Ninecooks

Put it on pasta

Pasta, pasta everywhere, and not a drop of room left on the stove! All six burners were cooking with gas as the Family Cooking Group tackled pasta sauces in their first cooking session after summer vacation.

In fact, we were so busy making sauces and running back and forth to the herb garden for more fresh basil, parsley and mint, that I forgot to take photos while we were cooking!

With our pasta boiling away, we easily created four sauces, two of which were suggested by our readers:

• Penne bruschetta, with tomatoes, garlic and basil  — gutsy and full-flavored
• Sausage, pepper and onion — like a great Italian sandwich, without the bread
• Lemon cream with asparagus — elegant and delicate
• Chicken lo mein — spaghetti with a Chinese twist

Then, with time to spare and some odds and ends of squiggly pastas in the "junk jar", we decided to improvise one more sauce. Actually, it was the kids who invented this, by rummaging through the fridge and pantry, tasting and testing. They named it "The Autumn Leftovers", and it's a winner.

While we're relaxing over dinner, I always ask the group what they'd like to cook the next time. In November I want to teach latkes, and maybe have a bit of a dreidl game just for fun (we always play with chocolate coins, so it's kind of dessert, too). But for October's menu, they've chosen meatloaf. And apples or pears.

Meatloaf with an apple side dish? Or maybe meatloaf with apples inside. And, you know me... I'm thinking we should make two different kinds of meatloaf, done in mini size so they'll cook in the time we have.

Favorite recipes, anyone?

THE AUTUMN LEFTOVERS
Serves 4.

1/2 lb pasta of your choice: rotini, gemelli, macaroni, or a mix from your pasta "junk jar"
A few tsps of olive oil
2-3 roasted piquillo peppers, or any roasted red peppers from a jar
A handful of fresh basil, roughly chopped
2-3 Tbsp goat cheese
2-3 Tbsp feta cheese
Zest and juice of one lemon
2 tsp fresh mint, roughly chopped
1-2 Tbsp pine nuts
A few Tbsp fresh chopped parsley
1/2 lb fresh mozzarella, cubed
A few Tbsp bruschetta topping, or fresh chopped tomatoes, or roasted tomatoes with a bit of the roasting oil
Salt and pepper to taste

In a large frying pan, heat the olive oil, and add the peppers and basil. Stir for one minute, and add the goat cheese and feta. When the cheese begins to melt, add lemon zest and juice, mint, pine nuts and parsley. Stir for 2-3 minutes, then add the mozzarella and bruschetta topping or tomatoes. Stir for one minute, then add the cooked pasta. Continue stirring until the cheeses are melted and everything is well combined. Serve hot.

Another opening, another show

Only one more day until the start of the Fall season for all Ninecooks cooking groups.

First up, the Family Cooking Group takes on pasta sauces. Then The #1 Cooking Group takes the cake — well, two cakes, actually. Next, our World Cuisines Cooking Group travels to Senegal for a taste of West African cooking. And the Wednesday Lunch Group travels to the local farmstand for a supply of butternut squash, the key ingredient in two potluck vegetarian stew dishes.

Two weeks prior to cooking day, each group receives a shopping list, parcelled out so everyone brings a share of the groceries. I've stocked the pantry with spices, flours, sugar and salt. The herb garden still promises plenty of fresh herbs, though the cold snap may do in the basil. The knives are sharp and the stove's got gas.

So, let's get cooking!

Where in the world?

The World Cuisines Cooking Group kicks off its Fall season — its first season of cooking together — in a couple of weeks, so it's time for me to organize a menu and send out a shopping list to each participant. Everyone brings part of the grocery list; in that way, we are all responsible to each other for the food we eat, and no one person has the burden of shopping for all of us.

Unique among Ninecooks groups, this group focuses on the cuisines and culture of a particular country or region in each cooking session, through recipes that utilize ingredients available locally or online (because if we can't get the ingredients, we're never going to add these recipes to our everyday cooking). So the decision about where to start doesn't revolve around technique or ingredient, but around culture. What, and how, will we cook together?

Now, I am not a procrastinator, but often I wait for patterns or signs from the universe ... which looks very much like procrastination to those who don't know me well! Laugh if you will, but yesterday I finally saw the pattern.

Clue #1: While shopping in antique-y Putnam, Connecticut, on Saturday, Ted and I stopped in the local bookstore, which carries an eclectic mix of old and new, toys and games, wrapping paper and crafts. I found two African cookbooks.

Clue #2: In the September 11 issue of The Nation, in an article titled "Slow Food Nation," Alice Waters writes: "The pleasures of the [family meal] are a social as well as a private good. At the table, we learn moderation, conversation, tolerance, generosity and conviviality; these are civic virtues."

Viola! as Julia Child would have said — a family meal, in celebration of our cooking family.

So, we're off to Senegal for Poulet Yassa, a chicken-and-rice dish traditionally served to honored guests, who eat with their hands from a communal bowl. We'll start with a simple West African peanut soup made with sweet potatoes, in honor of the season. We'll use spoons for that.

(Photo above of Poulet Yassa from www.seneportal.com)

Happy as clams

What could be better than getting together every few weeks, spending the morning cooking and eating and laughing and, occasionally, learning?

Not a thing, according to the response to the questionnaire I sent to the Wednesday Lunch Group.

I remember the day, two years ago next month, that this group first met in the Ninecooks kitchen to plan our cooking future (the hardest thing was finding a day of the week, and time of day, that fit into everyone's schedules). As each person arrived, he or she discovered with delight at least one other familiar face. In some cases, friendships went back twenty years or more. Nobody knew everyone in the kitchen, but everyone knew someone.

Our first actual cooking date was in November 2004. Today, the same seven cooks have become friends. One was married earlier this year, and invited everyone in the group to the wedding. We've welcomed into the kitchen one daughter and one sister. We've shared tales of woe about our parents, our in-laws, our kids and grandkids, our ex-spouses.

In other words, we've grown into a family, in the best sense of the word.

And we're a pretty happy family, as it turns out. Last Spring, at the end of our cooking season, I asked the group to consider: the frequency of our group cooking; the mix of menus and skills taught; the level of chaos (really!) — do we make too many things at once, too few, etc.; food cost; skills and topics of interest they're like to explore; field trips and ingredient tastings; and willingness to teach.

I didn't hear from everyone, but here's the response to date:

1.    We're cooking every 5-6 weeks, which everyone feels is just right.

2.    Most people are happy with the mix of menu and skills; one person asked that we focus more on method. Will do.

3.    Everyone felt the food cost is reasonable. Each person is assigned a shopping list prior to our cooking sessions; I try to keep the cost between $5 and $10 per person, and I provide the pantry items.

4.    Particular topics of interest: curries and Indian dishes, Mexican, US regional cooking, one-pot, lunches, potluck dishes. Yes, to all.

5.    Most would like occasional field trips, but not in place of cooking together.

6.   One person is willing to teach, and another is willing to consider it. That's great. Meanwhile, they seem happy enough with me (whew).

My favorite feedback nugget? "I use the recipes when I need to 'wow' someone!"

Wow!

Five flavors eggs

Around the corner —which is a mile and a half up the road — from the Ninecooks kitchen, a farmer puts this little cooler out every morning.

Locals know it's the goat cheese, not the eggs, that come in five flavors. Still, it makes me giggle every time I pass by.

A quarter mile up the road in the other direction, Carolyn LaPointe of Glocester Greens and Goats also makes goat cheese: creamy feta, herb-studded fromage blanc, and, soon, goats' milk cheddars.

When we moved here six years ago, there were plenty of farms nearby, but no homemade cheese anywhere. It's a good sign that there are now two farms making goat cheese — not just within hailing distance, but within walking distance of my kitchen.

I wonder...could we (should we?) build an entire group cooking menu around goat cheese?

Summer's over...it's pasta time!

We're still enjoying the last days of summer, which in the Ninecooks kitchen means no cooking (making s'mores isn't really cooking, is it?), no knives (out for sharpening), no menu planning (too hot to get organized), and no limit on the number of sugar-free ice pops being consumed.

And yet....

Something happened last week that shocked me right out of my summer daze.

Our old friend Rika was visiting from Mihama, a tiny village on the west coast of Japan. She brought her husband Ichiro, daughters Nagisa and Misaki, and son Shunpei. After a whirlwind few days doing tourist things in Boston, Ted and I wanted to introduce her family to our rural part of Rhode Island. We also wanted to send them home with some truly American food experiences, so we organized a s'mores and hot dogs party. After all, group cooking is the Ninecooks way.

Among the 30-plus people who came to the cookout were two of the families in the Family Cooking Group. They'll be back in the kitchen in mid-September. And it seems that while I've been not-thinking about cooking groups for the past few weeks, the family group has definitely been thinking about getting back in the kitchen together. Both of the teens in the group came up to me at the cookout and asked about our plans.

Lydia, do you know what we're going to cook next time?

Lydia, you remember that we decided to do pasta, right?

Lydia, we said pasta sauces, remember?

Uh-huh, I remember. And I love that the kids (and their parents) are so eager to get back in the kitchen.

In two hours of cooking time, and with a somewhat limited budget, we can make three or four pasta sauces. I have a fairly extensive pantry to draw on, and there's lots of basil and other herbs in the garden. But before I make a final choice of recipes, I'm throwing open the kitchen door for your suggestions.

What's your favorite pasta sauce? What do you think our families would like to learn to make?

Share your recipes and suggestions in the comments, please!

And now, for the tweaking...

In May or June each year, the Ninecooks cooking groups and I play calendar bingo. Finding dates when all, or most, of the group members can gather is challenging, especially with four groups and a total of 40 calendars to sync, but just like the National Football League, we've done it. We'll be back in the kitchen starting in mid-September.

Before I propose menus for our upcoming group cooking dates, I'm reviewing the responses to a brief questionnaire I sent out in the Spring to the two longest-running groups, The #1 Cooking Group and the Wednesday Lunch Group (1-1/2 years), to get a sense of what's working, and what could work better.

Are our menus enjoyable? Too much or too little cooking? Too much or too little learning?

Too much or too little chicken???

(Okay, I know the answer to that one!)

The #1 folks — the original nine cooks — have been cooking together, every 4-6 weeks, for four years. Unlike any of the other Ninecooks groups, most of the #1 Group were friends before we started cooking together; my husband and I were the new kids on the block, and cooking was a wonderful way to get to know people in this geographically spread-out community.

Friendship and familiarity make for a family-like atmosphere in the kitchen, with many lively conversations going on (the continuing tales of local library boards and our arts organization, plus the usual catching-up on family news and work, and, truth be told, the occasional bit of gossip) as the cooking gets done. Sometimes we're busy up until, and beyond, the moment when our spouses arrive to help with the eating. Other times, we're more leisurely. And when I haven't planned the menu well, we have too much waiting-around time.

So, overall, how are we doing?

And, what might we do differently in the coming year?

Here's what The #1 Cooking Group had to say....

1. We'll be cooking slightly less frequently, every 5-8 weeks. This has a bit to do with my own schedule and the difficulty in finding available cooking dates, but a few people do welcome the less frequent commitment.

2. Most everyone appreciates the mix of menus and skills learned. Several feel that we do too much: "I can't get my hands into the pot." Most would prefer fewer variations on a theme (ah, yes, too many tamales!). Generally our cooking sessions focus on mastering a skill, technique, or ingredient, but a few people said they'd rather create entire meals (main course, salad, dessert) — more like a dinner party, I guess. Some would like to concentrate on just one dish each time, like the time we spent all day shopping for fish and making Toulouse-Lautrec's bouillabaisse. (That was a fun thing to do.)

3. When asked about particular skills they'd like to learn or improve, almost everyone mentioned knife skills. Also deboning (not my forté, so we'll need a guest chef), and soup/stock making. I say yes to all that.

4. Several people requested more Asian and Latin cooking. I'm all for it. One asked for less cumin. (No. Sorry.)

5. To my surprise, a few expressed interest in "fast" cooking, or dishes that can be cooked ahead and frozen, plus ways to use more convenience foods (good quality store-bought sauces, for example). I'm more of a slow-food gal, so I'm not sure I'm the one to organize this. How about making our own sauces that can go into the freezer and become the basis for homemade fast food?

6. People like getting information about food sources, new or specialized ingredients (and sampling those ingredients), and local markets.

7. In the past, we've taken one field trip each year, to a local ethnic or specialty market, and then returned to the kitchen to cook with what we purchase. Most people enjoy this, but do not want to substitute field trips for cooking sessions. (When I tell them about the Indian spice market I'd like to visit, they might change their minds.) Some people prefer exploring markets on their own.

8. Most everyone enjoys having guest chefs, but all said they would not want guest instructors more frequently than we now have them (once or twice a year). We've been fortunate to get some wonderful chefs come to teach us cool stuff, like how to make mozzarella and flatbreads, but the group seems to like my way of teaching, too. Isn't that nice?

9. Though all are better cooks than I am, when asked if they would like to teach our cooking sessions, most answered, emphatically, "No!" Four are willing to teach all or part of a menu; Korean cooking and scratch cakes, specifically, were mentioned.

There you have it.

All in all, we're a pretty happy group, but some tweaking is in order. That's the fun of cooking groups — like the food we cook, the groups are organic, growing and adjusting according to the changing interests of the participants. My role as den mother is to try and find ways to make our cooking group experience enjoyable for everyone, so here are my ideas for The #1 Cooking Group:

1. Create full-meal menus. Instead of focusing on one technique or ingredient, we'll make a complete meal each time. Sometimes the star of the show will be the entreé, other times the dessert, or maybe a side dish with a fun new ingredient. This will mean that most of the time we'll make only three or four dishes, which simplifies the grocery shopping. And the "whole meal" approach will appeal to those who like to look at individual recipes in the context of an entire menu.

*Note: After they're road tested by our cooking groups, many of our group cooking menus are available on the Ninecooks website.

2. Divide our cooking time. The first 1-1/2 hours of cooking time will be the "lesson"; the final hour will be devoted to assembling the dishes that complete the meal (salad, sides, fruit desserts, etc.). In that way, those who already know how to make the dishes we're highlighting, or simply aren't interested in the lesson part on that day, can still enjoy the camaraderie of cooking together, and those who are more interested in learning about the techniques, ingredients, or process can come at the start. (For you #1s, that means "lesson" at 4:00, assembly at 5:30, eaters at 6:30.) The planning will be a challenge for me, because I'll have to work out the cooking order ahead of time, but I'm willing to give it a try.

That's the other thing about cooking groups. We'll try anything! If our kitchen experiments, menu plans and improvisations work, great. If not, we giggle, and move on.

If you're in a Ninecooks group, please share your suggestions and feedback. And if you're part of a cooking group in your own community, let us know how you get together and cook with friends.

From many, one

From my desk, I have an unobstructed view of the garden. This morning, waiting for the heat wave to arrive, I'm staring out at the anise hyssop, well over six feet tall, and thinking about growth.

Each Ninecooks group grows in cooking ability and confidence as we cook our way through new cuisines, new techniques, new ingredients...but the very best thing is how each group has grown into a "family" that enjoys each other's company, respects each other's creativity, and compensates for each other's inabilities.

The group becomes a whole, just as my individual herb and flower plants have melded and mingled, and become a garden.

Le Grand Aioli 2006

It takes a village to eat as much garlic as The #1 Cooking Group ate last night at our annual Grand Aioli.

Three entire heads of garlic gave their life so we could enjoy one amazing dinner: a rich garlic-laden aioli sauce, ground by hand in mortars and pestles by the women of our village, and platters of fish and shellfish, chicken, vegetables and olives cooked and assembled by the men of our village.

We had it all, and it was grand indeed.

Le Grand Aioli is the annual celebration of the original nine cooks, a group of men and women that has been cooking, learning and laughing together for four years. Last summer we decided to mark the anniversary with a feast in the Provencal style.

Most of the time when we cook (every 5-7 weeks), it's the women who take over the kitchen; the men come later in the evening, to eat and wash the dishes. At Le Grand Aioli, the men get their chance to cook together, and the women arrive later to grind the aioli and set the long table on the porch.

In the best of village traditions, our menu doesn't change much from year to year. Here's what we make, with contributions from our gardens and the local farmers' markets:

• Roasted scrod, cod or halibut
• Grilled salmon
• Cold boiled shrimp
• Mussels steamed in white wine, shallots and herbs
• Grilled chicken breast
• Roasted new potatoes with fennel and zucchini
• Sautéed artichoke hearts
• Steamed broccoli
• Grilled red, yellow and orange peppers
• Chickpeas, cooked with garlic and herbs
• Sautéd green beans or haricot verts
• Grilled asparagus
• Raw carrots, cucumbers and tomatoes, with lemon vinaigrette
• Grilled sliced baguettes, brushed with olive oil and garlic (yes, more garlic!)
• Olives — of course!

All of these goodies are dipped into our amazing hand-ground aioli, a mayonnaise made with farm eggs, coarse Portuguese sea salt, a whole head of garlic, and the best olive oil. We've tried several recipes for the aioli (including one made in a food processor with saffron and a touch of sugar), but the one we like best is this olive-oil stained version:

AIOLI

1 head garlic, cloves separated, peeled and slightly crushed
2 egg yolks (at room temperature)
pinch coarse sea salt
2 cups olive oil (at room temperature)
1-2 teaspoons water

In a heavy stone mortar and pestle, pound the garlic and salt together into a paste. Add egg yolks and stir until they are light in color. Slowly, drop by drop, begin to incorporate the olive oil, turning the pestle constantly. As the mixture begins to thicken, add the oil a little faster, always turning the pestle. When it is quite thick, add the water to loosen it. Continue mixing until the oil is completely mixed in. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve.

It takes 45 minutes or more to make the aioli by hand, which means all of the women take a turn with the pestle. It's a leisurely process that encourages conversation, laughter, tasting, drinking, singing — and sometimes dancing!

The reward is a feast of Provencal proportions, enjoyed on the Ninecooks porch at a long table, under candle chandeliers. Bottles of wine and Perrier, and a music mix designed by Ted especially for Le Grand Aioli, created the perfect atmosphere, and the weather cooled just enough to remind us of a summer evening in Provence.

It was a perfect end to our fourth year of cooking together. We missed Jessica and Bart, who at the last minute could not be there, but in all other respects Le Grand Aioli was...well...grand.

Prelude to a fête

The #1 Cooking Group celebrates four years of kitchen camraderie next week, with a traditional fête. Well, maybe not totally traditional, but we've taken inspiration from the villages of Provence, where whole towns come together to celebrate the various saints of the villages.

The idea of our Grand Aioli was born of the desire to give the men in our group an opportunity to cook together and to experience the fun, the sense of accomplishment, and...yes...the bonding that characterizes Ninecooks group cooking. Most in our regular cooking group are women; their spouses come to eat and wash the dishes while the cooks relax after the meal.

Once a year, however, the men take over the kitchen, grilling fish and chicken, steaming shellfish, sautéeing beans and roasting vegetables (some from our own gardens), while the women make aioli sauce in the old way, with a mortar and pestle. It's a slow process, so all of the women take turns grinding the salt and garlic, incorporating the egg and olive oil a little bit at a time, emulsifying the aioli into a thick, glossy garlic mayonnaise.

What’s a grand aioli? Nothing more than a giant potluck, really. Aioli (from the words ail – garlic – and oli, the Provencal word for oil) is both the sauce, and the celebration.

Fishermen bring their catch; farmers contribute potatoes and vegetables, lamb and chicken. The village baker brings some baguettes. Some common additions in Provence would include chick peas, salt cod, octopus or squid. (Instead of salt cod, we’ll use fresh cod or halibut.) We'll use herbs and vegetables from our own gardens. The point is to celebrate locally available products, and add whatever you enjoy.

Nobel-price winning poet Frederic Mistral wrote: “Aioli concentrates in its very essence the warmth, the force, the sunny happiness of Provence, but it also has another virtue: it keeps away flies. Those who don’t like it, whose stomachs turn at the thought of our oil, won’t come buzzing around us. There will be just the family. The aioli goes to one’s head, gives the body warmth, and bathes the soul with enthusiasm.”

That's our plan.