SUBLIME FATS: SMOKED SALMON BUTTER

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, which inevitably reminds me of the big dinners my family used to have on that occasion when I was a little girl. Those were the 80s, and a staple appetizer on our table, as on many others in Italy, was crostini with butter and smoked salmon. This is an incredibly delicious combination that might sound completely outdated and a little trashy today, an embarrassing remnant of the world's blind reverence for French gourmet food. But I don't care if butter and smoked salmon are now regarded with the same contempt as carpaccio with arugula and shaved Parmigiano, cordon bleu, puff-pastry appetizers, and cream on pasta or chicken. I will defend these crostini because I could eat a million of them at any time, without apologies.

Is there any such thing as a smoked-salmon eating contest? I think I could win at one.

So, today I share with you my take on these infamous crostini. I believe this recipe will actually be my only (yet great!) contribution to mankind. Reader, behold, The Smoked Salmon Butter! Yes, the idea is to mix together butter, shredded smoked salmon, and dill. It is not entirely new, I admit, and you will find similar recipes online. However, my recipe asks for some whole-grain mustard, which, pardon the modesty, makes all the difference.

This smoked salmon butter is so delicious I have a hard time not eating all of it by myself in one sitting. The first time I served it was during a butter-themed party, and I was happy to present it as a huge brick of luscious fattiness surrounded by slices of pumpernickel bread (and if you want the brick, just double the ingredients in the recipe below). This year, my husband felt it was only appropriate to use fish molds to shape the butter. Both versions are scary enough to help you figure out who your friends really are.

SMOKED SALMON BUTTER

2 sticks of unsalted butter, softened
4 oz smoked salmon, shredded by hand
2 tsps dill
1 tbsp whole-grain Dijon mustard
salt and pepper if desired
crostini (sliced toasted bread)

• Mix all ingredients in a bowl. (You can use the paddle attachment in your electric mixer.)
• Line a mold with plastic wrap and, using a spatula, place the butter inside.
• Refrigerate for 1-2 hours.
• Take out of the mold and serve on crostini. 

Need more recipes for New Year's Eve? Please make Braised Lentils: Italians believe lentils will bring money in the new year, and Italy is the richest country in the world, right?

Q&A: BECOMING A PARENT

Q: Dead Chef, do you like children?
A: Of course I do! Well, I like mine, mostly. And a few others. But really, mostly mine, and even them only a few hours a day, and between the ages of 18 months and 2 years. And even that depends greatly on how much I slept and on my glucose level. But, my god, I love children!

Q: What is the ideal number of children to have?
A: If you have a boy, you should definitely have another, but only within 3 years from the first. You really need a substitute for those impromptu and unwanted wrestling sessions initiated by your first born. I just had my second, and I figure I'll be bruise-free in about 16 months.

Q: What is your advice for new parents?
A: The first years with a child can provide you with an excellent opportunity for smugness. Take it and enjoy it to the fullest. You should make sure you exude total self-satisfaction whenever you meet someone who is not at that moment in the company of a child. Your message is: "My life is incredibly hard and yet rewarding in ways you can never hope to understand." You should act this way mostly because this is your last chance in life to be smug. As soon as your children will be able to articulate properly their disappointment with every single aspect of your appearance, personality, and life choices, your smugness will be replaced by the terrifying and definite acknowledgement that your life has been totally futile and misspent.

After 2 years, this father is actually standing straight here.

Q: What is the best way to get back in shape after pregnancy?
A: You can only get back into shape if your child is in daycare or school. In any case, I highly recommend a physical therapist rather than conventional exercise. The truth is, you started an intensive exercise regime already in the early stages of parenting, and let me tell you: Parenting is the worst possible workout for the human body. You lift, jump, rock, sway, and bend over in positions where your spine and neck are unnaturally wrenched into monstrous coils of pain. Your muscles are called to perform abruptly and always work in complete disharmony. Your tendons have become tight and hard as celery stalks. You need medical intervention, now. Pilates can wait.

Q: What movies do you recommend to a pregnant woman?
A: Excellent question! Pregnancy is a beautiful, mysterious, and unsettling time where perceptions and feelings are heightened. I'd take fully advantage of the hormonal intensity to watch only the best and weirdest movies around and make your already weird dreams even weirder. Rosemary's Baby and Upstream Color to deal specifically with pregnancy fears, and then Akira Kurosawa's Ran, most movies with Jeanne Moreau, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and finally all of David Lynch if you're a brave one (I must admit I wasn't). I'd avoid all rom-coms and holiday movies: Those are movies to be watch ironically while on a plane trip; you don't want to be caught shedding precious hormonal tears for that crap.

Q: Do you think being a mother is the hardest job in the world?
A: No, I don't think so, but don't tell my husband. That's the line I used to stop doing house work.

Q: What have you learned from being a mother for almost three years?
A: I learned that it really takes a village. Specifically, a village located in a country where grandparents ask nothing more than to spend quality alone-time with their grandchildren.

Q: What's the best thing about having a child?
A: All that food they leave on the plate.

Q: What's the worst thing?
A: The food is often partially chewed.

A TRADITION IS MADE: BOMBE!

Nonna Rosalia, my paternal grandmother, was a great cook as most Italian grandmothers are. She was not, however, a traditional grandmother chained to the kitchen from dawn to dawn*. In fact, with her degree in Math obtained in Palermo in the Forties and her teaching job, she considered herself (and rightfully so) a modern, emancipated Italian woman. This also meant she liked to escape the dogmas of traditional Sicilian cooking and experiment with more modern recipes, mostly successfully. (Especially if I disregard her green-apple mousse that still counts as one of the most vile things I've ever ingested.) 

In the early 2000s, Nonna Rosalia acquired the recipe for Bombe, which are fried, savory doughnuts made with gnocchi dough and yeast and filled with mozzarella, prosciutto cotto (Italian ham), and mushroom. I was lucky enough to be there during the first preparation: Prepping the bombe's filling, waiting nervously as they rose under a kitchen towel, and tapping my foot and biting my lip with excited expectation as they finally rolled and puffed up in boiling oil. 

The bombe were a complete triumph: They were soft, not greasy, a perfect explosion of Italian comfort-food flavors. They forever hooked me, my sister, and our cousins from the very first bite. And thereafter we felt like bombe had been there for us all of our lives, fueling our physical and emotional growth, lovingly tying us to our family roots, reconnecting us to the best of our childhood, even though we were tasting them for the first time in our early twenties. Bombe became an instant family tradition, one that we begged Nonna Rosalia to bring back for birthdays and holidays, and one that now makes us immediately think of her now that she's no longer with us. 

Two months ago my second child was born, and my sister came to visit and help. She and I decided then to celebrate with a massive batch of bombe. They came out great, and it felt great to make them again. Here's the recipe.

BOMBE

1 packet active dry yeast
1 lb Russet potatoes
4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 tsp salt
3 eggs
1/2 lb ham, shredded
1/2 lb mozzarella, cubed
1/2 cup cooked mushroom
enough oil for deep frying

• Activate the yeast in 1/4 cup lukewarm water.
• Boil the potatoes in salted water for 30 min, or until the potatoes are easily pierced with a fork. Let them cool to a reasonable temperature and peel them.
• Press the potatoes through a ricer into a large bowl. If you don't own a potato ricer, I hear you can use a grater and then fluff the grated potatoes with a fork.
• Add the flour, salt, yeast, and eggs until the dough is manageable and soft and comes together, but is still a little sticky. If you've ever made gnocchi, that's what it should feel like.
• Roll the dough into a 3-inches wide log, then cut 1-inch wide discs and arrange them on a floured surface.
• Place a disc in the palm of your hand and place a little ham and mozzarella, or mushroom and mozzarella (about a tablespoon) in the center. Pinch the edges together to close the filling inside.
• Continue stuffing the bombe, arranging them an inch from each other.
• Cover the bombe with a floured kitchen towel, and let them rest for an hour or until they have doubled in size.
• Fry the bombe in at least 3 or 4 inches of oil and serve them warm.

*Pardon the stereotype. I base it only on my other relatives from Sicily, whose reason to exist seems to produce unlimited quantities of culinary triumphs.