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Food.comDo you have pounds of leftover ham in your refrigerator that you don't know what to do with? Do you find you can't face another plate of, well, sliced ham? Here is an easy and fabulous trick to serve your loved ones leftover ham that has almost no hint of its former origin. You will win praise and admiration, and secretly know you were smart to use up rather than toss out. Also, if you love Asian restaurant ginger-soy salad dressing, you will find this great recipe below.Food52It took us 47 emails to figure out what we’d serve. We bounced from side to main to starter and back to main, virtually piling chana masala on top of chard and Gruyère panade on top of broiled mushrooms and mozzarella. Someone had the enlightened idea to address cocktails circa email 25. (Pamplemousses, if you’d like to know.) We had a globally-confused menu yielding enough to feed 20 but destined for only our small group, but it didn't matter: It was a dinner party comprised solely of recipes from Molly Wizenberg’s Orangette. Excess was in order. But the story arc of our epic thread peaked high and early. Following are emails 11 and 12, edited for clarity: “YES BRAISED ONION SAUCE” “BRAISED ONION SAUCE" The reason why all capital letters was a justified choice is disguised in a very short ingredient list from an almost middle-aged book. This braised onion sauce comes from Beard on Pasta, authored by the same man who expects us to put sieved egg yolks in our shortcakes; who dares us to put 40 cloves of garlic in our chicken; and who requests that we make lovely little tea sandwiches and fill their pillow-y insides with nothing but butter and raw onion. It’s a member of the same class, this pasta–just strange enough for you to assume it will fail you, and made up of ingredients so run-of-the-mill they border on drab. Excepting the noodles, you’re asked to call on only six ingredients for this recipe. The yellow onions languishing in the dark corner of your pantry? You’ll need those. Madiera? You’ve got a dusty bottle on a high shelf somewhere, right? If you don't have pasta somewhere in your kitchen I can't help you. This is the political science prerequisite of ingredient lists. Are you still awake? But look a little closer: There’s a borderline obscene amount of butter. And you cook the onions for as long as you can possibly stand it–sautéing slow and low is nothing if not a tantric exercise–and then you cook them a little more, this time soaked in Madiera. What you’ve created is the highest form of caramelized onions known to man. Are you scared of the amount of butter pooling in the pan? Good. Add some more. Then overturn a skein of hot pasta in there, too, its carryover steam loosening everything up, keeping it limber. Toss, and like a couple in the early throes of infatuation, the onions and the pasta will tangle together: the former disappears into the latter, the latter into the former. You’ll detest them for their unabashed PDA, but only for a minute–they are sweet, they are a little salty, they are drunk on syrupy wine. Serve this at your next dinner party, like we did, and understand the capital letters, the exclamations, Beard’s well-known–and well-observed–idea that “pasta is not a mannerly food to eat.” If you make this with pappardelle, which you should, portions forklifted from the serving dish will stretch and stretch, much like the endless scarf trick the magician at your third grade party performed two times too many. Some unwilling strands of pasta will walk the plank and land smack on the table. Try to take a bite–half your plate will spiral onto your fork. You will abandon everything your mother taught you. And you’ll come back to it over and over again, because–despite your manners and those of your guests–this dish tastes worlds deeper than the ingredient list promises it will. And therein lies the genius of James Beard recipes: You scoff and then you love. You scoff and then you are put in your place. You scoff, and then you’ll want to scream this recipe from the rooftops–or into your keyboard, on email 12. Note: This recipe is lightly adapted from James Beard's "Beard on Pasta." He originally calls for two sticks of butter—which you are welcome to do—but I find (as Molly at Orangette has too) that it works just as well with less. I use pappardelle, but feel free to switch that up. It's only important that you make this dish often.Food52It took us 47 emails to figure out what we’d serve. We bounced from side to main to starter and back to main, virtually piling chana masala on top of chard and Gruyère panade on top of broiled mushrooms and mozzarella. Someone had the enlightened idea to address cocktails circa email 25. (Pamplemousses, if you’d like to know.) We had a globally-confused menu yielding enough to feed 20 but destined for only our small group, but it didn't matter: It was a dinner party comprised solely of recipes from Molly Wizenberg’s Orangette. Excess was in order. But the story arc of our epic thread peaked high and early. Following are emails 11 and 12, edited for clarity: “YES BRAISED ONION SAUCE” “BRAISED ONION SAUCE" The reason why all capital letters was a justified choice is disguised in a very short ingredient list from an almost middle-aged book. This braised onion sauce comes from Beard on Pasta, authored by the same man who expects us to put sieved egg yolks in our shortcakes; who dares us to put 40 cloves of garlic in our chicken; and who requests that we make lovely little tea sandwiches and fill their pillow-y insides with nothing but butter and raw onion. It’s a member of the same class, this pasta–just strange enough for you to assume it will fail you, and made up of ingredients so run-of-the-mill they border on drab. Excepting the noodles, you’re asked to call on only six ingredients for this recipe. The yellow onions languishing in the dark corner of your pantry? You’ll need those. Madiera? You’ve got a dusty bottle on a high shelf somewhere, right? If you don't have pasta somewhere in your kitchen I can't help you. This is the political science prerequisite of ingredient lists. Are you still awake? But look a little closer: There’s a borderline obscene amount of butter. And you cook the onions for as long as you can possibly stand it–sautéing slow and low is nothing if not a tantric exercise–and then you cook them a little more, this time soaked in Madiera. What you’ve created is the highest form of caramelized onions known to man. Are you scared of the amount of butter pooling in the pan? Good. Add some more. Then overturn a skein of hot pasta in there, too, its carryover steam loosening everything up, keeping it limber. Toss, and like a couple in the early throes of infatuation, the onions and the pasta will tangle together: the former disappears into the latter, the latter into the former. You’ll detest them for their unabashed PDA, but only for a minute–they are sweet, they are a little salty, they are drunk on syrupy wine. Serve this at your next dinner party, like we did, and understand the capital letters, the exclamations, Beard’s well-known–and well-observed–idea that “pasta is not a mannerly food to eat.” If you make this with pappardelle, which you should, portions forklifted from the serving dish will stretch and stretch, much like the endless scarf trick the magician at your third grade party performed two times too many. Some unwilling strands of pasta will walk the plank and land smack on the table. Try to take a bite–half your plate will spiral onto your fork. You will abandon everything your mother taught you. And you’ll come back to it over and over again, because–despite your manners and those of your guests–this dish tastes worlds deeper than the ingredient list promises it will. And therein lies the genius of James Beard recipes: You scoff and then you love. You scoff and then you are put in your place. You scoff, and then you’ll want to scream this recipe from the rooftops–or into your keyboard, on email 12. Note: This recipe is lightly adapted from James Beard's "Beard on Pasta." He originally calls for two sticks of butter—which you are welcome to do—but I find (as Molly at Orangette has too) that it works just as well with less. I use pappardelle, but feel free to switch that up. It's only important that you make this dish often.Food52You always want to buy oxtails when they are most tender. That would be in the Spring after a long Winters rest from fly swatting. All kidding aside this is slow food. You will not be putting this on the table thirty minutes after you turn on the stove but it isn't super labor intensive or anything you have to watch over and stir either. This is a dish you will make because you want to, it is sort of like spending a languid day at a summer house where you have really done nothing the entire day and don't care. The only little things you did do were little prep jobs for the nights casual, and very delicious dinner. You will cook this because you love to cook and you have set up your day to make all the necessary little steps happen for what is the only reason you got out of bed, dinner. A fire is burning in the fire place, the kids are getting along and you take your opportunity to cook slow and for the sheer joy of cooking.Food.comThis is a very creamy sauce. As its name implies it is very easy...I love to do it with cooked shrimp and what ever fresh veggies I have and put it over noodles. You can use any meat you like. I cook the meat in a separate pan and pour the Alfredo sauce over when cooked. YUMMY!Food and WineI’m a cook who loves to hover over a pot and observe the transformation of ingredients, but let’s face it, most people just want to get into the eating action. That’s where modern, time-saving appliances like pressure cookers such as the Instant Pot come in. They can’t do everything well, but they’re fabulous for certain things, like dishes that normally require long simmering and slow cooking.This Vietnamese beef stew (bo kho, pronounced “baw caw”) from my book, Vietnamese Food Any Day, is the perfect example. It appeared in the February issue of Food & Wine prepared in a Dutch Oven with a three-hour cook time. This French-inspired stew is a dream simmering on your stovetop with the aromas of lemongrass and star anise wafting through your home. But you can still enjoy the same flavor in about half the time with a little help from your Instant Pot.I quickly discovered that adapting traditional recipes for the pressure cooker isn’t as simple as cutting regular cooking time. Appliances require you to adjust to their functionalities. Here’s a quick rundown of the changes I made to the recipe and why. And don’t worry if you don’t own an Instant Pot; you can get the original Dutch oven version of the recipe here.Pressure cookers extract and meld flavors fast. But there’s a lot of hedging and guessing because once the lid is locked in place, you can’t see what’s going on inside the pot. Cooking happens as pressure builds, during actual pressure cooking, and while the pot depressurizes. From past experiences with pressure cookers, I guesstimated that the beef would require about 40 percent of the normal cook time (1 hour and 15 minutes) for the beef to become tender-chewy. That’s why in the recipe below, the beef is cooked at high pressure for 10 minutes and naturally depressurized for 18 minutes; also factored in is a little cooking time at the front end as the pressure builds.There’s a difference between a regular stovetop pressure cooker that ventilates and whistles while it works and an electric multicooker like the Instant Pot that operates in silence. Whereas some evaporation happens in stovetop models, there’s little to no moisture loss in machines like the Instant Pot. To compensate, I cook with less liquid in a multicooker than in a regular pressure cooker.During the last step, when you’re simmering the beef with the carrots, that’s when things start to slide back into comforting and familiar. The lid is off while things bubble away—you can the verify the meat’s tenderness and witness the cooking first-hand. At the end of the day, the Instant Pot recipe conversion was a success. My home still smelled wonderful—and I had an entire extra hour all to myself. Combining old-school recipe with a modern appliance turned this weekend project into a deliciously doable weeknight ditty.Food and WineThere are few things better (or easier) than a fruit crisp. It’s extremely hard to mess it up—even if you aren’t a baker. In many ways, it’s more like cooking than baking; you can riff a little on the recipe based on what’s in season or what you have in your pantry.For the filling, you can try different apple varieties, substitute pears for all or half of the apples, or even throw some berries into the mix. Come summer, you can swap in peaches or nectarines and still use the same topping. You could also try subbing up to half of the flour in the topping with whole-wheat, buckwheat, or any flour you choose. Crisps are a choose-your-own-adventure cooking experience, and there’s lots of fun to be had along the way.Personally, I find the topping easier and quicker to put together in the food processor, but you can totally do it by hand. Just a heads up—it will take a bit longer to get to that perfect no-longer-dry-and-crumbly-but-just-starting-to clump-together stage, which is what you’re looking for in this crisp topping. If you do decide to tackle the topping by hand, cut the butter into thin slices so it’s easier to squeeze through your fingers, and just keep squeezing the butter and flour mixture with your fingertips until it’s perfectly crumbly-clumpy. Double the recipe and keep half in the freezer for impromptu crisps or to sprinkle on top of a baked apple.I love the oohs and aahs I get from my guests when I serve something humble and simple like this crisp. It’s a fabulous dessert to take to a party; just let it cool enough to set up so everything stays put on the journey! It’s a homey and fulfilling way to end any meal, or honestly as a meal (breakfast). Candied ginger in the topping adds a satisfying chew and a zingy bright flavor that leaves you wanting one more bite.YummlySimple marinade. Flavorful chops. Your next favorite pork recipe is made with Italian salad dressing! Use a store-bought brand or homemade dressing for this easy grilling recipe. It's perfect for either a cozy Sunday supper or a quick weeknight dinner. For a casual meal, serve with potato salad, salad, and rolls, or opt for an elegant meal of Italian pork chops, green beans, mashed potatoes, and rustic Italian bread. If it's not grilling weather, a grill pan on the stovetop will do the trick. If this is your first foray into pork chops, there are a few things you should know before you get started — but don't let that intimidate you! We've all been beginners and trust us, chops are easy to work with. ### Bone-In Pork Chops Vs Boneless Pork Chops Pork chops are cut from the loin. If you're looking at the body of a pig, it's the meat that you would get from the back. Lengthwise, it lies between the shoulder and the leg (where we get ham), and crosswise it only extends to where the belly (where we get bacon!) begins. This is where we get rib chops — that's probably what you think of when you hear "pork chops." They have the curved bone that runs along the meat. Boneless pork chops are just rib chops without the bone. Boneless chops aren't quite as flavorful as the bone-in chops because there's less fat and connective tissue, but they're both delicious. ### Cooking With Chops We love our grilled pork chops, but pork chops can be baked or thrown into a slow cooker for that set-it-and-forget-it technique that saves us a few headaches when we're planning meals. Here are a few tips for each method. ## Slow Cooker Pork Chops There are dozens of awesome slow cooker recipes to try but the slow cooker may not be the best way to cook pork chops — the pork shoulder is a better cut for slow cooking but that doesn't mean you can't do an overnight marinade with your chops before gently cooking them on low for a few hours (depending on the recipe you are using). However, make sure you brown the meat before you toss it in the fun cooker. ## Baked Pork Chops This dinner recipe works well for baking if you don't have access to a grill. It's best if you sear the chops on the stovetop first and then finish them in the preheated oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for about 25 minutes and the internal temperature reaches 145 degrees Fahrenheit. ### Other Types Of Dressings To Use While this dish uses Italian-style salad dressing, you can apply this method using other types of dressings (except for dairy-based dressings). For a sweet and spicy Asian pork chop, use an Asian dressing like sesame ginger, or Teriyaki.Food.comFrom start-to-finish, this is a "feel good" dinner--it screams "Home Cookin'" and "I love you!"...in sweet tones, of course! Use your bread machine for the dough (like I do) or make from scratch on your own (more brownie points!). Not a "fast" or "simple" recipe...but WELL-WORTH the effort (wait'll you hear the sighs of delight---you'll know what I mean). COOKING time does NOT include bread-machine cycle.
