Making One for the Team: Snicker Cookies

I'm working my final weekend as a food stylist for a Food Network star. We're finally out of the basement, and in to a beach house in New Jersey. The crew is split between two houses, sleeping together, working together, eating together, and if this damn hot tub to work then the possibilities are endless.

For many who work in TV or film, there are periods of chaos and drama followed by long stretches of downtime. I had a few of those down time periods today during which I went for a jog on the beach with my dog, took a shluff in the sun, and prepared my final breakfast for the team.

The rest of the team didn't have the easy day that I did the cameramen alone each carry 40 pound cameras for upwards of 12 hours per day. They worked hard, and the team was all crying out for chocolate, so my (also time rich) styling assistant and I improvised a batch of cookies from what we could find in the house. That being flour, butter, an egg or two and a sack of mini snickers.

As it turns out, these cookies are a perfect match for the several cases of beer that our crew will be consuming tonight, and reminds me of a fabulous treat I once had at Manhattan's City Bakery called Ballpark Ice Cream. It was a combination of vanilla ice cream, stout beer, ribbons of caramel, roasted peanuts and salty pretzels. It was bitter, sweet, salty, fatty, crunchy...like a game of pinball in your mouth.

Try these snickers cookies -- they are equally salty, fatty, and delicious. Perfect with a beer after a long day with colleagues who are fast becoming friends, and given this living arrangement, family.


Snicker Cookies (Best with Beer)
Makes 3 to 4 dozen

2 1/4 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
2 sticks butter, softened
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon coarse salt
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 eggs
2 1/2 cups chopped Snickers

1. Preheat oven to 350F.
2. Combine flour and baking soda; whisk together.
3. In a separate bowl, use a mixer to cream the butter and sugars until fluffy, about 3 minutes wiht a hand mixer. Add salt, vanilla, and eggs, one at a time. Mix again; stir in chopped snickers.
4. Drop onto cookiesheets by the tablespoonful, flatten with the palm of your hand, and allow at least 1 inch between the cookies. Cook 10 - 12 minutes, or until browned on the bottom. Enjoy with a long day's work and a stout.

Choking on the Alternatives

I finally have had a doctor verify that which I’ve suspected for some time: I’m too hot. Too spirited, too passionate, too intense, just too damn hot. Too much red meat, too much coffee, too much alcohol. In general too much hedonism, too much excitement, too much of everything.

You see, I’ve been spending time with an acupuncturist, who has been curing me of this bizarre skin condition (red dots all over my body) that has stumped doctors and dermatologists for the last few months.

I’ve been put on a regimen of daily wheat grass shots, milk thistle and cordyceps tinctures, and cooling food. This includes lots of beets, cucumber, celery, watercress, artichokes, and radishes. I’ve been asked to lay off the spices and meats, drink a lot of water, and see if I that can't help get whatever toxins are coming through my skin completely out of my system.

But the most outstanding side effect of seeing an alternative practitioner is this: she’s taking my whole life into consideration when attempting to cure this condition. And what we've come to realize is that these dots ebb and flow with JChef’s affections. Things are bliss-central: no dots. Things are fuzzy and unclear and torturous: dots. Now that things are done, the dots have completely stopped.

Yes, I am blaming my skin condition on my love life. And I’m not the first – a good friend of mine had hives for 1 1/2 years – from her bachelorette party through the wedding and the marriage. They only concluded with her ex-husbands departure.

Sometimes our brains are a little late to catch up with things that are out of synch in our lives, and other parts of our body start to speak up.

I realize this is a bit hokey, but I tell you, live in my body for a few days and you’ll see it makes perfect sense. Sometimes when you need to get someone out of your system, you literally need to get them out of your system. You let a person into your heart, your world, your spirit, and then you need to literally exorcize them from your body in order to get over them and move on. It takes more than deleting someone from the phone; sometimes it’s a whole lot of wheat grass, healthy living and faith.


Grilled Artichoke, Arugula, and Parmesan Salad with Shallot Beurre
Serves 4

2 artichokes
4 shallots, minced
2 lemons
1 stick butter (cut into small cubes), plus 2 tablespoons
1 bunch arugula, washed and trimmed
3/4 cup parmesan shavings (sliced with a vegetable peeler)
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup olive oil
Salt and pepper

1. Halve artichokes lengthwise; trim and remove choke. Rub cut sides with a lemon, place in a microwave-safe container; submerge in water. Cover, and microwave 15 minutes, or until softened. (Artichokes can be prepared to this point up to 3 days ahead).

2. For dipping sauce: In a medium saucepan, melt 2 tablespoons butter and sweat shallots for 5 to 10 minutes; cover with water by 1/2 inch and the juice of 1 lemon. Simmer 10 minutes, or until translucent and water has reduced. Place in blender and buzz, adding butter cubes as you buzz. Season with salt to taste, and more lemon juice if necessary (note, if this sits for too long, it may solidify. Just re-buzz in the blender to make it sauce consistency again).

3. To finish artichokes: Preheat grill & coat with oil. Grill artichokes until they have grill marks (about 5 minutes per side) and are warmed through.

4. For salad: Just before serving, combine arugula and parmesan in a bowl, drizzle with balsamic and oil; season with salt and pepper. Toss to coat; divide amongst serving plates. Serve artichokes on top of salad greens with sauce.

Matzoh Ball Souperciliosity

My two favorite holidays are Thanksgiving and Passover. No surprise they both involve a whole lot of people sitting around eating a whole lot of food.

If I could have the perfect day, it would involve a big group of (everchanging) people sitting down to table again and again. We’d start with breakfast split-catered by Russ & Daughters and Zabars, followed up by a huge brunch catered by Sarabeths (lots of bacon and popovers at this one). Then we’d all have a picnic in Prospect Park. And then maybe a bar-b-que. And then a pig on a spit, but of course afterwards we’d have to jet off to an oyster roast, probably on Martha’s Vineyard. Then the sun would be setting, and since we’re on the Vineyard, someone would be handing us cocktails (involving gin, lots of gin). Then, maybe back to Brooklyn for a little Stone Park Café, as I do love their octopus appetizer. I sure hope this local classic still recognizes me, what with their recent accolades, and JChef's recent lobotomy.

But I didn’t have a perfect day this week; I had a haggadah and some communion crackers. This goes to prove that for centuries, company and tradition have salvaged some of the least fulfilling meals. No dairy, no leavening, and we Jews, we still manage to eek out a half decent dessert (long live the macaroon! the candied citrus wedge! the dark chocolate filled with marshmallow!).

I enjoyed two Passovers this year; one with old college friends, and one with family. At the first, there were a handful of lesbians, a straight man pretending to be gay, a 4-month old listening to mama’s Mardi Gras improprieties (also known as a doctor, a vet, a coupla entrepreneurs, and some kick-ass executives). We talked a lot about Viagra, breast feeding and single motherhood, and the dog ate part of my super hip Betsy Johnson jacket. If the dog doesn’t get too sick, I hope to be invited again next year.

At the other was my smiling grandmother, full of love and a level of enthusiasm only had by those who get to relive life over and over again; those without their youthful memory. She’s leasing-to-buy an elder-care home, and our Passover dining hall was chock full of aging European Jews.

My grandmother, while reintroducing my cousin, aunt, uncle and me to our elderly tablemates for the twelfth time, yet again shared with the group that my brother (my younger brother, such a shame she isn’t married, no boyfriend even) is expecting, and this will be her second grandchild. She offered a kinahura, a spit-spit, a mazel, and a round of applause. “Oh lucky me, lucky me!” she said. And she meant it for the first time, each and every time.

But what I left thinking about were those elegant, mannered, intelligent folks with whom I shared I table. I believe I broke (unleavened) bread with a room full of Holocaust survivors. I was angry at first, angry that they were there, at this facility. Where is their family? And why are they alone? Until I remembered that we were alone together, and that we both felt sorry for each other, in our own way.

So in their honor, I’m offering my matzoh ball soup. It’s a recipe cobbled together from a bunch of bubbies, and since my dad asked for thirds at Seder last year, I’m guessing it must be pretty good. To Life, To Life, L’Chaim.


Chicken Soup with Matzoh Balls

For chicken soup:
5 pounds of good quality chicken (one big bird has the strongest flavor, but you can try two 2 1/2 pound birds, one 2 1/2 pound birds, plus extra wings and legs and stuff…just let it add up to 5 pounds)
1 big leek, sliced lengthwise and cut into 3/4-inch pieces, washed well
3 carrots, sliced into 1/2-inch rounds
4 stalks celery, sliced 1/2-inch thick
A few sprigs of dill or parsley, chopped

For matzoh balls:
1 cup matzoh meal
4 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup seltzer
1/4 cup chicken schmaltz (yum!) or margarine
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
1 teaspoon salt

1. For Soup: Cut up the chicken. Either buy it cut up, ask your butcher to do it, or take out a knife and hack the thing up yourself. Be sure to cut up the thick-bone areas like the neck, backbone, wings and thighs. You want all that marrowy goodness to flavor and enrich the soup, so get your cleaver out and get to it. Cut off the breasts and throw them in the freezer for another time. Rip off the skin and reserve it, we’ll use it for the balls. (Oh don’t get grossed out, I didn’t ask you to start with a live bird, now did I?)

2. Put the cut-up chicken in the pot; add the leek, carrots and celery. Cover the whole mess with water; you’ll be adding about 10 to 12 cups of liquid. Bring to a boil; turn the heat to low and simmer for about an hour. Pull out the chicken and carrots and reserve; pour the rest of the liquid through a strainer. Discard the vegetables; you should be left with a lovely golden liquid.

3. To render Schmaltz (Chicken Fat): Putt reserved chicken fat in a medium skillet or saucepan. Turn heat to medium-low, fat will slowly render out (that liquid in the bottom of the skillet; it’s schmaltz!). Pour off fat occasionally, into a heatproof bowl, and turn the skin occasionally so that all sides have a chance to render.

4. For the Matzoh balls: Combine matzoh meal, eggs, seltzer, schmaltz, ginger, cayenne and salt. Stir well. Cover; refrigerate for 30 minutes.

5. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Moisten hands with cold water (do this continually, throughout ball production), and begin rolling. Balls should be no more than 1-inch in diameter, as these things EXPAND in the water. Drop balls into boiling water, cover, and continue simmering for 30 minutes. Reserve balls in cooking liquid.

6. To Assemble: Be sure the matzoh balls and chicken soup are nice and hot; pour soup (and a few carrots, if desired) into a bowl; add matzoh ball (be gentle, these are super tender balls), and a few pieces of dill or parsley. Serve; take a bow.

Pinch Hit Tuna Salad: Fish Man style

Hold on to your mice, blogger readers, because this week I have a real treat for you.

Right now, I'm in Baltimore, working on a television show as "talent". I'm actually being hired for my "personality". This does not cease to amuse me, and it's a total blast, and I'm getting to do what I love most -- help people cook in their kitchens. It's a dream situation and I'm not talking about it too much because, well, it's one of those things that I'm afraid to talk about because then I'll find out it's some weird Tony Soprano-style dream. But I'll keep you clued in, and will CERTAINLY tell you when it's going to air, so all y'all can make the network's Nielsen dreams come true.

IN ANY CASE, as I've been putting in long days cooking, grocery shopping, getting my hair and make-up primped, meeting and working with wonderful people, I haven't had a moment to myself to write the blog.

So I asked my family to help. I called my parents, desperate, at about 7PM this evening, and my Dad came through. He pitched me on a few different recipes, but really felt strongly about his tuna salad, as it has "surprised and amused" many a discerning palate.

And so I present to you, the Fish Man recipe for:

Family Friendly Tuna Fish
by Marshall Fishman (pinch hitting for his daughter, Allison while she is on assignment)

I am a person of sixty-two years old who remembers enjoying tuna fish for over the past fifty years. During that period of time, hopefully, I have cultivated my taste of tuna fish and wish to share that experience with you. It may be of some interest to you that tuna fish was a staple in my house as I was growing up. We used to accuse my parents of stockpiling tuna fish. There were always at least 12 unopened cans in the house at all times.

Recipe
2 small cans of tuna fish packed in water
salt and freshly ground pepper
mayonnaise
1 to 2 fresh celery stalks
powdered dry mustard
1 1/2-2 tsp. mustard either Dijon or comparable
celery salt
onion powder
garlic salt
garlic powder
1 hardboiled egg (optional)
fresh lemon juice

1. Empty two cans of drained tuna into mixing bowl. Spend 1 to 2 minutes mashing and separating.

2. Add small amount of salt and freshly ground pepper. Continue mashing for another 30 to 60 seconds.

3. Add mayonnaise until you get the flavor and consistency you enjoy. Some people like their tuna fish dry others liked it very moist.

4. Dice 1 celery stalk and add to tuna and stir. If you feel you need more add as much of a second stalk as you wish.

4. Add three or four "shakes" of dry mustard and 1 1/2- 2 tsp. of Dijon-type mustard. Mash again for 30 to 60 seconds.

5.Add celery salt, onion powder, garlic salt and garlic powder 2 to 3 "shakes" of each. After you have tasted, add appropriately more celery salt, onion powder, garlic salt or garlic powder. In addition, if you feel you need some, add more ground black pepper.

[Optional, at this point,is the adding of 1 hard-boiled egg which has separately been mashed. Your may put in 1/4 to 1/2 of the egg to determine if you enjoy the taste. If so, you may either stop there or add more of the remaining egg or eat the egg separately.Your own personal taste is the key.]

6. Next squeeze in the juice of 1/8 of a lemon and again mix 20 to 30 seconds.

You have now come up with family friendly tuna fish adjusting for the taste of you and your family.

You may use this as a snack, a sandwich, or the better part of a meal as you see fit.

Enjoy!

Iceberg Ahead

I became one year older last Saturday. Ah yes, the fabled 34th birthday of the single urban female; I guaranteed my ovaries one last year of fun before they go stale.

It wasn’t as depressing as I let on; I was too exhausted after my string of extreme labor to think much about it. I packed my dog in the car and headed south for a weekend on the Virginia Shore.

Most important part of the trip: road food. I found an actual non-chain restaurant midway through Delaware and the parking lot was full so I gave it a go. It was a beautiful day but the restaurant's windows were blackened and the place was dark; primarily to make sure that all attention went to the choo-choo riding along the perimeter of the restaurant. It was local, it was depressing, and it was my birthday.

I ordered a Bloody Mary and looked at the menu. It was like navigating a minefield; I wanted something cooked (to ensure safety) and was trying to avoid anything superfatty or fried. I ordered a burger; and spoke the toppings to the waitress as if they were poetry. And I made the very clear request for medium rare. Which was met with the following response: “We only cook burgers well done in Delaware.”

Um, what? Isn’t this my meal, my bacteria roulette, my GODDAMN BIRTHDAY!? A curse on the whole of this state. But according to my food safety class, recently it’s the same rule in New York UNLESS the diner requests something different. Which we always do, especially when prompted with a “And you want that medium rare, right?” by an attitude-rich NY waitress.

I ordered a turkey club and called it a day.

On my way back, I also stopped for local roadfood, this time at a fish place. The church crowd was enjoying the post-sermon seafood, and the place had a better vibe. I had a shrimp boil thick with Old Bay that was out of this world, and a frozen crabcake was a huge mistake, but that was okay; this meal came with hush puppies and the requisite iceberg salad.

In fact, the iceberg salad was the one constant between my two roadside feeding frenzies. And then, twice this week on the show I’ve been styling, we made salads with iceberg lettuce. I don’t know if it’s retro-chic, cost-savings, or what, but I had a whole lot of extra lettuce in the fridge this week for family meal, and I was eager to make it sing. That many icebergs just can't be avoided.

Iceberg lettuce is a forgotten pleasure. Many of us who grew up in the 70s and 80s ate it every night for dinner (those a generation older might remember serving it to us), but at some point it became verboten. Something about the “green” lacking vitamins, nutrients, and offering anything redeemable beyond it’s ability to act as a vehicle for a tasty dressing.

But like any forbidden treat, it’s fun. This week, I made my crew a few different iceberg salads, and they liked them a whole lot. Give 'em a try and let me know what you think.


Iceberg Salad with Blue Cheese Dressing
Serves 4 to 6

4 ounces Danish blue cheese
1 1/2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 1/2 tablespoons neutral oil (like canola)
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 head iceberg lettuce, cored and roughly chopped
2 ounces container baby arugula (optional)
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper


In a large mixing bowl, combine blue cheese, olive oil, canola, red wine vinegar, and Dijon; whisk to combine. Add iceberg and arugula; toss to combine. Taste; season as needed with salt and pepper. Transfer to a serving bowl and serve immediately. (The arugula will wilt considerably if held for more than 15 minutes.


Iceberg, Feta, Red Onion Salad
Serves 4 to 6

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 1/2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 ounces feta cheese, crumbled
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1 head iceberg lettuce, halved, cored, and cut into 1/2-inch wedges
1/2 small red onion, halved and thinly sliced, soaked in ice water for 15 minutes, drained
1/2 cup pitted salt-cured (also called Moroccan) olives
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

In a large mixing bowl, combine olive oil, vinegar, feta and oregano; whisk to combine. Add lettuce, onion and olives; toss to combine. Taste; season as needed with salt and pepper.