Braised Short Ribs with Pappardelle

Short ribs take forever. This recipe, for instance, is pretty much a weekend affair. So when you make them, why not make a lot, right?

But here's the problem: short ribs are not snackable. Most of the leftovers Chez ToastPoint get consumed while standing at the fridge. The Human Vacuum lacks a decent sense of temporal food allocation, so he will cheerfully eat bok choy or chickpea salad for breakfast. But hard, cold short ribs are not very appealing any time of day, and I assume they are even less appealing first thing in the morning. So they sit, delicious yet congealed, in a Tupperware.

This is a quick and tasty solution to the Case of the Cold Short Ribs (the Cold Case of the Short Ribs?). Rich and filling, it doesn't feel like pesky leftover disposal at all—more like $18 restaurant pasta.

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Braised Short Ribs with Pappardelle

In a large skillet, warm over medium heat:
1 Tablespoon olive oil

Add and cook until caramelized (about 20 minutes):
2 large onions, preferably sweet, roughly chopped

Meanwhile, microwave or otherwise warm up:
2-3 leftover braised short ribs (like this ToastPoint fave) plus drippings, braising liquid, or whatever made it into the Tupperware

Shred the meat into a large bowl retaining any fatty juices that have accumulated:
2-3 Tablespoons butter
1 Tablespoon olive oil
small handful toasted pine nuts (optional)
Just toast the pine nuts in a dry skillet over medium heat until lightly browned. Watch carefully though, they burn fast!

While the onions continue cook, bring a large pot of water to boil, salt it, then add:
1 lb pappardelle, or other wide pasta

When the pasta is done, drain it, dump into the bowl, and add the onions. Give everything a good long stir to get the noodles well coated.

For that $18 restaurant feel, sprinkle with:
Fresh basil, roughly chopped (optional)

Palin Pasta

On this, the last day of the 2008 election, and thus probably the last day the name Palin will decorate our highway medians (at least for three and a half years), I give you a final culinary thought on the election season:



No, your eyes do not deceive you. What you see above is pasta in the form of tiny spinach and egg moose. I haven't yet tried this miracle of modern pasta science, but I already know how it will taste--like bitter, bitter tears.

I recommend serving them in an abbreviated carbonara. Fry up some bacon cut into small pieces, dress the pasta with butter, and sprinkle on bacon, Parmesan cheese, and minced fresh herbs. Alternately, use this pasta in place of elbow macaroni in Kraft mac and cheese.

I suspect that Sarah would prefer the latter preparation.

This moose monstrosity was generously provided by ToastMom.

Spaghetti Carbonara

My college roommate (of bourbon pear apple sauce fame) made the simplest, fastest version of this recipe for me the day I arrived to visit her in Paris for the first time, jetlagged and starving, farther from home than I'd ever been. She plunked a bowl down in front of me of just-boiled pasta, tossed with egg and cheese. It was a revelation--something new, yet familiar and comforting. It was precisely the right way to start off my first (semi) grown up travel in a foreign land.

As we all know, however, bacon makes everything better. This iteration of the dish, called by its right name, spaghetti carbonara, is bacon and eggs on pasta. In the spirit of my roommate, I tolerate no fripperies here. Cream? No. Red pepper flakes? No. Even pancetta is too much for me--it's better with American-style salty pig bits. Just pasta slicked in bacon grease and egg yolk. You know you love it.

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Spaghetti Carbonara

Start water boiling for pasta.

In a large skillet, fry:
5 slices of bacon, cut into half inch pieces (or however many slices you have left in the package--this is flexible)
1 whole clove garlic, peeled and lightly crushed

When the bacon is very crisp, remove the pieces from the pan with a slotted spoon. I know it seems fussy, but it's totally worth it for crispy bacon at the end.

While the pan is still hot, splash in:
2 Tablespoons vermouth, white white, or similar (optional)

After the booze bubbles off, turn the heat off and leave the pan sitting on the burner.

Meanwhile, beat together:
3 eggs
1/2 cup grated Parmesan or similar
lots of fresh ground black pepper
I always do this in a Pyrex measuring cup, for ease of pouring later.

Cook 1 pound of spaghetti according to the package directions. Drain. Dump the pasta into the bacon grease pan and turn until the strands are coated. Then slowly drizzle in the egg mixture, stirring vigorously to avoid clumping. The heat from the pasta will cook the egg and melt the cheese.

Sprinkle with fresh herbs for pretty if you have guests. If you don't have guests, eating leftovers for breakfast is legit: It's bacon and eggs!

Sinful/Ethical Macaroni and Cheese

There has been a lot going on Chez ToastPoint in recent months, not least of which is that its denizens decided to stop living in sin. So I am now Mrs. Human Vacuum. But just when the sinfulness quotient had fallen to near zero in our household, I decided to make mac and cheese. What’s that you say? Mac and cheese--the dinner of choice for millions of angelic children everywhere--seems innocent enough? Ha. Not if the ratio of cheese to pasta is 2:1. You read that right: the dish pictured above contains one half of a pound of pasta and a full pound of cheese.

This recipe was on the “most emailed” list at The New York Times homepage for weeks, and deservedly so. Before now, I’d never made mac and cheese at home from scratch, but restaurant mac and cheese nearly always disappoints. Too much white sauce, not enough cheese, and never enough crisped, chewy top layer. This recipe answers all those objections. It is the Platonic form of mac and cheese. (And easy to make too!)

So what occasioned this dive into gluttony now? Lately, H.V. has been playing tennis with a friend of his on the occasional weekend evening. The boys return from their game and I feed them--a pleasingly domestic event. This particular friend is a very ethical eater. He is the sort of person who carries around a card in his wallet with lists of which fish are OK and which are off limits from an ecological standpoint. He’s evangelical about his decisions in an ultra-low key way. He’s also a gratifying big eater, which makes a cook forgive the slight inconvenience of a big list of verboten ingredients. And this meal goes to show that you can be ethical and sinful all at once.

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Creamy Macaroni and Cheese
The recipe, as provided in The New York Times, which I followed very nearly exactly, with excellent results.

2 Tablespoons butter
1 cup cottage cheese (not lowfat) (NOTE: I used 2 percent)
2 cups milk (not skim) (NOTE: I used whole milk)
1 teaspoon dry mustard
Pinch cayenne
Pinch freshly grated nutmeg
1⁄2 teaspoon salt
1⁄4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 pound sharp or extra-sharp cheddar cheese, grated
1⁄2 pound elbow pasta, uncooked.

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees and position an oven rack in upper third of oven. Use 1 tablespoon butter to butter a 9-inch round or square baking pan. (NOTE: I used a 7 inch round deep casserole and it was fine)

2. In a blender, purée cottage cheese, milk, mustard, cayenne, nutmeg and salt and pepper together. Reserve 1⁄4 cup grated cheese for topping. In a large bowl, combine remaining grated cheese, milk mixture and uncooked pasta. Pour into prepared pan, cover tightly with foil and bake 30 minutes. (NOTE: Whirl everything but the milk first, to break up the cottage cheese curds)

3. Uncover pan, stir gently, sprinkle with reserved cheese and dot with remaining tablespoon butter. Bake, uncovered, 30 minutes more, until browned. Let cool at least 15 minutes before serving.

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We started with my favorite pea soup and finished with homemade pumpkin bread, but The New York Times suggests pairing this perfect mac and cheese with a green salad and a glass of wine, which sounds about right to me, too.