We’re so desirous by Christopher Nordquist, a blogger behind Domestic Daddy. The former high-powered profession is amatory his shift into a stay-at-home father, that comes by in his recipes for coq au vin and margarita pizza. They’re excellent, native dishes ideal for pity with a people we love.
On Monday, we learned about Nordquist’s globe-trotting childhood and his foodie-in-training daughter’s adore of stinky blue cheese, though we still had a few some-more questions for him. Below, Nordquist dishes on a glories of “humble parsley,” hating dill, and pouring olive oil on vanilla ice cream. (It’s surprisingly delicious.)
Warm buttered toast—with sourdough bread from San Francisco and well-bred butter from France.
Go-to kitchen utensil:
Most underappreciated ingredient, in your opinion:
Humble parsley! It’s everywhere as a garnish, of course, though people don’t use adequate of it to unequivocally conclude a uninformed and sharp-witted flavor. we infrequently even toss it into salads.
Oddest season combo that we love:
Vanilla ice cream with a inexhaustible flow of good olive oil and a shower of flaky salt. There are people (whose opinions we differently respect) who can hardly watch me eat this, though we adore it.
Kitchen “sin” for that we won’t apologize:
I’m flattering infrequent with death dates on mixture that will be cooked. (The nose knows.) And we never explanation yeast, though we doubt anyone cares about that.
The Zuni Café Cookbook by a late Judy Rodgers.
Culinary “eureka!” moment:
Traveling to India and realizing there was a whole universe of flavors we hadn’t known.
Splurgiest kitchen purchase:
Imported butters that are wrapped like Christmas presents and make we consider you’ve never tasted butter before. Worth every centime.
You’re about to punch a large one. What’s your final supper?
A Manhattan (rye not bourbon), Kumamoto oysters (with mignonette), Caesar salad (extra croutons done from chewy Acme bread), Zuni Café’s fry duck with bread salad (with a good Chateauneuf-du-Pape wine), apricot spicy with churned cream (unsweetened), and a crater of Peet’s coffee, black (Major Dickason’s Blend).
Proudest food moment:
When my 6 year-old daughter told me that we done a best pizza in a world.
Toughest plate you’ve mastered:
One of a simplest ones—roast chicken with crispy, mahogany-colored skin and super-moist meat.
Kitchen ability we wish to learn:
How to sauté properly. That is, make things burst in a vessel (and not out of it) with that jerking motion, that we can’t get right.
Best thing your relatives taught we about food:
Caramel or prohibited fudge:
Hamburger or prohibited dog:
Hamburger, though a doubt.
Cheese or pepperoni pizza:
Cheese. But not too much.
Ingredient that we usually can’t stand:
Dill. we know it’s a ideally important herb, though it hull all for me.
You can usually eat one form of cuisine for a rest of your life. What is it?
Italian. (I suspicion about a some-more surprising answer, though we was disturbed that someday someone would reason me to it.)
Dream vacation mark (for eating, of course):
The Amalfi coast.
Ingredient or apparatus that we always buy in bulk:
Oldest thing in your kitchen:
My partner David’s grandmother’s flour sifter.