Sautéed Shrimp in Pastis with Lemon & Cherry Tomatoes

I'm not sure if I've mentioned my fitful relationship with shrimp of late. In my heart, I love the curly shellfish. In practice this is less and less the case. The shrimp I've found in local markets and the frozen muck they sell at Trader Joe's has left me wondering what I ever saw in the pink crustaceans. In Puerto Vallarta last September, we were popping shrimp like no tomorrow. They were all scrumptious, succulent morsels. At home, not so much.

I realize that purchasing your shrimp at highly reputable vendors is the key to enjoyment. I'm currently stuck on McCall's Meat & Fish in Los Feliz. They're pricey as hell, but the quality is so high that you start to feel weird about shopping at lesser institutions like Gelsons (especially because their fish is expensive, yet lacking a healthy sheen and really tastes mediocre at best) or Whole Foods (because they are so expensive and their beef is lacking in tenderness and flavor). With McCall's, I've never been disappointed. I just can't afford to shop there exclusively.

Of course an outstanding preparation will certainly increase your odds of success. When I was preparing mussels with sherry and chorizo the other night, I started to remember a shrimp dish that I'd eaten back in Santa Cruz; something with cherry tomatoes and lots of butter. A quick phone call to my old pal, Eric, had me on the right track. He reminded me that it was a Gerald Hirigoyen (great Basque chef based in San Francisco) recipe that I was after.

Thank goodness for Google. I found the recipe I was looking for within seconds, and with a short trip down the hill to Cookbook for herbs, I was all set.

The recipe that I speak of is Hirigoyen's Sautéed Shrimp in Pastis with Lemon and Cherry Tomatoes. The preparation is ultra-simple. Making this on a weeknight is a breeze. I think your only complaint might be the liberal use of butter. The recipe is supposed to serve four. I used a pound of shrimp instead of a pound and a quarter and it served two with one serving left for little Fe. the next day (hurrah, he's finally allowed to eat shellfish!). That being said, a stick of butter may seem like an awful lot for a dinner for two and a shorty.

But what the hell?! You've got to let yourself go every so often and this dish is a perfect reason to do just that. Plus it's exciting! Pyrotechnics! You light the pastis (I used Ricard.) on fire!!

Flambé all the way!

I had trouble wrapping my head around the fact that the recipe does not call for garlic or shallots. It felt positively unnatural to make a sautéed shrimp dish without one or both. I'll tell you confidently that it actually does not need it. I couldn't help myself so I sautéed a crushed clove of garlic in the olive oil for a minute or two (then tossed it) before adding the shrimp. Truth be told, I could barely taste it and not for even one second did I miss the alliums.

You sauté the shrimp in the hot olive oil, add the halved cherry tomatoes, add the pastis, and then flambé until the flame dies out. You add lemon juice, herbs, butter and salt and pepper and simply swish the pan around until the butter is completely incorporated. Presto, your dinner is ready. Serve it with a small heap of fragrant rice for ultimate satisfaction or perhaps a nest of slippery noodles.

The recipe calls for basil, but I opted for tarragon since it pairs so well with pastis. The butter is cut into smallish cubes to ease the melting and emulsifying. You want to be sure not to boil the sauce or the lovely emulsion that results from your gentle pan swishing will break and the beurre-blanc like sauce will be shot. Careful!

This is a buttery, herbaceous dish full of basil (or tarragon), parsley and chives that packs a nice citrus hit from the ample use of lemon juice. The flambéed pastis adds a warm anise flavor that ties the entire dish together. It's quick work, but it would easily impress your Saturday night dinner guests.

Gerald Hirigoyen's Sautéed Prawns in Pastis with Lemon and Cherry Tomatoes

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 1/4 pounds shrimp (approximately 30) (I used fewer larger shrimp), shelled and de-veined

10 ounces cherry tomatoes, cut in half

3 tablespoons Pastis, such as Ricard or Pernod

3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

2 tablespoons julienned fresh basil

1 tablespoon freshly chopped parsley

1 tablespoon snipped fresh chives

Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Warm the olive oil in a large sauté pan over high heat. Add the shrimp and sauté for about 2 minutes stirring frequently. Add the tomatoes and the Pastis, and flambé until the flame dies out. Add the lemon juice, butter, basil, parsley, and chives and season with salt and pepper to taste. Swirl the pan over the heat just until the butter is completely melted into the sauce. Take care not to boil, or the sauce may separate.

Serves 4

Spaghetti alla Bottarga

Do you ever do this thing, where you take really small bites just to make a scrumptious dish you're eating last just a little longer?

I only eat like that when I am deeply in love with a dish. Last night I shoved a big bite of the spaghetti with bottarga that I had whipped up for dinner into my mouth. And I was all, YES, INDEED!!! Every bite after that was tiny.

Folks, I've consumed and loved many pastas with bottarga, but this dish just knocked my socks off.

Clear off.

I recently made a glorious steak with bottarga butter, and I managed to squirrel away about four ounces of the pressed and dried grey mullet roe for another night. This was the night! An easy-peasy Sunday night dinner that you'd pay big money for in a fancy-pants Italian restaurant.

I'm dead serious about the ease of this dish. You only need spaghetti, olive oil, garlic, crushed red pepper, parsley, lemon and bottarga. You can knock it out in about the amount of time it takes to boil the pasta. The garlic needs slicing, the parsley chopping, the lemon zesting, and the bottarga grating or shaving. Cinchy. Halving the recipe for two is no problem.

I snagged the recipe on the internet. A Mario Batali number. He is a good man. A really good man. I've always been a fan, but now I may be a stalker.

When I first read the recipe, I was actually worried that there were too many ingredients, because I remember enjoying similar dishes with just the olive oil, bottarga and possibly garlic. I worried that the lemon zest, parsley, and crushed red pepper would be gilding the lily.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

For me this spaghetti with bottarga was perfection, the most harmonious balance of flavors. It isn't lemony, because you only use the zest. You do experience the perfume of the lemon, but it is just a sparkle of citrus that brightens up the dish. It isn't spicy, but there is a warmth. The ratio of olive oil to spaghetti is spot-on, the strands slipperily slicked. It is garlicky, but you do not suffer from an allium assault.

And then you have the bottarga itself, a funny looking orange slab of fish roe that is encased in wax when you buy it. It isn't cheap (between $30 and $80 on Amazon) and you can't buy it at the supermarket, but you can find it and you definitely should splurge on this delicacy. I've found it on the internet and in local cheese shops and specialty stores.

It is not fishy and weird. Bottarga has a subtle fish flavor. It is a little bit briny, but it possesses sweetness as well. To me the flavor of bottarga might best be categorized as umami. Bottarga is incredibly delicious and it adds body and depth to whatever you're using it in.

I can tell I'm failing a little bit here. It's just so difficult to really capture the flavor of this unique ingredient in words that I'm familiar with. Argh! Suffice it to say, I was sighing and moaning throughout the meal. I almost skipped out on watching Game of Thrones with A. so I could share this recipe with you last night. I woke in the night itching to get to my computer. I'll also confess to scraping up every remaining crumb of the bottarga from my counter like a jittery coke-head hoping for one last high. Oh you know what I mean. Plate of pasta!

There's only enough for me. No sharing this time. So someday this week, when A. is at work and Fe. is sound asleep, lunch is going to be quietly off the hook.

Mario Batali's Spaghetti alla Bottarga

8 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon crushed red pepper

2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

1 pound spaghetti

2 bunches Italian parsley, finely chopped, to yield 1/2 cup

6 ounces bottarga, tuna or grey mullet

Zest of 2 lemons

Bring a large pot of water to boil and add 3 tablespoons salt.

In a large sauté pan, heat the olive oil, crushed red pepper and garlic over low heat until fragrant, approximately 2 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat. Cook the spaghetti, per the package instructions until al dente. Drain the pasta and add it to the oil mixture and add the parsley. Mix well over medium heat and pour into a warm serving bowl. Shave or grate the bottarga over the bowl and sprinkle with the lemon zest. Serve immediately.

Serves 4

Roasted Scallops with Tomatoes, Onions, and Paprika

Mark Bittman has saved me twice this week.

I love that about him. He has the ability to make everything better when I am exhausted and at a complete loss as to what to do for dinner. I can bring home any ingredient and if I am uninspired or unmoved, I can turn to Bittman and he will illuminate a path.

On Tuesday, while Fe. napped at my parent's house, I raced over to Santa Monica Seafood to find something piscine for dinner. I came away with plump, glistening sea scallops.

It seems like everyone I know had scallops for Valentine's Day. Not us. We supped on tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. A's choice all the way. We tend to do things a bit backwards. So scallops on a run-of-the-mill Tuesday, instead!

And why not? They take no time to cook, which makes them a perfect weeknight dinner... Except that they're not cheap. So maybe they're a splurgy weeknight dinner, but definitely something to keep in mind.

It turns out that you don't always have to make a fancy pan sauce or super rich beurre-blanc to showcase sea scallops properly.

Mark Bittman, in his always handy, How to Cook Everything, turned me on to something entirely new. Granted, this may not be new to all of you, but for me it was verging on revelatory.

You can roast scallops!

Okay, so maybe it isn't headline news, but it definitely is good news.

Bittman's roasted sea scallops have a bit of a mediterranean slant thanks to the tomato, onion, parsley, and olive oil. The onion brings additional sweetness to the scallop's own. The tomatoes add tang and zip, and the paprika lends warm depth. You don't have to strew the suggested breadcrumbs over the top, but I really liked the bit of crisp.

These scallops are not only snip-snap and tasty, they're rather healthy. That is as long as you don't use too heavy of a hand during the final drizzle of olive oil.

I had almost all the ingredients on hand. You probably do too!

I did not have a medium tomato in the house, so I used halved cherry tomatoes. While the dish will be a bit soupier if you use canned tomatoes, the flavors should be just as satisfying. I wouldn't hesitate to turn to San Marzano for help here.

My stash of homemade bread crumbs in the freezer had been depleted, but I did have half a baguette patiently waiting for a new life. I tore it into chunks and whizzed it in the food processor. Bread crumbs in two minutes. If possible, always make your own.

All in, this shouldn't take you more than thirty minutes. The vegetables and parsley get a chop-chop and are tossed in the baking dish with the olive oil and paprika. They're thrown in the oven for about ten minutes until the juices are flowing and bubbling. The scallops are nestled into the mix and the bread crumbs sprinkled over. The extra-virgin olive oil is drizzled and in ten more minutes, dinner should be ready.

The only addition I'd make is to serve this with lemon or perhaps add a wee bit of preserved lemon rind to the tomato mixture. I know. I know. Enough already.

Mark Bittman's Roasted Sea Scallops

1 medium tomato, peeled if you have time, cored and roughly chopped

1 medium onion, chopped

2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves, plus parsley for garnish

1 teaspoon paprika

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil,plus more for drizzling

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

About 1 1/2 pounds sea scallops

1/2 cup bread crumbs, preferably fresh (optional)

Heat the oven to 450 degrees.

Combine the tomato, onion, parsle, paprika, oil, and some salt and pepper in a baking dish that will just hold the scallops in one layer.

Bake until the juices begin to bubble and flow, approximately 10 minutes. Tuck the scallops into the vegetables, and sprinkle the bread crumbs over. drizzle with a bit of olive oil. Return the pan to the oven and roast until the scallops are just opaque about halfway through, approximately 10 minutes. Serve with the tomato mixture along side.

Serves 4