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Light and Crisp Calamari

On this weekend of cookouts, parades, memorial services and unseasonably sultry weather I’ve been thinking about fried squid rings or calamari. I know—90 degree temperatures do not pair well with deep-fried foods. Yet, although this dish won’t offer cool cooking for the person in the kitchen, it will make for quick, light and satisfying dining for family and friends.

plate of calamair

Light and crisp calamari

For many the first, and possibly only taste, of squid comes in the form of fried squid or calamari. In fact, in some circles the Italian name for squid, calamari, has become synonymous with oily, batter-coated cephalopods. Overloaded with gloppy batter and then overcooked, it gets written off as being greasy and tough, which it often is. Hence, why calamari may be someone’s first and last taste of squid.

This is truly a shame. When dusted with flour and cooked quickly in hot oil, fried squid can be ethereal eating. Plus, crisp and airy calamari doesn’t take long to prepare. If you’ve got 5 minutes, you can make a heaping plate of tasty fried squid.

squid bodies

Cleaned squid

For my calamari I use purse seine- or jig-caught, California-sourced squid tubes. Low in contaminants and with a healthy, quickly reproducing population, this is presently the eco-friendliest squid. Eco-friendly statuses change periodically so, for up-to-date ratings, consult the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch.

To begin, I slice the squid bodies into 1/4-inch rings. Smaller rings mean quicker cooking. The less time the squid lingers in the bubbling oil, the less greasy and chewy my resulting dish will be.

squid rings in hot oil

Squid bubbling away

Rather than dip my squid into a thick batter, I toss the rings in a mixture of flour, salt and pepper. I then quickly fry the squid in batches in very hot oil. In two to three minutes I’ve got a heaping plate of steaming calamari, all ready to consume.

SIMPLE CALAMARI

Serves 2

1 pound squid rings
3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon ground black pepper.
Grapeseed oil, enough to fill a stockpot or deep fryer with 4 inches of oil.

Heat the oil on medium-high. When the temperature reaches 350˚F, you’re ready to start cooking.

Pat dry the squid rings so that they don’t splatter when they hit the hot oil.

Place the flour, salt, and pepper in a bowl. Add the squid rings and toss to coat.

If you own a fryer basket, put the coated squid in it. Otherwise, gently lower the squid in the hot oil. Allow
the squid to fry until golden, 2 to 3 minutes.

Using a slotted spoon or strainer, remove the fried calamari and place on paper towels to dry. Serve hot with tomato sauce or aioli for dipping.

Crazy about Quinoa

Right now I’m on a quinoa kick. For those unfamiliar with my new love, this small, hearty grain hails from the Andean region of South America. Cultivated there for at least 3,000 years, quinoa was a favorite of the Incas, who considered it a sacred food and referred to it as “the mother grain.”

Nurturing it is. Packed with essential amino acids, its protein quality and amount rival that of milk. It’s also high in calcium and fiber and lower in carbohydrates than other grains. Eat a serving of quinoa and you won’t feel the pang of hunger for hours. No doubt that’s why many call it “the super grain of the future.”

Nutrition aside, I’m smitten with quinoa’s mildly nutty, herbal flavors. These pair well with both sweet and savory ingredients. Depending upon my mood and what I have on hand, I can just as easily add dried cranberries, apricots or dates, fresh apples and candied nuts as garlic or onions, peppers, and cheese to it.

Although I serve quinoa as a salad or a substitute for rice and couscous, it does have a host of other uses. In Peru and Bolivia, where the bulk of quinoa is grown and consumed, cooks may boil it as I do or add it to soups or stews. They grind it into flour for breads, tortillas, cookies and other baked goods. They also eat it as a cereal and turn it into pudding. Quinoa greens are cooked as vegetables while its stalks are burned as fuel. Seemingly no part of the plant isn’t used.

Before being processed, quinoa, which is actually a seed from the flowering quinoa plant, varies in color from black to yellow or white. Once processed, it becomes a lovely shade of ivory; the exception to this is red quinoa, which, as the name suggests, remains red.

Each tiny seed possesses a slender, white band that unravels during cooking. This band gives quinoa its unique texture and appearance.

QUINOA SALAD
Serves 6

1 cup uncooked quinoa
2 cups water
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 1/2 teaspoons dried parsley
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
1 garlic clove, minced
1 cup frozen or fresh corn
2 tomatoes, seeded and chopped
1/4 cup pecans, finely chopped

Rinse and drain the quinoa. Place it and the water in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer, cover and cook until all the water is absorbed, 10 to 15 minutes. Take the pan off the heat and toss the quinoa to separate the grains. Allow the quinoa to cool to room temperature.

In a small bowl whisk together the salt, parsley, vinegar and olive oil. Set aside.

Melt the butter in a small frying pan on medium heat. Add the garlic and corn and saute for 2 to 3 minutes, until hot and just cooked through.

Place the corn, quinoa, tomatoes and pecans in a large mixing bowl and toss to combine. Drizzle the dressing over the salad and toss again to coat. Refrigerate for 30 minutes or until ready to serve.

Want Fries in That?

A month ago if you had asked how my hometown sets itself apart from other regions and their cuisines, I would have struggled to come up with an answer. To me, the Pittsburgh area has long been a melting pot of ethnic specialties. Pizza, pierogies, pita and souvlaki all played a part in shaping my palate.

Then I took a trip back home and was reminded how much Pittsburghers like their fries. I admit, most people like a good, crisp, golden french fry. How many, though, slip them inside breakfast, lunch and dinner entrees? Where I grew up, a lot do.

As my college roommate reminded me over a shrimp salad served atop fries, we were raised on salads with deep-fried potatoes tucked in between the lettuce leaves. Then there were the odd omelets filled with cheese, meat and french fries. And how could I forget Primanti Bros.’s fry- and coleslaw-stuffed sandwiches, which I still insist on having any time that I’m in Pittsburgh.

Why fries on the inside? Well, there are fewer plates to wash if you don’t serve them as a side. Pick them up between two slices of bread and you forgo the greasy fingers. Yet, I doubt that these are the reasons why. I’ll chalk it up to a happy accident—someone tried it, liked it, served it to someone else and the rest is history.

In my health-conscious family we didn’t eat fries, in or alongside entrees, very often. Delightfully salty and oily, they were a rare treat, one that my mother left to those possessing fryolators and serious grease burns.

Unfortunately, I haven’t strayed far from her stance. Want savory, fried potatoes at my house? Unless you bring your own french fries, you’ll probably eat the following side dish. Slipping them into your salad, sandwich or omelet is optional.

CRISPY ROSEMARY POTATOES
Serves 6

2 1/2 pounds russet potatoes, peeled, quartered, and cut into 1/2-inch thick slices
1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced
1 1/2 tablespoons minced fresh rosemary
Sea salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Place the potatoes in medium-sized stockpot filled with boiling salted water. Boil until the potatoes are slightly tender, 4 to 6 minutes. Drain the potatoes and set aside.

In a large frying or sauté pan heat the olive oil on medium-high.

Add the potatoes and cook, tossing periodically, until browned, 15 minutes.

Add the garlic, rosemary, salt, and pepper, stir to combine, and cook for 5 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasonings if necessary. Serve immediately.

Peas: A Hate-Love Story

peas cooking

I’ve spent a lifetime struggling to like peas. My aversion to this vegetable started early, when my mother opened that first store-bought can of them. Withered and grayish-green, they resembled one of the oldest vegetables in existence, which, in fact, they are. Robbed of their natural sweet succulence as well as any helpful seasonings, they likewise tasted as though they’d hung out in their can for centuries.

Had my subsequent experiences been tastier I may not have loathed peas so. Yet, each time I forced down spoonfuls of these bland, boiled terrors, I came to the same conclusion—nothing, not even the addition of cheery yet eerily symmetrical carrots, could make me like these shriveled veggies.

Things became complicated when I married a man who loved my nemeses. On paper I could see why he liked them. Chocked full of vitamins A and C, niacin, iron, fiber and protein, they’re highly healthful. They also have a huge following, one which claims that, when plucked fresh from the garden, peas are sweet, crisp and utterly delightful. Unfortunately, in my experience they had come not from my father’s short-lived garden or a local farm stand but from the canned goods aisle of the neighborhood grocery store. It would take more than nutrition and good press to change my opinion about peas.

Peas in a pod

Peas still in their pod

What it took was a trip to England. Say what you will about British cuisine but the cooks there know how to prepare peas, especially mushy peas. Found in pubs as well as restaurants, these roughly mashed, emerald orbs were the antithesis of my childhood veg. Laced with butter, salt, pepper and a smidgen of creme fraiche, they were luscious, flavorful and, for the first time in my life, enjoyable—so enjoyable that I started requesting them in restaurants and making my own at home.

As one might expect, the key to good peas, mushy or otherwise, is good peas. If fresh aren’t available, go for frozen. Having learned from experience, I avoid canned at all costs.

Fresh peas are at their peak from March through May. If you buy them in their pods, look for plump, unbruised and bright green ones. Leave them in their shells until just before cooking. Be sure to use fresh peas as soon as possible; their sugars quickly convert to starch, giving them the drab, unpleasant flavor that I long associated with them.

ELLIOT’S GARLIC PEA PUREE
Because I’ve made these garlicky mushy peas countless times for my friend Elliot, they have become more or less his dish.

Serves 4 to 6

10 to 12 garlic cloves, peeled
5 cups frozen or fresh peas
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
3 to 4 tablespoons creme fraiche
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
Sea salt, to taste

Bring a medium saucepan filled with water and garlic to a boil. Cook until the cloves have softened, about 5 minutes. Add the peas and cook for 10 minutes or until quite tender.

Drain and place the vegetables in a food processor or blender. Add the butter, creme fraiche, pepper and salt and pulse until combined but still chunky. Serve warm.

Eggcelent Cocktails

three types of cocktails

Whether you dye them an array of pretty pastels or whip them up for brunch, chances are that over the next few days you’ll be working with eggs. Since we’re in the midst of another holiday season, a period that can cause even the staunchest teetotaler to crave a stiff drink, I’m fully in favor of putting some of those eggs to a totally adult use and shaking up a few egg-infused, classic cocktails.

Because I tend to shy away from thick, heavy beverages, I’m somewhat of a newcomer to the egg yolk-based concoctions known as flips. Originating in the 17th century, early flips featured beer, rum, egg yolks and sugar. Today’s flips omit the beer and include such flavorings as chocolate, coffee, nutmeg or cinnamon. Rich, velvety and filling, they’re quite nice on a cold, blustery night or when you hanker for something more substantial in your glass.

What I do know and love are frothy, egg white-laced cocktails. Requiring only a tablespoon or two of egg whites and a generous amount of shaking, these foamy creations include the ever-popular Pisco Sour, Apple Sour, Round Robin and a series of “lady drinks” such as White Lady, Perfect Lady and My Fair Lady. Dating back to the 1950’s, the last drink was invented at London’s Savoy Hotel and serves as a tribute to the Lerner and Loewe musical “My Fair Lady.”

Because these cocktails are so strong and boozy, I don’t worry too much about the inclusion of raw eggs. Truthfully, I cling to the hope that the alcohol kills off any bacteria. So far, so good. You could, however, omit the eggs. The result won’t be as luscious or foamy but it’ll still be tasty.

If you decide to make one of these powerful potions, just remember to use the freshest eggs possible. And shake, shake, shake until you get a good, thick froth and smooth consistency.

Coffee flip

COFFEE FLIP
Makes 1

1 large egg, separated
2 teaspoons confectioner’s sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons cognac
1 1/2 tablespoons Kahlua or other coffee liqueur
2 tablespoons strongly brewed coffee, at room temperature
3 tablespoons heavy cream
ice cubes, for mixing
sweetened cocoa powder, for dusting

Place the egg yolk, sugar, cognac, Kahlua, coffee and cream in a cocktail shaker and mix the ingredients together. Add the egg white and ice cubes and shake repeatedly and hard until the drink is frothy. Pour into a tall glass and dust the top with cocoa powder. Enjoy!

APPLE SOUR
Makes 1

1 teaspoon confectioner’s sugar
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 1/2 tablespoons calvados
1 1/2 tablespoons cognac
1 egg white
ice cubes, for mixing

Place the ingredients in a cocktail shaker and shake until frothy and well-combined. Drain into a cocktail glass and serve immediately.

MY FAIR LADY
From Stuart Walton’s The Ultimate Book of Cocktails (Hermes House, 2003)
Makes 1

1 1/2 tablespoons gin
2 teaspoons orange juice
2 teaspoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon cream de fraise
1 egg white
ice cubes, for mixing

Place the ingredients in cocktail shaker and shake thoroughly. Strain into a cocktail glass and serve.

The Year of the Beet?

Although beets didn’t make the list of 2012 food trends, I’m beginning to think that they should have. Everywhere that I go, I see these gorgeous root vegetables. Even restaurants pledging to serve seasonal, local foods are doling out salads, soups and sides of purple, golden, white and candy cane-striped beets. I’m not complaining. If there’s one vegetable that I can happily eat day in and day out, it’s a sweet beet.

Beauty as well as taste must be influencing this current craze for you just can’t beat the aesthetics of this veggie. Tumble a handful of luscious magenta beets over a mound of otherwise bland greens and you go from dull to dazzling in seconds. Toss a few yellow slices atop pasta or grilled chicken and you end up with a sunny meal to brighten the chilliest and rainiest spring days.

Sold year-round, beets are at their peak from June to October. During this time I can buy the usual purple as well as the more colorful varieties. I can also pick up crisp beet greens to use in salads and sautes. When they’re not in season, I turn to canned whole beets. While not as flavorful as fresh, they do a decent job in soups and sides.

Because I love the slightly sweet tang of beets, I keep their preparations simple—just roast and dress them with a dash of lemon juice or vinegar and allow their unique flavor to shine through. When I’m in need of a fancier dish, though, I make the following chilled beet and apple salad.

CHILLED BEET AND APPLE SALAD
Serves 4

3 cups (about 1 3/4 pounds) cooked beets, chilled and diced
1/4 cup diced yellow onion
1 1/2 green apples, peeled and diced
2 tablespoons minced fresh tarragon
3 tablespoons cider vinegar
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 teaspoon granulated sugar

In a medium serving bowl mix together the beets, onion, and apple. In a separate bowl whisk together the tarragon, cider vinegar, olive oil, salt, and pepper and pour it over the salad. Cover and refrigerate until chilled.

Before serving, mix together the lemon juice and sugar. Drizzle over the salad and serve.

Fab Fish Fridays

Like many people, my early experiences with seafood were pretty uninspiring—imagine meals of greasy fish sticks dipped in tartar sauce and gloppy tuna noodle casseroles. After my father suffered a massive heart attack at a high school football game, the choices became even bleaker. Gone were those fatty but flavorful standards, replaced by heart-healthy baked salmon, cod, flounder, tuna and haddock. Although delicious when prepared properly, these unfortunate fish met the same fate as my mother”s over-baked potatoes. Cooked on high heat and without butter, olive oil or even a squeeze of lemon juice, the fillets possessed as much succulence and savoriness as sandpaper.

My way of dealing with homemade fish dinners was simple. No sooner did the tough fillets hit the table than they found their way beneath it. Unfortunately, not even the easygoing family dog, who gobbled up my unwanted spuds, green beans and oatmeal, could tolerate this fish.

What spared me from a lifelong dread of seafood were Friday nights. On those evenings my parents and I went to their favorite Italian restaurant for more omega-3-rich fish. There the cook knew how to prepare frutti di mare. In his hands broiled fillets of cod, orange roughy and salmon turned out light, tender and, most importantly, edible.

While I found these Friday meals magical, I suspected that the kitchen staff wasn’t using any secret tricks. As my mother’s Better Homes and Garden cookbook had pointed out, seafood was fast and easy to cook. Just season it with salt and pepper and bake, broil, grill, sauté or pan-fry until flaky and fork tender. Depending on the size of the fillet or steak, this could take as little as 5 minutes. It should not take as long as 75 minutes, the amount of time that most fish languished in our 350˚F oven.

Since those early restaurant repasts, I’ve picked up more than a few techniques and recipes for fish. Still, my favorite dishes hark back to those straightforward Friday night dinners. Whether pan-fried in a tablespoon of olive oil or baked in a lightly greased dish, fish remains of one the easiest foods to cook. Dressed with a dab of seasoned butter or splash of lemon juice, vinegar or hot sauce, it’s also one of the most healthful and tasty to consume.

PAN-SEARED CATFISH
Serves 4

Successfully farmed with minimal environmental impact, channel catfish is one of the most sustainable, consumption-friendly fish around. Often used in place of cod and other less eco-sound white fish, its mild flavor goes with a myriad of ingredients. Although I top this pan-seared catfish with seasoned butter, you could withhold the butter and simply drizzle the cooked fillets with fresh lemon juice or dust the tops with sweet paprika.

2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 garlic clove, minced
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
1/2 teaspoon sea salt, plus more for seasoning
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper, plus more for seasoning
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 (4- to 6-ounce) catfish fillets

Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large nonstick frying pan over medium heat. Once the oil begins to shimmer, add the garlic and saute until softened, about 2 minutes. Drain or scoop out the garlic and set aside. Return the pan to the heat and add the remaining 1 tablespoon oil.

As the oil is heating, mix together the garlic, parsley, 1/2 teaspoons salt and pepper and butter.

Season the catfish fillets with salt and pepper.

Lay the fillets in the pan and cook for 2 minutes or until the edges of the fish begin to turn opaque. Turn the fillets over and cook until they begin to turn golden in color and flake when probed with a fork, 2 to 3 minutes. If you’re uncomfortable with timing doneness by physical characteristics, check the internal temperature of your fillets with a meat thermometer. When finished cooking, it should read 137˚F; cooked anywhere beyond this and the fish will become dry and tough.

Place the fillets on a serving platter or 4 separate plates and spoon equal amounts of seasoned butter over each. Serve immediately.

Raise Your Forks! It’s St. Paddy’s Day!

Maybe it’s the water from the River Liffey or the way that Irish bartenders pour their stouts. Whatever the reason I have become one of those curmudgeons who grumbles that Guinness tastes best in Ireland.

When I’m in Ireland, I’ll down pint after pint of this smooth, dry brew. Hardly unusual—one out of every two pints consumed in Ireland reputedly is a Guinness. Yet, when I’m back at home, I’m more apt to empty it into a pot and cook with it than I am to drink this Irish beer. Drained from a bottle on American soil, it just doesn’t provide me with that wonderful richness and effervescence of the Irish original.

Because my friends are generous and unaware of my finickiness, I have received many, many 6-packs as well as the occasional case of Guinness. Remember 2009, when the 250-year anniversary stout was released? That was a banner year for beer-based dishes.

What do I make with all that booze? Well, after sampling a bottle and confirming that I’m still a major fusspot, I use it to create sauces, stews and fondues. I also steam mussels and clams in it. I might mix it with lemonade for a shandy. Replace the lemonade with champagne and I’ve got a decadent Black Velvet.

One of my favorite ways to use Guinness is in a cake from Nigella Lawson’s Feast cookbook. I make her chocolate Guinness cake for St. Paddy’s Day and any other time when I have an extra bottle of stout in the house.

CHOCOLATE GUINNESS CAKE
Adapted from Nigella Lawson’s “Feast” (Hyperion, 2004)
Serves 8 to 12

for the cake:
1 cup Guinness
1 stick plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa
2 cups superfine sugar
3/4 cup light sour cream
2 large eggs
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour, sifted
2 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

for the icing:
8 ounces cream cheese
1 1/2 cups confectioner’s sugar
1/4 cup heavy cream, plus more as needed

Preheat the oven to 350˚F. Butter and line a 9-inch springform pan.

Place the Guinness and butter in a large saucepan and heat on medium until the butter has melted. At this point whisk in the cocoa and sugar.

In a separate bowl whisk together the eggs, sour cream and vanilla. Add 1/3 cup of the beer mixture to the eggs. Stir together and then pour the eggy mix into the saucepan, stirring to combine. Add the flour and baking soda to the pan and whisk until blended.

Pour the batter into the greased pan. Bake for 45 to 60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Place the cake on a cooling rack and cool completely before removing from the pan.

Using an electric mixer, beat the cream cheese in a medium bowl until smooth. Sift in the confectioner’s sugar and beat again until combined. At this point the icing will be extremely thick and stiff. Add 1/4 cup of heavy cream to the icing and beat again. If the icing still seems too thick, add a little extra cream to make it spreadable.

Remove the cake from the pan and place on a large plate or cake stand. Spread the icing over the top of the cake so that it resembles the frothy head on a pint of Guinness. Serve with Irish coffee.

Perfect, Portable Fruit

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t eat raisins. In elementary school they were the sugary treat that held me over until dinnertime. In high school they balanced out my otherwise unhealthful school lunch—Cheetos and ham salad sandwiches, anyone? Today they are what I toss into my camera bag when I head out on an assignment or throw into my suitcase when I go on vacation. Small, portable and virtually indestructible, they’re the perfect snack for anyone on the run.

Because of my unabashed love of dried grapes, it never occurred to me that some people might hate them. More importantly, it never occurred to me that I might someday cook for these folks. Yet, today I know a surprising number of raisin detractors. Finding the fruit too rich, sticky, hard or wizened, they fish them out of my salads, sides, desserts and sauces. To a raisin devotee, this seems like sacrilege; after all, they’re rejecting one of nature’s best iron-, potassium- and protein-packed sweets.

While I may never sway raisin haters over to my side, I have had some success in making the fruit more palatable to them. To lessen the chewiness of uncooked raisins, I tumble them into a bowl, cover them with boiling water and let them soak for an hour. To cut the rich taste, I replace the water with hot rum and let the raisins steep in alcohol for 30 to 45 minutes. Sadly, I have no tricks to smooth out the wrinkles. My advice? If you dislike the desiccated skin, eat a grape instead.

The following dish should please both raisin fans and foes.

FRUIT AND ALMOND COUSCOUS
Serves 4 to 6

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons water
1 cup couscous
1/3 cup golden raisins
1/4 cup dates, chopped
1/3 cup dried apricots, chopped
1/4 cup almonds, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/4 cup maple syrup
Cinnamon, for dusting

In a medium saucepan boil the water. Add the couscous, raisins, dates, and apricots. Cover the saucepan and remove from heat. Let stand for 30 minutes.

In a small frying pan over medium heat, toast almonds until golden.

In a large bowl combine cooked couscous and butter. Rake your fingers through the couscous, loosening the grains and incorporating the butter with the fruit.

Pour in the maple syrup and gently stir. Add the toasted almonds and blend again. Dust the top with cinnamon and serve.

Bake It Twice to Make It Nice

My early relationship with baked potatoes was a prickly one. Although a capable cook, my mother loathed cooking and took much of her culinary frustrations out on spuds. Russet potatoes were her weekly whipping boys. After vigorously scrubbing and stabbing them with a fork, she would lob the potatoes into the oven and bake them at 400˚F until parchment paper-dry. What could have saved these crumbly creatures—a generous dollop of sour cream or pat of creamy, salted butter—was never applied for ours was a cardiovascular health-conscious, low-fat household.

When I baked potatoes, they didn’t fare much better. Rebelling against my mother’s overcooked creations, I grossly under-baked these root vegetables. In the end they resembled door stops, ones that I fed to our overly plump dog.

While my mother and I waged our separate wars on potatoes, much of the world was enjoying them. As well they should have. Rich in Vitamins C and B-6, complex carbohydrates and potassium, these members of the nightshade family have sustained cultures and countries for centuries. If only they weren’t so dry and mealy, maybe they would sustain me, too.

Just when I was about to give up on tubers altogether, I had dinner at my friend Jenn’s house. On that fateful night her mom served twice-baked potatoes. The thought of a potato being baked not once but twice horrified me. Bring on the extra glasses of milk—this tater was going to be even dryer and deadlier than usual. Yet, it wasn’t. Housed in the crisp, outer skin was a fluffy, savory and succulent potato.

Although new to me, twice-baked potatoes had been around for ages. While their exact origins remain a mystery, how to make them does not. You begin by baking russet potatoes until just done. After slicing them open, you scoop out the flesh and mix it with milk, butter, cheese, bacon, herbs or smoked fish or meats. You then spoon the flavored potatoes back into their skins and bake them until warm and golden. The end result is both moist and delicious. The end result made me a fan of baked spuds.

TWICE-BAKED POTATOES WITH SMOKED TROUT
These potatoes are filling enough to be a meal in themselves. However, If you’re not a fan of smoked fish, leave it out and serve the potatoes as a side dish.

Serves 4

4 large Russet potatoes
1/3 cup milk, warmed
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, softened
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup grated manchego or Parmesan cheese
handful of chives, diced
1 pound smoked trout fillets, flaked

Preheat the oven to 350˚F.

Using a fork, poke holes in the potatoes before microwaving them on high for 8 to 10 minutes or until hot and softened. Cut the potatoes in half and scoop out most of the flesh, leaving behind a small rim of potato in each skin.

Place the potatoes in a medium bowl and, using a spoon or fork, mash lightly. Add the milk, butter, salt, and pepper and mash again until the mixture is smooth and creamy. Add the cheese, chives and smoked trout and stir to combine.

Spoon equal amounts of the potato mixture back into the skins. Place the filled skins on a baking sheet and bake until warm and golden-brown on top, 10 to 12 minutes. Serve warm.