Two Great Cooks, Two Great Cookbooks

'Tis the season to give and receive...and if you're lucky, this year's best cookbooks will be part of the exchange. I recently was given a gift of Ellie Krieger's new book "Comfort Food Fix" and later that week bought for myself Melissa Clark's "Cook This Now." There was something strikingly sympatico about both books -- each meant for a unique audience -- and I was eager to find the treasures within. Both titles are "calls to action," compelling the home cook to get into the kitchen immediately and do something! Their subtitles tell the rest of the story. Ms. Krieger's book is filled with "Feel-Good Favorites Made Healthy," while Ms. Clark offers "120 Easy and Delectable Dishes You Can't Wait to Make." As the author of twelve cookbooks, I know the vicissitudes of creating original dishes that satisfy home cooks' deepest wishes: Recipes that balance a sense of ease in both the time they take to prepare and the "stress factor" in making them. If the recipes "feel healthy," so much the better -- especially for weekday or family cooking. Add to that an interesting new ingredient, technique or combination of flavors, and you've got a book full of enticing new dishes to try.

While the food world is small and many of us know each other, I am only an acquaintance of the authors, meeting up for an occasional chat at a cookbook launch, a chance meeting in the farmer's market, or once an encounter at a very short lunch. But I have been a fan of both authors for years. Ellie is host of one of TV's more credible food shows --Healthy Appetite, shown weekday mornings on the Cooking Channel, and the author of "The Food You Crave" and "So Easy." Melissa is the triumphant food writer for The New York Times' column "A Good Appetite" and the author of 32 cookbooks.

I asked both authors which five recipes in their books were personal favorites. An unfair question, I know! Ellie selected her Blueberry Muffins, French Onion Soup, Shrimp and Grits, Scalloped Potatoes au Gratin, and Mini Cheesecakes, while Melissa highlighted her Roasted Cauliflower with Pomegranate and Salted Yogurt, Roast Chicken with Chickpeas, Lemons & Gremolata, Vietnamese-Style Steak with Cabbage. Pistachio Shortbread, and Maple Pecan Pie with Star Anise. Unknowingly they created little menus for you and me. Ellie's approach might seem the more familiar and homey to Melissa's more adventurous riffs -- the very embodiment of interesting ingredients and new flavor combos.

Each author has successfully carved out a special niche in the crowded marketplace of cooking and cookbooks. As a registered dietician with a master's degree in nutrition from Columbia University, Ellie brings formidable knowledge and expertise to her craft. Her goal in Comfort Food Fix was to re-formulate pleasurable recipes -- banana-walnut pancakes, oven-fried chicken, lasagna, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie -- so that you could include them in a healthier regime. Particularly useful, and insightful into her methodology, is her list of "The 15 Fix Factors" -- including ideas such as using low-fat milk thickened with a bit of flour or cornstarch to create a creamy mouthfeel; the concept of the "un-fry" -- achieving crispiness in a low-fat way; adding whole grains, cooking to keep nutrients, trimming portions, and sweetening smartly. I especially like the notion of keeping it real, and using a bit of butter to enrich foods. According to Ms. Krieger, only 1 tablespoon of sweet butter is needed to add supernal creaminess to her recipe for mashed potatoes. Another wave of her magic wand? A Mushroom, Onion & Gruyere Quiche with Oat Crust was 530 calories before her "fix" and only 290 calories afterward. It also looks delicious.

Melissa, on the other hand, in Cook This Now brings one of my favorite Japanese proverbs to life: "If you can capture the season on the plate, then you are the master." Her recipes feature organic, fresh ingredients that can be uniquely obtained during each month of the year and has us thinking about the procurement of ingredients and cooking as though there were 12 seasons in a year. I love that notion. December brings us Beet & Cabbage Borscht with Dill, Golden Parsnip Latkes, Braised Leg of Lamb with Garlicky Root Vegetable Puree, and lovely sounding Red Chard with Pine Nuts, Garlic, and Golden Rum Raisins. Know what, Melissa?  I am going to "Cook This Now!" Melissa's cooking style, as well as her writing style, is personal, knowing, and seasoned liberally with brilliance.

So there you have it. Two new books to curl up in bed with. Happy Holidays.

Melissa Clark's Pistachio Shortbread (from "Cook This Now") According to Melissa, if she had a signature dish, it would be shortbread.

2 cups all-purpose flour 3/4 cup confectioners' sugar 1/2 cup shelled pistachios 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt 1 cup chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes 2 teaspoons orange blossom water

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Combine the flour, confectioners' sugar, pistachios, and salt in a food processor. Pulse until the nuts are coarsely to finely chopped. Pulse in the butter and orange blossom water until a moist ball forms. Press the dough evenly into an 8-inch-square baking pan.  Prick the shortbread all over with a fork. Bake the shortbread until barely golden, 45 to 50 minutes. Slice the shortbread while warm.

Tastes of the Week

November 28 through December 5 This week's tastes bridge a change in the calendar as well as a change in attitude. There is the seismic shift from ordinary food to the ritualistic fare that graced our family tables on Thanksgiving. It will continue in the weeks to come as we buy our prime ribs and smoked hams, peel potatoes (and a bit of our finger) for making latkes, start baking a thousand Christmas cookies as my friend Judy Rundel has done for 30 years, find a credible fruit cake, send honeybells from Florida to friends as gifts, clip new holiday dishes to try, while we preserve our unique heritages with tattered family recipes. With the holiday lights now flickering on every street corner, we observe piles of tangerines in the stores, Christmas trees and poinsettias lining the sidewalks, and a whiff of holiday expectation in the air.

Even restaurant going this week had a sense of the season. A meal at the venerated Four Seasons restaurant, located in the Seagrams building, always has a bit of festivity about it -- especially in the Grill Room during lunch. Eating across the way from Ralph Lauren, it was festive indeed to dive into a puddle of creamy polenta topped with a small poached egg and a shower of shaved truffles; followed by fluke sashimi with lemongrass, steelhead salmon with wild mushrooms and green beans with an almond-caper beurre noisette (a nutty brown butter sauce), and sauteed Arctic char -- an unappreciated fish as I see it -- accompanied by salsify (an unappreciated root vegetable!), mizuna, and a truffle sauce. Disks of key lime pie and walnut tart were a gastronomic kick-off to the holidays.

Another indication that the holidays are upon us is the level of activity in New York on Saturday night:  We had an impossible time trying to get reservations, anywhere!  After two hours of searching and relying on Open Table, we found ourselves at a very good, acoustically comfortable (yet very busy) restaurant on the corner of Thompson and Spring street in Soho. Few know the chef, or owner, and it is hardly a venue in which to see or be seen, however we enjoyed it very much --  primarily for those reasons, but also because the food was unexpectedly delicious and we had wonderful service, from a staff that hailed from Poland, India and Sicily. Also unexpected was a quiet table in the corner near the window overlooking the bustle of New York night life.  We devoured creamy burrata (a cheese from the south of Italy) with excellent tomatoes (from where I wonder?), terrific fried calamari with "strings" of crispy fried vegetables, fabulously toothsome spaghetti with a sauce of fresh clams (really cockles) zucchini, olive oil and spicy garlic; mixed homemade sweet and spicy sausage with lentils, squash and broccoli rabe; filet of king salmon with a mustard sauce, celery root (another unappreciated veg!) and asparagus (thick, meaty and fresh from somewhere). My husband enjoyed his pasta special laden with duck and we toasted his prowess, and patience, in finding such an unassuming spot. Oh yes, the restaurant is called Savore. The executive chef is Francesca Bergamini and the Chef is Edilberto Soriano.

And now begins a slew of holiday recipes to get you in the mood.  Here's a sugar-coated, crackling holiday ham which will trigger mouthwatering desire. Elemental in its flavors -- salty, sweet, sharp, aromatic, its simple cooking technique keeps it moist and succulent.

Sugar-Coated, Crackling Holiday Ham

10-pound smoked ready-to-cook ham, shank portion 1 cup coarse-grain mustard (such as Pommery) 1/4 cup bourbon 1 cup sugar 1-1/2 tablespoons ground cinnamon 2 teaspoons ground cardamom kumquats with their leaves, for garnishing

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Place ham in a shallow roasting pan and add 1/8 inch water to the pan. Cover ham with foil and bake 2-1/2 hours. Remove ham from oven and increase temperature to 450 degrees. Pour most of the fat from the pan. Using a sharp, thin-bladed knife, remove the rind, except for the area around the shank bone, and most of the fat. Score the remaining fat by cutting diagonal slashes in a diamond pattern. Stir together mustard and bourbon and cover the surface thickly with the mixture. Stir together sugar, cinnamon and cardamom and coat the ham, patting down to cover completely. Add freshly ground black pepper and return to the oven for 25 minutes until the sugar melts and hardens: it will become a bit crackly. Present on a large platter and decorate with kumquats with their leaves. Carve and serve while hot. Serves 12

In Time for the Holidays: Star-Chefs Keep it Simple

Most of us prepare traditional, time-honored, often-complicated recipes during the holidays as a tribute to the slavish hours put in by our mothers in years gone by. These elaborate dishes are the culinary equivalent of a photo album, honoring not only our ancestors but what they ate around a shared table. But what if we were “given permission” by today’s star chefs to keep-it-simple? Then maybe we would! During the holidays, when too many people are in the kitchen, too many meals to prepare, and expectations that are exalted, this approach allows the harried cook to have as much fun as their guests. The idea? To fulfill the promise of abundance without the burden. This year, some of the world’s most revered chefs inadvertently satisfy this need in new cookbooks coming out this season.  Many of the most illustrious --  Jean-Georges Vongerichten, Marc Vetri, Daniel Humm, Heston Blumenthal, and Ferran Adria – share some of their simpler ideas  in titles such as “Home-Cooking with Jean-Georges,” “Heston Blumenthal at Home”, Vetri’s “Rustic Italian Food,”  Adria’s “The Family Meal,”  and Jacob Kenedy’s (from London’s hot restaurant Bocca), approachable tome, “Bocca.” Even Daniel Humm, in his uber-sophisticated book “11 Madison Park,” presents some do-able, holiday recipes. If you look hard enough, you will find them. I have had the pleasure of browsing these inspiring books and found recipes that meet "radically simple" standards: not too many ingredients, simple procedures, with an existential trade-off of time and effort. These are the dishes that one craves during the busiest time in our lives. Sporting the colors and flavors of the season while they infuse the spirit of tradition with a shot of modernity. Crafting a holiday meal from these collective works would look something like this:

Jean-Georges’ Crab Toast with Sriracha Mayonnaise Heston Blumenthal’s Creamy Leek and Potato Soup Daniel Humm’s Almond Vinaigrette on a salad of endive, watercress & Roquefort Jacob Kenedy’s Duck Cooked Like A Pig Ferran Adria’s Catalan-style Turkey Legs Heston Blumenthal’s Slow-cooked Rib of Beef (1 ingredient/new technique) Daniel Humm’s Extreme Carrot Puree (two ingredients) Marc Vetri’s Fennel Gratin Heston Blumenthal’s Beetroot Relish Jean-George’s Fresh Corn Pudding Cake Marc Vetri’s Olive Oil Cake Heston Blumenthal’s Potted Stilton with Apricot, Onion & Ginger Chutney

Some of the above tomes are intimidating indeed. But if you are lucky to get any of these books as holiday gifts, you might have fun looking for radically simple recipes to call your own. And before too long, as lights alight on Menorahs and Christmas trees everywhere, look no further than here for this year's radically favorite holiday dishes, including some of my own.

Tastes of the Week

Nov. 21 through Nov. 28th Sometime last week, when I was very, very hungry, I walked through the food market at Grand Central Station. There lay a bag of the biggest, puffy, onion-topped rolls that made made my mouth water. I regretted not buying them and so returned the next day. Purchased at Zaro's, these small breads are called "onion pockets" but are really more like little loaves of challah topped with bits of caramelized onion. A bargain at $5.99, my family enjoyed them all week long in myriad ways--not least of which was simply toasted, smeared with sweet butter and topped with soppressata.  Strong coffee. Heaven.

It's not my husband's cup of tea to go out for Thanksgiving dinner but we did anyway! We four (with son and daughter) went to the bustling Commerce, located, not unexpectedly, on Commerce Street in the West Village, one of the prettiest blocks in the city. Fabulous food -- roasted sweet potato tortelloni with hazelnuts, pomegranate & beurre noisette, devilled eggs, a wonderful bread basket, delicious moist turkey with all the trimmings, an order of very spicy artisanal spaghetti with 'Nduja sausage, garlic & parsley, and for me as a starter, a "Ragu of odd things: oxtail, trotters and tripe with hand-rolled orecchiette." Not that there was any room left in our bellies, but a mile-high coconut layer cake had to be one of the best cakes I've ever eaten. It was a lovely afternoon.

A solemn, but beautiful morning, at Ground Zero -- the memorial site at the World Trade Center. It was majestic in its intention, and gripping in its magnitude. Do go. It's a sacred place. But hours of walking, on such a balmy day, can make one hungry. We strolled to Stone Street in the Financial district -- cut off from traffic, it is a cobbled path between aged buildings of a more human scale. It felt a bit like being in London, or Naples; especially the latter as we delved into a really top-notch thin crusted pepperoni pizza at Adrienne's. Sitting outside on November 27th!, sipping red wine, was my idea of nice.

I made my first pecan pie to finish the weekend and my daughter made cranberry sauce -- the jellied block kind that makes me smile. Who knew you could make that?! It seems that the recipe has been on the back of the bag forever: All you need is a strainer, a wooden spoon and a strong arm to push those cranberries through the wire mesh. I also made a large turkey, stuffing, roasted butternut squash, string beans....it's important to have leftovers, no?

And I want to share a comment from a reader of Real Food magazine about my sweet potato, pear and walnut gratin. You don't have to wait for next year to make it. It would be lovely with roast pork or duck. Enjoy!

Dear Ms. Gold, I just had to tell you that yesterday I made your Sweet Potato, Pear, and Walnut Gratin recipe that appeared in the Fall 2011 edition of Real Food. It was the star of our Thanksgiving dinner, far outshining everything else on the table, and the kitchen is still redolent with the aroma of that magical concoction of cream, chipotle chile and curry! (Thank you so much for this inventive dish, and many others over the years.) -- KJ from Minneapolis 

Thanksgiving Paella & Cranberry Granita

While most folks use their cold turkey and fixings for retro favorites like turkey Divan, turkey loaf, hash, chowder, or a beloved Kentucky Hot Brown (a hot open-face turkey sandwich smothered with cheese sauce), I opt for more exotic tastes that evoke another time and place, as in my turkey paella! Or if truth be told, sometimes I make an entire Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday, which I will be doing this year. Paella later in the week. The depth of flavor in the (almost) traditional version comes from turkey stock, simply made from a picked-over carcass with bay leaves and garlic or you can use broth from a can. Paella, which originated in the Valencia region of Spain, has as its basic ingredients, rice, saffron and olive oil. The rice is cooked in stock then the add-ons are cooked in the rice. Here, they include red pepper, sausage, smoked chorizo, peas -- and Thanksgiving turkey! Paella is generally served in a paellera, a broad, round shallow pan with handles, from which it gets its name. I make mine in a big casserole on top of the stove and then spoon it into a heated paellera for effect.

More leftovers? Leftover vegetables get marinated in a spunky vinaigrette. You will need about 3 pounds of cooked/steamed vegetables to which sweet grape tomatoes are added. If making vegetables from scratch because your Thanksgiving guests ate them all, simply steam a mélange of tiny Brussels sprouts, string beans, thick oval slices of carrots and small broccoli or cauliflower florets.

But the crown jewel on the table set with leftovers is my cranberry granita -- made from a jellied block of cranberry sauce. Refreshing with its citrusy flavors, it is especially dramatic strewn with fresh raspberries or shimmering pomegranate seeds.

Hope you had a happy Thanksgiving.

Marinated Vegetables

If using leftover vegetables, you will need about 3 pounds of cooked/steamed vegetables to which halved grape tomatoes are added.

3 pounds cooked or steamed vegetables (Brussels sprouts, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, stringbeans) 1 pound grape tomatoes, halved lengthwise 3/4 cup olive oil (not extra-virgin) 1/4 cup red wine vinegar 2 tablespoons water 2 cloves garlic, pushed through a garlic press 1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves 1 teaspoon dijon mustard 1/2 teaspoon sugar 1/2 teaspoon Tabasco

If using cold leftover vegetables, put them in a large strainer and place the strainer in a large pot of boiling water for 30 seconds. Drain and pat dry. If using fresh vegetables, boil or steam them until tender. Drain under cold water and pat dry.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the remaining ingredients. Toss with vegetables. Add salt and pepper. Cover and marinate at least 6 hours or overnight. Let come to room temperature. Adjust seasonings. Serves 6 or more

Cranberry Granita

2 oranges 2 large lemons 3/4 cup sugar 2-1/2 cups water 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 16 ounces jellied cranberry sauce

Grate rind of oranges to get 1 heaping teaspoon zest. Cut oranges in half and squeeze to get ½ cup juice. Grate rind of lemons to get 1 heaping teaspoon zest. Cut lemons in half and squeeze to get ½ cup juice. Put juices and zest in a medium saucepan with sugar, water and vanilla. Cut jellied cranberry sauce into large pieces and put in saucepan.

Bring to a boil, whisking constantly with a wire whisk. Lower heat to medium and continue to cook, about 5 minutes, until cranberry sauce has completely melted and mixture is smooth. Remove from heat and cool.

Transfer mixture to a large shallow metal pan or two metal pie tins. Carefully place in freezer. Stir mixture with a fork, every 30 minutes, breaking up ice crystals. Freeze for 3 hours. Using a spoon, scrape mixture into chilled wine glasses. Serve immediately. Serves 6 or more

Creamy Pumpkin Cheesecake, Your Way

So here we are, one day before Thanksgiving, and I urge you to count your blessings and be mindful of the tangibles, and intangibles, in your life for which you are grateful. Someone recently told me they are grateful for this recipe (below)! But if your gratitude has more to do with the people you love and care for, then why not consider making it for them? This one-bowl, crustless cheesecake sets beautifully after a day in the fridge and actually improves with age. The topping can be done your way -- I like to use a medley of pecans, white chocolate chips, and candied ginger, but you can use chopped-up Heath Bars, granola, crushed chocolate wafers, gingersnaps, tiny marshmallows, shredded coconut, dried cherries, or glacéed fruit. And whilst I make it in a 10-inch removable-bottom cake pan, it can also be made in a large square pan and cut into brownie-like pieces (as it's done in the photo. It's from an article I wrote for the fall issue of Real Food magazine.)

Wishing you all a happy and nourishing Thanksgiving Day.

Creamy Pumpkin Cheesecake Having the cream cheese at room temperature is key to a smooth and creamy texture.

24 ounces cream cheese, room temperature 1/4 cup crème fraiche or sour cream 1/4 cup cornstarch 3 extra-large eggs 15-ounce can pumpkin puree 1-1/2 cups sugar 1-1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon 1 teaspoon ground ginger 2 teaspoons real vanilla extract soft butter for greasing pan

Suggested toppings: 1/2 cup finely chopped pecans 1/3 cup white chocolate chips 3 tablespoons candied ginger, finely minced

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Using an electric mixer, beat cream cheese, crème fraiche, and cornstarch until smooth. Add eggs, pumpkin puree, all but 1 tablespoon sugar, cinnamon, ginger, and vanilla. Mix until smooth. Heavily butter a 10-inch, removable bottom cake pan. Pour in batter. Bake 30 minutes. Top with pecans, white chocolate chips, and ginger (or toppings of your choice) or the remaining 1 tablespoon sugar. Bake 40 minutes longer until firm. Remove from oven and cool completely. Cover and refrigerate 24 hours before serving.  Serves 12

Nice to sip with bourbon or brandy or Drambuie.  (It's in the back of your liquor cabinet.) Enjoy!

Crazy for Cranberries

I'm crazy for cranberries as I'm sure many of you are. The following recipes, chosen from a repertoire of dozens, are interesting variations on a standard theme but have more verve and vibrancy. One such newfangled version always appears on my Thanksgiving table and I often make enough to give away as gifts in pretty glass jars. But you may be interested to know that a wobbly block of cranberry sauce, straight from the can, takes center stage. I just love the stuff:  I love it's garnet color, its opaque yet translucent sheen, its tart-sweet syzygy, the way it waxes and wanes, and the way it is generally left untouched, slowly becoming unglued as the temperature rises around the table. Poor jellied cranberry sauce. What to do? I turn it into a delicious cranberry granita (!) -- a recipe I'll share with you on "Thanksgiving Leftovers Day" -- a new culinary holiday that takes place on the fourth Saturday of every November. Never heard of it? I just made it up! Anyway, the jellied cylinder, complete with the slightly indented striations from the can itself, is something I look forward to year after year. It's a tradition I would never change.

The first offering below is this year's favorite spin. It is a fresh, sprightly relish that cleanses your palate and adds electricity and color to each of the meal's components. And you can make it today, for it improves with each day that passes -- up to five days in advance -- and it takes only two minutes to prepare. Can you find the time? The second recipe is dark and jammy and reminiscent of a conserve (a thick jam made from two or more fruits.) Its deep color comes from dark-brown sugar and ruby-hued dried cherries which plump right up and add unexpected bursts of sweetness. Candied ginger and fresh lime zest tell the rest of the story.

For more saucy cranberry ideas, you may refer to my posts of 2010 (November 20 and December 1) which features a dynamic chutney and dulcet cranberry-maple syrup, and a simple and sophisticated apple-cranberry sauce. Not bad at all with a holiday bird (or with potato pancakes!)

Today the cranberries, tomorrow the...

Cranberry-Lemon-Apple Relish

12 ounces fresh cranberries 2/3 cup turbinado sugar 2 lemon wedges (skin and all, no pits) ½ large Gala apple, in large chunks 1/8 teaspoon ground allspice Large pinch salt

Pulse in food processor until finely ground. Cover and refrigerate until chilled. Makes 2-1/3 cups

Cranberry, Dried Cherry and Ginger Conserve

1-2/3 cups dark brown sugar 24 ounces fresh cranberries ¾ cup dried cherries, about 3 ounces, coarsely chopped 3 tablespoons finely minced candied ginger 1 large lime

In a large saucepan, bring 2-1/2 cups water and sugar to a boil. Add cranberries, dried cherries, 3 tablespoons minced ginger and a pinch of salt. Bring mixture to a rapid boil. Reduce heat to medium-high. Grate zest of lime and add to pot. Cook for 15 minutes,  stirring frequently, until cranberries pop and mixture is thick. Let cool with cover askew.  Transfer to a bowl or jar; cover and refrigerate until cold. If desired, garnish with additional candied ginger or grated lime zest. Serves 8  (makes 5 cups)

Sweet Potato Triptych

Here are three fabulous seasonally-appropriate sweet potato recipes -- all perfect for your Thanksgiving feast. One is made with only three ingredients and is totally fat-free, the other, a gratin, can be made days ahead and simply reheated, and the third is a seductive spin on roasted sweet potatoes, blanketed with a sticky maple "honey" I invented. It is nothing more, and nothing less, than pure maple syrup simmered until sticky-thick, perfumed with cinnamon stick and zested lemon. It can be made early in the day and gently warmed when the potatoes are freshly baked. A cinch to make, the result is a cavalcade of sweet, salty, buttery, citrus flavors. Satisfaction guaranteed whichever you choose.

Sweet Potato, Pear, & Walnut Gratin

This is a lovely merger of flavors and a unique addition to your Thanksgiving table. It is delicious with, or without, the layer of sliced Muenster cheese tucked midway through the layers of sweet potatoes. The spices add a gentle perfume to the cream base which bathes and softens the vegetables. This can be prepared one to two days ahead and reheated: Cover and bake at 400 degrees for 15 minutes, then uncover and bake 5 minutes longer.

 3 pounds sweet potatoes 1 large firm ripe pear 3 cups half and half 1-1/2 teaspoons curry powder 1/8-1/4 teaspoon chipotle chili powder 1 large clove garlic, smashed 6 ounces thinly sliced Muenster cheese 1 cup grated parmesan cheese 1 cup walnut halves 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Peel potatoes. Slice very thin across the width. Peel pear. Thinly slice lengthwise; removing pits as you go. Put half and half in a medium saucepan with curry, chili powder and garlic. Bring just to a boil; lower heat and simmer 5 minutes. Set aside; remove garlic when ready to use. Put parmesan and walnuts in bowl of food processor; process until finely ground.

In a very large shallow ovenproof casserole (12 cups), arrange half the potatoes in overlapping slices to form a cohesive bottom layer. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Arrange pears to cover potatoes. Arrange Muenster cheese over pears. Arrange the remaining potatoes in an overlapping pattern to form a cohesive top layer. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Pour cream over and around potatoes. Cover top of potatoes with walnut-parmesan mixture. Dot with butter. Bake 1 hour and 15 minutes. Serve hot. Serves 8

Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Sweet Whipped Butter & Maple "Honey"

8 large sweet potatoes 1-1/2 cups pure maple syrup 1 large cinnamon stick 1 large lemon ½ cup sweet whipped butter ¼ cup freshy minced chives

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Wash potatoes but do not peel them. Pierce them several times with the tines of a fork. Place them directly on the racks in the oven. Bake 50 to 60 minutes or until potatoes are soft. Put maple syrup and cinnamon stick in a large saucepan. Bring to a rapid boil, reduce heat to low to maintain simmer and cook until reduced to 1 cup, about 25 minutes. Add grated zest of lemon and 1 tablespoon juice. Remove from heat until ready to serve potatoes. When potatoes are soft, transfer them to a cutting board. Cut them in half lengthwise and place on a platter. Gently heat maple sap. Dollop potatoes with whipped butter and spoon hot sap over potatoes. Sprinkle with salt and chives. Serves 8

Sweet Potato, Ginger & Orange Puree This amazingly simple, bright orange puree tastes rich and fattening but it's fat-free. Add a large pinch of Chinese five-spice powder if you desire -- it's a nice touch.

2 large oranges 4 larges sweet potatoes, about 3 pounds 3-inch piece fresh ginger

Grate the zest of the oranges. Cut the oranges in half and squeeze to get 2/3 cup juice. Set aside. Scrub the potatoes but do not peel. Place in a large pot with water to cover.  Bring to a boil; lower heat to medium. Cook for 50 minutes or until the potatoes are very soft. Drain well and peel under cold water. Cut the potatoes into large pieces and put in the bowl of a food processor. Using a small knife, peel the ginger and finely chop enough to get 3 tablespoons. Add the ginger, orange zest, and orange juice to processor. Process until very smooth. Add salt to taste. Reheat before serving. Serves 8

Tastes of the Week

November 7 through 13, 2011 Jack o' Lantern leftovers! We never got to carve our pumpkin this Halloween and so a faceless orb has been staring at me for the last two weeks. Small to medium in size, about 3 pounds, including a long graceful stem -- I vowed to treat it with respect and serve it forth for dinner. A radically simple recipe ensued:  Cut a 3 pound, very round pumpkin in quarters. Place in a small paella pan or baking dish, upside down (the seeds and membrane are easier to remove after it's cooked.) Place 1 inch of water in pan and bake at 400 degrees until soft, about 45 minutes. Turn over, cover and bake until very tender. Remove seeds and membranes. Drizzle with good olive oil and a liberal sprinkling of ras el hanout (a Moroccan spice blend) and kosher salt. Drain water; place pumpkin in pan and bake until slightly caramelized. See my recipe for Calabaza Soup with Celery & Crispy Sage (below) -- just in case you, too, have a leftover pumpkin.

The sweet aromatics of ras el hanout (available in Middle Eastern markets and spice shops) are intoxicating. Meaning "top of the shop" in Arabic, each mixture is unique but generally combines more than one dozen spices (and sometimes up to 100!). The predominant perfume comes from cardamom, clove, cinnamon, chili, coriander, cumin, nutmeg, and turmeric. It is wonderful rubbed on lamb or chicken or simply sprinkled on tomato soup to take it in an exotic direction. It lent a playful aroma, and taste, to the nutty quality of the pumpkin. It is a spice mixture that has a definitive place in my pantry and in my heart.

Perhaps as I get older, I covet reservations at my friends' tables, even more than at the newest restaurant. And so, last night, we were lucky enough to be invited to the home of Jerry Adler and Beth Lebowitz. They are the perfect couple in many remarkable ways and also in the kitchen where Jerry is cook to Beth's pastry chef. This amazing meal began with homemade ricotta gnocchi -- I was knocked out by their lightness -- with a heady sauce of porcini, prosciutto and tomato paste (also homemade!). It was followed by a luscious pork shoulder (baked for 18 hours and inspired, perhaps, by a recipe in Radically Simple); tiny roasted brussels sprouts, lovely carrots with capers, and golden, crispy roasted potatoes.  A voluptuous onion sauce accompanied the pork which was already generously flavored with coriander seed and garlic. The skin on top of the pork got so crispy that we shared it like a peace pipe and nodded with the crunching brittle sounds of happiness. A wonderful pear clafouti and good strong coffee followed. A brisk, and needed, walk home. Jerry is a crackerjack journalist: Check out his story on heirloom grains in an upcoming article in Smithsonian, and his previous piece on scientist/chef Myhrvold.

This week's most extraordinary food experience, however, took place at the James Beard House during "A Dinner to Remember."  No doubt, I will remember it, and Jerry's ricotta gnocchi, for a long, long time.

You might want to start your own "week of tastes" with the following almost-winter soup:

Pumpkin Soup with Celery & Crispy Sage This soup, adapted from Radically Simple, has an air of the West Indies about it, with its earthy flavors of ginger, scotch bonnet, pepper, celery, thyme and sage (often found in "jerk" recipes.) Butternut or calabaza squash can be substituted for the pumpkin.

3-1/2 pound piece of pumpkin 6 tablespoons olive oil 2 cups finely chopped onions 1 cup finely chopped celery, plus leaves for garnish 2 tablespoons finely chopped peeled fresh ginger 1/2 small scotch bonnet pepper, finely minced 1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves 20 medium-large fresh sage leaves 1 tablespoon dark brown sugar

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Remove seeds and membrane from pumpkin. Place in a roasting pan. Drizzle with 1 tablespoon of the oil. Pour 1 inch water into the pan and bake 1-1/2 hours until very soft. Scoop out the flesh. Heat 3 tablespoons of the oil in a 4-quart pot. Add the onions, celery, ginger, minced pepper, thyme, 2 sage leaves, and 1 teaspoon salt. Cook 15 minutes over medium heat. Add the sugar and 4 cups water. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, and add the squash. Cover and cook 15 minutes. In batches, puree the soup in a food processor until very smooth. Fry the remaining sage leaves in a small pan in 2 tablespoons hot oil until crispy. Drain on paper towels and sprinkle with salt.  Serve the soup hot with the fried sage leaves and celery leaves. Serves 6

Fast Track: Cars and Food

In my 35 years as a professional chef, I have come to know a lot about food. But I know nothing about cars and so was especially interested in the riveting juxtaposition of great chefs and great cars at a dinner celebrating the 125th anniversary of the automobile. In 1886, we were probably eating many of the same things cooked for us at the Beard House on Nov. 8th, 2011 -- fresh beets, gulf shrimp in courtbouillon, tapioca, suckling pig and turnips, and some version of chocolate cake -- but for the lucky us at this Grand Prix dinner, both food and cars were re-imagined. The event, hosted by Mercedes Benz USA, brought together some of the country's most illustrious chefs to cook a hi-test dinner for a crowd generally unknown to me. Who were they?  Men and women who write about cars!  Some, like me, who write about food, were tickled pink to talk about motor oil instead of olive oil. To discover what drove people to drive the cars that they do; to share memories of first cars instead of first meals, and to revel in the knowledge that cars and food are inextricably linked. How exactly?  Matthew Rudy, one of my dining partners for the evening, put it pretty eloquently:  "Great cars and great food are the same in an important way. They both give this immediate, visceral pleasure. You know you're not just getting to point B, or eating because it's dinner time. You get pulled out of every day for an hour or two." He went on to say that he had "tremendous respect for people with the skill and craft to build cars and meals with such sophistication and attention to detail."  Rudy, who is a senior editor for Golf Digest, including its monthly Long Drives automotive travel column, has written dozens of cover stories, ghostwritten 15 books about golf, business and travel, and is hankering to open a wine store any day now.

Another bridge between food and cars?  According to Christine Quinlan, deputy editor at Food & Wine, car companies are becoming the largest advertisers in food magazines! Last year, the Association of Magazine Media posited that, "Automotive manufacturers are continuing to invest in magazines because magazines and the Internet are considered the most influential source of information for brands especially in the final stages of purchase decisions." And who was the biggest winner of those auto ads in 2010? Food Network Magazine.

There is the obvious connection, as I see it, to lifestyle and aspiration, but whereas Nascar says fast food to me, Mercedes Benz says "slower" food --  hence the all-star line up of languorous dishes and libations. Even the cocktails were custom-designed by renowned mixologist Julie Reiner from Lani Kai in Soho, and the revved-up wine pairings were inspired -- from the 2007 De Forville Barbaresco (from Piedmont) to accompany Dan Kluger's Roast Pig with Smoked Bacon Marmalade and Braised Turnips (from ABC Kitchen), to the not-too-sweet 2003 Chateau Pajzos Tokaji 3 Puttonyos to partner with Karen DeMasco's remarkable Chocolate Brown Butter Cake with Roasted Pears and Hazelnut Brown Butter Gelato. Karen is the beloved pastry chef at Locanda Verde, with good reason.  (I wonder what she drives.)

For several years, Mercedes Benz has partnered with the Beard Foundation in an effort to preserve and celebrate America's culinary heritage as it seeks to link the idea of culinary innovation with automotive innovation. Aha! Clearly there's a precedent:  Michelin tires are "hand-in-glove compartment" to the famous Michelin restaurant guide.

So what else did we eat as we chatted like Car Talk hosts around our table? A first-class first-course from Daniel Humm (11 Madison Park) of "wheels" of perfectly poached and lightly pickled beets with chevre frais and caraway and John Besh's extraordinary Redfish Courtbouillon with Gulf Shrimp and Blue Crab Pearls, made from little tapioca orbs soaked in crab liquor (from restaurant August in Louisiana.) The hors d'oeuvres were pretty nifty too:  including Kluger's now-famous kabocha squash and ricotta bruschetta, and egg shells filled with chive oil and smoked sturgeon foam from four-star chef Daniel Humm.

There was a gorgeous Mercedes convertible parked outside the Beard House on West 12th Street that evening. But in case you were wondering, I took a yellow taxi home.

Tastes of the Week

October 31 through November 6 Notes from Napa Valley: The take-away from three days and nights at the Culinary Institute of America's food conference  -- "World Casual:  The Future of American Menus"--  comes the notion that the food of tomorrow will be a big mash-up of tastes and flavors all on one plate. No doubt you are experiencing that now. The "grab-and-go" food of yesterday and of the globe's most remote locations, is the knockout food of today and we can barely digest it all. It's "the experience" we all seem to be after -- whether at the $3 price level...or $300.00. Once upon a time, casual restaurants distilled their ideas from  "upscale dining." Today, upscale restaurants chefs are inspired by more humble tastes -- from ethnic street food vendors  and idiosyncratic food trucks.

There were more than 700 cooks, sponsors, and food companies present. And there were chefs from twenty-one countries who all weighed in on the interesting debate of "what's next?" There was a strong presence from Spain, particularly the Basque region, with a handful of chefs doing cutting edge pintxos (tapas) --with one dramatic showing of dry ice in a sardine can which "smoked" as the food was presented on top. Pretty cool stuff to accompany a glass of cava (of which there were numerous examples to try.)

And there were more authentic offerings too, from Paul Bartolotta from Las Vegas, the wonderful Indian chef Hemant Mathur from Tulsi in New York (a recent Michelin star recipient), and from Sara Jenkins, porchetta-e-pasta diva from the lower East Side. Jose Garces, the superstar chef from Philadelphia predicted that Ecuadorian food is the next trend (Peruvian food is the current one), and made delicious Slow-Cooked Pork Trotters with Spicy Peanut Curry, Scallions and Hominy. Historian and chef, Maricel Priscilla, owner of two great restaurants in Hoboken, seconded that notion with her tantalizing Ecuadorian Shrimp Ceviche with Peanuts in the style of Manabi. From another Latino kitchen came a fascinating dish presented by Rick Bayless (from Chicago's Frontera Grill, etc.) -- a "dry ceviche" made with ground yellowtail, lime juice, carrots, red onion and minced serrano pepper. It's an "a la minute" dish that can truly be made in seconds.

Most of the time we ate from the half-acre of food stalls and buffet tables -- the Iberico pork (fresh) from Spain was remarkable, as was the foccacia di Recco of Chef Bartolotta, the Sfincione alla Palermitana from Umbrian chef Salvatore Denaro, and the fragrant biryani from Nimmy Paul, a food writer and consultant from Kerala. During one of the wonderful presentations moderated by Michael Whiteman, I had the best pork belly bao of my life, from Charles Phan, owner and executive chef of San Francisco's Slanted Door. As Mr. Whiteman aptly said about so much of this food, "both time and distance have evaporated; you can get anything from anywhere."  I also enjoyed a classic salad from Singapore called "rojak" -- made with pineapple, cucumber, mango, fish sauce, shrimp paste and ground nuts, prepared by chef KF Seetoh. It was as classic as anything that translates as "chaos" could be. Very refreshing and mysterious. The longest line of the three-day festival, however, was Chef Phan's "Fried Chicken with Sriracha Butter."

One night we went out for dinner in St. Helena to one of the most beautifully casual/upscale restaurants anywhere, called Press. Specializing in wood-fired food and one of Napa's great wine lists, the restaurant is owned by Leslie Rudd (from Rudd Vineyards, 209 Gin, and owner of Dean & Deluca) and the CIA's "Advance Ambassador" Reuben Katz (who used to work with us at the Rainbow Room.) Great ambiance and lots of protein but the killer dish that night was...Wood-roasted Brussels Sprouts with big chunks of Nueske's bacon. Amazing. I also loved my side dish of smokey-buttery kale that I chose to have as my first course.

We also had a big deal dinner at one of San Francisco's most revered restaurants: Michael Mina. Loved the dry malvasia from Greece I had as an aperitif accompanied by oiled-grilled bread served with tiny ramekins of creamy ricotta and honey.

And the best bedtime "pillow treat" I've had in a hotel recently (the lovely Inn at Southbridge) was the shortbread cookie embedded in a disc of bittersweet chocolate. I may order a case. It's from a company called Totally Chocolate.

This was the 14th year that the CIA held their World of Flavors Conference. There's nothing quite like it.

Chopra and Vongerichten Talk Delicious

The other night at the miraculously curated abc home furnishings store, near New York's Union Square, there was an unorthodox kind of culinary happening. Deepak and Jean-Georges, two men famous enough that we're all on a first-name basis with them, created a four-star recipe for the launch of Vongerichten's newest book, Home Cooking with Jean-Georges:  My Favorite Simple Recipes (Clarkson Potter.) The ingredients? Dozens of food world habitués (Bittman, Danny Meyer, the top magazine food editors), an ultra-chic sampling from both men's fan clubs, fabulous farm-to-table hors d'oeuvres supplied by this year's best new restaurant -- none other than abckitchen (located on store's first floor); generous bar-to-glass offerings of lemon-thyme vodka martinis and champagne; a film crew; a thoughtfully-decorated "organic tv studio," candles, cushions, and the collegial collaboration of Deepak and JGV, all supervised by the formidable Paulette Cole -- owner, visionary and astute aesthete of the abc collective.

Not unlike sitting in front of a couple of jazz musicians who riff and make the air between them meaningful, DC and JGV, made their own kind of music with humor and candor at the intersection of commerce and education. Commerce?  We were there to buy JGV's new book (it's really lovely and one of his most accessible). Education? That's what Chopra sells -- a beneficent sharing of healthy mindfulness  -- his own brand of "magic seasoning." It's clear that they both love food and that they share so much of its majesty. Deepak expressing his algorithm about the five senses, the six tastes, and the seven colors, while Jean-Georges talked about his love of umami and the tastes of Asia where he spent his formative years learning to be a chef -- Hong Kong, Tokyo, Bangkok. When JGV returned to New York in 1986 following his stints in Asia, he headed not for the farmer's market ("there was hardly anything to buy way back then," he mused), but to Chinatown for a healthy dose of fresh produce and "exotic" ingredients. Whereas these may have become staples in many of our pantries, we have come to know and respect them largely due to Jean-Georges' wildly inventive, brilliantly hued, inclusion of Asian verve into French classicism.

Deepak's wildly informed medical prowess has him inserting dozens of heart-mind-body connections to the joys of eating. "The same neuropeptides that are found in our brain are also found in our stomachs." "The mood we are in when we eat greatly affects the metabolism of our food in both positive and negative ways."  "Prana, or life energy, is so closely tied to the health of the food we eat -- so make it organic, sustainable," -- all underscoring the dynamic  relationship of food and health.

For 25 years now, I've called Jean-Georges the "pilot light" of creativity -- for in the culinary kingdom of great talent and artistry, it is quite remarkable to soar to the top -- and then stay there -- with every new endeavor. He was the original "juice man;" he replaced heavy sauces and stocks with vibrant vegetable extractions. He's a zealot, and his exquisitely light style of cooking sparked a culinary revolution in America. For a stint, he was "in the weeds" -- as his ever-changing world of taste laid in the wild -- little-known leaves, weeds, and flowers like Queen Anne's lace, chicory root, and pigweed -- more poetically called lamb's quarters.  And now, he's a farm-to-table guy, just like Chopra who uttered the word locavore last night, like a prayer.

These guys have a lot in common. Deepak has written over 65 books; Jean-Georges has 27 restaurants with more on the way. They are both pioneers and at the forefront of important cultural and sociological movements. They are both involved in aspects of their craft that extend way beyond the limits imposed by anyone else. They are free-thinkers and seem to agree with other great thinkers that: "food is medicine" and "you are what you eat." They may also both believe in a spirituality of food. I know I do.

And at the end, they both agreed, "It is always about delicious."

Radically Simple Gets Top Honors

In conjunction with the 25th anniversary of the country's most beloved food magazine, the editors at Cooking Light have established the Cooking Light Cookbook Awards. Beginning with the November 2011 issue (on newsstands now), the 100 MOST IMPORTANT COOKBOOKS of the past 25 years were chosen. Each month will unveil the top picks across 15 categories. In the first category, General Cookbooks, only nine selections were made. I am pleased as punch that Radically Simple: Brilliant Flavors with Breathtaking Ease was one of them. According to Cooking Light's editorial team, more than 50,000 cookbooks will have been published in the U.S. in past quarter-century. Their observation is that, "Cooks love books for their ability to inspire, entertain, excite, soothe, teach -- and for their beauty as physical objects. The best are thrilling, whether they're eye-opening explorations of a single subject, seminal overviews, or beautiful obsessions." Many of the ones chosen are all of the above.

The CL team looked at best-seller and awards lists, and talked to editors, authors, and experts. For consideration, books had to be published in the U.S. since 1987 and be in print or easily available on line. "Winners emerged after passionate debate about voice, originality, beauty, importance, and a clear mission or vision." And yes, they went on to say, "We tested the recipes."

Other choices in the category include:  Martha Stewart's Cooking School (Lessons and Recipes for the Home Cook); The Essential New York Times Cookbook by Amanda Hesser (which is on my shelf next to Craig Claiborne's cherished blue-linen bound edition written in 1961); Real Cooking by Nigel Slater (an original voice if there ever was one); Gourmet Today (edited by Ruth Reichl); Cook with Jamie:  My Guide to Making You A Better Cook, by Jamie Oliver; The New Best Recipe (by the editors of Cook's Illustrated); Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything; and Ad Hoc at Home by Thomas Keller.

In addition to the personal and insightful write-ups of each book, are a few specially selected recipes, which makes this double issue of Cooking Light, especially magical.

Of Radically Simple, here are some highlights: "This is one of those books that make you want to leap up and start cooking." "This book importantly elevates the quick-and-simple concept to a new level, becoming a benchmark."

Next month?  Baking.

With heartfelt thanks to Cooking Light and to my readers who dare to be radically simple.

The Promised Recipe

Here it is: Smoked & Fresh Salmon "en chemise" Fresh salmon enrobed in a layer of smoked salmon and roasted at a high temperature is rich and elegant with a subtle smoky perfume. An instantaneous room-temperature sauce, made from tomatillos, basil, cilantro, and lime, is a striking accompaniment. And like the book it is adapted from, the recipe is Radically Simple. 

6 thick salmon fillets with skin, 6 ounces each 9 ounces, best-quality, thinly-sliced smoked salmon 16 ounces tomatillos, at room temperature 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil 1/2 cup packed fresh basil leaves 1/2 cup packed fresh cilantro leaves 1/4 cup chopped onion 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice large handful of pea shoots or microgreens to garnish

Preheat the oven to 475 degrees F. Remove any bones from salmon and season with salt and pepper; place on a rimmed baking sheet. Completely enrobe the top and sides of each fillet with a thin layer of smoked salmon, pressing down firmly and tucking ends under the fish. Roast 12 to 14 minutes, until just firm. Do not overcook. Meanwhile, cut the tomatillos into 1-inch pieces. Add to a food processor with the oil, basil, cilantro, onion, lime juice and 1-1/2 teaspoons salt. Process until very smooth. Spoon a puddle of sauce onto 6 large plates. Top with the salmon and garnish with pea shoots or microgreens. Serves 6

Serve with a chilled crisp sauvignon blanc. Enjoy!

Haute Indian: Why here? Why now?

Just two weeks ago, New York became host to three new Michelin-starred Indian restaurants, prompting one to wonder, “Why here? Why now?” London has long been home to Important Indian Restaurants, with dining establishments such as Amaya, The Cinnamon Club, Chutney Mary, and Benares rivaling some of the town’s best French restaurants. And Vancouver’s upper crust would just as soon eat at Vij’s, an ambitious, upscale Indian eatery of international repute, than at any of the city’s tonier non-ethnic spots.

But for decades in New York, Indian food traditionally has been burdened with a reputation for being “cheap and cheery,” and its restaurants are largely confined to pockets of “curry ghettos” around the city. I’ve believed that the cuisine’s spicing, and its menu offerings, were too esoteric even for foodies to fully comprehend, making it a challenge to tell mediocre meals from good or great. There were a smattering of elegant spots, including Dawat, Devi and the original Tamarind, but they were often treated as “special occasion” places.

In 1998, Danny Meyer opened a spectacular Indian restaurant in New York called Tabla, and I recall enjoying chef Floyd Cardoz’s “interpretive” food there often. But despite great marketing and lots of favorable press, the restaurant never gained traction and  closed after a 12-year run last December.

So it’s highly ironic that less than a year later the Michelin guide has just blessed three Indian restaurants here with a star apiece while Tabla’s former space now houses a Peruvian ceviche emporium. Michelin anointed Junoon, Tulsi (both in their first year of business) and Tamarind Tribeca (an offshoot of an older and unstarred Tamarind not far from Tabla) with the coveted rating. “Holy Cow!  Break the coconuts, sound the Tabla, play the harmonium. Sing that Badwa-Randi song Chamak Challo,” proclaimed the Indian blog SearchIndia.com upon hearing the news.

To put it in perspective, from thousands of restaurants in the city, Michelin chose only seven to receive 3-stars, nine restaurants merited 2-stars, and 46 got 1-star – three of which were Indian. Of course, these three all were in Manhattan, and a trip to Jackson Heights, in Queens, might have revealed a few more candidates – but no matter, the recognition is there.

Junoon is extremely elegant, spacious, and cost a rajah’s ransom to build. It serves more-or-less modern Indian food with Frenchified service – of the sort one might find in five-star hotels in Mumbai or Delhi. Its environment only can be described as opulent-and-then-some. Its menu is written primarily in English, its language non-threatening, and its spicing a bit modulated. The chef is good-looking Vikas Khanna, who is no stranger to the TV screen; the owner is Rajesh Bhardwaj of Café Spice fame. New York Times’ former critic, Sam Sifton, loved the notion that you could order a bottle of “2006 Valpolicella Grassi with your monkfish tikka.”

Tulsi, which bills some of its items as “street food” brought indoors, is more traditional, its menu language less navigable, but its food rings truer. The impresario and chef here is the beloved Hemant Mathur, who was an owner and chef at Devi, and headed the kitchen at  other Indian notables such as Amma and Tamarind. His butter chicken, Manchurian cauliflower, and tandoori lamb can bring tears to your eyes. I am personally thrilled for his success and this recognition by Michelin who deemed Tulsi “the incomparable one.”

The new Tamarind in Tribeca, also in spectacular surroundings, goes for highly decorative plating of its dishes – and this is something fairly new among the town’s Indian restaurants where food generally comes wallowing in one sort of sauce or another. In fact, the menu is so elegant and luxurious sounding that you might want to enroll in a graduate seminar in Indian culinary history to fully grasp their intentions. The vegetarian selections alone might encourage you to become one. In addition to their Michelin star, the 2011 Zagat gives an appreciative 26 point rating for the food.

While this is all a far-cry from the $6.99 buffet lunch at Chennai Gardens that I have enjoyed over the years, there’s not much commonality among the  chosen three, other than that none is located in Curry Hill and all are more expensive than your typical Indian bistro

I’ve had many splendid Indian meals, but mostly in India. One of my all-time favorites is Masala Kraft, in the historic Taj Hotel in Mumbai, a high-energy destination for the city’s glitterati, where classic food has been “lightened” without sacrificing authenticity. I long for it to open in New York as it would no doubt add to the list of Michelin treats.

Does this mean that, finally, Indian food is hot? Is there a trend building? Or is Michelin over-reaching? Perhaps it’s all of the above, including a post-recession boom that is allowing us to throw wads of money at previously cheap food, and a willingness to embrace the palate-tingling, exoticism of India’s culinary landscape.

The good news is we no longer have to go to London, or India, to get great Indian food.

Marc Vetri: A Culinary Bodhisattva

In this world of bug-chomping, mean-spirited, limelight-loving chefs, comes a new breed of nice, clean-shaven, family guys with no tattoos -- who actually feel good about themselves and their customers. Ben Pollinger, the Michelin-starred chef of Oceana in Manhattan is one such guy. His buddy Dan Kluger, of abckitchen, recently deemed New York's best new restaurant, is another. This new crop of chefs cook for the pleasure of their guests (and thereby themselves) and whose goal is for others to experience culinary enlightenment rather than mirror their own hype. These chefs create a kind of dining "sangha" (community) where all participants feel interconnected, whether to some intrinsic food memory, to the earth, to nature, or to other sentient beings. And while I'm certain there are many who fit this description, cooking under the radar in kitchens all across America, by chance I met the kindest, gentlest chef of all.

Just last week, at a small press dinner in New York entitled "Sounds Good, Tastes Good," I met Marc Vetri from the city of brotherly love, Philadelphia. Vetri is the real deal:  a philanthropic, guitar-playing, accomplished, brilliantly modest chef who owns three restaurants, has two cookbooks, runs a million dollar foundation, and by happenstance embodies the "six perfections" that a Bodhisattva must generate -- hence the title of this piece. These are:  generosity, ethics, patience, effort, concentration and wisdom. Never mind that Marc met his wife at a yoga class (he summoned the nerve to talk to her after one year) and has been known to meditate, but his divining attributes shown brightly through the food that night. We ate the intangibles that separate one guy's food from another's. More soul, than craft. More you, than me.  Food Network TV producer and host, Marc Summers, a Philadelphia neighbor, who often has holiday meals at Marc's home, says "Vetri is the sweetest, most generous soul I've ever met. I love the guy. And while you couldn't pay me to eat a liver, I love his rigatoni with chicken livers.  I wanted to dive in the bowl and swim around."

Marc's three Philadelphia ventures -- Vetri Ristorante, Osteria and Amis -- are considered among the best Italian restaurants in America. A new place, called Alla Spina, is on its way. Mario Batali has called Marc the "best Italian chef in the country." (Big praise from the buddha himself.)  Dana Cowin, editor of Food & Wine Magazine, has said when it comes to Marc's hospitality and philosophy, "It's all about the cooks and the cooking. No pretension, just genius food."   James Beard award-winning Vetri, whose grandmother is Sicilian, trained in Bergamo, Italy and himself has trained several chefs who went on to win their own Beard awards. He treats his restaurant family and home family with equal compassion.

Last week's dinner was a fabulous throw-back to experiences of another generation.  Hors d'oeuvres (homemade fennel salami and artichoke mostarda, gutsy caponata, and even gustier bread), were served "family style" as guests meandered with a glass of wine getting to know each other. The seated dinner was served around one long, farm table that sat 24 generously, in a West Village dining spot owned by The Little Owl group. The meal was one of the most authentically Italian imaginable -- both rustic and perfect. Ethereal tuna-ricotta fritters, lusty meatballs, the aforementioned pasta with chicken livers, and the best "plin" -- a stuffed pasta from Piedmont -- I've had.  The roasted lamb shoulder tasted like it came from a salt marsh, the fish braised in olive oil was an exercise in radical simplicity (my mantra), and dessert -- an olive oil cake with amaretti semifreddo and chocolate sauce -- was a crowd-pleaser. Thankfully, all of the recipes can be found in Marc's new book, Rustic Italian Food from Ten Speed Press which is hot off the press this month. But the real dessert was the music that followed. Singer/song-writer Phil Roy sang his heart out while Vetri played "sous-guitarist" to his good sounds.

But perhaps it is Marc's charitable efforts that affords him the Bodhisattva award. Just this past summer, Marc gathered some of the country's best chefs to come to Philadelphia to raise $800,000 for Alex's Lemonade Stand (for children's cancer research.) In 2009, he founded the Vetri Foundation for Children, whose mission is to "support the development of healthy living habits for underserved youth." The foundation recently launched the "Eatiquette" program whose destiny is to have every school in America serving a fresh, family-style lunch. A kind of eating "sangha" (community) for kids. You see, for Marc, it's never just about the food. It's about the people who eat it.

Tastes of the Week

October 2 through October 9, 2011 The season's new brussels sprouts were evident everywhere in the farmer's market this week and so I ran home to make my favorite recipe using these adorable little cabbages: Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Medjool Dates. You will find the recipe below.

In one fell swoop, I had some of the most delicious Italian "comfort" food ever -- cooked by the maestro, Marc Vetri (award-winning chef from Philadelphia) at a cool dinner he gave last week. Not only did the food rock, but so did his music -- he played "sous-guitarist" to the great Phil Roy. The dinner party entitled "Sounds Good/Tastes Good" sure did. Most of the recipes were from Marc's wonderful new book "Rustic Italian Food" -- just out this month and published by Ten Speed Press. We ate:  Tuna-Ricotta Fritters (buy the book just for that recipe!), homemade salumi with artichoke mostarda, rigatoni with chicken livers (I'm still dreaming about it), amazing goat cheese and beet "plin" (a kind of pasta), roasted lamb shoulder, fish poached in olive oil accompanied by a fennel gratin, and an olive oil cake with amaretti semifreddo and chocolate sauce for dessert. As the food filled our stomachs, music filled the room. A wonderful time was had by all.

Great salami from Mario Batali at a 10th grade parents dinner (our kids are in the same class.)

It's unusual to break the fast at a restaurant and nightclub, but there we were on Saturday night at the legendary SOB's on Varick Street (after sun-down of course) and after a day of fasting -- feasting on pao de queso (delicious Brazilian cheese puffs), great guacamole, seafood swimming in a carved-out pineapple, feijoada, coconut cream birthday cake and caipirinhas. Lots of dancing with the birthday girl, Audrey Appleby and friends.

And the last of the holiday matzoh balls in a greatly reduced, and very delicious chicken broth. The last of the round challah, too.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Medjool Dates This recipe is from my newest book, Radically Simple: Brilliant Flavors with Breathtaking Ease. A delicious merge of flavors, it is radically simple to make. Use large, plump, moist Medjool dates. They come from Iran but also from California. You can buy them in Middle Eastern markets.

1 pound Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved 4 tablespoons olive oil, plus more if needed 6 large soft Medjool dates, pitted and diced 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano 2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Toss the Brussels sprouts with 2 tablespoons of the oil on a rimmed baking sheet. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Turn the sprouts cut side down. Roast for 10 minutes. Add the dates to the pan and toss with the sprouts. Roast 10 minutes longer, until caramelized. Transfer the sprouts to a platter. Toss with the cheese, thyme, and remaining 2 tablespoons oil. Add salt and pepper and drizzle with more oil, if needed. Serves 4

Chocolate Dirt: Is it Art or is it Dinner?

A few years back, an unknown chef, at restaurant Noma in Copenhagen, created a strange series of tableaux on his dining room tables, using tree bark, pine needles, lichens and other things normally grazed by reindeer. And so it was that in 2010 the Nordic forager René Redzepi (sounding much like an acid rock band) displaced the Spanish chemistry wizard Ferran Adria (for whom he once worked) as the world’s numero uno chef.

Since last year, molecular gastronomy hasn’t exactly evaporated, but now you might get trampled by dozens of upscale chefs who are rushing to harvest dinner from the underbrush and under rocks – or assembling dishes that looked like they might be untamed gardens. Although many chefs preceded Redzepi, dozens of acolytes are now making pilgrimages to Copenhagen for a chance to stage at his stoves.

In the US, “wildcrafting” is largely, but not entirely, a West Coast trend.  Forerunner to Redzepi, Jeremy Fox created a global stir with beautifully composed plates at Ubuntu, in Napa, years ago, and Daniel Patterson at Coi in Los Angeles and David Kinch at Manresa in Los Gatos are masters of the style. You’ll find similar efforts at the restaurant McCrady’s in Charleston where chef Sean Brock lists farmers and foragers on his menu; at Toqué in Montreal, where chef Normand Laprise’s website lists his kitchen staff as “artists” and its suppliers as “artisans”; and at Castagna in Portland, Ore., where chef Matt Lightner, who’s been rooting around woodlands for years, produces still-lifes-with-leaves and calls them dinner.

Perhaps the most “florid” exemplar is Dominique Crenn at Atelier Crenn in San Francisco (her restaurant is subtitled “Poetic Culinaria”), whose vegetable  presentations look like bonsai gardens and who claims she is reliving her childhood food memories and fantasies.

These chefs’ horticultural foodscapes appear to have been assembled with tweezers and dental instruments. Their foraged dishes might contain upwards of 20 plants and herbs, and they’re sent to your table on slabs of slate, miniature rock slides, primordial wood shapes and thrown glass instead of plates. They come with lyrical names such as Ocean Creatures and Weeds, A Walk in the Garden, Into the Vegetable Garden, Summer Bids Adieu, or Le Jardin d’Hiver.

In truth, if you substituted gems for the food, these presentations would look perfectly at home Tiffany’s display windows.  Caravaggio might have painted them.

You’ll be eating roots, stems and petals of plants that used to be discarded or that you might step over on the sidewalk.  One chef famously quipped, “Not the sidewalk. We’d never use stuff from there!” Which makes one wonder whether this chef has any idea what bears do in the woods.

As this trend of “food as naturalistic art” takes hold in upscale restaurants around the country, you’ll find lots of new ingredients slipping onto upscale menus:  White acorns; tips of fir needles; “dirt” made of dried and crumbled mushrooms, pumpernickel breadcrumbs, black olives, bulgur wheat, or sprouting grains; aloe vera, eucalyptus leaves, chickweed, wild ginger, wood sorrel, yarrow, pineapple weed, and sumac. Dirt is so hot that Crenn cooks her potatoes in the stuff before washing them clean.  You’ll find a similar plating style at just-opened modernist Korean eatery Jung Sik Dang in New York, where you’ll need to bring lots of money. Next up:  Dessert assemblages growing out of chocolate “humus” (as in dirt, not as in chick peas).

All of this comes at a price, of course, which is why you’ll only find these goings-on at fancy restaurants.  Some restaurants actually have foragers on their payrolls, and others need to hire artistically talented cooks to plate dishes so that each leaf, each carrot stalk, each nasturtium flower, each pod of immature sweet peas, is placed just so – a serious challenge when tonight’s wild harvest contains a surprise crop of newcomers. You won’t be stumbling across such food at your local Olive Garden.

But is it food?  Is it art?  Or is it merely extravagantly imitative horticulture?  Some critics have complained that taste is taking a back seat to artifice, but they said the same thing about earlier shenanigans of molecular gastronomy without recognizing how new laboratory trickery might be transformative in the kitchen.

In this case, I think we’re witnessing a reaction to cooking-with-chemistry with a romantic return to naturalism, or, to coin a word, “gastro-naturism.” It is a way for high-flying chefs to differentiate themselves from the rest of the herd and it is guaranteed to get a thousand bloggers and their cameras into these restaurants.

Joe Baum's Nasturtiums: A Tribute

It was the mention of nasturtiums on a trendy menu recently that reminded me of Joe Baum. Considered by many to be the greatest restaurateur of the last century, it is hard to imagine that he died thirteen years ago, in 1998, October fifth to be exact, during summer’s last gasp.

This razzle-dazzle man who created no fewer than fifty restaurants, including the world’s largest-grossing and most legendary, who launched a thousand trends and inspired four decades of chefs, is slowly forgotten by a younger generation who, in blissful ignorance, still eat and drink his dreams.

Sitting wistfully at my desk, I marvel at a menu Joe created more than 50 years ago for New York’s Four Seasons restaurant in midtown New York. On it is a curious salad of nasturtium leaves, presaging by three decades America’s fling with edible flora. Also in its startling repertoire are foraged wild mushrooms, a beefsteak tomato carved tableside, fiddlehead ferns, acid-tinged calamondin oranges (today called calamansi), and those now ubiquitous but then obscure cherry tomatoes and snow peas.

Even with foraging, Joe was ahead of his time, sourcing wild mushrooms picked by John Cage, noted avant-garde composer and celebrated mycologist. If it wasn’t just right, or fascinating somehow, it wasn’t for Joe.

The menu was peppered with Joe’s sensibility:  “Our field greens are selected each morning and will vary daily". Unloved and humble vegetables were heralded with: “Seasonal gatherings may be viewed in their baskets” -- offering 16 side dishes including Farmer’s Sprouts with Bacon, Beets with Rosemary, a dish of Braised Lettuce with Marrow and Almonds.(Twenty years later, he would install a “vegetable sommelier” in the three-star Market Bar & Dining Rooms at the World Trade Center and turn a steakhouse into the country’s first market-driven restaurant.)

More important than any individual ingredient, however, was The Four Seasons’ culinary conceit:  A freewheeling amalgam of great dishes from around the globe that foretold the emergence of a “world cuisine” that, in this new century, defines who we are and how we eat.

With The Four Seasons, and the nearby La Fonda del Sol, which was the country’s first pan-Latino restaurant, Joe began a trend that ultimately broke the strangle-hold that French restaurants held on gastronomy. At the outset both lost serious money and were misunderstood. Notorious for nouns and verbs that tumbled into incoherent sentences, Joe remarked years later:  “I was too previous”.

Joe developed icons you could ingest. His restaurants embodied discovery, pleasure, and sensate experiences, and he brought to every level of dining a theatricality that obliterated stodgy orthodoxies.  He wrote menus in English (instead of stodgy French) – and insisted that people feel comfortable – rather than intimidated – in their surroundings.

Almost 30 years ago, at the Hors d’Oeuvrerie on the 107^th floor of the World Trade Center, Joe broke all the rules by merging small plates of sushi, quesadillas, bunderfleisch and Thai spring rolls on a single menu that foretold the ultra-relaxed “grazing” craze.

And he introduced New York to two new types of restaurants that he called by their forms:  Trattoria and Brasserie, the latter still alive on East 53^rd Street.

Joe created the world’s first fast food court – The Big Kitchen –  and changed the way developers built shopping centers. And he made rooftop dining respectable – the Tower Suite, Rainbow Room, and Windows on the World shone in the sky like romantic spaceships, with interior lives rich enough to outperform a foggy galaxy.

Twenty-seven years ago, I celebrated Joe’s birthday on the first day of my job. He had hired me, a tall, slightly neurotic Jewess with notably sensitive food radar and commendable connections, to be his culinary sidekick.  I had already worked for several brilliant, blustery men – as chef to Mayor Wagner at his law firm, as first chef at Gracie Mansion for Mayor Ed Koch, and personal chef to Joe Brooks, Chairman of the Board of Lord & Taylor, while in charge of 38 restaurants nationwide. I even cooked for a President and Prime Minister.

But nothing could have prepared me for the “University of Baum,” as one Disney executive put it after attending one of Joe’s “master classes” – an endless colloquy of screaming, drinking, discovery and creation, that would influence, once boldly and now posthumously, the spirit of dining and the spectre of hospitality forever.

But that morning, I selected two dozen ripe figs, caressing each as if to ascertain its inner perfection, and brought a celebratory cake I’d baked from a distant memory.

It was an intimate affair, just the four of us, Joe, me, and his partners, Michael Whiteman and Dennis Sweeney, in an office overlooking Madison Square Park. Biting into every fig to find the most succulent, Joe growled “What’s in the cake, Gold?”, miffed that his exquisite taste buds had faltered.

“Olive oil, red wine, lemon zest and a bit of rosemary,” I answered with an apprehension that must have been obvious.  “Something I tasted once in Venice.” He looked at me and said, “Smile.” It was his shorthand for affection.

On that lovely August morning we chatted about Joe’s current projects. I’d been hired to help an upscale supermarket chain rethink how food would be sold in the years ahead. The answer? To cook restaurant-quality food in open kitchens and hire real chefs in starched whites to interact, nose to nose, with customers. We made supermarket food respectable, too.  

At the same time, there was restaurant Aurora in midtown Manhattan, named for the goddess of dawn, which Joe created for himself, rather than for clients.  No project could have been more excruciating for a man who was terrified of criticism. His defense was to brand himself a perfectionist, endlessly tinkering, redesigning, piling up costs and refusing to declare a project finished. One detractor quipped that “Joe could exceed an unlimited budget” -- which occurred at Aurora, a three-star dining temple that eventually sank under its profligate excesses.

And what of his $26 million re-do of the Rainbow Room in 1987? One Rockefeller executive grumbled, “America bought Alaska for one-third of that.” But Joe rescued an American icon from obscurity and had his revenge by resurrecting Baked Alaska on the menu. In short order he turned the place into the country’s largest-grossing, and most magical, eatery.

Earlier, Joe created the outlandish Forum of the XII Caesars where potatoes came baked in hot ashes, pheasant was served forth on a soldier’s shield, and where oversized silverware and wine buckets fashioned from upturned warriors’ helmets reflected the obsessively designed lighting. This time the menu had a short preamble: Cenabis Bene…Apud Me.  “You will dine well at my table”. It was the essence of Joe.

By today’s standards it was high-class kitsch complete with food on flaming swords, but restaurants and hotels around the country noticed that Joe had stopped “doing the continental” and imitated his every move.

He detested being dubbed the “father of theme restaurants” although had created a German sausage emporium, a Latino showpiece, an Irish saloon, an English pub, a Hawaiian restaurant with hula dancers, and quintessential “New York” dining spots.

Working beside him for 14 years, Joe showed me how – given enough design strength, merchandising razzle-dazzle, sizzling menu language and great marketing – it was possible to replace the personality of an owner with the personality of a concept.  Which is why no one looks any more for a Danny or a Mario or Emeril at the door; the idea of eating in one of their places suffices.

Eventually Joe trusted me to create concepts for his company: “Hudson River Cuisine” for the three-star Hudson River Club; Café Greco, the city’s first “Med-Rim” restaurant; Little Meals at the Rainbow Room (with a James Beard award-winning book dedicated to him); the food program that helped win back Windows on the World in 1996, and The Greatest Bar on Earth. I was consumed with his teachings.

Joe was an epicure: a hedonist with a drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other and, usually a forgotten cigar smoldering nearby. He perfected a language of food that could make guests swoon, yet his own unruly syntax produced such howlers as “don’t push a dead horse,”  “someone threw a monkey into the works,” and “there’s a flaw in the ointment.”

A few years before he died, the man who rocked the world of fine dining and pleasure got tangle-tongued one last time.  Accidentally conflating two separate thoughts, he uttered the words “sustainable cuisine”, leaving all of us scratching our heads. If Joe said it, it presumably meant something.

A new idealism was born – a concern that today links how chefs and restaurants can support small farmers and regional agriculture so that future generations will dine well at the table.

“Smile,” I heard Joe say, as I bit the nasturtium flower and its peppery leaf. Joe, you are missed.

The Honeycrisp Story

My tastebuds experienced a mild shock just the other day at my local farmer's market in Park Slope, Brooklyn. One of the local producers had a little tasting of its apples for customers passing by. There were four varieties, including my favorite -- the Gala apple from New Zealand. As I'm not one to generally eat apples out of hand, but much prefer them sauced, baked, broiled, sauteed, baked in a muffin, or in a pie, I would occasionally buy a Gala for myself and eat it on the spot. But it was another apple last Saturday that stole my affection: the Honeycrisp. Am I the last to know about them? My daughter immediately bought six and at $3 a pound, instead of $2 for other varieties, this autumnal offering was not inexpensive (as apples go), but we have thoroughly enjoyed every bite. Cutting each carefully and arranging them on a pretty plate had a kind of Zen feeling about it -- for they are perfectly imperfect -- a little too sweet, a little too acidic, a little too delicious. The Honeycrisp apple was an experiment created by the University of Wisconsin Experimental Station -- a cross between a Macoun and a Honeygold (which itself is a hybrid of a Golden Delicious and a Haralson). In the forest of varieties that informs the apple industry, there are local favorites in every zip code, and many imports, including the Fuji apple from Japan, that vie for attention. As a kid, a Granny Smith apple was a special treat -- with an exciting tartness and crisp texture so different from the standard bearers way back then. But this year, on my holiday table (Rosh Hashanah) will be a plate of Honeycrisps to begin a new tradition.

The seasonal salad (recipe below) is one of my favorite concoctions -- with edible punctuations – a mustard seed, sun-dried cranberry, or a nugget of toasted walnut – in every mouthful. But it is especially celebratory with ultra-thin slices of Honeycrisp apples. Ideas for apple desserts, using any apple, are offered below. Enjoy!

ENDIVE,  WATERCRESS & HONEYCRISP SALAD WITH MUSTARD SEED VINAIGRETTE

This can be assembled in less than five minutes! The dressing is also suitable for mesclun greens and for tender leaves of spinach. You can easily turn it into a main course salad by topping with a plump grilled chicken breast drizzled with a little more dressing.

5 large Belgian endive, about 1-1/2 pounds 2 bunches watercress 2 medium Honeycrisp apples, cut into very thin wedges 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar 1/2 cup olive oil 1-1/2 teaspoons mustard seed ½ cup each: toasted walnuts and sun-dried cranberries

Trim ¼-inch from bottom of each endive. Laying each endive on its side on a cutting board, cut across the width into 1-inch pieces. Place them in a large bowl.

Wash watercress, removing bottom half of stems. Dry well and add to bowl with endive. Add apples.

Put mustard and vinegar in a small bowl. Slowly whisk in olive oil until the dressing emulsifies. Add mustard seeds and salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste. Pour over greens and toss gently, making sure to coat all the leaves. Adjust seasoning. Transfer to a platter and scatter walnuts and cranberries on top. Serves 6

And Great Ideas for Any Apple

Saute wedges of peeled apples in butter and sugar until caramelized, then splash with Calvados. Top with vanilla ice cream.

Peel apples and cut in half. Poach in apple cider with a cinnamon stick until tender. Remove apples and reduce cider to a syrup. Pour syrup over apples and top with crème fraiche.

Try an apple cobbler: Toss peeled apple wedges with sugar, orange juice and cinnamon. Top with a mixture of granola mixed with butter. Bake at 400 degrees for 40 minutes.

Peel and core apple. Fill inside with vanilla sugar. Wrap in a square of thawed puff pastry dough and brush with egg wash and sprinkle with sugar.  Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes.

Fill cavities of large apples with a mixture of crumbled gingersnaps, honey and pecans and dot with butter. Bake 45 minutes at 350 degrees.

Try a new-fangled applesauce by adding fresh strawberries or raspberries and a splash of red wine to apples while cooking. Sweeten with an aromatic honey, like leatherwood.

Make an apple fool:  Cook apples with cinnamon-sugar until soft and the consistency of applesauce. Let cool and fold into sweetened whipped cream.

Make toffee apples: Melt a package of caramel candies. Stick a candy-apple stick in each apple and dip the apple three-quarters into caramel. Let sit on waxed paper to harden.

Try three kinds of apples in your next apple pie. Add some grated sharp cheddar cheese to the crust.