Viking Sunday Dinner

Cornish game hens - autumnal

New Englanders wax positively poetic in the fall. Inevitably I will get an e-mail from my generally rather reserved dad talking about the crisp leaves underfoot, the crack of the bat in the playoffs, the gloss of late afternoon sun on the Charles - and that's not even getting started on the food, which makes us behave particularly out of character - like Frosty Beacon Hill matrons in their ancient LL Bean boots that start smiling at you over the racks of squash at the grocery.  

My particular fall poison is one-pot dinners, particularly those that allow us to make use of another fall treasure - game birds.

Make this for a quiet evening dinner for two, after a day of raking leaves.

• Two cornish game hens
• Two slices bacon
• One bulb fennel
• One cup Lillet or other sweet wine
• Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. 

Rub the birds with olive oil, and salt and pepper generously.  Chop fennel into chunky slices (about the size of three matchsticks tied together).

Cut the bacon into small 1/2 inch bits (lardon!) and toss into a large lidded cast iron pan (hello, Hellbelly) over medium low heat.  Cook until slightly crisp and glistening, then brown the hens on all sides in the bacon fat, until you have a nice golden crust on all sides.  Pull birds aside and dump in the fennel, and saute briefly (about 3 minutes).  Settle the game hens gently on top of the bed of fennel, then dump in a nice cup of Lillet or sweet wine.  Clap the lid on and stick the whole shebang in the oven.  Leave totally alone for 45 minutes while you watch an episode of, say, Freaks and Geeks.

To serve, I recommend settling the birdies on top of slices of thick, toasted country bread on a deep plate (one bird per person).  Put the pan with the juices over medium-high heat and simmer until slightly thickened and reduced.  Adjust seasoning as needed with salt and pepper, then pour over the hens.

Luscious with a not-too-buttery chardonnay and a frisse salad to follow, to mop up the last bits of juices.

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.

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.