Viking Sunday Dinner

Cabbage and Bacon Pasta

I know it's kind of a no-brainer to put bacon in something to make it taste good.  I sometimes feel like I see entire issues of cooking magazines that appear to be completely bacon-dependent, which I find so infuriating.  I mean, you people are supposed to be professionals!  Where's the challenge in bacon?

That said, the cabbage is a kind of magical friend to bacon, and the combination makes this dish feel substantial and even just a little healthy, especially if you've been on a long run or shoveling snow in the cold.

Serves 4.

• Four slices bacon
• Couple of gulgs olive oil
• Two shallots
• Two large garlic cloves
• 1 lb fusilli pasta (I use whole wheat)
• 1 medium savoy cabbage
• 1/2 cup Parmasan cheese, plus more to garnish

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil.

Chop the shallots and garlic, and cut the bacon into 1/2 inch lardons.   Cut the cabbage in half vertically and cut our the core, then slice into inch-wide frilly ribbons.

Heat a few glugs of olive oil in a frying pan over medium heat.  When it's shimmering, add the bacon and cook until crisp, about 5 minutes.  Add shallots and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, while the pasta cooks.

Add the pasta to the pan of water and cook according to package directions.  About 5 minutes before the pasta is done, toss the cabbage into the pasta pan and slap on the lid to let it steam.  When the pasta is done, drain pasta and cabbage and transfer into a serving bowl.  Mix in the onion and bacon, and toss with Parmasan cheese, a sprinkle of sea salt, and freshly ground pepper.

Fishpie!

After I made this for the first time, Fishpie became my bowling nickname.  That tells you the impact it had on those who ate it.

This isn't a pastry pie, but a kind of oceanic shepherd's pie, with a chowdery underside, and a luxurious mashed potato topside.  It is a very gently adapted version of a recipe by Nigel Slater from his extraordinary cookbook Appetite.  Nigel has a real thing for smoked fish, and while I love it too (witness husband's all-smoked fish birthday party), I don't find it particularly cost effective in the bulk that you need it for this recipe.  Fresh tilapia fillets, however, are fantastically cheap and delicious - and if you can find a few tidbits of smoked bluefish, trout or some other white fish (not salmon) to throw in here, it's great but hardly essential.  The mussels, however, are.  See my notes on moules and be reassured that they're probably the easiest part of the recipe.

If you break the recipe into a few phases, it's a nice afternoon project that culminates in a glorious Sunday evening feast.  It really comes into its own with a Belgian white beer and a big bowl of lightly buttered peas.   Serves six.

• 4 pounds or so fresh mussels
• glass of white wine
• 3 pounds tilapia fillets
• 3 bay leaves
• 2 cups milk
• 1/2 stick of butter
• 4 tablespoons of flour
• handful of chopped parley
• 3+ pounds of potatoes (Idaho or Yukon gold are nice here)

First stage:  mussels.  Rinse and inspect the mussels, tossing any open mussels or mussels with broken shells.  Throw the wine into a large saucepan with a lid and bring to a boil, then toss in the mussels and cook for ten minutes.  Transfer cooked mussels and juices into a colander with a bowl underneath to catch all the juices.  When the mussels have cooled somewhat, start pulling the meaty mussel bits out of their shells and into a prep bowl.  Sieve the remaining mussel juices and pour this smoky pot liquor over the mussels.  Set aside, or stash in the fridge; the mussels in their juice will store covered for about a day.

Second stage: other fish.  Put the tilapia (and any bits of smoked fish you've found) into another saucepan and pour over the milk.  Tuck in the bay leave sand bring - carefully - to a simmer over medium heat.  Do not let this boil over; I speak from experience when I tell you there are few stovetop messes less attractive than burnt fishmilk.  When the fish is opaque and flakes when you pull at it with a fork, it's done - probably about 10 minutes.  Turn off the heat and set aside.

Third stage: make your mash.  Peel (yes) and cut the potatoes into chucks, placing them in a large pan of water.  Bring the water to a boil and simmer until tender, probably about 20 minutes.  Drain these lovely babies.  If you have a mixer, this is a nice occasion to break him out.  Toss in the potatoes, about a tablespoon of butter, a bit of salt and a bit of the milky haddock juice, and mash.

Fourth stage: make a roux (this is an extremely fun trick that's great for lots of things).  Put a deep roasting pan (hello, Hellbelly) over medium heat, and melt the remaining butter in it.  When the butter's melted, tip in the four tablespoons of flour and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the mixture begins to brown gently and smell nutty.  Slowly, about a half-cup at a time, add all the milk from the haddock pan, stirring as you go to make a smooth white sauce; let this simmer over very low heat for about ten minutes, stirring occasionally. 

Last stage: Assembly!  Using a fork, break up your cooked tilapia into big juicy chunks.  Throw these into the roasting pan with the simmering white sauce, along with the mussels and their juices, and the handful of parsley.  Stir this creamy chowder mess and add a little pepper and a few flakes of salt to taste.  Remove from heat and let the whole operation cool, then carefully pile on the mashed potatoes, smoothing them to the edges of the pan. 

Bake in a 400 degree oven for about an hour or until slightly golden and crusty on top.  Serve hot.

Moules - French, or Belgian

You'll think I'm kidding when I say mussels for an everyday dinner, but let me tell you, mussels are the easiest thing in the universe to get right.  Once you've made them once, and had a cozy dinner in front of a fire, or adult swim, picking glistening fleshy bits of briny heaven our of their shells and dunking a fresh baguette into the murky juices left behind, you'll make them frequently.  Like, every night frequently.

You'll find mussels in plastic or net bags, nestled in ice in front of the fish case at your grocery store.  They should be shiny, black, and have a good fresh seawater smell. Take them home no more than a couple of days before you're going to eat them; they store best in a colander sitting on a plate in the fridge, with a couple of ice cubes tossed in for good measure. 

Right before you're going to cook them, rinse them thoroughly and go through them by hand, tossing out any that are cracked, or partially open.  The key thing here is to make sure that every mussel you put into the pot (and therefore into your mouth) is glistening alive and kicking before you steam it to death - and that means tightly closed.  If a mussel is open, you can give it a couple of taps and see if it begins to close.  Toss any that sit lazily and refuse to respond!  A mussel that fails to recognize your authority as a cook is a mussel that's already dead and doesn't deserve culinary greatness.

Average a pound of mussels per person.  This recipe is perfect for two as supper.

• 2-3 lbs mussels, fresh
• 1/2 stick of butter
• 2 shallots, sliced
• 2 cups white wine
• parsley

Rinse and inspect the mussels, tossing any open mussels or mussels with broken shells.

Heat the butter in a large saucepan over medium heat.  When melter, add your shallots and saute, stirring occasionally, for about 2 minutes until the shallots are soft and slightly golden.

Throw in the wine, and turn up the heat to high to bring the wine to a boil.  Give it a couple of cranks with the peppermill at this point too.

Gently tip the mussels into the pot, then lid it and let the whole operation steam over high heat for ten minutes or until mussels are 100% open and gaping.  Throw in some chopped parley (or any other fresh herbs you happen to have around; tarragon would be good too), put the lid back on, and, holding the lid down tightly, give the whole plan a good shake to disperse the juices and herbs.

Dump into a serving bowl to serve, or just eat out of the pan, with lots of crusty baguette.  Drink some of whatever wine you used in the recipe with it.  This also works really well with a nice inexpensive Cava sparking wine from Spain.

For the Belgian version, use witbeir or Hefeweizen instead of wine.  Still good with a baguette, though some might prefer some frites with the Belgian version... and who's to say they're wrong?  Not me.