Imagine the first European settlers who had stepped off the boat onto the North American continent, rank and wan, afflicted with scurvy and pox, bereft of local knowledge. That tribe — at no small expense to the indigenous population — paved the way for other immigrant tribes to follow. This, along with the scrappy rebellion of revolutionaries and a radical idea to establish a Constitution, is how the new nation was built. My tribe (in as much as I can claim one) contributed little to the melting pot. I have been told that my forbears helped settle the town of Hingham, in the South Shore area of Greater Boston. Hingham once lay near the territorial border between the Wampanoag and the Massachusett tribes. Not so much these days.
Somewhere between the smoking of the peace pipe and the flying of the first ballistics, a lot of agricultural knowledge changed hands. The natives taught the colonists how to work with maize, the predecessor of sweet corn. Dried corncobs were used as toilet paper, and the art of nixtamalization made corn meal readily available all seasons of the year. Local fish, deer, squashes and beans were all foods that, paired with native know-how, became dietary staples of the first immigrants.
If Boston deserves its moniker “The Hub,” and if America still represents the land of opportunity, then we might safely assert that New England was built to accommodate the ideas and customs of outsiders. The first colonists learned a great deal from the natives about survival in what was often a hostile environment. The title of my book, Black Trumpet: A Chef’s Journey through Eight New England Seasons, references the characteristic of New England food that I continue to come back to year after year: so many distinct seasons. And the seasons when growing has traditionally been difficult – if not impossible – are important to this regional identity, because they mandate that New Englanders be creative with preservation and fermentation. The panoply of pickles, preserves, conserves, krauts and salted fish and meats in our history bear the clear watermark of our ancestors’ tenacity in the face of hardship.
As a chef who embraces every aspect of this melting pot, I can argue with some confidence that modern New England cuisine is a beautiful hodgepodge that transcends chowder, lobster rolls and bean suppers. My culinary friends and neighbors represent countless regions of the world, and the excitement their collective diaspora has infused in our diet has only made our lives healthier and more interesting.
At the two restaurants I co-own with my wife, Denise, we celebrate cultural and biological diversity while simultaneously embracing regional ingredients and dishes. The argument for biodiversity asserts that our global and regional food supplies are infinitely stronger when we have many varieties of each ingredient to choose from. I would make the same argument for cultural diversity. E pluribus unum, in other words.
When I began writing about food in the early 1990s, my first restaurant review was of Casablanca in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Owner Sari Abul-Jubein had recently hired now-legendary chef Ana Sortun to head up the kitchen, and the Mediterranean fare with a nod toward the cuisine of the Middle East presaged Sortun’s later culinary prowess at her own place, Oleana, on the other side of town. As a regular at Casablanca, I felt comfortable talking about Sortun’s menu, even if I knew much less then than I do today about the ingredients and recipes she worked with. I gave Casablanca a glowing review and still harbor fond memories of dining there.
For my part, after extensive traveling and cooking in a Spanish tapas bar, a Cajun restaurant in central Mexico, and a country French bistro, I have enjoyed every infusion of flavor the cuisines of the world have presented. Many times I have found myself obsessing about a dish I had not previously heard of. This happens so often, you might expect me to be less agog at each new discovery, but the converse is true because I am a chef and am prone to thinking I know everything about food. The truth is, there is a boundless world of food out there and I will always be learning.
Take for example Coco de Trampo. This is a vegan pizza from the Balearic Islands off Spain. I have never eaten it or been to that part of Spain, but at a recent wine dinner, I made a dish that contained piperade, a concoction of peppers, onions, tomatoes and garlic from the Basque region of Spain. One of my guests, an Australian gentleman currently living in Mallorca, insisted that the piperade was a dead ringer for the “sauce” on his favorite rendition of Coco de Trampo. Naturally, I now feel compelled to travel to Mallorca, but barring that, I can at least enjoy its regional specialty by trying to perfect the recipe in my restaurants or at home.
Some of my favorite recipes come from Latin America, North Africa and the Levant. But I hold deep appreciation for the cuisines of southeast Asia, Brazil and Eastern Europe as well. Black Trumpet has featured such dishes as Chelo Rice from Georgia and Azerbaijan; Market Kefta, inspired by North African street food; Quail Adobado with a Caribbean inflection; and everyone’s perennial favorite, Spanish paella; to name just a few.
The recipes below rely primarily on New England ingredients, yet they cover a wide swath of the globe. I coined the term Mexiterranean to describe the flavors in the meatball dish, and I have served my take on shakshuka for Israeli immigrants who swooned over the nostalgic flavors. Beef and Beet Borscht is my take on a classic, soul-warming eastern European soup that I first encountered in Greenwich Village as a young man in the wee hours of the morning.
New Englanders have it pretty good. Our seasonal changes are dramatic, keeping us on our toes to the tune of Nature’s great variations. The key is to let ourselves revel in these changes, even as technology wants us to alter them for our convenience. Cooking is one of our greatest vehicles for adaptation, expression and communication. At the dinner table, all people — and all ideas — are welcome.
These recipes are adapted from Evan Mallett’s “Black Trumpet: A Chef’s Journey Through Eight New England Seasons” (Chelsea Green Publishing, 2016) and are reprinted with permission from the publisher.
Shakshuka with Duck Eggs and Herbed Semolina Dumplings
I made this dish at a rare Black Trumpet brunch for the regional governors of Slow Food. I had made it before and not called it Shakshuka, but someone who apparently knew better pointed out that it was the best Shakshuka they’d had, so I determined I would call it that from then on. No worries if you can’t find duck eggs; large local chicken eggs are also delicious in this recipe.
Ingredients
Herbed Semolina Dumplings
- •1 large russet potato
- •10 ml (2 teaspoons) salt
- •285 grams (1¾ cups) semolina flour
- •5 ml (1 teaspoon) black pepper
- •25 grams (¼ cup) grated Parmesan cheese
- •2 egg yolks (36 grams)
- •2 whole eggs (100 grams liquid egg)
- •30 ml (2 tablespoons) chopped Italian parsley
- •30 ml (2 tablespoons) chopped fresh tarragon
- •5 chopped chives
For the Shakshuka
- •60 ml (¼ cup) olive oil
- •1 red onion, medium dice
- •2 red bell peppers, medium dice
- •2 green bell peppers, medium dice
- •4 serrano peppers, small dice
- •8 cloves garlic, minced
- •120 ml (½ cup) red wine
- •Juice of 1 orange
- •115 grams (½ cup) harissa
- •30 ml (2 tablespoons) brown sugar
- •1.4 liter (1½ quarts) tomato puree
- •235 ml (1 cup) vegetable stock
- •10 Herbed Semolina Dumplings
- •5 duck eggs (can substitute any other type of egg)
Preparation
For the herbed semolina dumplings: Preheat the oven to 200°C (400°F). Pierce the potato with a fork over its surface, place on a baking sheet, and bake 1 hour. Let the potato cool slightly, cut in half, and squeeze through a ricer into a large mixing bowl.
Bring the 945 ml (4 cups) water and the salt to a boil in a 3- to 4-liter (3 to 4 quart) pot over high heat. Pour the semolina into the pot slowly and steadily, whisking constantly. Reduce the heat to low and continue whisking for 2 minutes. Off the flame, using a rubber spatula, add the black pepper, cheese, and mashed potato, folding to combine. Add the yolks and whole eggs one at a time, combining each addition until fully incorporated before adding the next. Fold in the herbs.
Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil over high heat. In batches, drop 15 ml (1 tablespoon)-sized balls of the dough (shaped into quenelles, if desired) into the boiling water, being careful not to crowd the pot. Cook for 3 minutes, remove with a slotted spoon, and repeat with the remaining dough. These dumplings may be made in advance and held in the refrigerator for up to a day.
For the shakshuka: Preheat the oven to 200°C (400°F). Heat the olive oil in a wide, high-sided pan over medium heat. Add the onion and peppers and cook, stirring, until slightly softened, about 3 minutes. Add the garlic and cook, stirring, 1 minute more. Add the wine and boil 2 to 3 minutes, until the alcohol scent wears off. Add the orange juice, harissa, and brown sugar; stir to combine. Add the tomato puree and stock, stir, and simmer 5 minutes.
Transfer the simmering liquid to a terra-cotta baking dish (at home, I use a 40 cm [16-inch] round Spanish cazuela, but any large casserole dish will do nicely). Add the dumplings carefully, making sure they don’t sink down into the tomato liquid but also leaving room for the eggs (you want them to cook in the liquid, not on the dumplings). Crack the duck eggs into the open spaces between dumplings, nestling them on top of the tomato liquid.
Slide the pan into the oven and bake for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the egg whites are set.
Mexiterranean Meatballs
Ingredients
- •225 grams (½ pound) 70% lean pork (up to 85% lean will work)
- •680 grams (1½ pounds) ground beef
- •30 ml (2 tablespoons) minced garlic
- •30 ml (2 tablespoons) finely chopped fresh parsley
- •15 ml (1 tablespoon) finely chopped fresh mint
- •15 ml (1 tablespoon) finely chopped fresh cilantro
- •2 pinches dried Mexican oregano (or dried Italian oregano)
- •Half a Spanish onion, very finely chopped
- •7.5 ml (½ tablespoon) chili powder
- •5 ml (1 teaspoon) cumin seed, toasted and ground in a spice grinder
- •15 ml (1 tablespoon) kosher salt
- •2.5 ml (½ teaspoon) ground black pepper
- •2 large eggs (100 grams liquid egg)
- •115 grams (1 cup) bread crumbs
Preparation
Place all the ingredients in a large bowl and, using your hands, knead the mixture to fully incorporate the eggs and bread crumbs and to emulsify the fat. Refrigerate the mixture.
When you’re ready to make the meatballs, remove the mixture from the refrigerator and mold into 28-gram (1 ounce) balls. Return to the refrigerator to chill for about 30 minutes before cooking. The formed meatballs can remain refrigerated in this state for a day or two if necessary.
To cook the meatballs, place a small frying pan over medium heat. When the pan starts smoking, brown the meatballs in batches, rolling them around so they don’t stick to the pan. If you’re serving the meatballs on their own, transfer them to a roasting pan and bake at 200°C (400°F) for 6 minutes, or until they are just cooked through. If you wish, you may pour off the fat, leaving the meatballs in the pan, and add yogurt or sauce (I use poblano-yogurt sauce) to the hot pan. Stir with the meatballs and serve right away.
Braised Beef Short Rib
Short ribs have appeared on half a dozen or so Black Trumpet menus. The marbled succulence of this cut can be prepared a few different ways — even as a seared steak — but I go back to braising it every time. Like shank, short rib melts in the mouth when braised, the caramelly reduction of its braising liquid clinging to the toasted crust of the reheated portion. Meatwise, this is the ultimate midwinter comfort food.
Ingredients
- •2.3 kg (5 pounds) beef short rib, bone-in
- •15 ml (1 tablespoon) salt
- •10 ml (2 teaspoons) ground black pepper
- •30 ml (2 tablespoons) olive oil
- •150 grams (⅔ cup) medium-diced onion
- •150 grams (⅔ cup) medium-diced peeled carrot
- •150 grams (⅔ cup) medium-diced celery
- •8 cloves garlic
- •1 orange, halved and juiced, halves reserved
- •15 ml (1 tablespoon) chili powder
- •2.5 ml (½ teaspoon) cayenne pepper
- •120 ml (½ cup) dark beer
- •235 ml (1 cup) molasses
- •120 ml (½ cup) balsamic vinegar
- •945 ml (4 cups) veal stock (you can substitute beef stock or any other stock if necessary)
- •4 cups (945 ml) water
- •28 grams (2 tablespoons) butter, for finishing (optional)
Preparation
Preheat the oven to 150°C (300°F).
Season the short rib meat generously on both sides with salt and pepper. Place a large, deep, heavy-bottomed pan over high heat. Add the olive oil and, when it begins to smoke, place the short rib in the pan in a single layer. Sear, undisturbed, for 1½ to 2 minutes, until golden brown and crusty. Flip and repeat on the other side. Remove the short rib to a large roasting pan and place the pan back on the stove, over medium heat. Add the next twelve ingredients to the pot, including the juiced orange halves, stirring to combine. Bring the liquid to a boil and pour over the short rib. Cover the roasting pan with foil and braise in the oven for 3 to 3½ hours, checking the progress after 2½ hours. The ribs should be fork-tender. Remove from the oven and let cool slightly in the roasting pan. When it’s cool enough to handle, transfer the meat to a cutting board and carefully remove the bones, cartilage, and fat membrane. Portion into ten pieces.
Meanwhile, strain the braising liquid into a saucepan, let it settle for a few minutes, skim the fat from the top with a ladle, and reduce over medium-high heat until the liquid coats the back of a spoon. Add the butter (if desired), stir to combine, and spoon over the short rib before serving.
Beef and Beet Borscht with Nigella and Preserved Lemon Crème Fraîche
Ingredients
For the Preserved Lemon Crème Fraîche
- •235 ml (1 cup) crème fraîche
- •1 preserved lemon, finely minced
- •Pinch salt
For the borscht
- •30 ml (2 tablespoons) olive oil
- •680 grams (1½ pounds) red beets (about 3 large), scrubbed and quartered
- •225 grams (½ pound) celery root, peeled, rough-chopped
- •3 carrots, rough-chopped
- •¼ red cabbage, rough-chopped
- •2 red onions, rough-chopped
- •12 cloves garlic, peeled
- •20 ml (1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon) salt
- •2.5 ml (½ teaspoon) black pepper
- •235 ml (1 cup) tomato puree
- •235 ml (1 cup) red wine
- •60 ml (¼ cup) red wine vinegar
- •15 ml (1 tablespoon) cumin seed, toasted
- •5 ml (1 teaspoon) nigella seed, toasted
- •5 ml (1 teaspoon) fennel seed, toasted
- •2.5 ml (½ teaspoon) ground cinnamon
- •Pinch cayenne pepper
- •1.9 liter (½ gallon) beef stock, plus more for thinning
To garnish, per bowl
- •Leftover Braised Beef Short Rib, shredded and crisped in a pan with a pat of butter
- •15 ml (1 tablespoon) Preserved Lemon Crème Fraîche (recipe follows)
- •Pinch nigella seed
- •1 sprig dill
Preparation
To make the Preserved Lemon Creme Fraîche: Fold everything together in a small bowl. Cover and refrigerate until needed.
For the borscht: In a large heavy-bottomed pot, combine the olive oil with the next eight ingredients. Cook 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the tomato puree and simmer 2 minutes. Add the red wine, vinegar, and spices; stir to combine.
Add the stock, sugar, and 475 ml (2 cups) water, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer, cover, and cook for about 1¼ hours, or until the beets are fork-tender.
Let the soup cool slightly, then puree it in batches in a blender until smooth, adding more stock as necessary to reach your desired thickness. Serve immediately garnished with crispy short rib, crème fraîche, dill, and nigella seed, or let it cool to room temperature, refrigerate, and reheat over very low heat before serving.