Monday, March 3, 2014

End-of-Winter Vegetable Soup with Farro


I have christened the soup we had for dinner last night "End-of-Winter Soup".  Sadly, the name reflects my wishes more than the reality of the weather.  Yes, it is March...and we should be beginning to warm up, but this has been such a strange winter that I don't hold out too much hope that winter is actually done.  Certainly soup was an appropriate dinner choice in the context of yesterday's weather:  It was the coldest it has been all year. Soup...or a braise...or something similarly warming...was definitely in order.  



It was actually the contents of my vegetable drawer that caused me to think of my soup as "end of winter".  I knew that I ought to be able to come up with something for dinner without making a trip to the store...but my vegetable crisper was filled with lots of odds and ends...no one thing leapt out.  Since it was almost entirely root vegetables, it really did look to me like the culinary remains of winter.  I had singletons of parsnip and celery root...a couple of kohlrabi (from a bunch purchased to test a recipe which only called for one...)...a big bag of carrots (I always have carrots)...and--on the counter—a scrawny sweet potato.  I also had some winter squash and cauliflower, but I decided I really wanted to use up the lonely sweet potato, parsnip and celery root.  Soup was the perfect solution. 



Several years ago I taught a few classes at my local Williams-Sonoma.  The classes were a bit different than those that I normally teach in that I was given a list of topics to choose from and then asked to teach recipes that had already been developed for Williams-Sonoma. (In all of my other classes I propose my own topics and choose my own recipes—often recipes I have developed myself.)  I have kept many of these Williams-Sonoma recipes in my repertoire...tweaking them as time has gone by.  The inspiration for yesterday's soup was one of those recipes:  a simple vegetable barley soup developed by Joanne Weir.  

As I looked at the original recipe so I could credit it for this post, I noticed that I have changed it so much over the years that it is not really recognizable any more.  Even if I made it with the same list of vegetables and herbs...and used pearled barley instead of farro...it wouldn't be.  But I wanted to mention it for a couple of reasons.  First, I always want to credit inspiration.  Inspiration is elusive...and it always means so much when I hear that I have inspired someone else. I want to try and do the same for others.  But secondly, and probably of more interest to readers, is that I think the changes will be instructive for anyone wanting to make a soup with the current contents of their pantry. 

The first thing I changed was to begin the soup by sweating some onion in some melted butter. As far as I am concerned, this is pretty much the only way to begin making soup.  Cooking onions (or leeks...or shallots....) in a generous quantity of fat (butter, rendered bacon fat, olive oil, etc.) until softened infuses the fat with the sweet flavor of the onions.  The fat then carries this flavor throughout the soup, giving it a depth of flavor not found in soups made by simply simmering the onions in the liquid.  The result is completely worth the extra fifteen minutes or so that it will take.  And if you are worried about the added calories, please don't be.  Without it, the soup won't be nearly as satisfying.  And even considering that I began my soup with five tablespoons of butter, it really isn't that much when you take into account the fact that you will be making at least two quarts of soup.  

The other main difference in the soups (obvious from the pictures) is the size of the vegetables.  I cut my vegetables much smaller.  I love getting lots of different kinds of vegetables in each bite, and this is made possible by the smaller cuts.  I also wanted to mirror the size of the cooked grain more closely.  Somehow large, fat chunks of vegetables didn't seem like a harmonious combination with the comparatively diminutive grains of farro (or barley, in the case of Weir's soup).  


From left to right: kohlrabi, celeriac, sweet potato, carrot and parsnip.

If you don't want to cut the vegetables quite so small (although...this is a great way to practice your knife skills!), then consider replacing the grain with something large...like some cooked white beans or a large noodle (orrechiette, for example).  If you make the soup with beans, add them with the Brussels sprouts.  If you use canned beans, rinse them before adding.  If you have cooked your own, add them along with their delicious cooking liquid.  Pasta should be cooked separately and added only to the soup that will be served.  If it is added to all of the soup and allowed to sit, it will continue to absorb liquid and become large, soft and mushy.  Simply place a small amount in each bowl and ladle the hot soup right over it.

As far as the actual contents of my soup went, I really did just use what I had:  celeriac, parsnip, carrot, sweet potato, kohlrabi, onion, Brussels sprouts and farro.   



You should see what you could make with the contents of your pantry.  Maybe you have potatoes or winter squash on your counter instead of a sweet potato.  If you happened to have them, turnip or rutabaga (Swedish turnip) would be delicious instead of one of the other root vegetables.  I happen to think that the parsnip was a particularly important addition...too much would have been overpowering, but I would have missed its aromatic presence, so I'm glad I happened to have it.  The Brussels sprouts could be replaced by diced cabbage...or even finely chopped broccoli florets (as in Weir's original).  If you use broccoli florets, consider peeling and dicing the stems and adding them to the soup with the root vegetables.


The cored and thinly sliced Brussels sprouts could be replaced with diced 
cabbage or minced broccoli florets.

Finally, when composing your soup, I would recommend limiting your selection of root vegetables to five (or fewer) different kinds.  More than that and it seems like the flavors might be too muddied.  Finally, please don't use old, tired, wrinkled or otherwise decaying vegetables in your soup.  Since root vegetables are good keepers, if you cook with vegetables on a regular basis it would not be unusual to amass a small quantity of odds and ends appropriate for a soup like this one.  But if the vegetables in your larder look like they are beginning to compost, they would not be improved by adding them to your soup.  And worse the soup will suffer; you will have wasted your time and effort.  It is so much better to go with a lesser variety (or a smaller batch of soup).



Last night's soup...served with some cheese and whole grain bread...did make a very satisfying end to a bitterly cold day.  Happily, it also used up most of the stray items in my vegetable bin.  I do still have half of my celery root...and now I have one solitary kohlrabi...but, not to worry, I'm sure I'll come up with something.  The weather is set to warm up by the end of the week.  Maybe I'll make a batch of "end-of-winter" slaw....


End of Winter Vegetable Soup with Farro

5 T. unsalted butter
1 large or two small onions (about 10 oz.), cut in 1/4-inch dice (2 cups)
3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
1 T. minced fresh thyme
5 c. diced (1/4- to 1/3-inch) root vegetables (see note)
6 cups chicken stock (or more, if you prefer a soup with a greater proportion of broth)
1/2 c. pearled or semi-pearled farro, rinsed
4 to 5 oz. Brussels sprouts, trimmed, cored and thinly sliced (1 1/2 cups sliced)
2 T. coarsely chopped flat leaf parsley, optional

In a large soup pot over medium heat, melt butter.  Add the onion along with a pinch of salt and sweat until very soft (about 15 minutes).  Add the garlic and thyme and cook another minute or two, or until fragrant.  Add the root vegetables and cook until hot and beginning to sizzle in the butter. 


Add the stock and bring to a boil.   Taste and season with salt.  Add the farro, return to a simmer, cover and simmer gently until the vegetables are almost tender—15 minutes.  Add the sprouts, return to a simmer and cook until the farro is tender—another 10 minutes or so.  If you would like a soup with a greater proportion of broth, simply add broth (or water) to obtain a soup that pleases you—I prefer a soup that is filled with vegetables that are snug, but moving freely in the broth.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Serve sprinkled with minced parsley if desired. 
Makes about 2  quarts of soup.

Notes &Variations
  • As noted in my post, I simply used the root vegetables that I had on hand...1 large parsnip, 1 small (6 oz.) sweet potato, 1 medium kohlrabi, 1/2 a celeriac and 1 large carrot to round it out.  But you could also use potato, turnip, rutabaga (swede), or winter squash.  I would limit the variety of root vegetables to 3 to 5 different kinds. 
  • If you like...and you have it on hand...a couple of leeks would be a delicious substitution for the onion.
  • Cabbage would be a fine substitute for the Brussels sprouts.  Cut it small squares to mirror the other vegetable shapes.  Or, follow Joanne Weir's lead and use chopped (small) broccoli tips instead of cabbage.  If you use broccoli, peel and dice the stems and use them as part of your volume of "root vegetables"...adding them to the soup when you add the root vegetables.


Sunday, February 23, 2014

A Simple Salad...inspired by a trip to a favorite restaurant



At the end of my last cooking class someone asked me to name my favorite restaurants in the Kansas City area.  It was a straightforward question, but one that is not really very easy for me to answer.  I just don't eat out that often—I really do love to cook at home.  But, after some thought,  I was able to come up with a couple of names.  I had a nagging feeling as I answered the question that I was forgetting a place.  Since I'm always tired at the end of a class, I just let it go, thinking it was probably not a significant omission.  As I drove home that night I remembered the one I left off the list:  Michael Smith's casual, tapas-style, Mediterranean restaurant Extra Virgin.   It was kind of strange that I had forgotten this one because I had a date with friends to have dinner there the very next night.  Furthermore, it is probably my favorite restaurant in Kansas City.  Certainly it is always one of the places I think of when someone says: "Let's go out for a bite."

I should admit up front that I am biased about Michael's restaurants (he has another...his fine dining and name's sake restaurant: Michael Smith—also excellent, but out of my price range most of the time).  Michael Smith and his then wife Debbie Gold were the executive chefs at The American Restaurant for most of the six years that I worked there.  These were formative years in my career and it would be impossible for me to measure their influence on my cooking.  The multitude of things I learned while in their kitchen pervade the way I cook and the way I think about food.  So when I go to eat at Extra Virgin, I know I will be served food that I can understand and appreciate in its style, flavors and origins.  Beyond that, I know that the dishes we are served will be well-executed and delicious. 

On the night my friends and I gathered there, we were not disappointed.   We had six different plates...all very good.  (I can't always say this...every restaurant has its misses...but we enjoyed a fine array of dishes on this particular evening...no misses in the bunch.)  The salad we had was particularly fine.  I have always tended towards simplicity in my cooking, so it should come as no surprise that it was the stream-lined and deceptively simple...the things others might pass up as ordinary...that really impressed me.  When there are only two or three ingredients in a dish, they all have to be individually beautiful and then they have to be handled properly...and this is no mean feat.  The simple salad we shared—a fluff of perky arugula and frisée lettuce, a few thinly shaved white mushrooms and an amazing, lightly crisp, fried(!) poached egg—really hit the mark.  

There were so many things to like about this salad...but I'll limit myself to talking about the egg.  I love a good poached egg...in a soup or stew, on a salad, grain pilaf, serving of pasta, or pile of vegetables...or on a piece of buttered toast.  The liquid gold center of a properly poached egg is nature's perfect sauce.   So it was with our salad...the warm yolk mingled with the almost imperceptible vinaigrette and gave just the right, rich touch to the light elements of the salad. 


But I eat poached eggs on a salad all the time (one of my very first blog posts was on how to poach an egg)....what made this poached egg extra special was the lovely crunch of the light, fried breading that enveloped it.  Food like this is the reason I go out to eat.  It is unlikely that I would ever go to the trouble to bread and fry a poached egg at home.  But in a restaurant setting, doing something like this is not only special, it's a smart and interesting way to reheat eggs that have been poached prior to the start of service.  Typically, eggs that have been poached ahead are held in cool water.  They are then simply reheated in hot water to order.  Since the egg has to be reheated anyway, breading it and frying it to accomplish the reheat adds an unexpected and delicious touch to the final dish.  The simplicity of the salad allowed this unusual poached egg to shine.   Too many ingredients would have detracted.  I came away inspired to create a salad with similar flavors and textures at home. 

The trick of course is to recreate the fine, light, just discernible crunch of the breading...without breading and frying the egg.  Finishing the salad with a judicious shower of homemade, olive oil-dressed, toasted breadcrumbs did the trick.  And although it doesn't have the Wow! factor of the Extra Virgin's version, it is beautiful...and delicious....and totally doable in a home kitchen.    

To make toasted breadcrumbs you will need some slightly stale ("day old") bread.  Something like a baguette or ciabatta will do nicely.  Cut off the crusts and tear/cut the interior into large chunks.  Place in the food processor and process until the desired fineness is achieved.  I like mine to be a bit uneven...ranging in size from larger pea-sized pieces to some bits that are as fine as kosher salt.  Spread the crumbs out on a rimmed sheet (or in a pie tin for a small quantity) 


Bread crumbs...tossed with olive oil...and ready for the oven.

and toast in a 350° oven until golden.  The length of time they take will depend on how stale the bread is.  Very stale bread will toast quickly while fresher bread will take longer.  Take a peek at five minutes and then stir every 5 minutes until done.  I go back and forth on whether to toss the crumbs with olive oil before or after toasting.  It doesn't seem to matter too much which way you choose, just drizzle the oil over and toss until the crumbs are well-dressed.  Taste and season with salt, if necessary.

Freshly toasted breadcrumbs are delicious and make a wonderful garnish for vegetable sautés, pastas and salads.  Whatever you do, please don't garnish your delicious salad with nasty, store-bought, seasoned breadcrumbs.  It would be better to leave them off altogether.  If you don't want to make toasted breadcrumbs, serve your salad with a crisp slice of toasted artisanal bread, drizzled with olive oil, instead. 

I should mention that if you don't have access to frisée...or you don't like it...you may use all arugula—or any fluffy mix of soft and tender baby lettuces that you prefer.  I love frisée and I just happened to see some small heads at Whole Foods a few days after I sampled this salad at Extra Virgin.  But the fact that they had it was pretty unusual.  I don't think the turnover of frisée is very high...consequently they don't stock it on a regular basis.  If you can get it, it is very nice in this salad.


Frisée & arugula

I don't really have a recipe, per se, to share for this salad.  It's so simple there isn't really a need for one.  What follows is an outline of what I did at home.   

For each person, place a handful of arugula (about an ounce) and a fluff of frisée (maybe half an ounce) in a bowl.  Using a mandoline slicer, thinly shave one large white mushroom into the bowl.  



Using a microplane zester, grate a fine shower of a nice, salty Pecorino Romano over the greens and mushrooms.  



Next, give the contents of the bowl a generous grinding of pepper.  Set the bowl aside while you poach your egg.  When the egg is almost done, dress the greens very lightly with some good olive oil, a squeeze of lemon and some salt.  Mound the greens on a plate, creating a slight divot in the center to hold the egg.  Lift the egg out of the poaching liquid, gently blot with paper towels and place on the salad.  Season the egg with salt and pepper.  Scatter some warm, toasted breadcrumbs over all.  Eat right away.




Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Orange-scented Yogurt Coffee Cake with Pecan Streusel



Mmmmm cake.  I never get tired of it.  And if  I live to be a hundred I don't think I will ever surrender my partiality for streusel-topped cakes.  (Who doesn't love streusel?)  This style of cake is so friendly and flexible. Delicious any time of day...and all on its own (needing no adornment of frosting...or sauce...or compote...or cream)...yet taking to all kinds of interesting and tasty variations.  For me these kinds of cakes are a form of seasonal baking.  During the (almost) four years I have been keeping this blog I have posted seven different streusel cakes...with dried and candied fruits, fresh fruits, interesting spices, vegetables, and a wide variety of complimentary nuts...and of course oatmeal.  And that's just a small sliver of my over-stuffed recipe file...not to mention the fact that I am always sampling new ones.  I don't think I have posted one yet that includes chocolate...but I'm sure that will be remedied one day.  Today I wanted to share a recent addition to my rotation of cakes.  It is a yogurt variation of a favorite sour cream coffee cake

Sour cream makes wonderfully moist, fine-grained and rich cakes.  Unfortunately I don't always have it on hand.  Since I have been making yogurt, I do always have that on hand.  Its use in this recipe gives a lighter crumb and softer texture...and is just as delicious.  This cake could be made without any flavorings (other than vanilla), spices or nuts...but I particularly like it with orange and pecan (two other ingredients I almost always have in the house).  



My friend Bonnie introduced me to this harmonious flavor combination a few years ago and I have found its subtlety to be addictive.  I've used it in muffins, cookies, tea cakes, scones...and now, in this simple little cake.  Enjoy.




Orange-Scented Yogurt Coffee Cake with Pecan Streusel

1/2 c. all-purpose flour (2 oz.)
1/4 t. salt
1/3 c. golden brown sugar
4 T. cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch slices
1/2 c. pecans, lightly toasted and finely chopped (2 oz.)

1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour (200 g.)
1/2 t. salt
1/2 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
10 T. plus 2 t. (150 g.) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 c. sugar (200 g.)
zest of one orange (1 T.)
2 eggs, at room temperature
1 1/2 t. vanilla
2/3 c. whole milk yogurt (160 g.)

To make the streusel, whisk the first three ingredients together in a small bowl to combine.  Add the butter and rub in until mixture is crumbly.  Add the pecans, toss to combine and chill until ready to build the coffee cake.



Combine the flour, salt, baking powder and baking soda in a small bowl and set aside.  Beat the butter and sugar until smooth.  Beat in the orange zest.  Cream until light and fluffy.  Beat in the eggs, one at a time.  Beat in the vanilla.  Fold in the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the yogurt, beginning and ending with the flour mixture. 

Spread the batter in a greased and floured 9x9-inch baking pan.  (If you want to be able to turn the cake out, cut a square of parchment to fit the bottom of the pan.  Butter the pan, add and butter the parchment and then flour the pan.)  



Scatter the streusel evenly over all.  Bake in a 350° oven until golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean—35 to 45 minutes.  



Serve warm.  Serves 9 to 12.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Slow Roasted Salmon served with a quick Barigoule of Artichokes with Baby Potatoes & Salsa Verde

The March issues of my food magazines have begun to arrive in the mail.  As usual I'm a bit behind in my reading—it was only toward the end of this week that I finally had a minute to sit down and look through the January issues of these same magazines.  I'm glad that I didn't just bypass the January and February issues though in an attempt to be current...I would have missed out.  The January Bon Appetit in particular was filled with beautiful and inspirational food.  I was especially drawn to an image of a platter of slow roasted salmon....so vivid I wanted to reach in and pick up a piece with my fingers.  I could already taste it.     


Slow roasted salmon is delicious.  So moist and succulent that Suzanne Goin compares its  texture to custard.  It is also extremely easy to prepare.  If you have never cooked fish (or don't cook it very often) because you are worried about overcooking it, this would be a good method to try.  As the article in Bon Appetit emphasizes, it is difficult to overcook fish when using this slow, gentle, low-heat method.  You don't need any special equipment...or even any special seasonings.  The recipe in Bon Appetit includes citrus, fennel, spices and herbs...but all you really need is olive oil, salt and pepper.  Simply place the salmon (in one large piece—skinned or not, as you prefer...although I think it's easier to serve if the skin is removed prior to cooking) in an oiled baking dish, season well with salt and pepper, drizzle generously with olive oil and place in a 250° to 275° oven.  


Bake until the salmon flakes when prodded and is still a bit translucent in the center.  An instant read thermometer, inserted at the thickest part of the filet, will read between 120° and 125°.  This will take anywhere from 25 to 40 minutes, depending on the size and the thickness of the filet.  


Break into large chunks and serve.

Artichokes began arriving in the stores sometime during the last couple of weeks and I have been looking for a reason to bring some home.  I finally bought a couple yesterday, knowing they would be delicious with the slow roasted salmon.  To prepare them I made a pared down version of a classic Provençal braise of artichokes called a barigoule.  In traditional versions of this dish, whole turned artichokes are gently simmered in a flavorful broth made up of thinly sliced aromatic vegetables, white wine, water and olive oil.  The aromatic vegetables that are used vary a bit from version to version...but not too much.  They include onions, leeks, carrots, fennel, celery and garlic.  Thyme, bay, and winter savory are other traditional flavoring agents.  For my simplified barigoule I only used onions, carrots, garlic, thyme and bay.  And instead of simmering the whole turned artichokes, I sliced them first.  I varied the stew a bit more by slipping in some halved baby potatoes for the last 20 minutes or so.  I love potatoes with artichokes....and adding them to the stew made it so I didn't have to prepare a separate starch to round out our meal.  


When I plated the vegetables and salmon, I spooned some salsa verde over everything.  Although the barigoule and salmon would have been delicious on their own, the bright and lively flavors of this sauce were the perfect finishing touch. 


Slow Roasted Salmon for Two

2/3 to 3/4 pounds salmon filet, in one piece (center cut filet, if possible), skin and bones removed
salt & freshly ground black pepper
about 2 T. olive oil

Drizzle some of the olive oil in a baking dish that is just large enough to hold the salmon.  Season the salmon on both sides with salt and pepper.  Place in the baking dish (skinned-side down) and drizzle with enough olive oil to lightly coat.

Place the baking dish in a 275° oven and bake until the salmon is cooked to your liking.  It should feel springy to the touch, but flake with a bit of encouragement.  If you like it medium-rare, it should still be slightly translucent in the center.  I like mine at about 120°.  Start checking at 25 minutes.  Use two large spoons to remove large chunks and serve. 


Quick Artichokes Barigoule with Baby Potatoes

2 T. olive oil
1/2 of a medium onion, thinly sliced
1 medium carrot, peeled and thinly sliced on a slight angle
1 fat clove of garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
salt & pepper, to taste
a sprig of two of fresh thyme
2 globe artichokes, turned and rubbed with lemon
1/3 c. dry white wine
1 c. water
1 small (or half a large) bay leaf
1/2 lb. small creamer or fingerling potatoes, halved lengthwise (the halves should be about 1/2- to 3/4-inch thick)

Warm a tablespoon of olive oil in a wide sauteuse set over medium heat.  Add the onion and carrot along with a pinch of salt.  Sweat, reducing the heat if necessary, until the vegetables have begun to soften but have not begun to color (the onions should be tender and translucent)—about 10 to 15 minutes. 

Add the garlic and thyme and cook for a moment or two, or until the garlic is fragrant. 

Slice the artichokes thickly (about 1/3-inch) and add to the pan along with another tablespoon of olive oil.  Season with salt and pepper and continue to cook until the artichokes begin to sizzle gently.  


Add the white wine, bring to a rapid simmer and reduce by half.  Add the water along with the bay, return to a simmer, cover and simmer gently for 10 minutes. 


Uncover the pan and taste the broth.  Add more salt if necessary.  Add the potatoes, nestling them down into the broth.  Cover and continue to simmer until all the vegetables are tender—another 20 to 30 minutes.  Remove the thyme and bay, taste and correct the seasoning and serve.


To serve the Salmon and Barigoule together, begin roasting the salmon when you add the artichokes to the barigoule.  While the salmon and artichokes cook, prepare the salsa verde.  (For this particular dish, I prepared it without the anchovy...but it is fine to leave it in if you want.  For the herbs I used all parsley, but artichokes are delicious with basil and mint, so feel free to use some of one or the other of these if you have some on hand.)  If either the salmon or vegetables are done before the other, simply set the finished item aside in a warm place until the other is finished cooking—this shouldn't be too long....maybe 10 minutes at the outside.  Divide the barigoule between two plates (making sure to get all the delicious broth) and arrange chunks of the roasted salmon over the vegetables, drizzling with the pan juices as you do.  Spoon some of the salsa verde over each plate—focusing mostly on the salmon and drizzling some into the vegetable stew.  Pass more salsa verde separately. 

These recipes are written for two, but they can be increased to serve as many as you like.  This would be a beautiful dish to serve family style in a deep platter or shallow gratin.



Saturday, February 8, 2014

Fettuccine Alfredo

A couple of years ago I posted a variation on Fettuccine Alfredo.  It was an unusual thing for me to do—making a variation on this classic—because I love it in its pure and basic form:  fettuccine sauced with butter, Parmesan, cream and freshly ground black pepper.  It really doesn't need anything else.  It is simple...and delicious...and  its decadence makes it a truly special treat. 


Apparently the original dish was even more streamlined than the one that I make.  The sauce was simply melted butter with Parmesan.  Elise Bauer at Simply Recipes gives a brief outline of the history of the dish.  At some point cream was added and is now widely considered to be standard.  In any case, this later hybrid with cream is the version that I grew up with. 

Because my mother never bought into the low-fat craze, butter and cream were never evicted from our diets.  The version she made is not too different from the one that I make today.  Her recipe was from a basic Italian-American cookbook and called for 2/3 cup of heavy cream, a stick of butter and a cup of finely grated Parmesan (plus more to sprinkle over the top) for every pound of fettuccine. 

As I have played with this recipe over the years I have varied the individual amounts of cream and butter that I use, but I have kept the total quantity of liquid roughly the same.  As long as your volume of cream and butter total somewhere in the range of 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (18 tablespoons) and 1 1/4 cup (20 tablespoons) you should end up with enough sauce for a pound of fettuccine.  Even though the original sauce is all butter, I find sauces with more cream than butter to be nicer—a higher proportion of butter seems to produce an oily and slightly gritty result.  My preferred quantities of cream and butter are 3/4 cup heavy cream plus 6 tablespoons of butter...or 1 cup heavy cream plus 4 tablespoons of butter...or something in between...depending on the day.  No matter what your ratio of butter and cream, a cup of finely grated Parmesan (3 oz.) is just about right for a pound of pasta...it is enough to give good flavor, but not so much that the sauce will be too thick or sticky. 

I would be remiss not to point out that since there are so few ingredients in this dish you should use the best ingredients possible.  Most importantly you should use real Reggiano Parmesan cheese.  It is expensive, but worth it.  (Even as a teenager—with my rather limited palate—I could tell when my Mom made this dish with "the good" cheese.)  Don't purchase pre-grated stuff.  Get a nice wedge of the real thing and use a microplaner to grate it yourself. 


It takes very little time (less time than it takes to cook the noodles) and it makes all the difference in the world.  The other ingredients should be best quality as well—first quality durum semolina pasta, unsalted butter and heavy cream that is just cream (no emulsifiers, preservatives, etc.).

Because I almost never have the need to cook an entire pound of pasta, the printable recipe that I'm posting below gives the quantities I use when I cook for two, as well as quantities for a full pound.  The former may seem like a rather small amount, but it is enough to satisfy my occasional craving for this delicious dish.  And, with the addition of something green (a salad....asparagus...a big pile of broccoli...), it really does make a very fine dinner.



Fettuccine Alfredo

For two:
180 g. (see note) Fettuccine
1/3 c. to 6 T. Heavy Cream
2 T. unsalted butter, cut into half inch cubes
Freshly ground black pepper
35 g. (6 to 7 T.) finely grated Parmesan
Salt
Grated Parmesan for serving

For four to six:
1 lb. Fettuccine
1 c. Heavy Cream
4 to 5 T. unsalted butter, cut into cubes
Freshly ground black pepper
3 oz. (1 c.) finely grated Parmesan
Salt
Grated Parmesan for serving

Bring a large pot of water to the boil. Season well with salt (it should taste salty—you'll want at least 1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons per quart of water). Add the fettuccine and cook until almost al dente. Ladle out some of the pasta water and set aside.  Continue to cook the pasta. 

When you drop the pasta, place the cream in a wide, straight sided sauté pan that is large enough to hold the cooked fettuccine.  Add a generous grinding of pepper and bring the cream to a simmer over moderately high heat.  Reduce the heat to low, add the cubed butter and whisk until the butter has melted into the cream.  Remove the pan from the heat, season generously with pepper, cover and keep warm while the pasta finishes cooking.

Drain the pasta.  Place the pan of butter and cream back over low heat and add the cheese.  Stir until the sauce is homogenous.  Taste and season with salt.  Add the drained fettuccine and toss until well-coated with the sauce.  If the pasta seems "tight" or sticky, add a splash of the pasta water and toss again.  Remove the pan from the heat, cover and let sit for 30 to 60 seconds.   Uncover and toss again to check the consistency, adding more pasta water if necessary—the goal is to have noodles that are coated in a light, fluid, creamy sauce.

Divide among serving plates, top with freshly grated Parmesan and serve. 

Note:  For appetites at my house one pound of pasta makes five portions...basically each person is getting a generous 3 oz. (or 90 grams) of dried pasta...hence, in the recipe for two, the odd measurement of 180 grams of pasta.  (If I lived in Italy where they sell pasta in 500 gram packages, I would calibrate my recipes to 100 grams/3 1/2 oz. per person.)