Fathers don’t always want ties for Father’s Day. They don’t always want breakfast in bed. Dads don’t always want power tools for their birthday (unless of course they are cooking geeks and want a cold smoker — ahem, Jack, you get the message there, buddy. Notice the link.).

It is true, however, that dads like a good beer. OK, even that isn’t always true. But it is true of this father on his second Father’s Day. That is why I’ve decided to make a pair of recommendations to all you folks looking for something for dear old Dad.

So, a couple of years ago, Garret Oliver — brewmaster of Brooklyn Brewery, beer luminary, and Slow Food guru — had a moment of mutual admiration with Hans-Peter Drexler, brewmaster of G. Schneider & Son of Germany. The American loved the wheatbeers of the German. The German loved the hoppy beers of the American. And in a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup moment of brilliance, they decided to combine efforts.  Their joint venture became these two bottles of beer.

While using essentially the same recipe, they manufactured two distinct beers. Brooklyner-Schneider is brewed here in the States using American hops and Schnieder’s yeast; the Schnieder-Brooklyner is brewed in Germany using local hops and Brooklyn’s yeast. The result is some of the most delicous beer I’ve had. Both are snappy, with a myriad of flavors like banana, but with high acidity. These are perfect beers for lighter summer fare or even richer barbeque food. They are also spectacular for sitting and drinking on the back porch after the kids have left the house or gone to bed.

Either beer would make an excellent gift for a Dad. I tend to favor the Brooklyner, the wife seems to favor the Schneider. So, have fun and pour both to decide for yourself. This is the second year of this collaboration, and the beers are available only in limited quantities — so they may be difficult to find. Try your local beermonger.

Finally, in the last food post, I mentioned a pairing for the salad with some great craft beers. I also felt a little self conscious because I gave such light beers my first nod. So I feel the need to prove my manliness and my growing understanding of beer. Yes, real men only drink dark, monster hopped IPAs and Budweiser. Well, OK, I don’t drink like that. But I’m a man, dammit! I’ve a son to prove it to!

As a result of this need to prove my manlihood, I’ll occasionally make suggestions for pairings of beer and food. I’ll also drop a post now and then about something exceptional I’m drinking. We aren’t going to become a beer blog; there are better and smarter guys doing that sort of writing. Instead, we like to think of ourselves as being about the food and the joyous event of sharing time with people. I hope you enjoy this new twist. Also, if you’ve got insights and suggestions on things that you are drinking, we’d love to incorporate them.

So, if you don’t have a chance to sit down and pour your Dad a beer, and/or sit down and share a meal with him, I hope you call him on Sunday.

And it’s over. There were tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears of bitterness. And finally, a winner.

But first, the cooking and the parade of celebrity chefs come to get their grub on. Perhaps unfairly, three of them actually had to work for their suppers. Yes, as our finalists stood before the requisite folding tables heaped with food, they were confronted with three big name chefs who would become their sous: Le Bernadin’s (dreamy) Eric Ripert, Blue Hill’s Dan Barber and the Spotted Pig’s April Bloomfield.

The final three could choose their sous chefs and the corresponding ingredients that came with them — but it seemed a little more like a popularity contest: the arguably biggest name chef (Ripert) went first to Stephanie, followed by Dan Barber to Richard and April Bloomfield to Lisa. Now, armed with ingredients and high-wattage talent, the three finalists had to craft a four-course “meal of a lifetime” to see who would be the next Top Chef.

Perhaps most surprising? Lisa and April actually hit it off. Indeed, working harmoniously (for once), Lisa crafted a menu that drew on her Asian training. The first course (from what we remember) was spicy shrimp, the second was a coconut soup and dumpling, the third course was beef wagyu and her requisite dessert was some sort of black rice concoction that intrigued the judges.

Stephanie (awesomely) took Eric Ripert to task on his fish filleting skills, while also coming up with a menu that featured her interest in simple, but varied, flavors. Her first course was a soup with a “perfectly cooked” snapper, her second course was a quail breast over lobster ravioli and her third course was an unorthodox combination of lamb with mushrooms, blackberries, tampanade and braised pistachios. Her final course was a ho-hum ricotta pound cake with bananas.

Richard, looking pretty panicked the whole time, didn’t get much screen time with his sous chef and seemed to keep his menu in flux until late in the game. In the end, he produced a menu that was, apparently, “overthought” and under-executed. (But he did wow Ripert with his liquid nitrogen antics.) His first course was a simple scallop with fruit, his second course was a play on “which came first” featuring a chicken egg, fois gras and guinea hen, his third course was a not-too-crispy pork belly with pickled radishes and his dessert course was a cheeky bacon ice cream with banana scallop.

Cut to shots of food-world glitterati stuffing their faces.

(Aside to the reader: Are you finding this recap lacking snap? Us too. We’re struggling to find anything sort of funny about this episode. Couldn’t somebody have choked on a clam shell or something? We’re dying here.)

Perhaps the only drama of the night came when the judges continually praised Lisa’s meal. Shock. Horror. Could the much reviled Lisa actually win this thing? Indeed, throughout the judging, Stephanie and Richard looked like they might vomit from nerves… while Lisa, who usually looks like she wants to take an axe to the judges, actually looked kind of friendly. Then favorite Richard sputters out an “I choked” when asked how he thinks he did. What is happening, Top Chef?

At last, the judges relieved the tension wrought during the last ten minutes of the show… Yes, a woman is Top Chef — but it is not, in fact, Lisa. Stephanie, you go girl. The all new Top Chef, now featuring girl power. Congrats!

And now Q&A with Husband and Wife:

Q: What celebrity chef would you choose to be your sous-chef?
Husband: Gordon Ramsey might throw a knife at me. Thomas Keller would require me to sit in the corner and practice until I got it perfect. And Emeril Legasse most likely would douse everything I made in his essence or parsley. So, I want someone like Charlie Trotter. He’s frighteningly intense, and he used to be a former gymnast so he can work the tight corners in the kitchen. But he looks like a little guy, so I might be able to take him down when he wasn’t looking if he got too out of hand. Otherwise, I might need Eric Ripert or Daniel Boulud. At least, they look like they might have a good time working.

W: I suppose it would have to be Eric Ripert (only because my husband doesn’t yet qualify as a celebrity, of course). Not only is he, ahem, pretty good looking — which you should be if you possibly can — but he can cook. Which is important … since I pretty much can’t. Plus, he has “le sexy” French accent, which might take some of the sting out of it when he tells me “You le suck at le cooking.”

Q: Was requiring dessert fair?

H: No. I know they’ve done more to emphasize the dessert skills this season. But none of these folks are pastry people. The desserts they made were not impressive desserts. If you go to fine dining and see refined desserts, they are little pieces of edible art these days. All three of them made variations on warm, comforting dishes. While there might be some Top Chef types who could hold their own with dessert, it shouldn’t be a required skill. On its best days, it would be like lining up three sports cars next to a nice looking sedan.

W: Yes. If I were a judge, I’d want to eat dessert — and those contestants have to do what I say! Plus, if you’ve watched the show and have any sort of game plan, you’d know that making dessert is likely to be required. Hello? Practice, practice, practice. I’ll even eat your failures.

Q: The Zagat guide is known for its three criteria and 30-point scale. So in honor of Tim Zagat’s presence at the final dinner, what would you give this season of Top Chef?
H: 19 for story. There were times I was a bit bored this year. While I appreciate them appearing to be more serious about the food, it would have been nice to have at least one attempted assault with shaving sheers to make the blog entries funnier. 20 for contestant demeanor. We’ve come to accept that odd people want to work in kitchens and odder people want to be on Top Chef. Unfortunately, Lisa of the bad attitude was the worst we got. And compared to Flavor of Love, these people seem almost normal. Finally, 29 for product placement. They were so close to a perfect score. If they had just mentioned Toyota one more time… perhaps one stuck in a Glad garbage bag stuck in the bottom of the harbor in San Juan.

W: What this show needs a Christian from Project Runway. That kid had talent and personality. Plus, he had hair that would shame these Top Chef contestants’ meek little faux hawks. So I have to give Top Chef a 15 for personality and hair. Pretty mediocre, Top Chef. If I was rating food — a la Zagat — I’d have to give Top Chef a 20: It all looks really yummy, but so far I have yet to taste anything but the glass on my TV set. And finally, I have to give Top Chef a 30 out of 30 for girl power. It’s about time a chick won. Go Stephanie!!

What is your score for this year’s Top Chef? And did you also think Stephanie might throw up during judges table?

It’s hot here. Brutally hot. The kind of hot where the scorching seat of your car can inflict third-degree burns and the sidewalk can literally cook eggs. It’s too hot to venture outside. It’s too hot to move. It’s almost — dare I say it — too hot to eat.

Wait. It’s never too hot to eat.

Of course, at times like these you do have to be very discerning about what you eat. That’s why my husband has cooked up — all caps, here - a REFRESHING salad that reminds the eater that no, it won’t always be 100 degrees outside, it will get better… and why don’t you go to the pool or something.

Yes, his rhubarb-grapefruit salad does speak that eloquently to me. It is light and (it bears repeating) refreshing, with a delightful sweetness from the cooling grapefruit and crunchy rhubarb and a wonderful twang from the zesty vinagrette. Plus, that beautiful heap of greens hides shredded mint to further cool your taste buds… and the whole thing is just plain gorgeous.

Sure, it’s hot outside — but at least the salad I’m eating is cool.

And now the husband’s take…

Well, the wife is right about the heat.

When I got in my car today, I saw something I didn’t think was even possible. I looked down at the dashboard where it displays the temperature and saw three numbers: a 1 and a 0 and another 0. That’s right: One hundred degrees here in the US capitol.

It was the empirical evidence of what the last four days have been — HOT. A stifling hot. The kind that, unless you have been trained in Arizona for several years, you are unlikely to survive if you go outside. The kind that makes you sit in your air conditioned house and not want to move for fear that any slight twitch of friction might cause the trees outside your window to ignite.

But even with triple-digit heat, you still get hungry. The solution? Cold recipes. Something refreshing to keep the minions happy. This salad is all about being cool. While there is a stove component, you can do even those parts over a grill. Or you can bear 10 minutes of high heat.

Now to the brass tax on this recipe — there are a lot of little things going on. First, you have the poached rhubarb. It is cooked lightly in a sweet syrup of sugar and grenadine. Second, the grapefruit. It becomes the backbone of the salad through the tartness of its flesh, and its acidity in making a vinaigrette. Third, the greens. They are a combination of spring greens and herbs to give brightness. Fourth, syrups. Simple syrup is used to keep the grapefruit from becoming too tart, and a ginger syrup adds a bit of zing. Finally, there is a little bit of pecan to give you that deeper flavor and savory sensation that would traditionally be associated with a cheese (which has been omitted since dairy and 100 degree temperatures don’t mix).

Finally, I want to suggest a pair of perfect drinks for this. When we came back, my wife mentioned my growing love affair with beer. And the past few days, I’ve had reason to enjoy the pleasures of beer. So my suggestions to pair with this are two fruit-influenced beers. First is Abita’s strawberry harvest lager. Enough subtle strawberry to match with the grapefruit and rhubarb that you get a nice fruit flavor. Second is Unibroque’s Ephémère. This beer is fermented with apple juice and then flavored with classic orange peel, coriander and allowed to develop slightly bready character by being bottled with its yeast. Both these beers are delicious and dry (meaning not sweet…).

By the way, let’s not go into the fact I chose such light, delicate beers as my first recommendations. It’s hot enough without my manhood being questioned… just wait until the red meats and I’ll show you!

Poached Rhubarb & Grapefruit Herb Salad

Yield: 2 servings
Ingredients:
3 cups water
2 cups sugar
2-inch piece of ginger (peeled & chopped)
1 large ruby red grape fruit
1 cup spring greens
1/2 medium head frisee lettuce
12 leaves mint (chiffonade/thin ribbons)
20 leaves flat leaf parsley
2 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup pecan (toasted/crushed)
rhubarb batons (see recipe below)
salt
pepper

Directions:
1. Prepare the rhubarb according to recipe below.

2. Prepare the syrup. In a medium-size sauce pan, combine the sugar and water over high heat. Once the sugar has melted completely, pour half out and set aside. Return the other half to the heat and add the chopped ginger. Bring the sugar water to a boil until it starts to form tight bubbles and thicken into a syrup. You are looking for something the consistency of maple syrup. Remove from heat, let cool. Once cool, strain the ginger out, and cover or place syrup in a bottle. The ginger syrup should keep refrigerated nearly indefinitely. Both this and the rhubarb can be done a day in advance easily.

3. Supreme the grapefruit. Using a sharp knife, slice the top and bottom of the grapefruit off just until you reach the flesh of the fruit. Slicing along the shape of the fruit remove the pith and skin of the fruit. This should leave you with just the juicy flesh. Working over a bowl, cut along both sides of each membrane, removing the grapefruit segments. Allow the juices to collect in the bowl and place the segments in the unflavored sugar syrup you set aside earlier. Once all the segments are removed, squeeze the remaining fruit over the bowl to extract the last of the juice.

4. Make the vinaigrette. Whisk together the reserved grapefruit juice with two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil. And salt and pepper to taste.

5. Wash and dry all the herbs and lettuce. Toss together. Then toss gently in a little of the grapefruit vinaigrette. Place on a plate. Make sure you have a decent amount of frisee, this is what will give your lettuce height. Layer with some grapefruit segments, rhubarb batons, pecans, and then gently drizzle the ginger syrup lightly over the salad.

Rhubarb Batons

Ingredients:
2 stalks rhubarb
500 ml water
100 ml grenadine
200 g white sugar

Note: This is based on a recipe by Heston Blumenthal. You can find it printed in the Times here. Furthermore, this recipe makes more rhubarb than is needed for this recipe. However, I found them a delicious sweet/tart snack, so I didn’t make any alterations to the amounts in this recipe.

Directions:
1. Clean the rhubarb and cut stalks into 2-inch segments. Make sure you discard any leaves of the rhubarb. They are poisonous and can give you a nasty stomachache.

2. In a medium-size saucepan, add the water, sugar and grenadine. Bring the water to 65C/150F. Add the rhubarb, shut off heat, and let sit for 15 min.

3. Pour rhubarb and liquid into container and refrigerate for several hours.

4. Once cool — and when you are ready to make the salad –slice the rhubarb into thin strips along the length, creating planks of rhubarb, then cut the planks lengthwise again to create batons. (Note: A sharp knife is your friend even though these will be soft.)

I think we can all agree that food resembling baby food is generally unappetizing. Take, for example, jarred mashed peas. Greenish gray, strained yet lumpy, smelling vegetal and yet not fresh… baby food peas are, well… gross.

That is why this recipe is such a conundrum.

Yes: The fresh, vibrant, and delicious mixture atop that golden, crunchy crostini is, in fact, mashed peas. But this is no baby food (although our baby did devour it).

It is a delightful romp through an English garden in spring. It is a refreshing taste of green with a hint of mint that draws your mouth into a smile. It is all other kinds of food haiku that I can’t quite put into words.

Those meddlesome peas turn out to be absolutely delicious when shelled and mashed fresh out of their pods. Then my husband enhances them even further by adding a kick of a mint and a hint of lemon. Next, he adds an amazing crunch by spreading them over a piece of golden french bread, drizzled with a little extra virgin olive oil. And finally, he make the whole thing dazzling by adding the peppery bite — and visual flair — of a watercress salad.

It’s true: I’ll never look at baby food the same way again.

And now, the husband’s take…

I had the pleasure to be in Chicago a few weeks ago. The negative was that I was alone — no Jack and no wife. The positive was that I was in Chicago — and I was hungry. So, I had to eat. As a result, I had the good fortune to escape one afternoon to Avec in the West Loop.

I had some inspiring food while I was there. Avec’s food focuses on the Mediterranean regions of France, Spain and Italy. Most of the menu is designed to be shared communally, with small and big plates — all of it served in a hip little wood box of a room. Visually, it reminded me a lot of New York’s Momofoku, complete with its three-man kitchen serving at the bar.

Now, we don’t do restaurant reviews here… so the question is: Why am I going on about this place? Well, I like to give credit. This dish was inspired by my meal at Avec.

I wanted something simple and light to go with a heavy and spicy dish I’d ordered. The waiter insisted that I try Avec’s pea crostini. Now, I’m a new father. I’ve served my son a good amount of pea purée in recent months and I’ve had some exposure to mashed peas from a container. And let’s just say… I wish I was a better father and had spent more time preparing homemade vegetables for my son. So, I was hesitant to go along with the waiter’s suggestion.

But I’m glad I did.

The recipe here is a quick one. Once the water is boiling, this dish can be on the table in 15 minutes. You can even boil the peas in advance and refrigerate them for a couple days. Just don’t blend them before you’re ready; even with the lemon juice’s acidity, pureed peas will turn an unappetizing brown by the next morning.

The only slightly unusual ingredient here is ricotta salata. This cheese is made from the same curd of ricotta, but it is pressed and dried. It has a relatively neutral flavor, is shockingly white and has a texture similar to feta, but without the gamey quality of sheep or goat’s cheese. I can find ricotta salata at high-end grocers like Whole Foods or at independent cheese mongers. In the end, the cheese adds very little in flavor because the mint, lemon and peas dominate. But its shocking white was a great aesthetic choice, so I used it. I think it makes very little difference; so, substitute away!

Click here for recipe.

Pea & Mint Crostini

Ingredients:
1 cup shelled peas
2 radishes
1 bunch watercress
1 lemon (zest & juice)
5 medium leaves of mint
Ricotta salata
Baguette
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt
Pepper

Directions:
1. Salt water until it tastes of sea water. Bring to a boil over high heat. Add the peas and cook for 6 minutes. The peas should be soft in the mouth — overcooking is not a negative. Strain the peas and shock in an ice bath to stop cooking.

2. Slice the bread into thin discs, brush lightly with olive oil, lightly salt, and toast.

3. Combine the lemon juice, zest, peas and mint and then blitz with stick blender. The texture should be paste-like, similar to baby food. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

4. Spread the puree on toast, then garnish with leaves of watercress, slices of radish and grated ricotta salata.

And then there were three. And what a three! But wait, we’re getting ahead of ourselves…

After a few months break, our four intrepid contestants reunited in sunny Puerto Rico for the penultimate episode of Top Chef. Little had changed, except Lisa had also joined the ranks of “Top Chef contestants sporting spiky hair” (whose membership continues, disturbingly, to swell). Even our infant son has gotten in on the act: You can see him sporting “the Blais” (au naturel) below.

But we digress. The Quick Fire called on the contestants to take on a Puerto Rican favorite, frituras (aka fritters) and use the ubiquitous plantain in their dishes as well. Richard stumbled on slimy raw bananas in his salsa, as did Antonia in her plantain jam. Stephanie, looking relaxed and confident, and Lisa, looking smug and prickly, rose to the top with their superior tostones (fried green plantains). Ultimately, Stephanie took top prize and won the honor of assigning sous chefs for the elimination challenge.

What is astonishing, however, is that anyone could cook with guest judge Wilo Benet staring them down. Yes, Wilo is a frightening Tom Colicchio doppelganger without a soul (patch). Some may criticize: “What? Do all bald, pale, portly, middle-aged, white male chefs look alike to you?” And we answer: “Um, yes. They look like freakin’ twins.” Top Chef producers wisely kept Gail and Padma sandwiched in between the two Mario brothers, but to little avail. We viewers were continually confused and disoriented by the surplus of bald, white, male judges on the panel.

Anyway… Despite declaring that she would team sous chefs and chefs to ensure a harmonious kitchen, Stephanie paired Lisa with her nemesis Andrew, while pairing herself with Dale; Richard with Spike; and Antonia with Nikki. The challenge? To butcher an entire pig and create at least three dishes using local ingredients. And while a few sparks did fly between Lisa and Andrew, the drama really came when Dale left Stephanie’s pork belly out in the kitchen all night. Where it’s hot. And where pigeons (apparently) live. Stephanie wisely chose not to serve the tainted pork belly, and she and Dale cooked up an ultimately popular alternative third dish of fruit salad with chicharrones (crispy pork skin).

After guests of the Puerto Rican first lady had dined on their dishes and the judges and savored their flavors, the winners were declared. Richard and Stephanie (natch) were tops, with Richard taking the prize for his restrained and simple pig fare. And what was his prize? (Insert Price is Right voiceover) A NEW CAR! His confused and surprised reaction said it all. Hello, Richard, don’t you watch TPIR? You’re supposed to lose your mind when they throw you the keys.

By process of deduction, Antonia and Lisa were deemed the losers of the challenge. Antonia’s rustic dishes were underwhelming and ran together on her single-service plate; also, her pigeon pea beans were woefully undercooked. Lisa’s Latin offerings were patchy, her plantain puree was cloyingly sweet, and she committed other unnamed offenses. Who would be kicked off? Well, according to Bravo’s phone text challenge, 91% of viewers thought Lisa should be.

Hmmm, say the Top Chef producers.

In that case, fan favorite Antonia gets the boot.

Yes, the tearful farewell was very heartfelt — and the corresponding spike in dislike of Lisa predictable. But those producers are wily… before the door could even hit Antonia in the backside, Lisa had stirred the drama pot by acidly asking Richard and Stephanie where her congratulations were. The muttered, “Congrats,” can only whet our appetites for the Top Chef finale. What will they cook up next?

And now, Q&A with the Husband and Wife…

Q: In dramatic fashion more in line with an episode of CSI: Miami, the judges revealed the dead body of… a pig? And not even a big pig. And then the trained chefs cringed, but the question really is, are you afraid of the dead pig?

Husband: No. I like the pig. In many places, including a couple I worked at while in NYC, you stroll into the meat walk-in and there it is: Old Porky hanging upside down, waiting for minions such as myself to take sharp blades to its flesh. There are so many useful parts out of one pig that there is little limit to its potential — if you have the space and time. Also, it’s delicious. I can point to many postings on this blog to verify this belief.

W: I’m not afraid of a big dead pig; I readily consume portions of dead pig on a regular basis. Now, could I butcher said whole animal? Not on your life. Not even with a road map and a sharp knife.

Q: After her most excellent pity party, the big question: Is Lisa insecure or simply cocky?
H: Well, I’ll be nice. Richard had the best line of the night with his statement, “Congrats for winning the f—ing bronze medal.” In a four man race, when you finish third, you aren’t exactly tearing up the track. So, my feeling is she is insecure. She knew she wasn’t well liked, she knew she screwed up. Her survival was only a surprise because the judges spent a huge amount of time on how bad her dishes were. Therefore, she was lashing out, trying to fine some refuge. Though, the teaser for next week has her claiming to kick Stephanie and Richard’s butts. So I’m probably wrong.

W: It’s possible she’s insecure; aren’t we all? Maybe this was a crazy strategy to get them to like her. Something like, “You guys are so mean for not saying congratulations… now feel guilty and like me better.” Despite my attempts, I have yet to crawl inside my TV — much less the minds of the people on it.

Q: So, if you are Richard, in this time of high gas prices, would you take the car, trade it for a Prius, or hope for a cash deal?
H: Cash. He lives in Atlanta. Traffic is nearly as bad as here in DC. And he uses all those culinary chemicals so I’m not sure the Prius will help his standing with the environmentalists.

W: Keep it. It’s a Toyota… it will run forever.

Q: Who’s going to win?
H: Richard. I’ve a feeling he’s got more toys than neon green tape. And toys are fun.

W: Stephanie. You go girl.

Who is your winner? What do you think of Lisa? And what was with that dramatic pause at the party — Padma was dancing, then slow motion followed by a voice over of contestants sounding like they were going to a funeral?

This is it! This episode will determine who the final four will be! This is the big showdown! This is where it all happens! This is — yawn — so boring…

Perhaps it’s the lack of drunken head shaving (nice tip, Ilan), or the fact that all the contestants are real-live chefs and not the pathological attention seekers/nudists usually seen on reality TV. Whatever the reason, this episode was, well, just kind of ho-hum television.

This despite the fact that the show started off with all the contenders wielding large knives and donning protection from flying meat particles. Yes, the two-part Quick Fire began with the final five (shout-out to fellow Battlestar Gallactica geeks!) in a butchering contest to create “Tomahawk Steaks.” Spike, practically hatless throughout the episode, channeled his forebears (who were of course butchers) and carved him some meat. And then he cooked it real good — winning the Quick Fire.

His prize? He got first crack at the pantry/walk-in when the chefs took over the restaurant Tramonto’s Steak and Seafood — a noted Chicago eatery — for dinner service. The fearsome fivesome had to prepare an appetizer and entree from whatever was in the restaurant’s apparently well-stocked stores. Indeed, only Spike seemed to get himself in trouble, choosing frozen (gasp! shock! horror!) scallops from the refrigerator’s plentiful wares.

But, since these are actual chefs, not the learning-challenged nose-pickers on “Hell’s Kitchen,” all five managed to cope with the challenge with few hiccups. In fact, Tom Colicchio decided to bask in their reflected glory, serving as the expediter during service — and not once launching into a Gordon Ramsey-like rant. (Which would have been hilarious. Hello, producers? Didn’t think to throw a monkey wrench in there somewhere? Hmmm??)

Perhaps the episode’s only twist was the fact that it took three men to replace Ted Allen. (Snicker.) Yes, it was the conquering heroes who returned to serve as judges: Harold from season one, Ilan from season two, and Hung from season three. All bellied up to get their critique on… but, either because they are very empathetic or because the food was very good, they were fairly mild in their criticism.

To make a long story short (too late), all the food was good but — predictably — Stephanie, Antonia and Richard floated to the top. Stephanie was declared the winner for all around good offerings, Richard’s playful appetizer was deemed tops, and Antonia’s steak was praised highest. That left Lisa (with her puzzling and nauseating sounding peanut-butter mashed potatoes) and Spike (with his frozen scallops) on the bottom. Producers, here’s a twist for you. Eliminate both of them.

But, alas, only one would go home tonight.

And it was Spike. Frozen scallops were too much of an offense (plus, he threw down on the Tramanto for having them in the freezer. Not a good move.).

So, what will happen in Puerto Rico? More good cooking and collegial back-patting? Or will those chefs sharpen their knives for combat? We’re eager to find out!

And now questions and answers… with Husband and Wife!

If you were Rich Tramonto, would you turn your restaurant over to these people?

Husband: Hmm, I’ve got to balance marketing and costumer safety. So I guess I’m going to let them have it, but only on Sunday or Monday night. This way I can get the free air time that will ensure that my business grows like, say Glad, but then I’ve got a minimal likelihood of losing the same restaurant because someone eats a bizarre peanut butter potato, sort of like drinking a poisoned bottle of Evian.

Wife: Sure. I think these crazy Top Chef kids have got a future in this business.

Since odd mashed potatoes are the story of the night, what would you do with them?

H: The first thing that popped into mind was the scene in Close Encounters of the Third Kind when Richard Dreyfuss begins to sculpt a mountain from mashed potatoes. Tableside potato sculpting would be fascinating, or perhaps the next step in avant-garde cuisine v. molecular gastronomy. Mashed potatoes made not of potatoes, but two chemicals that give you a potato-like gel. This gel would taste like potatoes, but simultaneously have no resemblance to them at all. Then we would mold them to look like the head of Che Guevara and complete a statement begging the people to decide whether we are hip or simply culinary fascists pretending to be of the people. It would be true post-modern cuisine that would put Lisa’s peanut butter mashers to shame.

W: How can I possibly top that answer? Truth is: I’m a mashed potato purist. The only acceptable ingredients are potatoes, cream, butter, salt and pepper. Peanut butter mashed potatoes sound like crazy on a plate. (Though not nearly as crazy as what my husband proposes above.)

Were you kind of bored?
H: Given that I had time to decide whether or not to shape Che’s head from pseudo-mashed potatoes, I answer with a resounding, “Yes.” I mean, the best line of the night went to Ilan who told people not to shave their heads. He’s not even a contestant! There was about as much drama as watching a middle school production of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. The end was shocking, too. One of the two worst contestants, who have been nearly kicked off a total of a dozen times between them, are on the block… shocking! The only thing I was sort of surprised about is the lack of a porkpie hat on Spike. Did his lack of hat make him visible to the judges? Or perhaps when Dale was kicked of last week, he absconded with them.

W: Yes, it was not an exciting episode. But despite all my snarky comments, I actually enjoy the fact that reality-show drama is largely missing from this reality TV show. Contestants with integrity? Merit based competition? This is highly innovative stuff to be seen on a network like Bravo. So I say, “Bravo, Bravo.” Get it? (It’s late.)

Next off? Favorite to win?
H: Lisa is out of here. I’m feeling the Stephanie vibe right now. Though Richard might bring his bag of tricks to Puerto Rico.

W: Lisa, obviously. You can just tell she’s waiting for the hammer to fall at judge’s table. She doesn’t even look as pissed about it as she usually does. And Richard’s armor definitely seems to have some chinks in it… where is his self confidence? I like Antonia as a dark horse… but now I think that Stephanie’s the one to beat.

Who’s your favorite to win? Next off? And does anyone else think that someone lost a limb by the way they were teasing next week’s episode? (Part of us is hoping for the excitement to spice it up imagine: “Look, Mom, I won Top Chef, but I’ve got nothing below my left wrist!)

By popular demand (um, at least one of you asked… and, frankly, that’s enough for us!), we’ve decided to resurrect our Top Chef commentary. Of course, we’ve been watching all along — but only our TiVo knows just how insightful our remarks have been. Until now.

To recap: The quickfire found the contestants awoken by Tom Colicchio’s bald head (GOOD MORNING!) at the apparently ungodly hour of 5:45 a.m. (Not so ungodly for those of us with infants — nor, I would think for breakfast short order cooks. More on that, er… now.) The six remaining contenders were asked to stand at the “egg station” — also apparently the sausage, steak and bacon station — of a storied Chicago breakfast eatery. There they had to contend with waitresses barking orders, cloudy poaching liquid, melting styrofoam containers, and, perhaps worst of all, a stern Chicago matron staring at them while they worked. In the end, that matron declared that Antonia had the most potential as a short order cook in her restaurant.

Antonia’s prize? She got to pick her teammates for Restaurant Wars. Yes, that’s right: Restaurant Wars. Hooray! Indeed, we fans of Top Chef had worried that the show had made a serious error in turning “restaurant wars” into (incredibly lame) “wedding wars.” In fact, the usually sadistic Top Chef producers seemed to have taken pity on the contestants and not required them to actually attract paying customers to their tear-down restaurants — and hey, they gave them five whole hours to pull the entire thing off. Top Chef producers, have you gone soft?

In fact, the teams were the same as for “wedding wars”: Antonia, Richard and Stephanie (read: non-dysfunctional team) vs. Dale, Spike and Lisa (read: ill-tempered and ill-fated team). Who could possibly come out on top? The drama! The tension! The foregone conclusion!

Yes, the non-dysfunctional team triumphed (again), leading to finger pointing and backstabbing from the misfits (again).

Indeed, you have to hand it to the crew at Warehouse Kitchen (the winning team’s gastropub concept): They were actually praised by the judges on virtually every dish — perhaps a first in the brutal restaurant wars episode. More true to form was the Mai Buddha team, which received scathing remarks for several dishes and faint or no praise on the rest. (Think: “Texture reminiscent of wood chips…”, “Looks like a melted candy bar…”, “It was like sticking your head into a campfire…”, etc.)

All this led to much recriminations and of course, finger pointing, by the Mai Buddha team. This is where the real drama begins — and Top Chef knows it, having dispensed with the winners in about one minute of television, thus saving the 15 remaining minutes for meltdowns and tears. Ah, reality TV.

Would Dale the executive chef be eliminated for his sour mood, poor leadership of a disgruntled Lisa in the kitchen, and his revolting butterscotch scallops? Or would Lisa go for her unappetizing smokey laksa (whatever that is), or her inedible mango sticky rice? Or would Spike go for… hey, wait a minute! Spike has cleverly (or something) maneuvered himself off the chopping block. Yes, incognito in a suit and sans pork pie hat, Spike has dodged the bullet by staying out front and styling the restaurant “like the backseat of Prince’s car.” Well played, Spike, well played.

Anyway, it all came down to Lisa vs. Dale. And both looked really pissed about it. As usual.

And, in the end, Dale was told to pack his knives and go. Cut to insincere man hugs and back slapping, followed by an understandably weeping Dale fastening his knife case.

Mmmmm. Some tasty, tasty drama. It’s good to be back!

And now, our questions and answers… featuring Husband and Wife!

It’s been a season and a half since we’ve written about Top Chef, what have we missed most?

Husband: The true art of product placement. The producers are so subtle; they really take this art form to the next level. They’re Rembrandt compared with American Idol’s ham-handed use of Ford and Coca-Cola. I mean, you would never guess that Glad sponsors Top Chef. And, boy, am I glad they do! Glad makes such a complete line of home storage products… or are they called solutions? Great containers, garbage bags, cling wrap, and various other products essential to running a well-organized and clean kitchen. (See, that is my example of subtle product placement, and I expect my check next week. Jack needs a new pair of shoes.)

Wife: Hmmm… well, it can’t be the food since my attempts to lick the television have been fruitless. I’ll go with: The fabulous hairstyles that crop up with each passing season. From Sam’s samurai bun, to Marcel’s fabulous Wolverine, to Dale’s tapered mohawk, and Hung’s awesome faux-hawk, the contestants never skimp on the styling gel or the derring-do. This year, we see still more faux-hawks (Jennifer and Richard) and the addition of an awesome and nearly ever-present pork pie hat (Spike). I still don’t know why this show isn’t also sponsored by Vidal Sassoon.

What have you missed least?
H: The hairdos… or rather the whole head area issues. I like Richard, but the brillo pad molded to a point makes him actually look older than he is. But that is nothing compared to Spike’s pork pie hats. They are a bit much. Worst of all, there isn’t just one hat, there appears to be a stack of them somewhere. He must have packed a supply of them. He’s got a trunk like Carrot Top where he can just find a new one to match his mood and the show’s theme. My advice to Spike is “We all know you are going bald, we appreciate it, we embrace it, stop using it as an excuse to make absurd grasps for attention.”

W: I disagree. Obviously. See my answer above. What I haven’t missed is the 10 p.m. when the show airs. Come on, producers. We’re trying to comment and now it’s totally late at night.

Now, that is settled. Let’s talk Restaurant Wars… or should it be Judges Wars? Colicchio or Bourdain?
H: The natural thing would be to say Bourdain. I mean, he’s great on Top Chef because the editors help him. They take all the maudlin and long-winded stuff that fills his No Reservations show and distill it down to pithy sound bites. So, I’m staying with Tom. He’s sharp and acerbic when the need is there, and I suspect he gives the editors more time to work on placing product in subtle ways throughout the show.

Perhaps No Reservations could use some editing instead: Hire the Top Chef guys and they can cut about 10 minutes of the graceful shots from the road of a mountain vista and give us more Bourdain anger and skylines that have Toyota Trucks parked in random places.

However, Jose Andres may be in the mix as best judge. He is a big, hugable guy who just wants everyone to get along. Might be a new perspective on the show to see that sort of warmth. Of course, he’d need to wear a “I heart Evian” T-shirt to seal the deal.

W: I’m not a huge fan of No Reservations, but I have to say: Bourdain, no contest. He’s funny as hell on Top Chef. I wish he were on every week. (Not necessarily instead of Tom, whose puzzling soul patch hypnotizes me when he speaks.)

While the judges chose to kick off Dale, who do you think has the bigger attitude problem — Dale or Lisa?
H: Before this episode, I had Dale on the short list to be one of the final two. Though I admit after seeing butterscotch scallops done Asian (or any other way), I felt a bit concerned. But something about Lisa says bigger problem. Dale pitches fits, but I always am a bit sympathetic when it’s focused on getting something right. (It may be my own subconscious looking to myself… I, too, like things done a certain way in the kitchen). However, Lisa consistently is in this position and frequently seems to shift the blame to another person. It was just last week she had to make sure that the judges knew someone didn’t follow the rules even though she was a complete disaster. Therefore, Dale is a hot head, but Lisa has the poisonous attitude.

W: I was surprised that Dale, who seems quite talented, was kicked off. Arguably, though, the executive chef usually takes the fall for the failure of his team. As much as a reality show is a popularity contest, Dale seemed to be on the losing end, and therefore on losing teams. His Hung-like strategy of make no friends and take no prisoners didn’t work out well for him in the end. And I imagine that the executioner will call for Lisa soon, too.

Did you miss the usual flaming disasters that were past restaurant wars?
H: I so did. I was hoping for the near poisonings of the past. Or the pure disgust on a diner’s face. Or perhaps some other completely epic combination of bizarre dishes, service that was off putting, and truly hostile patrons. I think the Chicagoans proved that Midwesterners might be too nice. No one pitched a fit about the scallops or asked if they were supposed to take home the woody sticky rice to feed to their pet squirrel?

W: I have to agree. And it’s more amusing to see disasters in fictional restaurants, than on horrifying programs like Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares. Too much of that kind of TV and I have to tame my gag reflex when dining out.

Favorite? Next off?
H: My favorite is Richard. He has a good personality and he always seems to be winning or in the group of winners. He’s like Hung last season in that he appears to have the technical and artistic skills. However, I’m quietly rooting for Stephanie. Finally, a contestant who can make a dessert without it being a complete disaster. Most of the time, it’s like none of these people ever baked before the went on the show. Next off for me is Lisa. She’s running out of people who will shoot themselves in the foot to save her.

W: I like Stephanie or Antonia as dark horse contenders (Plus, they’re chicks! Let’s get a female winner!)… but Richard’s faux-hawk and pink clogs may prove irresistible to the judges. I would not weep if either Lisa or Spike went off next.

So, should we have left our comments to ourselves? Who’s your favorite? And honestly, did you know what a laksa was before the episode or did you have to google it like us? (BTW, it’s a spicy noodle dish.) Do tell!

I think pickling may be the next big thing.

Yes, you heard it here first. Granted, I have never accurately called a trend. Molecular gastronomy still sounds to me like an uncomfortable side effect of eating too many beans. I like farmer’s markets because they’re outside, not because I know the ingredients are locally sourced. And I’m pretty much still scratching my head about who this Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana person is…

And yet, I think I my husband may be onto something with his newfound craze for pickling. After all, pickling is an important part of some other food cultures (think: Korea). Why not ours? Maybe pickling is ripe for the same kind of fanfare BBQ receives in this country. You know: People traveling around in Airstream trailers with their secret pickling recipes, folks lining up at tents in the summertime tasting pickle after pickle, huge trophies lining the mantle of a man with a handlebar mustache and large gut.

No?

Well, like I said, I don’t actually have an eye for trends. But I do have a mouth for tasting… and my husband’s pickled grapes are going down the hatch. They’re sweet and aromatic — just open the jar and the divine aroma of cinnamon and clove wafts up to seduce you. But they’re also sour and complex — your mouth can’t help but pucker a touch at the healthy dose of vinegar all good pickles require. And then, finally, they’re grapes. Sweet, firm, purple gems of fruit that maintain that great texture amid all the whiz-bang of the pickling juices.

Yup, pickles are the next big thing. Well, in my mouth, at least.

And now, the husband’s take…

So, yes, pickled grapes. It’s not exactly the first thing that comes to mind when discussing pickling. Other things that might come first? Well, pickled pickles (duh), pickled watermelon rind, pickled ginger, pickled zucchini, pickled onions… even the truly brave act of fermenting cabbage like the Koreans, Germans, Austrians, and Alsatians do to make kimchi and sauerkraut.

I think, then, that the pickled grape may be a hard sell. Yet, I will encourage, cajole, and perhaps even threaten.

I first came across pickled grapes at Farrah Olivia, a restaurant in Alexandria, VA. They were served as a garnish. The idea was pretty incredible: They were a combination of sweet and sour that caught you off guard. At the restaurant, the grapes were served as a small bunch still attached to the stems, and you had little idea of the intense flavor you were about to receive. Being inspired, I decided to work on my own recipe featuring a bit more spice and tang by altering a recipe I’ve used to pickle beets — yes, I admit to a growing obsession with pickling.

The result is a pickled grape with a sneaky spike of clove, cinnamon and allspice, along with the familiar and delicious sour and sweet of a traditional pickle. The grapes also happen to be the perfect pair for beer and cheese. Served along with semi-hard cheeses with plenty of salt and with a good beer, they work as an excellent palette cleanser. Three tasty treats together on one plate? Happiness for me!

Other than its deliciousness and its sublime pairing with beer and cheese, there is another argument in the pickled grape’s favor: simplicity. If you are not a person experienced with pickling, this is a good starter recipe. It’s quick, needs no knife, and requires only a little bit of patience and space in the refrigerator. In the end, this is a lot of benefit for little work. I use the free time it allows me to indulge my other obsessions… or threaten others to try the grapes.

Pickled Grapes

Ingredients:
1/2 lb. red grapes (seedless)
1 cup red wine vinegar
1/2 cup orange juice (2 medium naval oranges)
8 whole allspice berries
8 whole cloves
1 stick cinnamon
1 tsp. salt

Directions:
1. Clean both the grapes and the container where you will store the pickles. Remove the grapes from the stem and place in container.

2. In a small pot, add the vinegar, orange juice, spices and salt. Bring to a simmer and then remove from heat. Pour over the grapes.

3. Close, cover and place in refrigerator. Flavor will develop overnight, but will start to really express after 5 days.

Ah, the pig.

That regal creature that Homer Simpson once referred to as a “wonderful, magical animal.” Indeed, I believe the pig may be magical: After all, a little bit of pig seems to make everything a lot more delicious. (And, never having had unicorn, I can only assume the pig is far tastier.)

My husband has long been under the spell of the swine, and has lately become a little more obsessed. Take, for example, the menu he prepared last week when we had family in town:

Monday: Braised pork belly. Tuesday: Braised pork shoulder. Wednesday: Barbecued pork ribs. If he had prepared pig trotters on Thursday, I was going to start ransacking the house looking for the pig carcass he was obviously hiding.

Not that I’m complaining. Doctors may not agree, but I believe a steady diet of pig leads to healthy — or at least, happy — living. And that is why we’re sharing with you Tuesday’s masterpiece: Braised pork shoulder.

Yes, the husband has not only blessedly turned his attention to that wonderful, magical animal… he has also dedicated himself to studying perhaps the most delicious art of food preparation: braising. Braising, that most perfect of techniques for concocting tender, delectable, melt-in-your-mouth meat. And pig, that meat most amenable to the BBQ chef’s mantra of “low and slow.”

The result of combining these two divine things? Heavenly, tender, succulent pork shoulder and a lovingly reduced sauce that will transport your taste buds to nirvana. I’m not exaggerating. Don’t believe me? Try it for yourself.

And now, the husband speaks…

I do love some pig. I’ve made more than a few pork dishes in the past week, but how’s that my fault? I mean, I didn’t make the pig that delicious.

But while this dish does demonstrate the magic of pig, it also is an example of the greatest technique I learned in culinary school — sauce making. There is perhaps nothing more French than the act of making sauce, and you have to give those cheese-eaters credit: Uninteresting morsels of food can be turned into something really special with the right sauce. In this dish, the sauce is made by reducing the cooking liquid to a near-glaze until it it is rich, delicious, and enhances the flavor of the meat.

What’s more, this dish also works with a newer obsession of mine: beer. I have to admit, I spend an inordinate amount of time at Rick’s Wine and Gourmet here in Alexandria, Va. I’ve even become friends with my local beermonger and fellow blogger, Nick. The store and Nick have been my cheerful suppliers as I continue to plow along. But this post is about demonstrating the glorious potential of beer, not about the high likelihood of seeing me in my little beer shop around the corner.

Here the beer is part of the braising liquid. The pork shoulder is browned and then slowly cooked in combination with Belgian strong ale and chicken stock. Along with their higher alcohol content, Belgian strong ales are known for their intense flavors that I feel pair naturally with pork. Here, I used a dark or golden variety of this style that exhibits fruit, citrus rind and spice; it reminds me of the classic pairings of pork with apples and cinnamon. The sauce that is rendered from the cooking liquid has a sweetness and a nice acidity — and I’m fairly confident would make my fingers delicious enough to eat.

Finally, this recipe is an homage to Daniel Boulud. While we were living NYC, my wife and I went to his flagship restaurant, Daniel, in midtown. For both my wife and I that experience was incredibly memorable not only for the amazing meal, but for the hospitality heaped upon us by the staff. After finding out I was a culinary student, the chef did those little extras that made us feel lavished upon. Beyond a clear demonstration of what it means to receive multiple Michelin stars and four stars from The New York Times, it showed us a sense of generosity that we’ll try to show to others.

This recipe was inspired by his recent book Braise. He has a recipe for pork shoulder with hazel nuts and Jerusalem artichokes (AKA sunchokes). While I liked the original version, I changed it to include more American flavors such as bourbon and pecans, gave up white wine for my heartier ale and swapped the very earthy Jerusalem artichokes with the milder new potatoes. The recipes do vary in grades from there, but I’d like to think this version is… I won’t say better, just more pleasing to a pair of people.

Click here to download the recipe.

Braised Pork Shoulder with Raisins and New Potatoes

Ingredients:
4 lbs. boneless pork shoulder
3 lbs. red potatoes (peeled, cut into 3-inch pieces)
1 qt. chicken stock
12 oz. Belgian Strong Ale (pref. golden/dark)
2 medium sweet yellow onions
6 cloves garlic
3 shallots
8 sprigs fresh thyme
1 cup golden raisins
1/2 cup bourbon
olive oil

Crust:
1/4 cup pecans (crushed)
1/4 cup bread crumbs
3 tbsp. butter (melted)
zest of a lemon
salt
pepper

Brine:
1 gallon water
3/4 cup salt
1/4 cup light brown sugar
15 peppercorns

Directions:
1. Mix together the brine ingredients in a large pot and bring to a boil. Once the salt and sugar are dissolved set aside and let cool. Once room temperature, add the pork shoulder and cover the container. There are benefits to brining for as little as 20 minutes. However, for best results, refrigerate overnight. If the shoulder has an excess amount of fat, trim off.

2. In a medium sauce pan, boil 1 quart of water. Add the raisins and simmer for 5 minutes. Drain the raisins. Move the raisins to another container. Add the bourbon to the raisins. Cover for as long as 1 hour, or refrigerate overnight. The raisins should look slightly plumped.

3. Remove the leaves from 2 sprigs of thyme. Add the leaves, bread crumbs, pecans, and butter to a small dish. Season to taste. Cover and refrigerate until firm.

4. Preheat oven to 325F.

5. Drain the raisins and reserve the bourbon. Place a Dutch oven or heavy pot over medium-high heat. Add enough olive oil to lightly coat the bottom. Once hot, add the pork shoulder, shallots, garlic and 3 sprigs of thyme. Sear the pork shoulder on all sides. Watch the shallots and garlic and remove if they appear to burn. Once the pork is browned, remove and set aside. Add the reserved bourbon to deglaze. WARNING: Be careful, the bourbon may ignite. This is not a bad thing, just be careful. Once the bourbon is nearly evaporated, add the beer, stock, and any removed garlic, or shallots. Bring to a boil and let simmer for 15 min. Strain the liquid, and skim off any obvious extra fat. You are making a flavorful stock to use later. Set it aside.

6. In the pot, back over medium heat, brown the onions. Return the meat and cooking stock to the pot, and add the raisins and remaining thyme. Place in the oven. It will need to braise for about 2 to 2 ½ hours. The meat should be extremely tender. About halfway through the cooking, add the potatoes and cook until they are easily pierced with paring knife.

7. Remove the potatoes and pork from the liquid. Cover with heavy foil and set aside. Strain the liquid and place in a pot to reduce. This is the moment of truth for this dish. You want to boil down the cooking stock to nearly a syrup. Do not season the sauce until you are done. There may be enough salt from the meat that seasoning too early will hurt the flavor. Reducing could take up to 30 to 40 min. One signal it is done will be that the liquid will change from a pale apple cider color to a dark caramel color. The liquid will also begin to bubble in a manner similar to when you make caramel, meaning lots of small tight bubbles the cover the top of the liquid. Finally, it should be thick and coat a spoon completely without easily dripping when turned upside down. Another trick to check for doneness is to place a little on a plate and see how easily it moves when the plate is held perpendicular to the floor. It should be slow.

8. Preheat the broiler. Press the crust against the top of the pork shoulder pieces and then place on a sheet tray. Run under the broiler until golden brown. Slice the shoulder, serve with the potatoes, coat gently with sauce, and add a few fresh raisins as garnish.

NOTE: In making this recipe, I used both Pranqster from North Coast Brewing Company and Gulden Drak, a classic Belgian version, on separate occasions with great results. Other examples of this style are Chimay Grande Reserve (the blue bottle), Gouden Carlos Carolus D’Or, and Brooklyn Brewery’s Local 1.

Yes, it’s been much longer than we promised, but I have a litany of excuses. (New York is distracting… Our baby is distracting… We are preoccupied by our jobs fighting international crime… The usual.)

But I promise that what my husband has been cooking will be worth the wait. First and foremost, he has an actual culinary degree. (Applause!) Yes, he has been trained by real, live fancy-pants chefs at the French Culinary Institute in New York City. Does this really make his cooking taste better?

Actually, it kind of does.

In fact, he is a better cook — if that’s possible. He has learned these things he calls “TEK-NEEKS” which he uses to prepare my increasingly delicious meals. And (bonus) he’s learned to cook more neatly — and to estimate dinner time more accurately. That’s right: As opposed to using every pot in the cupboard and telling me dinner would be at 7 p.m. (read: 7:45 p.m.), he actually keeps the kitchen tidy and puts dinner on the table at — dramatic pause — dinner time.

Let’s just say, my gratitude toward those Frenchies in toques is great and unwavering.

Second, the husband has become a student of spirits. Indeed, while in New York he took “classes” on wine and liquor. (I write “classes” because he came home with purported certificates of completion… but, let’s face it, his assignment was to drink wine and cocktails. Um, what kind of school was this exactly?) And since returning to the DC area, the husband has also become a devoted student of beer.

So, why should you care about this, dear readers of My Husband Cooks? Because a beer-soaked chef is a creative (and happy) chef. And because he is about to drop some serious knowledge on you guys.

That’s right. My husband and I have decided to turn our attentions back to this beloved blog, where we’ll invite you to share in his new obsessions: Fresh, seasonal and, when possible, local (to the DC area) ingredients… simple and delicious American fare… and, finally, tasty and exciting brew possibilities.

I hope you enjoy it as much as my stomach does!

And now, the husband’s take…

In our absence, I suspect you missed my wife’s clever wit. And while this is one of her best qualities, the one I’d like to point out is her devotion to my crazy cooking obsession. I mean, when your lawyer husband says, “Let’s move to New York City so I can go to culinary school,” and you are behind it 100%… you are pretty amazing. (Oh, and by the way, you’ll also be moving into a tiny apartment, in a city with no family, and you’ll be bringing along your two-month-old son.)

So, my wife is really the hero of all this. I can’t say that enough to her.

… But enough of this sentimentality, this blog is about the food.

Alas, everything she writes above is true. Dinners come out on time. Food looks better, but is also more complicated. And it’s true, I have focused on libations of various types. Yet, in my defense, I contend that all of this “research” is about understanding the food better. It’s about the experience of eating and sharing time together.

In secret, though, I bet my wife would tell you that the biggest benefit of all of this is actually (whispering) the side dishes. My wife is one of those people who at holiday feasts is more interested in the various concoctions of vegetables and starches than the main protein. Quite frankly, she wouldn’t notice that the turkey was missing at Thanksgiving… provided there were enough side dishes.

So one of the biggest things she coos about these days is the variety of sides that I produce. Frequently, it’s the multiple vegetables of various preparations and the perfect carbohydrate-laden starch dish that first disappear from her plate. I hope this recipe for potato gnocchi elicits similar responses from your family and friends.

Now most people think of gnocchi as either fluffy or gut-bomb dense dumplings that are rolled off the back of a spoon, boiled, then covered in some sauce at an Italian eatery. Well, I’m here to suggest an alternative. This recipe is in the vein of French-style gnocchi, which are made using pate choux (the same dough used to make cream puffs) that is boiled and then sautéed.

Here, we keep the more Italian-style potato pasta, but dispense with the fork shaping. The pasta is shaped quickly with a knife, then boiled, drained and sautéed to finish. When done right, it’s impressive, delicious, light and true to the potato.

Click here for the recipe.

Potato Gnocchi
Yield: 6-8 servings as main dish
Ingredients:
4 Idaho/Russet potatoes
8 oz. / 225 g all-purpose flour (approx. 1 ½ cups)
2 large eggs, beaten
3 tbsp. parmesan cheese (grated)
2 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1 tbsp. butter
2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. nutmeg (grated)
parsley (finely chopped)
salt
pepper

Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 400F.

2. Wrap the potatoes in aluminum foil. Bake for 45 minutes until the largest one is soft. Let cool until the skins can be removed.

3. Run the skinned potatoes through a ricer, food mill, or blitz quickly with a stick blender. If you use the stick blender, take care not to overblend. You don’t want to create glue. The goal is to get a fluffy, consistent texture.

4. Set a large pot of water to a boil and, at the same time, make an ice bath.

5. Add the beaten eggs, cheese, nutmeg and 1 cup of flour to the potatoes. Mix together until integrated. If the dough is too wet, add more flour. You want to add only enough flour to get the texture right. It should be firm, but easily malleable. Also, try not to overwork the dough. Too much flour or work will result in dense, hard gnocchi.

6. Work with about a quarter of the dough at a time. Roll into a 3/4 inch log about 18 inches long. Using a knife or pastry scraper, cut the dough into 1/2 inch pieces.

7. Add the gnocchi to the boiling water and cook until they float. Remove from the water and add to the ice bath to cool quickly. Remove to a paper-lined sheet tray to dry.

8. Once relatively dry, you can store them covered in the refrigerator until ready to use. These are great to make a day in advance, or for multiple meals as a dish. Once to this point, they are quick to finish.

9. For final use, you may need to work in batches depending on how many you are making. Heat a sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add the oil and butter to the pan. Once butter melts and stops bubbling, add the dumplings to the pan and toss until brown. Season with salt and pepper. Add any herbs (such as parsley) right before removing from the heat. Drain any excess fat with a paper towel. Serve hot.