was a beautiful thing. The ingredients were simple but perfect, and this was my favorite of the three we tried.
Next was the pork love pizza with tomato sauce, fior di latte, salami, sausage, pancetta, and speck. Based on Kurt’s reaction, this was one fine pizza. He enjoys meat from time to time but isn’t a huge pork fanatic. This pizza may have changed all that as he raved about this more than any other thing we sampled.
Last, we tried the puttanesca pizza with tomato sauce, fior di latte, rapini, garlic, olives, hot pepper flakes, anchovy, and extra virgin olive oil. This was a spicy, full-flavored pizza that wasn’t shy about the anchovy component. I like anchovies though, and the mixture of big flavors worked well. This was the opposite of the restrained margherita, but delicious in its boldness.
The parade of desserts started with panna cotta made with house-made creme fraiche, cream, and vanilla bean. It was served with raisins and bing cherries that had been cooked in marsala. We learned the restaurant had experimented with other panna cotta recipes before settling on this one which came from an employee’s Sicilian mother. There was also a scoop of peach gelato made with Fredericksburg peaches and a polenta cake with strawberry puree, creme anglaise, and whipped cream. There was, again, nothing to fault here, but it was the panna cotta that stole the show. The texture was perfect, the flavor was lovely vanilla cream, and the fruit in marsala added a nice, sweet-sour accent. Our espresso and cappuccino with dessert were both well-made, and I can be picky about my cappuccino.
As we were eating this for dinner, Kurt inadvertently gave me one of the best compliments he could have. He mentioned something about how canned beans tend to have that particular taste about them, but they seemed different and so much better than usual in this salad. He went on to comment on how he enjoyed all the ingredients and flavors in the salad and that he thought it worked really well. I let him know the beans weren’t from a can and agreed that the salad was a hit.
The colorful vegetables give the salad a summery look, and the fresh herbs and lemon wake up all the combined flavors. I was already a fan of farro and its nutty taste and the hearty feel of it. So, I was delighted with the result here. This makes a very big bowl of salad, and I cut the quantities (that were provided) in half. It’s the kind of salad that can sit at room temperature while the rest of a meal is prepared, and it’s the kind of salad you can pull out of the refrigerator and enjoy as a meal by itself, cold the next day. I found a couple of other dishes in the book to try this week too, so those will appear here soon.
To finish the dish, I strayed again from the Italian flavors intended. I left out the prosciutto and used cotija cheese and some crema instead. The waffles were topped with the eggs, a mix of chopped fresh yellow tomatoes, red cherry tomatoes, sliced red and green serrano chiles, and some cilantro. A nice, runny egg provides a sauce of sorts, and the fresh, juicy tomatoes and crema work in that way as well. It was a plate full of contrasting textures and colors. Of course, the waffles didn’t turn out at all black from the beans, but I wondered if their color would have been more interesting if I had used some blue corn meal. I’ll try that next time. I’m always a fan of spicy toppings with eggs, but this melange was above and beyond my usual southwestern breakfast fare.
As promised, it was light with a springy airiness about it, and the butter and vanilla gave it nice flavor. The sprinkling of powdered sugar was just enough embellishment. I served the cake with fresh cherries, and that was a happy combination. It’s also mentioned that this cake works well as strawberry shortcake, and I’ll definitely use it that way too. Like so many recipes in this book it’s simple, classic, versatile, and most importantly really good-tasting. Why did I wait so long to start cooking from this book?
To sum up the flavors, there was butter, onion, shallot, garlic, butter, scallops, wine, herbs, butter, and a little cheese. Delicious. It was somewhat rich, but I kept the portions small and served a simple salad on the side. The sauce was nicely put together, and the intention of pre-cooking the onion mixture was, I believe, to prevent the scallops from cooking too long in the sauce. I have a thing about scallops and wanted to completely avoid an over-cooked situation; hence, I didn’t cook them in the sauce and waited to put them back in the pan before broiling. The cheese and butter topping was extravagant both in taste and calorie-count, but I’m so glad to have followed the instructions for that. This dish was just a pleasure to experience. I think that Julia Child might have known a thing or two about cooking, and I’ll be learning more from her and both volumes of the book.