Mussels Spaghetti in a White Wine and Basil Oil Broth

Spaghetti Cozzo in Brodo di Vino Bianco e Basilico Olio

You will never like every single item on the menu. And even if it looks good on paper, you will have your own taste which may not coincide with the chef's. So in the world of restaurant uncertainty, how do you guarantee with a good degree of consistency between patrons the quality of one? Answer: with the care with which the food is prepared. So there was this one time I ate mussels in a reputedly good restaurant in Tagaytay. I wasn't yet well-versed in preparing mussels so I unknowingly ate the beards, which were present in almost all of them.

FUCK I ATE THESE FREAKING GROSS NYLONY THREADS!!! Byssus threads. Totally nauseating. Now that I've learned how to cook mussels, which are high in protein, low in fat, and I totally love, I don't ever have to live through that again. It's not just the debearded mussels. Check if the shrimp is deveined. You'll enjoy the tenderloin more if you don't have a silvery sheet of fascia running through it. Squid that is meltingly soft tells you they didn't throw it in a pan and leave it there forever. Care for the food equals care for the customers, and that's a good gauge of quality as any. (Recipe follows)

This recipe is from Cook With Jamie, which will drain you of your saliva flipping through it and best of all, all profits from the book go to the Fifteen foundation.

• 1kg (2lbs) fresh mussels


• 1 large handful of fresh basil


• 2 anchovy fillets, drained


• juice of 1 lemon


• 60mL (1/4 cup) extra virgin olive oil


• 500g (9oz) spaghetti


• 200mL (3/4 cup) white wine


• 2 fresh red chili peppers

You'll get your fresh mussels hopefully in some water. Make sure that they are all shut tight. If there are any ajar, give them a thwack on the counter and they should close right up. If they don't, they are dead and you should discard them since you don't know how long they've been dead and mussels become toxic quickly. Pull out any beards (black strings) emanating from the shells with your fingers (or use a paring knife for leverage) and give them a good rinse just to get any remaining dirt or scum out; I even gave them a scrub. Drain them in a colander.

In a mortar, place the basil leaves with a good pinch of salt and pound into a paste. Add half the lemon juice and all the olive oil and combine.

If available, wear clean latex gloves when handling the chili peppers. If not, just wash your hands extremely well with soap and water afterwards. Chop off the top of the peppers and slice them open. Scrape out the seeds with the tip of the knife and dice each very finely.

Bring a large pot of water to a boil, then add a good pinch of salt and drop in the spaghetti, cooking by the instructions but 1 minute short of al dente. -- BUT --

Four minutes before you reach that point, heat a large saucepan until it is smoking hot. Dump in all the mussels and the white wine, put the lid on, and give it a good shake. Continue to cook for 2 more minutes, shaking 1-2 times more in the process. Open the lid and beware being punched in the face by the strong smell of the sea. Discard any mussels that have failed to open (all in all I threw out about 8 mussels, which is no big deal since 1kg is a lot!). Quickly drain the spaghetti, which should be done by now, and toss in with the mussels and basil oil. Add the rest of the lemon juice to taste, as well as salt and pepper as needed (I just added pepper), and the chopped chili peppers.

Asparagus and Orange Salad with Gorgonzola

The world is a completely different place from ten years ago. Well, obviously, but it's even more obvious in the grocery aisles. Previously "rare" produce are now available all throughout the year. It's taking too long, however, for berries of all kinds to make an appearance here (for now, only fresh strawberries, and sporadically at that). Regardless of the dip in quality during the off-season, at least here in the Philippines there is a feeling of perpetual summer, which of course has its disadvantages (it is hot all the freaking time), but if it means having more food choices, then it's best to take advantage.

Speaking of taking advantage, I'll be going on a short trip to Boracay. In other words, the beach. Which I hate (the heat, the sun, the sand... Though I love marine life. And seafood). But I'm not the type to skip ever seeing a place because of my prejudices. In other words, I have to go there at least once in my life! And no, I will not return with anecdotes of debauchery. See you guys on Sunday! (Instructions follow)
I don't think I managed to achieve the full potential of this dish, however. Looking back, I shouldn't have been so timid with the dressing. To balance the fresh flavors of the asparagus and oranges, I should have made a hollandaise and melted the bits of gorgonzola cheese in it. So that's what I suggest you do instead of preparing a weak French dressing like I did.

To roast asparagus: Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Trim the asparagus (bend one spear holding both ends until it breaks at a point of weakness, then cut all other spears at this point). Lay the asparagus in one layer in a baking sheet or roasting pan. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with a good pinch of salt and fresh-ground black pepper. Bake in the middle rack of the oven for 20 minutes.

To prepare the orange: cut a thick slice off the top and bottom. Place flat on your board and run a knife down the sides under the peel (you'll probably take a little bit of the orange). Make sure you've cut off all the white pith. Lay the orange on its side and slice into thin hexagons.

Irony

Enjoy. Starring: Kat, Karen, and Reg. (Actually I must've made this "comic" 4 years ago. I thought it was time to republish it.)

Fried Crispy Polenta with Rosemary and Salt

Polenta Fritta Croccante con Rosmarino e Sale

Most of my food blogging friends are female. In fact, I don't need to whip up any statistics to say that majority of food bloggers (or bloggers for that matter) are female. Occasionally I will come across the requisite "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Blogging Sisterhood" post and will feel like chopped liver. Not that anyone has ever felt the need to form a "Manly Men of Food Blogging" ring, which is gag-inducing in its own right and a sophisticated dork like me probably still won't fit in. So while I enjoy reading and love all sorts of food blogs (see: the right column), I'm thankful for male bloggers who are unable to speak/understand the divine secret language of sisterhood of the travelling pants. However, I do consider Blood Sugar to be my "brother blog" for many reasons, not the least of which we both speak the language of, well, foul. Haha. So when Graeme wrote a post about lemon and rosemary polenta, I was both amused and freaked out because I'd been staring at the picture in Jamie Oliver's Jamie's Italy for a long time that day, thinking of making it. Psychic vibes, maybe. So after postponing it for a while, I bring you my first attempt at polenta. (Recipe follows)

• 8-9 oz (about 250g) fine polenta, plus more for dusting


• 3 pints (750mL) water


• a handful (about 80g or more) of freshly grated Parmesan cheese


• salt and pepper


• sprigs of fresh rosemary

In a large pot, bring the water to a boil over medium heat then add a good pinch of salt. Add the polenta and whisk to combine. When it starts to boil, it will sputter a bit, so put on the lid partially. When it's thickened more, it will quiet down, so turn the heat to low and stir occasionally until it reaches the consistency of fluffy mashed potatoes. It took only 20 minutes for my polenta, but it can take as long as 45 minutes. If you go too far and the polenta starts looking chunky again, stir in some water (125mL or so) and be careful this time! Stir in the Parmesan and correct the seasoning with salt and pepper (don't be shy, give it a taste). Turn the polenta out into an oiled baking sheet and spread it to a thickness of about 1 inch and leave to cool. Cut or tear into bite-size pieces.

Preheat oil in a deep fryer to 350°F (175°C). Fill a medium bowl with some more polenta and toss the pieces of cooked polenta to coat. Fry the pieces for 4 minutes, adding sprigs of fresh rosemary during the last 20 seconds of cooking. Drain over paper towels and sprinkle with sea salt.

I served mine on the abstract of an old research titled "Effects of Equisetum arvense extracts on the rate of healing of excised wounds among albino mice." For some reason I had photocopied too many of them for a presentation and they're sitting in a scrap paper pile, waiting to be used as grocery lists and such.

Baby You're Mine

The first artist (musically) I was really interested in as a kid was Polish singer Basia. Atypical, I know. Regardless, it was the late 80's and there were just not a lot that resonated with me (Johnny Hates Jazz? Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark? Madonna? Debbie Gibson?), even if I was in sync with the radio. And I certainly can't explain why I love Basia's music even to this day despite the fact that I find new "Bossa" acts nauseating and affected. I think most of it has to do with her genius writing partner, Peter White. They came out with really good songs (which I knew all the lyrics to despite not knowing what they were at the time), and age has given me only a greater appreciation for them. Especially now that other artists have come up with ghastly covers for "Reward" and "Time and Tide." Yecch.

Click here to listen to a digital recording of me playing "Baby You're Mine." I'm not going to say my playing does justice to it. Notice that I hired my synthetic drummer to do the beat. :) There's not a real piano solo to speak of, because I'm not a jazz pianist (nor a real pianist by any stretch of the imagination), and I don't know how to improv something that sounds good (I could have cheated and layered the track, but I didn't want to pretend to be a better pianist than I am).

Unfortunately I don't have an upload of the original track, nor do I have a Youtube video for it, and I don't want to break copyright laws by providing one. So I give you another "type" song by Basia instead. (Video: "Astrud." Wow, this looks ancient.)