In which Alejandra goes to the grocery store and discovers a new kind of mutant lettuce

The wind was biting when I left the office today so I skipped my usual six-block walk to Whole Foods, and instead popped into the nearby Morton Williams. For those of you who don't live in New York City, you should know that the grocery stores in Manhattan are a dismal lot. The big specialty stores, like Whole Foods are wonderful, but twice as expensive and always packed to the gills. The other stores—Gristedes, C-Town, D’Agostinos—all seem to exist in constant states of disarray, with employees perpetually restocking, sweeping, mopping, and doing just about anything they can to make the shopping experience as inconvenient as possible.

The Morton Williams near my office isn’t as bad as some of the others, but I’m completely puzzled by their stock. They boast an olive oil and imported Italian product selection enviable of most gourmet specialty stores. They sell just about every kind of ice cream flavor known to man (Acai Berry! Mexican Chocolate! Pinot Noir!). They even have an entire aisle devoted to British products like tea, Cadburys chocolates, and two different kinds of Marmite (ugh). And yet, they always seem to lack the most basic of products. Necessities like skim milk, toilet paper, and sour cream seem to never be available.

But perhaps this is the reason why I actually enjoy this store. I am not a quick food shopper. I browse supermarkets much like I do bookstores: going around and around the same aisles surveying my options and usually leaving with much more than I planned to buy. I rarely shop with a list or preset recipe in mind, preferring to base my meals on whatever is in season or simply strikes my fancy. It’s a creative process (an adventure, even) to walk into the store knowing that I have a completely blank slate on which to experiment.

Lately, I’ve been drawn to the oddball products on the grocery shelves; the dusty, imperfect things found up high or way down low, all but obscured from plain view. Morton Williams is perfect for this with its weirdo stock. Somewhere in the back of my head I seem to have decided that any items produced outside of the US must be better than their American counterparts. For this reason, I regularly come home with bags full of slightly more expensive imported products like unsalted Danish butter in lopsided little bricks, slightly dented cans of Israeli tuna, and jars of clotted cream covered with tiny British flag stickers.

Accustomed to strange little discoveries in the inner aisles, I was surprised to be surprised in an entirely new part of the store today: the produce section. There, nestled among the tightly cellophaned balls of iceberg lettuce and the lush, wet bouquets of romaine, was a plastic clamshell package containing what it proudly proclaimed to be a: “New Lettuce!”

"A NEW lettuce?!" I thought. I had no idea they were still making new lettuces! It's called “Cosmopolitan ™ Lettuce,” and claims to be the “Best of Iceberg and the Best of Romaine.” I stared at this for a while. Turning the package over and over in my hands, trying to figure out the magic behind Cosmopolitan ™ Lettuce. I’d never really seen a trademarked lettuce before, so that was exciting in itself.

At 5 dollars a pop, Cosmopolitan ™ Lettuce is twice as expensive as the other kinds, which I suppose is what one would expect of mutant lettuce. There were several packages on display, all baring a “Best By 1/24” stamp on them. Checking my watch for the date, I suddenly grew a little concerned for the Cosmopolitan ™ Lettuce, picturing it meeting an early demise in a stinky Hell’s Kitchen dumpster. I thought, "that’s no way for Cosmopolitan ™ lettuce to end its days."

So I rescued it. I adopted the Cosmopolitan ™ Lettuce, vowing to bring it home and bathe it in Meyer lemon cilantro dressing and serve topped with pieces of spicy, citrus marinated flank steak and avocado.

So that’s exactly what I did.

A bit more about Cosmopolitan ™ Lettuce*:
I may have purchased this wierdo x-lettuce out of some kind of strange sense of yuppie food guilt, but I can honestly say that I’m glad I did. The lettuce really does bring together the best parts of iceberg and romaine—the crispness of the former with the sweet, leafy flavor of the romaine.

The leaves are long, and almost taco-shaped, so they work perfectly for wraps or sandwiches. (Ideal for the low-carber who can't eat bread.) The crisp leaf holds its shape really well even when stuffed with steak and avocado (like I did), and the flavor really is a cut above.

Though a bit overpriced, I would still recommend trying it out. I couldn’t help thinking that the smaller inside pieces would be great with dips or fillings as an hors d’oeuvres.

Meyer Lemon Marinated Flank Steak with Lemon Cilantro Dressing in Cosmopolitan ™ Lettuce Wraps
This recipe would work just as well as a normal salad, but I wanted to see just how much these Cosmopolitan ™ Lettuce wraps could hole. The answer is a lot. Please note that the flax seed in this recipe is completely optional--I just like to toss it in everything as it's an amazing source of fiber and also adds a lovely (and subtle) nutty crunch.

Ingredients
1/2 lb flank steak
1 bunch of cilantro with stems cut off
2 Meyer lemons, juiced
1/2 cup of olive oil
1/4 cup of pine nuts or almonds
3 tablespoons of ground flax seed (optional)
2 cloves garlic
course sea salt
black pepper
Cosmopolitan ™ Lettuce leaves (or other kind of lettuce)
1/2 large avocado
3 tablespoons homemade or packaged mayonnaise


1. In a food processor, puree the cilantro, garlic, olive oil, lemon juice, nuts, and flax seed. Season to taste with course salt and freshly ground pepper. The final mixture should resemble a loose pesto in texture, with a brighter (almost neon) shade of green.

2. Set aside about a third of the dressing. This will be used at the end to dress your salad so keep away from the raw meat. The rest of the dressing will be your marinade. Place the steak in a glass dish and pour the marinade over. Let marinate for at least 45 minutes, covered, in the refrigerator.

3. Broil the steak for approximately 5 minutes on each side, or to desired doneness. After removing from the oven, let sit for a few minutes (covered) so that the juices sink in. While waiting, mix the portion of dressing you originally set aside with the mayonnaise (or sour cream if you prefer).

4. When ready, slice the steak thinly against the grain (meaning perpendicular to the natural lines of the meat), and pile into your lettuce leaves. Top with a few cubes of avocado and drizzle on the dressing according to taste.

Enjoy!

*Please note that the opinions expressed in this post are entirely my own and that I am in no way affiliated with the makers, producers, or other evil geniuses behind Cosmopolitan ™ Lettuce. Nor do I believe is Cosmopolitan ™ Lettuce affiliated with the magazine of the same name. Or with the cocktail. Or that new resort they're opening in Vegas.

JK's Salmon and Avocado Salad and Why a "torte" is not the same thing as a "tart."

While we were growing up, my family regularly went out to dinner to one of a few favorite restaurants all located within ten minutes of our home. North Jersey being what it is, the majority of these were Italian and featured similar menus heavy with aromatic red sauces and wonderful stuffed, breaded, fried things.

I loved these places, with their bowls of crusty bread just perfect for mopping up sauce and the ever present sounds of Dean and Frank flowing in from the loudspeakers. Whenever my father would ask us where we wanted to go, I would invariably shout out the name of one of the Italian places, my mouth already drooling at the thought of a garlicky clam sauce or perhaps even my favorite--veal Milanese.

I didn't always get my way, however (the nerve!), and so we occasionally ended up going to my mother's favorite: Park & Orchard.

Located in an old renovated factory, Park & Orchard is a cavernous beast of a restaurant with black and white chess board floors and exposed pipes overhead. The place is always packed and the bar overflows with North Jersey-ites sipping cocktails or watching the game while waiting for a table. The wait for a table was usually long, but as regulars, we often were slipped in just a couple minutes after our arrival. The coolest thing about this place is that, despite the fact that it's located in East Rutherford, NJ (home to Giants Stadium and the kind of establishments that feature such shady [and grammatically questionable] lunch specials as: "Pasta, Boobs, Breadsticks--All You Can Eat!" or "Nude Soup!"), the restaurant has the same cool, urban feel as many of my favorite spots here in New York.

I love that they take pride in their ingredients. They serve only fresh, whole foods--no white sugar, bleached flours, food coloring, or preservatives of any kind, and even feature a Celiac menu for those who suffer from wheat or gluten allergies. All their food is prepared in stainless steel or cast iron pots and pans (no Teflon) and they only bake in glass or tin. The fresh-baked loaves of whole wheat bread they serve with dishes of organic olive oil are a far cry from those light-as-air rolls from the Italian joints, but just as good--if not better!

The funny thing is that, though I've accompanied my family there dozens of times over the past 15 years (and even a couple times on dates or with friends), I have only ever ordered the exact same meal. The only thing that has changed over the years is the beverage. When I was young it was a Knudson's Black Cherry Spritzer; around age 16 or 17 it became wine, served without questions and with my father's blessing.

This perfect meal which I have consumed on so many occasions is this: A mixed green salad served with the house Oriental Ginger dressing, followed by an entree called JK's Pasta: a spicy linguine dish tossed with chunks of salmon sauteed in olive oil, with garlic, tomatoes, herbs, crushed red pepper, and scallions. Dessert was a rich chocolate torte with a graham cracker crust served in a butterscotch puddle. It was heavenly and I always ordered it even if I felt like I couldn't swallow another bite. I occasionally accompanied this with a little sifter of Amaretto (I was kind of a boozy teen).

My only complaint, one which to the chagrin of my parents and annoyance of my brother I voiced on multiple occasions to the waiters and chef when they came by to ask if "everything is all right?" is that the dessert that they called a "torte," was in actuality a "tart." The difference of course being that a tart is a pie-like crust or shell filled with a prepared filling such as pastry cream or chocolate ganache (as was the case here). A "torte" is a really a variation of a cake, often made with thin dense layers made with ground nut meals and eggs, and alternated with layers of ganache or buttercream icing. As this was very obviously a ganache in a pie-like crust (therefore a tart), I was quite frustrated that the error was never acknowledged. I would usually go on about this for several minutes while I swirled my fork around my butterscotch puddle, only stopping when my brother (who openly finds me nerdy and insufferable) would finally have enough of my babbling about the Italian origins of the word "torte" and would shout at me: "Nanda! Shut up! No one cares!"*

It's actually been quite a while since I've had that meal, but I often try to recreate those flavors here at home. Tonight, while leaning against my open refrigerator door contemplating my dinner options, I remembered that I still had a rather large piece of grilled salmon left over from Saturday. Not really in the mood for a heavy pasta dish, I decided to create a salmon salad that uses the same ingredients in JK's Pasta (well, plus the addition of an avocado that absolutely had to be eaten today). The results were so good that I had to stop myself from eating it all straight from the pan so that I could plate and photograph it mediocrely for you.

As I write this today I realized that having been so fixated with the torte vs. tart debacle, I never really quite got around to asking just who JK is. I'd like to think that he'd be pleased with my salmon salad, though, and so I'm going to name it after him.

*Many years later, in culinary school, I shared this story with my chef in my Chocolate & Confections course and was relieved that he was just as horrified as I at such a blatant error in pastry-naming. It took me ten years and a trip across the Atlantic, but I finally found a sympathetic ear.

JK's Salmon and Avocado Salad
I had a good piece of leftover grilled salmon in the fridge when I came up with this recipe, but you're welcome to use whatever you have in your fridge or pantry. This could work just as well with smoked salmon fillets (not lox) or canned salmon or tuna (drained). You could even use chicken or tofu, if you're so inclined. The key is really in the combination of fresh flavors...

Ingredients (for one, multiply if serving more)
4 to 5 ounces of grilled salmon
2 garlic cloves, crushed
1/2 cup grape or cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 ripe avocado
3 tablespoons sour cream
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper or hot chili oil
1 handful chopped Italian parsley
3 tablespoons chopped scallions
1 teaspoon smoked Spanish paprika (optional)
Course sea salt
Crushed black pepper
Extra Virgin olive oil

1. Flake the salmon and drizzle with a 1-2 count* of olive oil. Toss with a pinch of sea salt and a dash of black pepper, then set aside.

2. Preheat a large skillet over low heat then add three counts of olive oil. Raise to medium-high and toss in the garlic cloves, shaking around in the pan and cooking until just golden.

3. When the garlic is ready, add the crushed red pepper and cook for another 15 seconds.

4. Add the seasoned salmon to the pan. Squeeze about half the lime juice in and add the tomatoes and scallions. Saute for one or two minutes, just enough to let all the flavors meld (as the fish should already be cooked).

5. Remove from heat and let cool for a few minutes. Transfer everything
into a large bowl and add the sour cream, blending until just combined. Add the
paprika if using, and test for seasoning. Adjust accordingly with sea salt and pepper.

6. Mix in the diced avocado cubes and your done! Serve on crackers or over
a bed of mixed greens with a few extra tomatoes and a wedge of lime on the side.


*A 1-2 count is literally that: Count while you drizzle the oil. So for two
counts, you count to two, for four counts, you count to four, etc. It's not
exact, nor should it be. Try not to rely too much on measurements and instead
work on getting comfortable with the ingredients, judging for yourself what
seems about right. Trust your instincts.