quail egg yolk ravioli with brown butter, english peas and chives

i was always into food:

cooking,

researching,

trying new things.

at nine,

i made up an apple dish,

that really is nothing more

than peeled apple wedges, apple juice,

lemon juice, cinnamon,

nutmeg and brown sugar,

microwaved together.

for the next 15 years,

it was served at almost every

holiday dinner my

family hosted.

i think my family was

being nice.

by college,

my roommate, nicole, and i

would make ourselves dinner.

real dinners

with forks and knives,

and napkins under them.

i pulled ideas out of magazines

and nicole recreated recipes

that her father served at his restaurant.

we entertained our friends

with fondue nights,

and one april, made thanksgiving dinner

because we had a frozen turkey

that we had to cook before the school year

ran out. don't get me wrong,

we ate ramen and peanut butter and jelly,

like any college kid did between classes,

but we were also known to

grill salmon and serve it over couscous

before heading out to the tally ho for the evening.

at christmas time,

i ran around trying to find mason jars by the case

so that i could make layered

"just add liquid" brownie

mixes for my friends.

and one year,

i gave my professors

homemade peanut butter cups.

but, still it wasn't until my

early to mid twenties

that i think i started to soak up

kitchen information

and really learn to cook.

at 24, i moved into my tiny studio,

cooking dinners every thursday night

for larry, who was then, my boyfriend.

i finally had a reason to

buy cookbooks

and scour the internet for

new recipes and ideas.

i was now a food writer

and i spent hours every day

in a test kitchen - watching.

the other side -

the other major influence -

was undoubtedly, the area i was living in.

the move from central new jersey

to northern new jersey was

hugely different

in many ways. (if you're not from

new jersey, i have no doubt this sounds

crazy to you.) once i got over the ridiculous

blue laws which prevent shopping

on sundays, i realized something

else that was new:

i was living smack in the middle

of an asian mecca.

from

korean,

vietnamese,

thai and japanese

restaurants that line the streets,

to the asian markets that become

a way of life, i learned a lot.

and quickly.

it took me four trips to mitsuwa

and, five different packages

of dried udon purchased,

before i finally learned that the

kind of udon noodles that i love

are sold frozen.

i guessed wrong trying to read japanese

and went through six different seaweed varieties

before i found the right one for miso soup.

it took two years before i decided not to care

that the people who worked there and i would

never really be able to communicate.

after that,

i embraced it,

finding that i could buy huge

bottles of fish sauce and enormous

containers of sesame seeds

for dirt cheap.

i became fascinated by the sushi grade fish

they sliced just so and sold, as well as the

teeny, tiny anchovy salads.

and, i saw quail eggs for the first time.

now, it sounds kind of silly to say.

but the first time i saw quail eggs,

i was actually speechless -

so excited to "discover" something,

so interested in what they could do.

(i was yet to be introduced to

the ostrich egg.)

but i left them in the store

until i had a plan.

i always need a plan.

then one day,

a couple years ago,

i came across a recipe

for egg yolk ravioli.

it was a tuesday and

i was not about to make

my own pasta - plus i have

a little bit of a homemade pasta

fear...that's a story for another day.

but i had wonton wrappers in

the fridge - and yes, i know. i know

how some people feel about punks

like me thinking it's ok to use

wonton wrappers instead of pasta.

to you i say, it's ok, use your

favorite pasta recipe instead.

the original recipe called for

chicken eggs, but i knew the wonton

wrappers were significantly smaller

than the sheets of pasta

and even just the yolk would be too large.

so, i ran to the store after work,

finally bought a crate of quail eggs

and when i got home,

i set to work.

everything went perfectly until

it was time to separate the quail eggs.

they are slippery, fragile little devils

and they have attitude.

i managed to fill four with

yolks, losing the other eight

to the kitchen sink.

those four were enough to know

that i was onto something good.

a silky, gently warmed yolk,

set atop of lemony ricotta.

what could be wrong?

i vowed to get them right.

i vowed to conquer the quail egg.

--

eight months later,

it was salad day

in culinary school.

everyone was bored -

they wanted to slice into

steaks, butcher a chicken,

cut teeny racks of rabbit.

i was thrilled for a day of lettuce -

finally something

i could really get behind. plus,

one of the recipes called for

fried quail eggs.

i was paying attention.

lo and behold,

i learned something.

chefs who deal with quail eggs are

not holding a magic secret -

they're holding a quail egg cutter.

i watched as our chef effortlessly trimmed

the top from the shells and carefully

poured the egg into a cup.

none of them broke.

i decided that day that i would

buy a quail egg cutter.

--

almost three years later,

also known as two weeks ago,

i ran into the new korean market.

it was storming outside and all

i needed was:

a chicken,

a bottle of mirin

and an onion.

i left with all three.

plus black garlic.

and a container of 18 quail eggs.

i don't know why.

i just thought i needed them.

i hadn't bought quail eggs since

the first time and i absolutely had

not bought a cutter.

after a week of them staring

back at me every time i opened

the fridge, i finally decided

to go for it and give the ravioli

a second shot.

this time,

i bought chives

and english peas.

i still picked wonton wrappers.

once the terrine was chilling in

the fridge, i set to work

mixing together

ricotta,

lemon zest,

chives,

salt and

pepper

until the whole thing tasted delicious.

i floured parchment paper,

pulled out the wonton wrappers

and a tea towel to keep the pasta

soft and pliable.

and i dolloped ricotta into

the center of four.

and then i stared down the

quail eggs. my plan of attack

was to simulate a quail egg cutter

by laying the oval on its side

and using a sharp knife to saw

off the top 1/3 inch of the shell.

so far so good.

next, i very gently broke and pulled

off most of the shell,

leaving only a tiny bowl at

the bottom. when i was sure

that no rough edges would impede

the egg leaving the shell,

i gently poured it into my hand

and slowly let the white

drip through my fingers,

passing it back and forth

from hand to hand as

necessary.

and it worked!

for all 8 ravioli i only

used 9 quail eggs! did you think

i was going to make all 25 that

way? no thank you.

i still have some sense

of sanity.

the rest i made with

only the scented ricotta.

after sealing the ravioli up,

i was quite proud.

i was even

prouder after simmering

them and not tearing the delicate

pasta or puncturing the equally

precarious yolk.

the peas, briefly blanched

and then added to the

nutty brown butter added

brightness, both in flavor

and color. the extra sprinkle

of chives made it look like

i really had a plan all along.

the plan?

to go to culinary school?

no never. i always swore

i wouldn't go.

to move to fort lee one day?

no, no, no. for a long time,

it was a town i had never

heard of in an area of

new jersey i didn't know.

to occasionally prepare a meal

that makes me feel like every

little step - from moving up

here, to working as a food editor,

to attending culinary school and

marrying a man who finds these

kitchen experiments charming,

not ridiculous and to

insisting on driving myself a little

crazy with culinary determination -

give me the ability to make

this dish?

maybe. just, maybe.

quail egg yolk ravioli with brown butter, english peas and chives

loosely adapted from bon appetit

a couple things about this recipe - you will have much better luck cooking these (and all homemade or wonton-wrapper based ravioli) if you simmer them in a shallow skillet of instead of a large pot of boiling water. this gives you much more control and helps them keep their form.

also, i know i made quail eggs out to be impossible to work with, but they're really not. once you get in the rhythm and find your gentle side, you'll be fine.

another note: when i cooked the ravioli, i simmered the yolk-less ones first and the yolk-filled ones last.

1 pound ricotta cheese

1 lemon, zested

1/4 cup, plus 2 tablespoons snipped chives, divided

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon cracked black pepper

1 egg yolk

flour, for sprinkling

1 package (12 ounces) wonton wrappers

8 quail eggs (plus more for...accidents)

4 ounces fresh shelled english peas

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, cubed

in bowl, combine ricotta, lemon zest, 1/4 cup chives, salt and pepper. taste and adjust for seasoning. stir in egg yolk.

sprinkle small amount of flour onto two parchment paper-lined baking sheet; spread around to coat. place 4 wonton wrappers on parchment paper; cover remaining wonton wrappers with tea towel to keep moist.

top each wrapper with 2 teaspoons ricotta mixture; gently make a small indentation in the ricotta.

lay one quail egg on its side; using a sharp knife trim top from egg shell. carefully peel off enough of the quail shell so that you can pour the egg out onto your hand. using fingers, gently let the white slip through (have a bowl ready so that you can keep and save the egg whites for another use). once you have removed all of the white, gently place the yolk onto the ricotta. repeat with remaining eggs. (alternately, if you have another method that works for you, by all means - use that.)

fill a small bowl with water. using finger tips, lightly wet all of the exposed wonton wrapper. top with a second wonton wrapper, and gently, but firmly press together around the edges. when finished with the first four, cover with tea towel and repeat with wrappers, ricotta and quail eggs.

for no-yolk ravioli (and remaining): use 1 tablespoon ricotta mixture.

cover with tea towel and place in fridge until you're ready (no more than a couple of hours is ideal).

when it's time:

(ok, here's the deal - a lot is going to be happening at once. here's what i did: i set the water to boil for the ravioli, blanched the peas, browned the butter and took it off the heat, cooked the ravioli and when i was on the last batch, i tossed the peas into the brown butter and reheated. this is what worked best for me, but if you see a better plan for you - go for it. hmmm...i'm very to-each-his-or-her-own today.)

in large skillet, bring water to a boil; add kosher salt (just a warning - like always, you want to generously salt the water, but beware that wonton wrappers soak up salt, so you don't want to go crazy. when in doubt, taste the water). reduce boiling water to a medium simmer. quickly and carefully, place 6-8 ravioli into water and cook 2 minutes, or until wonton wrappers are cooked, but the quail yolks are still runny. using slotted spoon, remove from water. let water run off and place ravioli directly into serving dish. repeat with remaining ravioli.

while you're waiting for the ravioli water to come to a boil, in small saucepot, bring water to a boil; add kosher salt. pour in english peas. cook 2 minutes, or until peas are tender, put not shriveled or mushy; drain and immediately rinse with ice cold water, shaking strainer often, until peas are cool.

also, meanwhile, place butter in small skillet; turn heat to medium-low. let melt; the mixture will turn liquid, foam and start to bubble before it turns clear and then a nutty brown. as soon as it starts to smell nutty and you can see the brown flecks forming, remove it from the heat and set aside.

when you're on your last batch of ravioli, toss the peas into the browned butter with a pinch of salt. turn the heat to low butter and as soon as the mixture is hot, remove from heat and spoon over ravioli. sprinkle with remaining chives.

garlic and lemon maine shrimp

i have always been a horrible sleeper.

always. i have very vivid memories

of me, as an 8-year-old, getting

out of bed in the middle of the night,

wide-awake and looking for my father

who i knew would be downstairs,

also awake, playing computer

games. that's how i became so good

at tetris, so young.

i also have very vivid memories of me,

a freshman at college, not sleeping

at all - but not in the good way.

i would stay in my dorm room,

with my roommate sleeping one bed away

and wish that i could just sleep

like everyone else seemed to be able to do.

my problem has always been falling asleep.

once i did, though, i was out.

lately - even though, don't get me wrong,

many nights, i'm still awake way past when i

want to be - my biggest sleep problem is

actually staying asleep.

i wake up very early in the morning.

and that's it. i'm up.

or at the very least, i'm in that very

blurry awake-asleep stage where i'm

dreaming/thinking.

and it's all about work.

who needs that?

not me - and that's why at 4:19

this morning, as i was using sheer will

to coax myself back to sleep, but

instead kept remembering

three deadlines that i face today

when i get into work,

i decided to put this time to good

use and tell you about maine shrimp,

because i'm running out of time

on those, too.

maine shrimp, you see, are very

time-limited and it would be a shame

if i didn't write about them before

they are out of the markets and

you have to wait until next year.

so i have to tell you and get

rid of this guilt that it's taken me

so long - and maybe,

just maybe, it will help me sleep.

i can dream, right?

so anyway, the maine shrimp.

i have to admit that i'm a bit

of a shrimp snob. i like the big

ones, or at the very least, the almost

big ones. i'm not crazy about small

shrimp that curl up into bites of nothing

once they are cooked.

and so, even though i've spotted

very pink, small maine shrimp

in the market many times

over the past couple years, i've always

looked the other way. fool.

but, a couple weeks ago,

in the middle of grocery store,

i was offered one maine shrimp, raw.

i hesitated for a moment -

i love raw oysters, clams, fish

and now scallops, but to me, shrimp

always seemed like a seafood

better served cooked.

then the fishmonger told me that

these are the same shrimp that

are sold in sushi bars for $3,

two at a pop, over sushi rice.

he ate one, himself,

and i felt ridiculous and boring,

so i went for it.

the shrimp was amazing -

like nothing i ever had before:

sweet and buttery and what could

likely be a total addiction.

and they were $4.99 a pound.

that night, i brought six home

(they cost a little less than 50 cents)

and practically skipped in the house,

excited to reveal my find.

i peeled two, handed one to larry

and ate one myself.

yes, just as i remembered.

larry? not so into it.

he just could not get behind

the raw shrimp.

i was a little bummed.

but over the next week,

i started to research maine shrimp

and learned that they are only

available for a limited time each winter,

that in the northeast

(way in the northeast, we're talking

maine, massachusetts, rhode island -

not new york and new jersey),

people anxiously wait for them to

appear and that if cooked properly,

they are just as lovely.

and then, as i planned to pick up

a pound one night and i found a recipe,

a little bell went off in the back

of my head and i remembered why

maine shrimp carried an extra layer

of familiarity with them:

jen from last night's dinner had

referenced them (or, more specifically,

their stock) here, when she had cooked

my squid stew a couple months back.

(oh, and coincidentally, she made another

maine shrimp recipe this week.)

so then i knew this would be a very wise

$5 dollars spent:

dinner tonight,

stock for the future.

when shrimp are so tiny,

a lot make up a pound and i was glad

when larry started peeling with me

(and i swear, i ate only one or two

in the process).

but once they were prepped, this

recipe from the washington post

came together very quickly.

in fact, the bulk of time was spent

waiting for the accompanying couscous

to cook.

you zest a lemon,

chop a bunch of garlic,

crumble a dried chile.

the zest

and some of the garlic

are tossed with the raw shrimp

and then the remaining garlic

and the dried chile cook for

a few minutes in a bit of oil,

until they're sizzling.

that's when you add the shrimp,

immediately turn off the heat and toss.

and that's it.

and, cooked maine shrimp

are just as special as the raw.

they're lighter, but still sweet

and still buttery in texture.

larry, whose complaints vanished

once they were cooked,

said that they tasted like something

he couldn't quite identify,

similar enough to shrimp to be familiar,

but just different enough to stand out.

before the season runs out,

i hope to buy make stock

from the shells in the freezer,

buy another pound

and make maine shrimp risotto,

using both.

but for now,

i'm just glad the secret's out

(although it just occurred to me that

maybe i'm the only one who didn't

know about them before now):

maine shrimp are a lovely

limited-time treat.

if you see them, you should

get some and maybe even

cook them.

now that that's out -

one thing to cross

off my list -

maybe, i can go back

to sleep. i still have

an hour and a half before

i need to wake up.

garlic and lemon maine shrimp

adapted from the washington post

i would make this again, but i would double or triple the garlic and lemon, and instead of the dried chile, i would add a pinch or two of ground cayenne. i assume that the seasonings were kept on the light side so that the shrimp could really shine, but i like a lot more oomph in my food. oh, and on that note, the recipe doesn't say this, but i would absolutely finish the dish with a very big squeeze of lemon.

and, although i'm writing their version, below, i did make one change, which is reflected. instead of turning off the heat and then adding the shrimp, i added the shrimp and then turned off the heat. i know my stove and i knew that it would work better this way. oh, and the original recipe was for four, but i scaled it down to two (which is how i've written it).

i served the shrimp over lemony couscous, but they would also be great on their own, over a salad, on top of pasta or maybe, even with meat.

1 pound uncooked maine shrimp, peeled (they do not have to be deveined - and if you see any grey roe, just brush it away)

1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic, plus 1 medium clove, chopped

1 tablespoon freshly grated lemon zest

1-2 tablespoons canola oil

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1 dried chile pepper, crumbed (remove seeds and membrane for less heat) or a few pinches of ground cayenne

in bowl, combine shrimp, finely chopped garlic and lemon zest.

in large skillet, add oil to pan and heat over medium. as soon as the oil starts to make popping sounds, add the chopped garlic, salt to taste and the crumbled chili pepper. cook 2-3 minutes, or until the garlic sizzles and turns golden brown, stirring constantly.

add the shrimp; immediately turn off the heat. toss 1 minute, or until the shrimp are gently cooked. (if they seem like they need a little more cooking, turn the heat back on to medium and cook until heated through, stirring constantly.)

squeeze lemon over shrimp; toss to combine.