Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Hummerstag 2008

Miss Edith and Notarius have a friend who, eight years ago, decided that every year we three must celebrate a holiday known to us as Lobster Day. In Germany it is known, of course, as Hummerstag. It began when Notarius and I were grocery shopping one summer day and noticed that lobsters were on a deep sale. "Hey! Let's have lobster for dinner!" we said. Little did we know what we were getting into. Our friend joined us for dinner that night and said, "This is great! Let's do this every year! Lobster Day!"

Hummerstag is held on a different date every year, as far as I can tell; Hummerstag is a kind of moveable feast, and its date is determined by something to do with when the Red Sox are playing the Yankees. Miss Edith knows not and cares not how the date is determined; her job is simply to cook. So as long as the groceries are obtained in good order, Hummerstag can take place any old time. But it's usually sometime in July.

The Hummerstag menu revolves, of course, around lobsters, which are obtained at a local supermarket and then killed with pomp and ceremony and ruthlessness by Notarius, who grew up on Cape Cod and is unafraid of lobsters. "Here, Bug, Bug, Bug," he'll croon as he opens the noisy paper bag holding the lobsters. We used to have a ceremonial Harassment of the Kitty every Hummerstag (our cat is, surprisingly, afraid of lobsters) but now he's old and we just leave him be. He sleeps through Hummerstag and that's fine: he's earned it.

The menu for Hummerstag has evolved over the years. Initially it was lobster, corn on the cob, potato salad with red peppers and scallions, and maybe some green vegetable as another side dish if I was feeling guilty about serving so much starch.

Then it was lobster, corn on the cob, caprese (fresh tomatoes sliced and served with fresh mozzarella and basil, a dish easily created here in the summertime since we live within spitting distance of several fine Italian grocery stores), and couscous salad.

Then we dropped the corn on the cob because, frankly, boiling the water for the corn made our house far too hot. It was bad enough doing one pot for the lobsters; two pots was just murderous. To tell you the truth, I miss the corn -- I love corn on the cob -- but the kitchen is much more comfortable now that we only worry about one huge pot of boiling water and not two.

It's true you have to boil water for couscous, but not so much, and not for very long, and you can do it well in advance of cooking the lobsters. So I don't mind that at all.

Historically, dessert on Hummerstag has been either ice cream sandwiches (bought at the local supermarket) or brownies (made by Miss Edith), but this year we broke with tradition and served chocolate sorbet. This was a great success. I intend to teach myself to make my own sorbet one of these days -- Notarius received an ice cream maker for Christmas from someone, I can't think who, and I ought to learn how to use it -- but since I wasn't up to it this past Hummerstag, we sated ourselves with pints of Ciao Bella sorbet. If you haven't had this stuff, please go out now and buy some. I know it's expensive, but listen, darling: it's worth it.

Bottles of Prosecco go perfectly with Hummerstag meals. They must be very cold.

I've come to think of Hummerstag as a kind of summertime Thanksgiving that only we celebrate. I cook and cook and cook; we spend days shopping in preparation; there's always a ton of dishes to wash; and every year, even with all the work, I'm always so glad we did it.

And then Sunday, the New York Times Magazine talked about lobster... it was a Lobster Day Miracle.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Tomato Pie

As I write this, tomatoes are getting kind of a bad rap because an outbreak of salmonella is being blamed on them. People in many states have gotten sick, and it's not good, and I don't want you to think I'm encouraging you go to out and contract salmonella. But we're thinking about summer cooking these days, and to me that means tomato pie.

I read about tomato pie in Laurie Colwin's book More Home Cooking; this was in 1993. I didn't attempt to make it until several years later, probably around 1999, when Notarius and I were living together. It's not that tomato pie is so hard to make, but it -- at least this form of it -- is a little time consuming. So let's jump right in, and assume that you, dear reader, have, say, a Saturday afternoon with not much going on and a desire to have something really tasty for dinner.

Basically, Laurie Colwin's tomato pie (which she snagged from a Connecticut teashop called Chaiwalla, which I've been to (is it still there?) and is (was?) a completely charming place) is about tomatoes and biscuit and just enough glop to hold everything together.

Take a biscuit dough recipe and make enough for two layers: one will cover the bottom of a 9" pie pan and the other will be the top crust. Since everyone's got their own favorite biscuit dough recipe, some of which involve powdered mixes or cans, I'm going to refrain from offering a recipe here, but if anyone wants one they can let me know and I'll supply one. My point here is: get some dough together. Put half of it, maybe a little more than half, rolled out in the bottom of your pie pan. Set the other half aside.

Now, here I begin to take some liberties with Laurie Colwin, but this recipe is, as far as I'm concerned, so flexible that almost anything goes. Scatter some cheese (I generally use cheddar but provolone would work nicely too) atop that first layer of biscuit dough. Don't put as much as you'd put for pizza; you just want to sort of lace the dough with enough cheese so that it won't get completely soggy from the tomatoes and then have the finished product be impossible to slice neatly. Take about 2 pounds of really gorgeous tomatoes and slice them thinly. Drain them a little -- this is pie that can get really soggy really quickly, and while that tastes good it makes it a bitch to serve -- and then place a layer of tomatoes on top of the cheese.

Now, here is another place where I vary Colwin's recipe. She has you make a thick layer of tomatoes, scatter some herbs on (she suggests basil, chives, or scallions; I favor scallions), and then she has you put on the last layers of filling, which are 1 1/2 cups grated cheddar and about 1/3 cup of mayonnaise thinned with lemon juice. I have done this, and it's fine. However, my own mode is a little more sloppy. I put one layer of tomatoes, and then scatter some cheese and glop on some of the mayo goop (boy, this is not sounding so appetizing, is it, with all this glop and gloop), and then repeat this process until the tomatoes, cheese, and mayo are all used up. I suppose it depends really on how polished a finished product you're really after.

The top layer of filling, however, really should be cheese.

Once the filling is laid in there, you roll out the second layer of biscuit dough and carefully lay it on top of the filling and seal the edges. Prick a few slashes artfully through the top crust and then bake this at 400 degrees. In my experience it takes about 30 minutes to bake this through.

Colwin discusses the secret to this pie, according to the woman who owns Chaiwalla, which would be to bake it in the morning and then reheat it in the evening when you want to eat it. I think this is pretty sensible, particularly for summertime. The thing is, you'd have to be someone who's organized enough to do all this work in the morning so that you could eat it at night. If you're that kind of person, then: fabulous. HOWEVER, even if you're not, it works out fine, since it's good after only one baking as well. (If you decide to go for the morning workout and then reheat in the evening, you reheat it at 300 or 350 or so -- don't let the oven get too hot because then you'll really slam the biscuit crust, which would be a shame.)

This tomato pie is a messy thing to serve and eat, almost no matter what, but it is incredibly good. I have served it at dinner parties and I have served it to Notarius when it was just the two of us planning to spend an evening in front of the television set. Like a black dress, it can be dressed up or down depending on how artfully you handle the top crust and depending on how you accessorize, shall we say. Additionally, you can vary the tomato pie almost endlessly depending on how you feel about cheese. Goat cheeses are really good in the filling. Those who like Swiss cheeses would probably groove on them in tomato pie, but I'm not a big Swiss cheese fan, so have never tried it... but I could see adding in some crumbled blue cheese, or some Bel Paese, or even maybe Port Salut. Definitely Monterey Jack or Muenster. What you want is something that will melt really nicely.

Laurie Colwin claims that this tomato pie can be made well with canned tomatoes, but on this point I'm afraid that I must respectfully disagree. I have tried it many, many times, but I always feel that the pie suffers for it. To me this is an entirely seasonal dish -- high summer, or not at all -- and to be honest it makes us all appreciate the tomato pies I do make all the more.

Enjoy, enjoy...

TOMATO PIE: the basic ingredients list

1 recipe for biscuit dough (double crust)
2 lbs. fresh tomatoes which do not have to be peeled but should be drained slightly
2-3 scallions, or basil, or chives, or whatever floats your boat
2 or so cups of grated cheddar (or other cheeses as you desire), to be used throughout the assembly process
1/3 cup mayonnaise (I use Hellman's), cut with a little lemon juice (2-3 tbs. or so)