ad hoc at home #9: chocolate chip cookies

In his cookbook, Mr. Keller hails chocolate chip cookies as his favorite cookie in the world. I don't recall seeing chocolate chip cookies at Bouchon Bakery, nor ever having them in any form at French Laundry or Bouchon, so I didn't know expect.

As far as I can tell, his cookies are not that much different from other recipes I've seen. The main difference is that he requires that you buy good bars of chocolate, in a combination of semi-sweet and bittersweet, and chop them into "chip-sized pieces," and not surprisingly given his sensitivity to aesthetics, shake in a fine-mesh basket strainer to "remove any chocolate 'dust' (small fragments)." The other variation is his relatively high brown (1 cup packed) to granulated (3/4 cup) sugar ratio.

These two factors create a flat, relatively chewy cookie, with chocolate striations. Maybe Keller is more precise in cutting his chocolate than I am, sifts out more of that chocolate dust than I did, and forms more perfect balls with his dough before baking, but I always imagined his cookies, especially his favorite cookie, to look better than this:

It isn't the prettiest cookie I've ever made, but it did the trick taste-wise. The cookies were a big hit at my summer party, so much so that my mom wants me to make some for her to bring back to LA to share with family!

I made them again a few weeks later for a friend's housewarming party, and had more success making it look as good as it tasted ... at least with a few specimens.

ad hoc at home #7 and #8: duck

I don't think I'm alone in finding duck an intimidating poultry to cook at home, although really for no good reason. I blame the markets, for not carrying more duck meat, and then charging an arm and a leg for it. This means that if you are to try it, you mustn't go wrong, or else you'll have wasted quite an expensive piece of meat. This is where Thomas Keller comes in. His cookbook ad hoc at home has proven so far that I can't go wrong with his recipes.

Before shopping, I studied the recipes for both the duck confit and the pan-roasted duck breasts. I noticed two things: first, the duck confit required lots of duck fat, and second, the pan-roasted duck breasts produce lots of duck fat that is then discarded. Ding! went the light bulb in my head. I'll make the duck breast first, strain and save the fat, and then use it in my duck confit. Since duck fat keeps and duck confit is a two-day process (in fact, it can be stored for even longer), I didn't have to worry about being all duck'd out. It was a brilliant plan.

First, the duck breast recipe. It introduced me to the concept of cooking almost entirely skin-side down, something I've since executed on salmon (per America's Test Kitchen recipe) and chicken thighs (Jacques Pepin recipe) as well, for a perfectly crisp skin. Every instruction in the book is helpful and accurate, down to the removal of the "small white tendon that runs through each tenderloin" of your duck breast and setting "a metal bowl or other container near the stove" for use later. Don't question it, just do it, and everything will turn out right.

As with so many of his recipes, the cooling rack is key. Nearly everything is better after having been cooled on a rack.

The duck breasts came out beautifully.

I served it on a bed of simply sauteed green cabbage, sort of a la Keller's recipe, using, what else, duck fat, but without all of the trimmings (no red cabbage or pistachios).


Now for the duck confit. Keller's recipe makes 8 duck legs, and after trying to do it for 2 duck legs only, I can see why. Duck fat isn't easy to come by for most of us, and it's a bit of a waste of the duck fat if you're not lining at least the entire bottom of your Dutch oven with duck. It would be less of a problem if I had a smaller Dutch oven, but for the size I had, I probably could have fit 4-6 duck legs in one layer.

My thoughts on the duck fat: You can always buy it directly from a good butcher, but why pay separately when you already have to pay for a good amount of it when you buy your breasts and legs. From the duck breast, I had rendered off maybe one-third of the fat called for by the recipe for the duck confit. The recipe also calls for trimming and discarding the excess skin and fat from the duck legs, so I rendered that off, too, yielding almost the same amount as I already had from the duck breasts. In total, I had enough fat to immerse about 2/3 of the duck legs in the fat, but not all of it, as prescribed. Here's where my cooking sense and willingness to edit came in handy. I felt it was enough, and guess what? It was enough.

The duck went into the oven before I went to bed, and came out of the oven in the morning, about 8 hours later. Keller says 8-10 hours, but I opted for 8 since I only had 2 legs. It came out just a little more "meltingly tender" than I think he is aiming for, since one of the legs did fall apart a little when I sauteed them later. I think 8 hours would have been perfect for 4-6 legs. It was delicious, nonetheless.

Even though duck confit is meant to be salty, and I for one love salt, I would heed his warning about over-salting. It came out a bit on the salty side, which I was able to balance out with tomatoes and roasted potatoes, but had I indulged my penchant for salt by adding just a little more than the recipe prescribes, which I often do, I could have easily ruined these beautiful duck legs.

ad hoc at home #6: shortbread cookies

Pure joy can be created from 4 simple ingredients: butter, sugar, vanilla and flour.

Who knew?

If you've ever eaten at French Laundry, you've walked away with some of those light golden buttery crumbly cookies cut into perfect little rectangles. Well, with a stand mixer and some parchment paper, it's easier than pie to make (I know the saying is easy as pie, but pie is not this easy to make).

The ingredients: 1.75 sticks (or 14 tbs) unsalted butter; 0.5 cup granulated sugar + extra to sprinkle over cookies; 1 tsp vanilla paste or extract; 2 cups AP flour.

The dough: Using the paddle mixer, mix butter and sugar on low to combine, and then beat at medium speed for ~3 minutes until creamy. Add vanilla, and then on add flour on lowest speed. Once all the flour is in, beat on medium until dough begins to cling to the paddle and no longer looks dry, but before it forms a solid mass. Transfer dough to a board and bring it together with your hands. Form the dough into a roughly rectangle shape, wrap it in plastic and refrigerate it for at least 30 minutes, and up to several days.

Forming the cookie: Roll the refrigerated dough between two pieces of parchment paper until it's 0.25-inches thin. Set aside the top parchment, and cut the dough into 2-inch squares. Cover again with the top parchment and refrigerate again for ~15 minutes until cookies are firm enough to remove from the parchment.

Baking: Position oven racks in lower and upper thirds of the oven, and preheat oven to 350 degrees. Remove top sheet of parchment, and arrange cookies 1-inch apart on two cookie sheets lined with parchment paper or Silpats. Sprinkle cookies with sugar, and bake for 11-12 minutes, until their edges are just starting to turn golden brown. Allow cookies to cool a few minutes on the baking sheet before transferring onto a rack to cool completely.
After making the cookies a few times, I decided to take the cookie one step farther: dipped in chocolate.

Technically, to create a shiny, hard chocolate coating for the cookies, you have to "temper" it. Well, tempering technically requires bringing chocolate to a certain temperature, then cooling to a certain temperature, etc., and I don't cook with thermometers, not yet anyway. So I looked for shortcuts, and this is what I came up with:

For a single batch of cookies, you just need 5-6 ounces of good quality semisweet chocolate (you can use bittersweet chocolate, too, but for me, it wasn't sweet enough to stand up to the cookie's flavor). I chopped the chocolate into large pieces, and transferred approximately 2/3 of it to a medium-sized glass bowl. The glass bowl went over a small pot of simmering water. I added a teaspoon of shortening (I read somewhere that shortening added to melting chocolate stabilizes the end product and lends a sheen, although I haven't yet tested what happens if you don't add it), and stirred the chocolate around slowly until melted. I then added the rest of the chocolate, which I think achieves the cooling part of the tempering process, and continued stirring until it was all melted.

Then I removed the bowl of chocolate, and started dipping. I placed the dipped cookies on parchment paper to cool.

This yields enough melted chocolate to allow easy dipping in a bowl, but this means you have plenty to spare. You could theoretically use even less chocolate, but then the chocolate coats the bowl and will be quite shallow making it difficult to dip the cookie.

Allow the chocolate dipped cookies to cool in the refrigerator until the chocolate hardens, which I found takes at least 45 minutes.

Needless to say, these chocolate-dipped versions were very well received.

ad hoc at home #1 revisited: buttermilk fried chicken

Since I was too stressed and eager to eat the first time to take any pictures of the finished product, I made the buttermilk fried chicken again. Since this is probably the quintessential ad hoc recipe, this time I invited the friends that gifted me the cookbook to try it and compare it with the fried chicken they had the week before at TK's ad hoc restaurant. This time, I was much more relaxed, and Mark was around to snap a few more pictures of the process and the finished product.

We were much less messy this time.
And now that we were more aware of the actual cooking time (2-3 minutes more than indicated in the cookbook per batch), our timing was much better. And since we were working in batches - first the thighs, then drumsticks, then breasts, and finally wings - we kept the first batches in a warm oven until the guests arrived.
And voila! Beautiful fried chicken.
Before frying, Mark and I prepared a couple of side dishes.
He made mashed potatoes. I made coleslaw.
The colors were gorgeous on the plate.

ad hoc at home #5: beef stroganoff

As I indicated in my last post, the ad hoc at home braised beef short ribs are a precursor to two other recipes in the cookbook, and the second time I made them, I made extra to use a second day in one of these other recipes. I chose to make the Beef Stroganoff. And it was rich, well-balanced, full of beef and mushroom flavor, and totally yummy despite (1) the fact that I used store-bought pappardelle instead of making my own, (2) I used a hand blender (instead of an actual blender or fine-mesh strainer, can't remember which he called for) so my mushroom cream sauce still had small bits of mushroom, which is totally fine by me, and (3) it turned out looking like this:


Believe you me the pictures do not do it justice. I knew that the mushroom flavor would be the key to this dish, but boy did I underestimate it's power. The rich, beefy goodness of the short ribs combined with the deep, creamy, mushroom flavors rendered my three-day process (day 1: beef stock, day 2: braised short ribs, day 3: beef stroganoff) totally worth it. Needless to say, after hours of cooking, Mark and I devoured it.

ad hoc at home #4: braised short ribs

Who can resist braised short ribs on any five-star menu? Not only was I sure that the braised short ribs recipe in Thomas Keller's ad hoc at home would be oh-so-good in and of itself, these short ribs were the precursor to two other delicious-sounding recipes. The only problem was that making just the braised short ribs themselves was a two-day process, presuming you make your beef stock from scratch as prescribed.

It was daunting, but it proved a great excuse to invest in the Le Creuset Dutch oven, and I had just spotted one in Cassis (a Sur La Table exclusive rich, purple color) that I just had to have.

Before we get to the Dutch oven, though, day one starts with making the beef stock. Making beef stock Keller-style starts with roasting "meaty" beef bones on high heat for 45 minutes to develop color and flavor. Then there is 6 more hours of simmering and continuous skimming (off fat and impurities for a clear broth), adding charred onion early on, then adding roasted vegetables and herbs for the last hour. Finally, a little rest, twice straining (second time through cheesecloth), and voila, I have a deep, rich beef broth that turns into gelatinous goodness when refrigerated. Phew! Day one was a long, exhausting day on my feet. I need to get a lighter ladle if I'm going to do more marathon skimming.

Now back to the beautiful, brand new Dutch oven. Day two starts with many of the same vegetables and herbs that finished off the beef stock - leeks, carrots, onions, thyme, bay leaves - to flavor the wine sauce, as well as shallots, smashed garlic cloves and mushrooms. It was quite a colorful and fragrant combination:

Per instruction, I added a full bottle of very drinkable red wine, and let it simmer for half an hour while I seasoned, dredged in flour and seared off the short ribs. I added more vegetables, built a cheesecloth nest, laid the short ribs in the nest, topped it off with the beef stock, covered it with a parchment lid, and popped it into the preheated oven.

Two hours later, I strained and simmered the sauce while the beef rested, and then served the braised short rib with a simple salad and plain rice. I, my husband, and a few of our closest friends, were rewarded for my two-day effort with undoubtedly the best short ribs we had ever tasted.

That is correct, they were better than any restaurant short ribs we had before. They were so good, I exerted the effort again a couple weeks later, making sure to braise extra short ribs to use a second day. If I was going to put in two days, I was going to get two dinners out of it!

ad hoc at home #2 and #3: crispy braised chicken thighs and creamed baby spinach

What better day to put in some effort in the kitchen than Valentine's Day. On the other hand, you want to enjoy the day with your special someone, preferably with a delicious dinner to share. Mark and I have long since stopped going to restaurants on this day for overpriced, mass produced food. Usually one or the other of us cooks, and then is too exhausted to do much apart from watching TV as the other one cleans. As a testament to the evolution of our relationship to the point where we can share the kitchen (which was not always the case), we decided to cook together. It was brilliant, and I wish we could have come up with the idea years ago.

Mark and I decided to each tackle a single recipe from ad hoc at home. I chose a relatively uncomplicated main course, and he chose an uncharacteristically complicated side dish ... so we were even.

I made crispy braised chicken thighs with lemon and fennel. It was supposed to include olives, but I don't like how olives overpower other flavors I love, so I left them out. You'll find me taking just such artistic license with recipes often because if there's something Mark and I know well, it is what we like to eat.

For this recipe, I learned how to cut fennel into "batons" (I normally slice the bulb into uneven, unmanageable open rings). I also learned that by browning the chicken skin side down to a crisp, and then braising it skin side up, you can achieve braised chicken with a crispy skin.

Like I said, it was a pretty straightforward recipe considering its source.

Mark took on the creamed baby spinach, which seems like it should be simple enough ... not. Like many of his recipes, it was two recipes in one. He had to first learn to make a Mornay Sauce, one of Keller's "basic" sauces involving five herbs and spices, diced onions, butter, flour, milk and heavy cream, some cheese we don't normally keep in the house (Comte or Emmentaler), and 35-40 minutes of stirring. This is all before you cook and strain the spinach, mix it in with the Mornay Sauce, bake it, and then broil it.

To be fair, we left out the cheese because we didn't feel like combing the extensive cheese counter for these specific cheeses. Still it took Mark about the same amount of time to make the spinach as I did to make the braised chicken, so at least the timing turned out nicely. It really was the best creamed spinach we've ever had, but I'm not sure I could get Mark to make it again.

We washed it all down with one of our favorite Rieslings.

And finished the dinner with my first ever chocolate souffles, from a recipe I saw on Gordon Ramsay's The f Word (the "f" stands for food). For this triumph, I had to do a lot of metric to U.S. customary conversions, and learn to make corn flour from corn starch and flour. The corn flour thickens the milk to a "yogurty" texture, the result being a "creme patissiere" (yes, lots of learning happened that day). After 3-4 minutes of stirring, I wasn't sure "yogurty" was an accurate description, and just when I was about ready to give up on achieving the desired texture, it happened. It really took on the texture of yogurt.

Then came the chopped chocolate, egg yolks, whip the egg whites with the superfine (=caster) sugar, load the batter into buttered ramekins pre-sprinkled with grated chocolate, and tada!

Okay, after the prescribed 6-8 minutes, it wasn't quite ready. But given 5 more minutes, tada!

There may have been a more impressive rise had I not disturbed them when they were not ready, but they were deliciously decadent with a very gooey center, and Mark said this was how he wished all restaurants served their chocolate souffles, so I declare victory.

ad hoc at home #1: buttermilk fried chicken

Eating at French Laundry is a "once-in-a-lifetime" experience, which Mark and I experienced twice last year. After years of skepticism, I chanced upon a reservation (cute story for later), and after the first meal, I easily became one of their biggest fans (so much so that we went back 6 months later and brought a larger party with us). So it was only fitting that one of my foodie friends gave me Thomas Keller's new cookbook, ad hoc at home, as a holiday gift.

Keller waxes poetic about how this book is about home cooking and "family meals," even signing our copy to "Alice & Mark, It's all about family, Thomas Keller." So I decided to embark on a modified Julie Powell-esque journey to try as many recipes as I can and blog about them. But I'm doing it without a deadline or a promise to make every recipe, because I am fully aware of the challenge.

If you know anything about Thomas Keller, you can imagine his idea of home cooking is not anyone else's idea of home cooking. Unlike Julia Child, Ina Garten, Martha Stewart, Nigella Lawson, or the slew of other celebrity chefs that attempt to make their recipes accessible to the average American cook, Keller is unapologetically uncompromising about the techniques, the number of steps (lots of cross-referencing to brines, stocks and other base components you need to prepare prior to carrying out the recipe you intend), and particularly the time, necessary to create the desired flavors. The only area he seems relaxed about is presentation.

So I'm taking it slow, one week at a time - only wise considering most of the recipes are two-day affairs. Yet I think if I am as meticulous as I can be in following the instructions, it will all work out.

For the buttermilk fried chicken, it did all work out, in the end. Becoming all-consumed and pressed for time the day of cooking and eating, I wound up with only one picture of the chicken - raw, after being cut into pieces, but before going into the brine.

In the picture there are only eight pieces when there are supposed to be ten. We realized right after snapping this picture that we were also supposed to separate the drumstick from the thigh (no, this is not even Keller's eight-piece cut, which has separated drumstick and thigh, but without the breast cut in half). So we promptly separated the drumstick and thigh. We took this picture because it was an ordeal just to get this far, a process which taught us that regular kitchen shears are not poultry shears, and that we really should get a pair of poultry shears before we try this recipe again.

My chicken was too big (I used 1 5-lb chicken instead of 2 3-lb chickens as recommended because that is what they had at the farmers market that week), and so I brined for just a bit longer than the prescribed 12 hours, and fried for a minute or two longer than suggested for each piece. Luckily Mark was able to find the temperature-controlled deep fryer from our college days, so I didn't have to bother with maintaining temperature with a pot, flame, and thermometer. Even so, at least half the flour mixture and a good amount of canola oil ended up on the floor and my apron before all was fried and done. Just as well since the use of 1 bigger chicken instead of 2 smaller ones meant I had less surface area to coat anyway.

The result was VERY tasty fried chicken that is definitely worth making again. Crispy and flavorful on the outside; juicy, perfectly seasoned, and lemony (which was unusual, but refreshing) on the inside. I wish I had a picture to show, but it was so delicious we couldn't help but dig in even before the last pieces were fried.