I have been very busy. I took She Who Must Be Obeyed to New York for her birthday dinner, and will report on it tomorrow. In the meantime, I have been preparing for the annual dinner party to celebrate She Who Must Be Obeyed’s birthday (here’s last year’s menu). It will involve pork, in fact, it will use most of a baby pig, which I acquired yesterday from my favorite butcher. They broke down a 25-pound pig while I watched, handing over to me everything but the oink (and most of the innards). Here’s what’s residing in my fridge right now:

Frenched racks, which will produce perfect little chops.

Shoulders, the cut behind the head and above the front feet.

Legs, the cut above the rear feet, used to make hams. I will be making a confit of the legs and shoulders.

Saddles, the cut between the racks and the legs. This is where the loin and tenderloin are found.

Bellies, the cut below the ends of the racks. Too small for bacon, but still good eatin'.

The preceding cuts are all in various states of preparation for Saturday. But there’s more that I have longer-term plans for.

The feet, which wil be separated into trotters (lower joint) and hocks (upper joint). The trotters are always useful, the hocks will pay a visit to the smoker soon.

Skin from the racks, the kidneys, and the tail. I'm still thinking about what to do with these.

And last, but by no means least:

The head. The tongue is still in place, as are the eyes, but I had the brain removed because I won't have time to cook it properly.

I have Mother’s Day plans for that head, but I have a book to consult first. Stay tuned.

I am always looking for opportunities to improve my kitchen and plating skills, so I jumped when Andrea (my consultant on my signature dish) asked if I could help her cook and serve at a dinner party she was hosting at her home. She had contributed a dinner for eight as a prize in a charity auction, but the number of guests had increased to twelve, which meant extra hands were needed in the kitchen.

I met with her to plan the menu, a week later she invited me back to try her first attempt at the dishes, then five days later, it was time to cook for the guests. I arrived at 2 PM to start prep work for a 6 PM dinner time, grateful that Andrea had a much larger and better-equipped kitchen than my own. A large center island, a six-burner two-oven restaurant grade stove, a logical layout – I need to remember these things when I get to renovate the Belm Utility Research Kitchen.

I set up a station at the end of the island:

You can see my saucing spoon, the new knife,  some ring molds, minced garlic and preserved lemon, chive oil, paprika oil, and a whole lot o’ spinach that I spent half an hour de-stemming.

Andrea had made many of the menu components ahead of time. She also had a task list and a serving timeline taped to the fridge where we could check off our progress. (Note to self: much more useful than your slowly-decaying short-term memory.)  We worked on plating the appetizers first (clockwise from top left): marinated olives with orange zest, stuffed peppadews with chives, parmesan crackers with almonds, marcona almonds, and an asparagus-mint frittata.

While the guests nibbled, we plated the first course: a grapefruit, avocado,  and smoked trout salad with citrus dressing.

Here’s a close-up of one of the plates, a pretty composition:

We were unhappy with the test version, so we boosted the flavor profile by adding some of the preserved lemon brine to the dressing, and including a few thin slices of watermelon radish for a peppery finish. The guests practically licked the plates clean.

Next up was the main course: baked cod with romesco sauce, garlic roasted potatoes, and wilted spinach with gremolata. This was mostly an exercise in timing and assembly. The sauce had been made that morning:

I had portioned the cod just before serving the salad:

We had two sheet pans of garlic potatoes waiting:

Lastly, the spinach was waiting in two roasting pans over two burners each in the stove:

Just before serving the salad, we put the potatoes in one oven to re-crisp, then spread the sauce over the fish and set it in the second oven. While the fish rested and the potatoes cooled enough to handle, I wilted the spinach over high heat with some olive oil, stirring in the minced garlic and preserved lemon at the end.

The plan was to form the potatoes in the center of the plate using the ring molds, set the fish on top, garnish with the spinach on the side, and then dress the plate with dots of the chive and paprika oils. Unfortunately, the plates were a bit too concave, which caused the oil to run into the cetner of our test plate. We came up with a re-plating on the fly that looked pretty good:

The guests enjoyed the meal. I was allowed to join them (even though I was the help), but my duties came to an end after the main course – one of the guests had volunteered to bring desserts, so no kitchen work was left for me after the main course cleanup.

I tried to slip out quietly, but everyone wanted to thank me and say goodbye. I reminded them again that I was just the help – a knife for hire. Andrea and I worked well together, so well that we’re thinking of trying it again.

I consider myself fortunate to have eaten at Thomas Keller’s per se restaurant in New York, yet I knew that until I made the pilgrimage to Yountville, California I wouldn’t get to eat at his other restaurants, Ad Hoc and Bouchon. Someday, I thought, I’ll sic She Who Must Be Obeyed on the Keller Group’s reservations team and have her book the trifecta. (Might as well add the French Laundry if you’re making the trip.) Little did I know that my pipe dream would be partially realized as the result of a phone call.

I routinely get calls from friends in need of cooking advice, but they are rarely as urgent as the call I received from my online buddy Colman. He was making Soupe à l’Oignon from Keller’s Bouchon cookbook recipe, and was wondering “just how long to cook the goddamned onions, I’ve been at it for hours already.”

I’ve cooked other recipes from the book, and know that the most important ingredients are care, precision, and patience. I advised him to keep cooking, resist the temptation to raise the heat, and eventually he’d wind up with perfectly browned onions. The next day he told me the soup had turned out well, in fact, it was the best he’d ever made. I was happy to have provided the advice, and promptly forgot about it.

Colman, however, did not forget. When he heard that my family would be traveling to Los Angeles for He Who Will Not Be Ignored’s spring vacation, he asked us to set aside some time to join him for lunch. At Bouchon. I knew we wouldn’t be traveling to Napa or Vegas, so it took a few minutes online for me to realize that Keller had opened in a restaurant in Los Angeles. Aww yeah, lunch at Bouchon — in Beverly Hills.

Without further ado, our lunch:

Moules au Safran: Maine bouchot mussels steamed with white wine, mustard & saffron served with French fries

The mussels were impossibly plump, which had me thinking Why can’t I get these, when I live so much closer to Maine? We decimated two loaves of bread (just visible at the top of the photo) to sop up the liquid at the bottom of the pot.

Soupe à l’Oignon

Colman asked “Should I have the soup?” I wasn’t sure: “It’s going to be so much better that you may never want to make it yourself again.” He replied “But maybe not.”

I don’t need to tell you it was better, I need to tell you how much better that little bowl of soup was. He had a spoonful, then told me to try it. “Taste how deep and rich that broth is. How does he do that?” “To begin with, he has a team in the kitchen that does nothing but make beef stock, and another that does nothing but slice and cook down onions.” I’d kill for another cup of that soup, but I’ll keep trying to get it right on my own.

Saumon Poêlé: sauteed Scottish salmon with a ragoût of mushrooms, fava beans & piquillo peppers with a sauce ravigote

The way salmon was meant to be cooked: crisp on top, moist underneath, served with a bright, acidic sauce and a few perfectly cooked vegetables.

Steak Frites: pan-seared flatiron served with maître d’hôtel butter & French fries

There’s not too much to say about a flavorful block of steak (a  cut not usually found at your local market) topped with shallot-herb butter, but the fries deserve a special mention. People freaked when they learned that the Bouchon frites were cooked from frozen pre-cut potatoes. I wasn’t that surprised. Keller favors consistency, which you get from frozen over hand-cut fries. Given how many orders the kitchen turns out daily, he’d need an entire brigade just to churn out a hand-cut version. The fries were good: crispy outside, soft inside, with just the right amount of salt.

Tartine of Beef: sliced beef on toasted bread with bleu cheese sauce

She Who Must Be Obeyed described it as “the world’s best steak and cheese sandwich.” It was so good, she didn’t offer me any.

Croque Madame: grilled ham & cheese sandwich on brioche, fried egg & mornay sauce, served with French fries

I sold this to He Who Will Not Be Ignored as “a really good grilled ham & cheese, topped with cheese sauce and a fried egg.” He bought it, and ate the entire thing – high praise from a notoriously picky eater.

Magret de Canard: herb roasted duck breast with fennel bulb, citrus confit, red radish, mizuna & duck jus

You can see just from the photo that the duck is cooked perfectly, medium rare with crispy skin. The peppery radishes and sweet fennel balanced the acidity of the blood orange confit (a play on the traditional orange sauce accompaniment for roast duck). I saved the last chunk of bread to soak up the rich jus.

Ile Flottante: meringue with vanilla crème anglaise, almond & caramel

We were too full to contemplate dessert, but couldn’t leave without trying at least one, so we chose the lightest on the menu. The golden caramel was poured on at tableside so it would stay warm as long as possible. The meringue was whipped but not cooked, so it melted in the mouth. We fought over the last few spoonfuls of the crème.

As she had done once before at per se, She Who Must Be Obeyed requested a tour of the kitchen for us, where we saw the typical Team Keller setup: television feeds to the other Bouchon kitchens, a station dedicated to making nothing but the frites, a bakery that turns out loaves for two services daily, and, as I had guessed, an area in the back kitchen that did nothing but cook and reduce meat stocks. While there were no raised voices, there was a greater sense of urgency than in the per se kitchen, due, no doubt, to the much larger number of tables that would be served.

It’s a good thing I don’t live in Los Angeles; I’ve never come closer to asking for a job application.

You can never have too many chicken recipes, and you can always count on Cook’s Illustrated to provide you with an unending stream of chicken variations. The current May & June issue has a recipe I’d never heard of before – Chicken Canzanese – that looked good enough for me to try. (According to Mario Batali, chicken Canzanese is “chicken in the style of Canzano” – very helpful.)

I pulled my mise-en-place together: eight chicken thighs (about three pounds), two cups of dry white wine, one cup of chicken stock, two ounces of quarter-inch thick prosciutto cut into quarter-inch cubes, four cloves, a quarter teaspoon of red pepper flakes, two bay leaves, twelve whole fresh sage leaves, four medium garlic cloves sliced lengthwise, two teaspoons of flour, and the reserved stem and minced leaves from a four-inch rosemary sprig.

I heated the oven to 325 °F, then heated a teaspoon of olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. I added the prosciutto and cooked until it just browned, then added the sliced garlic, cooking again until golden brown.

I removed the prosciutto and garlic, added two more teaspoons of olive oil, and increased the heat to medium high. I seasoned the thighs with salt and pepper, adding them to the pan when the oil was just smoking. I browned the thighs om the skin sidfe for eight minutes, the turned them and browned the other side for an additional five minutes.

I removed the thighs to a plate, poured off all but two tablespoons of the fat, then added the flour, stirring for one minute.

I added the wine and stock, brought it to a simmer, and let it cook for about three minutes. The rosemary stem, sage, cloves, peper flakes, bay leaves, and reserved prosciutto and garlic were added next. Finally, I returned the chicken to the pan, skin side up, so that the skin sat above the surface of the the braising liquid.

The whole pan, uncovered, went into the oven for an hour and fifteen minutes. While the thighs cooked, I started a savory polenta, using Alton Brown’s recipe. I set some red onions to sweat in olive oil, added minced garlic, then a quart of chicken stock. When the stock came to a boil I slowly whisked in a cup of coarsely-ground cornmeal.

I covered the pan, put it in the oven with the chicken, and stirred every ten minutes for forty minutes total cooking time.

I removed the chicken from the oven, transferred the thighs back to a plate, and reduced the cooking liquid. I remembered to remove the rosemary stem, cloves, and the bay leaves, but left the sage leaves in the pan. D’oh! When the sauce was reduced, I finished it with the minced rosemary, a tablespoon of lemon juice, and two tablespoons of butter. No additional salt was necessary due to the prosciutto.

I served the chicken over the polenta, adding the sauce (minus the sage leaves) around the thighs.

This one’s a keeper. The skin remained crispy, the sauce was richly flavored, and the polenta was hot and creamy. It was a perfect cold-weather dish for an unexpectedly chilly April day.