Fiddlehead Fettucine with Wild Arugula Cream Sauce

INGREDIENTS (serves 4):

1 12-oz. bottle Sierra Nevada Summerfest

1/2 pound fresh fiddlehead ferns, carefully washed and trimmed
1 onion, chopped
6 garlic cloves, sliced
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp dried thyme
1/2 tsp red chili flake
1/4 cup apple brandy (or regular brandy)
8 oz. chicken stock
8 oz. half and half
3/4 pound mixed fresh egg noodle and spinach noodle fettucine (bicolore!)
2 large handfuls wild arugula (regular is fine; ours is from the garden)
1/2 cup fresh minced parsley
salt and fresh black pepper

1) Heat oil in a large skillet; meanwhile, bring a pot of salted water to boil for the pasta.
2) Add onion, garlic, dried thyme, and red chili flake to skillet; sweat the onions, 3-4 minutes.
3) Pour brandy into pan, followed by stock and half and half. Season with salt and pepper and then bring to a simmer.
4) Cook, stirring often, until the sauce begins to thicken and the flavors blend, 8-10 minutes.
5) Immerse fiddleheads in the cream sauce and cover, turning down heat, cooking for approx. 6 minutes or until tender.
6) Meanwhile, cook your bicolore fresh pasta noodles for three minutes in rapidly boiling water. Drain.
7) Add arugula to skillet just before incorporating noodles. Toss the noodles into the cream sauce, which will wilt the arugula. Adjust seasoning to taste and sprinkle with fresh parsley.
8) Open Sierra Nevada Summerfest. Enjoy together.

THE BEER

Okay, okay, Sierra is not the most obscure choice of beers for us all to geek out over here at Beer Meets Food. But this is a very respectable pilsner, and it won the gold medal at the California State Fair in 1999 for that reason. It tastes like early summer, and so do fiddlehead ferns, and thus are we determined to match them up in our bellies. The Summerfest goes through an extra-long lagering period, according to Sierra's website, which is the time when the yeast re-absorbs ester compounds, sulfur compounds, and tannins, mellowing the flavor of the brew. It leaves this particular pilsner with a nice fresh cut grass aroma that blends very smoothly with bready malts and an active, crisp mouthfeel.

THE CAMERA:

Gabe bought a Canon T3I. As you can see above, our recipes will now be looking MUCH sexier. I have nothing to say regarding this purchase, however, because when Gabe starts talking about cameras with knowledgeable people like my friend Melinda, I start hearing things like, "It's a twenty-ex-three-Mach-niner Millenium Falcon model, with Bravo chrome zoom and eleven o'clock aperture range, and the lens is a seventy-two degree deadeye with curvature of LALALALALALALA."

THE FIDDLEHEAD FERN:

Know what I DO know about, though? Obscure veggies. The most magical ingredients on earth are always the ones with a very narrow period of availability, such as the powdered unicorn horn only harvested during the the intersection of the full moon and David Bowie's birthday. Fiddleheads taste like the green forest floor and are around for about three weeks, end of May into early June. Technically, it's an Ostrich Fern frond, with the delicate light brown casing carefully removed by the folk who are kind enough to forage for them in the Northeast woods. Clean them very carefully in cold water and then treat them just as you would an asparagus tip or a French bean. They are delicious and sexy and pretty and I love them.

THE BOOKS I HAVE BEEN BOOKING:

Wow, but this blog needs updating.

I can haz book cover for The Gods of Gotham (!).

I can't show it to you yet. I wish I could. It is very sexy and very shiny. But the marketers have to have a meeting to launch it first, and so instead of showing you my book cover, I will cruelly taunt you with the fact that it exists.

It is sexy like this, except that the picture looks really nothing like this, and neither does the font, and I can't wait to show you, and the book is not by Stieg Larsson, it is by ME:

Garden Herb and Tomato Israeli Couscous

INGREDIENTS:

1 cup Israeli couscous
1 tsp butter
3 garlic cloves, chopped
1 tsp. turmeric
1/2 tsp. allspice
1/2 tsp. cumin
a couple dashes of red pepper flake
3-5 dried curry leaves
1 2/3 cups vegetable stock

as many garden tomatoes as you like
dash of extra virgin olive oil
dash of tarragon vinegar
1 can of pink beans or roman/kidney beans or chickpeas
1 cup minced Italian flat leaf parsley
1 sprig fresh oregano, minced
2/3 cup diced chives
salt and fresh pepper to taste

1 bottle Green Flash Hop Head Red

1) Melt the butter over medium heat until foaming subsides.
2) Add couscous with the chopped garlic and stir to toast, about three or four minutes--you want the pasta beginning to be golden and fragrant, and the garlic to be cooked. When the couscous smells nice and browned, add all the dry spices including the curry leaves. Toast these as well, 30 seconds or so.
3) Add the vegetable stock. Bring to a steady boil. Cover lid. Turn heat to low.
4) After about eight minutes, remove lid, stir, and turn off heat. Then replace lid and let it sit for another 5 minutes or so. You don't want mushy couscous, just cooked through couscous.
5) Meanwhile, chop your garden tomatoes, mince your parsley, rinse your beans, la la la. Put it all in a bowl with your fresh herbs. Sprinkle this with olive oil, tarragon vinegar, salt, and black pepper.
6) Fluff your couscous again. Stir it in the mix. Season again, to taste.
7) Open bottle of Green Flash Hop Head Red.
8) Enjoy together.

THE BEER:

I drank Green Flash Hop Head Red for my birthday. (Photo by Melinda Caric. I'm such a turd, only the couscous photo above is actually mine this time round.)

I turned 30, kids. WHEEE! More on the later, MUCH more on that in a sec here, settle yourselves. Ok, so--Green Flash Hop Head Red. I had it at 4th Avenue Pub in Brooklyn, owned by the gentleman scholar Kirk Struble, and it's some pretty divine sh**.

It's a tough business making a good red style. (Maybe that's why Green Flash claims this beer is, alternatively, an American amber/IPA hybrid. But boy, is it ever red. And this is a grand red. It's resinous, it's bright copper, it's sticky, it's red-grapefruit-tastic, it's bright, it's sweet, it's balanced, it's wonderful. You're going to get a vague note of cinnamon within the slightly burnt-sugar sweetness, and the bitterness continues all the way through to a very pleasant landing so far as mouthfeel goes. A delightful brew. And I drank it on my birthday.

THE EXCUSE:

Beer is practically a stranger to food at this point. I'm very sorry for this. It's my fault. I've been writing this new book, see. And a Sherlock Holmes comic series for Moonstone Books. So beer forgot about food and wandered off to be alone for a while, take a little "me" time. Not to mention, Gabe has been working two jobs with one day off. And the day Gabriel turns to me--with one day off per week--and says, "You know what I really feel like doing today, Lynds? Let's blog." That will be the day...nope. That day doesn't seem too close on the horizon line.

THE BIRTHDAY:

It was my thirtieth birthday the other day. We played in the city the night before, and then went up the Hudson to Blue Hill at Stone Barns, and the next day reveled at 4th Pub in Brooklyn. It was epic.

Meanwhile, I have carpal tunnel pretty bad. It's getting better with the wrist braces, but I'm writing too much for it not to flare up quite often. It's slightly embarrassing, actually. This...impediment. Also my hair turned white, and I have the gout, and lost all my teeth. I'm gonna fall out of bed and break my hip tomorrow, maybe, for variety. Nothing like nerve injuries to really ring in a new decade.

I had a great time with my friends, though. They're swell people, all of them absolutely top notch, and I had a pretty birthday dress. Pretty birthday dresses are very important to me, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Also I was wearing my nicely-wrapped-package-necklace. Shown above. Les Klinger says it makes me look like a birthday gift. APPROPRIATE.

THE DINNER:

Blue Hill at Stone Barns is AMAZING.

We had, for my birthday, in the company of the ever-wonderful Luis and Allison:

AMUSE BOUCHE COURSES:

fried baby corn "corn dogs"
individual mini roasted tomato and goat cheese burgers
fresh garden produce on little pins dressed in a vinaigrette (tomato version pictured above, from their website, that's not mine)
fried yellow wax beans
sesame crusted squash
3 charcuterie meats with a liver mousse sandwiched in dark salted chocolate

FIRST COURSE:

bluefin crudo with caviar, green tomato, and pig's ear vinaigrette

SECOND COURSE:

18-hour charcoal barbecued heirloom onion with olive tapenade, onion creme fraiche, vegetable puree, and preserved blueberry

THIRD COURSE:

baked curried egg with fresh beans under herbed rice paper

FOURTH COURSE:

gnocchi with chicken mushrooms

BREAD:

fresh baked sourdough with three infused salts: shittake salt, tomato salt, red pepper salt

FIFTH COURSE:

pork chin, snout, jowl, and loin with avocado and heirloom grains

SIXTH COURSE:

ribeye with smoked eggplant and purslane

TWO DESSERT COURSES (NUMBERS SEVEN AND EIGHT) PLUS EXTRAS:

apricot in elderflower tapioca with yogurt sorbet
cornbread with raspberries and peaches
flax brownie with preserved fruit
wild strawberries
chocolate dusted almonds
meringue with raspberries

What a way to turn 30, kids. I am one lucky little skunk. The picture below isn't mine either, but I wanted to show you Blue Hill. It's breathtaking.

Sweet Potato Gnocchi with Roasted Tomato Shrimp Sauce

INGREDIENTS:

(for the beer)

1 12 oz. bottle (or more!) Dogfish Head Punkin' Ale

(for the gnocchi: will make about 6 servings)

3 medium sweet potatoes, roasted (you can microwave them or boil them if you really prefer, but we found the dry cooking method made for less moisture to deal with--and you can be roasting the sauce elements at the same time)
1 1/2 cups white flour (approx.)
1 fresh egg
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/4 tsp. grated nutmeg
salt and pepper to taste

1) Peel your sweet potatoes and either shave them into a fine pulp with a knife or send them through a potato ricer. Don't overwork.
2) Pile the flesh in the middle of a big well-floured cutting board with the beaten egg, maple, and all dry spices in the center.
3) Sprinkle the pulp with flour, slowly incorporating the dry ingredients into the wet ones with a fork. Add only as much flour as needed--the dough should be sticky, nearly too sticky to handle although still workable.
4) Divide your dough into 4 ropes on a dry, well-floured surface, each about 1/2 inch thick. Cut the ropes into 1-inch segments with a floured knife.
5) Leave as much gnocchi as you want to cook immediately on your work surface. Transfer the rest to a nonstick baking sheet and place in the freezer (you'll have lots). When the individual dumplings are frozen enough not to be sticky, you can put them in a freezer bag and have gnocchi for later.
6) Boil a large pot of salted water while you make the sauce. Drop all the reserved gnocchi into the water when it reaches a rolling boil, and watch it carefully. When all of it floats, it's finished. Transfer with a slotted spoon directly into the sauce.

(for the sauce: serves 2)

(just oil the to-be-roasted ingredients lightly and cook them in the oven on a tin-foiled baking sheet for about 50 minutes at 400 degrees along with your sweet potatoes)
2 tbsp olive oil, divided
1 roasted onion, chopped
2 cloves roasted garlic, minced
2 roasted tomatoes, peeled and chopped
1 tbsp. tomato paste
1 or 2 scotch bonnet peppers, minced (go easy, these are very hot)
1/2 pound of shrimp, peeled, de-veined, tails removed
1 cup shrimp or fish or vegetable stock
1 tbsp. agave or sugar
salt and fresh pepper to taste
1/4 cup fresh chopped parsley

1) Heat the oil in a large skillet. When shimmering, add minced scotch bonnet. Saute 1 minute.
2) Add the roasted onion, roasted garlic, tomato paste, sugar, and roasted tomatoes along with the stock. (I always have shrimp stock on hand with shrimp dishes because I make it by boiling the shrimp tails and legs with a little bay leaf and black peppercorn and clove.) Allow to simmer until the tomato has melted into the oil and stock and the sauce has thickened, about 8 minutes.
3) Stir in the raw shrimp. Saute in the sauce until just pink and cooked through.
4) Add parsley. Drain the gnocchi and add directly to the sauce.
5) Sip Punkin' Ale. Enjoy together.

THE BEER:

Dogfish Head folks are crazy in a really good way. They are so passionate about brewing that they are very comfortable going to extremes and pushing boundaries, but we thought their classic pumpkin seasonal ale would be a great pairing with sweet potato gnocchi in an extra-spicy sauce.

This is a brown ale style brewed with pumpkin meat, brown sugar, and pumpkin pie spices. Although a very fun seasonal autumn brew, pumpkin beers often meet with one of two problems: either they don't taste much like pumpkin, or they taste shriekingly of pumpkin. Neither is delicious, although I'd prefer the latter over the former just to say I tasted the pumpkin at all. The nicest thing about Dogfish Head Punkin' Ale is that it both tastes of actual pumpkin and is also quite balanced. The cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, and malty pie-crusty flavors all blend together delightfully, but you don't feel as if you're drinking carbonated pumpkin pie in any way. This is still beer, baby.

THE AILMENT:

A word of caution when dealing with scotch bonnets. You know scotch bonnet peppers, yes? The ones pictured up top with Gabe holding them? Well, that's the color and the sole quantity in which my downstairs C-Town grocery store sells them. This is because, as I have deduced by now, my C-Town is making attempts on my life.

You can't buy one scotch bonnet, you see. Or even several. You have to buy oodles. And then there they are, all multicolored and beautiful and smelling of sweet grass when sweet grass tastes a bit like lava, and my natural reaction to their loveliness is to cook them. So about two years ago, when I was determined to eat Thai-style ground pork with green beans, I minced four of them up and dropped them into shimmering oil.

Here's where I slipped up.

I had my face over the pot.

Now, I know that life is a fragile and tangential continuum, multifaceted and painted in as many opinions and beliefs as there are shades of grey, but nevertheless breathing the air above newly simmering scotch bonnets is NEVER A GOOD IDEA.

Why, you might ask? I have a two-word answer to that question:

CHILI LUNG.

How does one cure Chili Lung, the reader desires to know? How do I know if I have Chili Lung? Is it hilarious? The answer to the third question: no. Well, a little. I'm going to answer the second question next: you know you have Chili Lung when you sound as if you have walking pneumonia for literally a THREE MONTH PERIOD OF TIME. Another good sign is when your cat (pictured, a very reasonable and non-reactionary feline) screams like the vacuum cleaner just came to life and flees the kitchen in a blur of panicked mammal the instant the peppers hit the pot. See, it turns out by pure linguistic coincidence that the active ingredient in pepper spray is...well, you're an intelligent reader, so I leave you to determine whether or not you have Chili Lung.

As to the first question, what should you do about it once you have given yourself (or, if we're blaming the nefarious source, C-Town has given you) Chili Lung? I have, by rigorous process of elimination, cataloged several remedies that do not work in the smallest degree:

1) Taking steam baths. Nope. Weak.
2) Covering your head with a towel and inhaling a steamed pot of eucalyptus. No. Sets you coughing again.
3) Sucking cough lozenges. Negligible effect.
4) Standing outside C-Town swearing like a theatre techie. This feels excellent, but the symptoms inevitably return. A temporary cure, though a pleasure.
5) Stealing your Dad's asthma inhaler. Promising, but you don't have asthma--so it just gives you a really weird, distant high before you start coughing again.

Solution: outfox C-Town. Do not get Chili Lung in the first place.

Which leads me to ask: who in their right mind buys this quantity of scotch bonnets at a go? And don't say "Dominicans," because I thought of that already, but my neighbors are bon vivants, not suicidal lunatics. I am left with my original conclusion. C-Town has designs on my life.

Pappardelle with Artichokes and Rabbit Sausage Ragu

1 package D'Artagnan Rabbit & Ginger Sausage (8.5 oz), casings removed
1 package fresh or dry pappardelle noodles (we used fresh mushroom-infused pappardelle)
3 tbsp olive oil
4 large shallots, minced
1 inch of fresh ginger, minced
4 garlic cloves, pressed
1 carrot, minced
1 celery rib, minced
1 14-oz. can diced tomatoes, drained and chopped, with juice reserved
2/3 cup dry red wine
5 large deli artichoke hearts (or use marinated), quartered
1 tbsp dried thyme
1 tsp. honey
2 fresh chives, green parts only, chopped
1/4 cup grated pecorino romano cheese, finely grated
Salt and fresh black pepper
------------------------------
1 22-oz bottle Pennichuck Shouboushi Ginger Pilsner

1) Heat the oil in a large skillet. Add all the rabbit sausage (without the casings) and fry until well browned, using a wooden spoon or heavy spatula to break meat into small pieces.
2) Add garlic, ginger, and shallots and sweat for 2 minutes.
3) Add carrot and celery, sauteing for approx. 5 minutes.
4) Stir in the dried thyme, red wine and the reserved tomato liquid and cook for ten minutes, stirring occasionally, until liquid has reduced to about 1 cup.
5) Add diced tomatoes, artichoke quarters, honey, salt and pepper, and cook another 10 minutes (covered, on a low simmer) until sauce is slightly thickened and well infused with all the flavors.
6) Meanwhile, cook pappardelle according to package instructions until al dente in plenty of salted boiling water. Drain the pasta.
7) Taste your ragu to adjust its seasonings. Return pasta to the pot and add sauce along with the grated pecorino romano. Garnish with chives, additional cheese and black pepper if desired.
8) Open Shouboushi Ginger Pilsner
9) Enjoy together.

THE BEER:
This was an interesting idea put forth by Pennichuck, a southern New Hampshire brewing company. Its execution was odd in that the pilsner doesn't really taste gingery--it's crisp and refreshing, but we expected such a dominant flavor additive to come through considerably more, without wanting it to be overpowering. When all's said and done, if you eat a ginger-based food with this beer, you may not be able to taste the ginger at all in the Shouboushi--however, the malts are nice and subtle in this particular pilsner and the overall profile is very drinkable. They certainly erred on the side of caution with this one, but there's probably something to be said for that; it's difficult to finish more than two sips of Rogue's Chipotle Ale without trying to dip a corn chip in it.

THE NOODLE HANGUP:
I'm not a stickler at all for the recommended pasta shape being an exact match, since there are so many variations to consider when deciding on a tasty tasty noodle, but there is one good basic rule to follow. Here we go...are you ready?

RULE: Serve thick, hearty sauces with thick, hearty noodles. Serve thin, delicate noodles with light, delicate sauces. Break this rule whenever and however you please.

Any questions about specific shapes and what in blazes to do with them? Find an excellent guide here.

In general, a ragu is best with a hearty shape, but that doesn't mean you have to run out and buy pappardelle* if you're staring into the pantry and it's causing you angst. Pasta is not about angst. Grab your dried package of lasagne noodles and break them into glorious uneven pieces. Yes, they do this in Italy when they feel like it and no one from the Sopranos is going to arrive at your house and break your kneecaps for Pasta Sacrilege.

*If you have time and/or are bored, run out and buy fresh pappardelle by all means. It's my favorite noodle. If you were to get me noodles for my birthday, I'd want fresh pappardelle noodles. My birthday is July 26th, and the best pappardelle noodles in the world are the mint-flavored ones with lamb ragu from my old workplace Osteria Laguna, pictured above.

Macaroni and White Cheddar with Artichokes

INGREDIENTS:

8 oz. of small dry pasta (I prefer cavatappi)
3 tbsp. butter
3. tbsp. flour
2 cups milk
4 cloves garlic, minced or pressed, set aside in a small bowl
6 oz. shredded white cheddar
3 oz. shredded Gruyere
1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper
1/4 tsp. chili powder
14 oz. diced artichoke hearts
2/3 cup bread crumbs
1 tsp. dried parsley
Salt and pepper to taste
-------------------------------
12 oz. bottle Kasteel Cru Lager


1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees and grease a casserole or glass pie dish.
2) Bring a pot of salted water to a boil and cook pasta according to directions for its shape, being very careful to drain when just al dente, or still firm. Toss with a little oil to prevent sticking in the colander and set aside.
3) Melt butter over medium-high heat until foaming subsides; add flour, whisking quickly to form a roux.
4) When roux is golden and nearly done (about 2 minutes), add minced garlic, whisking constantly for about 20 seconds (the roux is extremely hot).
5) Carefully add the milk and bring to a simmer. Add cayenne and chili powder. Stir constantly.
6) When mixture has thickened slightly, about 4-5 minutes, add 3/4 of the shredded mixed cheeses, stirring constantly. When cheese has dissolved into the sauce, add salt or pepper to taste.
7) Add pasta to the saucepot along with artichoke hearts, and stir to coat.
8) Pour mixture into baking dish. Combine the remaining 1/4 shredded cheese with the breadcrumbs and sprinkle evenly over the top. Season with salt, pepper and dried parsley. Bake for 20 minutes or until top has formed a golden, crisp crust. Cool for 5 minutes, and serve.
9) Open Kasteel Cru.
10) Enjoy together.

THE BEER:
Kasteel Cru is a French lager--I know, I know, generally that's just an all-around terrible idea, akin to a vintage Jersey City pinot noir methode champagnoise, granted, calm down, settle yourselves. Crack one open anyway. It's brewed with Alsace spring water (largely irrelevant) and champagne yeast (surprisingly tasty and surpassingly refreshing). A great beer for a rich dish, and this sucker is comfort food.

THE NEED FOR COMFORT FOOD:
Thanksgiving was a blast, but as Fate would have it, Gabe and I spent the Monday and Tuesday prior watching plumbers tear out all the pipes in our kitchen and bathroom at our landlord's behest. Then on Wednesday we watched sewage drip through the hole in our bathroom ceiling onto our toilet, making the prospect of using it rather less than usually desirable. Thanksgiving Day (we're up to Thursday now, yes?) the emergency plumber arrived, but alas! was sent away by our charming upstairs neighbors, who are apparently very kinky and like to dump waste on people's heads, but semi-anonymously and without consent or bothering with ads in the Village Voice. That's right, they wouldn't let the man in. Well, at long last the problem was resolved, right after our landlord told our upstairs neighbors that if they still weren't in the mood to let in an emergency plumber, he was going to find himself in the mood to shut off their water. Sometimes moods align themselves like that, I suppose.

So on Thanksgiving, when we had twelve people at the apartment, what did we do? Gabe took a page from MacGyver's book and made a plastic drainage system, while I composed a sign stating WE ARE THANKFUL FOR INDOOR PLUMBING. BATHROOM IS SANITIZED; IGNORE CEILING. And we made merry anyway. Purple doesn't look as merry as she could in that last picture, but that's just because she didn't know the camera was on.