Operation Leftovers: Carbonara Ravioli

The pickings were depressingly slim in the refrigerator when I got home this evening. The roomies were out of town, and I wasn't feeling inspired. After working a 7-hour brunch shift and a hike with my dog, however, I was in need of comfort carbs, fast. A quick inventory (tossing out the moldy cheeses and leftovers from last week), uncovered a package of mushroom & chicken ravioli from T.J.'s, eggs, parmesean and a handful of spinach and half a package of Toll House cookie dough. Not even a can of diced tomatoes to make a little sauce. I checked the freezer and the thought of turning the TJ frozen mini pizzas into dinner actually crossed my mind. Sigh. We were out of any other pasta, and I just couldn't bring myself to make another egg sandwich, so carbonara it was...but with ravioli. I was crossing my fingers. I was too hungry to fail at an edible meal tonight, too exhausted to get in my car and go anywhere, and too attached to my tip money to order in. Once I tossed the ravioli with the sauce, I added some dried herbs, garlic salt and tons of freshly ground pepper. I put the ravioli over a bed of spinach, and it was delicious. The spinach sort of takes the heaviness factor away from the rich carbonara sauce, too. Yum. Dessert: freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. And I had just enough for lunch tomorrow. Total cost: $0. Sometimes being broke can be a delicious thing.

Carbonara Ravioli:
1 Package ravioli (any pasta will do, really)
2 Eggs
1/8 C. milk (water will do if you're desperate!)
1/4 C. parmesean cheese
Fresh or dried herbs, to taste
Garlic Salt
Salt & Pepper
Spinach

In a small jar or measuring glass, beat the eggs, and mix in the cheese and milk. Add fresh garlic if you have it. If not, garlic salt at the end is delicious as well. Once the pasta is cooked, drain well, and return to pot. Quickly coat the pasta with the sauce, and toss well to coat and cook the egg. The sauce should thicken, as you toss the pasta. This usually takes about 2-3 minutes. If it's not thickening, turn on the heat to medium-low while coating the pasta. Serve over a bed of spinach, or whatever you have in the fridge, with lots of parm and freshly ground pepper on top.

Killer Shrimp!

On Friday night, my best friend and I ventured out of Silver Lake to try a restaurant by the name of KILLER SHRIMP [sweet logo,right?]

I have never been so excited to try a new restaurant since my Dad visited L.A. last year and we went to A.O.C. (a meal I will never forget) We walked in, and I seriously was so excited I couldn't talk. The low-lying haunt in Studio City exudes the dark, seedy aura of a dive bar but with the lively decór of a 70's disco roller rink (yes, those are plastic beads hanging from the ceiling). They serve one thing for dinner: Shrimp. It's served Louisiana-style in a big bowl of cajun-spiced, buttery broth. A heap of crusty french bread in a paper-napkin lined metal colander arrives with the broth, along with some naked spaghetti noodles and a serving of white rice. Classy. And killer. In fact it's so good, you can only eat about 15 bites before you die. But not from the shrimp. From the let down that ensues when eating a dish you get sick of so fast [Side Note: there needs to be a phrase for that..."killer shrimped" perhaps. As in: "The pasta was good at first, but then the overpowering flavor of fennel killer shrimped it."]

Killer Shrimp promises a lot, and it does deliver—but only for about the first 10 minutes. Then it's over, and your taste buds are left, wanting, needing more. So we ordered a bottle of wine and asked for the dessert menu. We certainly weren't leaving this one-of-a-kind, killer environment just yet. And it's a good thing stayed, because the ginormous slice of chocolate cake with raspberry filling could never be killer shrimped.

Killer Shrimp, Ventura Blvd. & Colfax, Studio City, 818-508-1570

MNMC (On Tuesday!): Pasta & None of the Kings Men

The Monday Night Movie Club reconvened on Tuesday this week (strict rules are not our style). I was set on a comfort meal and—inspired by a delicious looking pre-packaged mix of oyster mushrooms at the grocery store, and a solid craving for red chard—I decided that risotto would fit the bill. Snag: Ralphs was out of Arborio rice. Le dismay. But the bow tie pasta was looking cute, and, recalling the bag of lemons hitting their limit in the refrigerator, I quickly redesigned my dinner to include Farfalle with herbed chicken, mushrooms and red chard in a Lemon Beurre Blanc. Light, flavorful and still a bit comforting. I don't usually make sauces for the first time without a good recipe to follow, so I must admit I was nervous when, on the first tasting, it was extremely tart. But the addition of fresh Parmesan and the mushrooms created a more mellow balance in the end, and the M.N.M.C. couldn't stop eating it! Especially Jett. After dishing out ice cream for dessert, we turned on All the King's Men. After 30 minutes of watching Tony Soprano attempt to erase the Jersey twang from the accent of his southern politician-bully character, we turned it off. Sean Penn momentarily grabbed us with his impassioned "nail 'em up" speech, but in the end, the indeterminable dialogue outweighed the beautiful shots and the promise of a turning point any time soon.

1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breast, in bite-sized pieces
2 Cups mixed mushrooms (I used oyster and cremini)
1/4 C chopped shallots
1 T. garlic, chopped
1/2 C butter
1/2 C dry white wine
Juice of 3 lemons
1 C chicken broth
1 bunch red chard, roughly chopped
Herbs to season
Salt and pepper to taste

Wash mushrooms and dry well on paper towels. In a saucepan over high heat, combine lemon juice, wine, half the garlic, and half the shallots. Reduce liquid by half. Whisk in butter, until well combined. Remove from heat and set aside. (You can also strain the solids before whisking the butter, if a smoother sauce is desired.)

Sauté the remaining garlic and shallots in about 1 T. of olive oil over medium heat. When onions are translucent, turn the heat up to high, add the mushrooms and sear, until browned well and just beginning to crisp slightly. Remove from heat and set aside.

Bring a large pot of water, salted to taste like the sea, to boil.

In the same pan you used to sear the mushrooms, add 1 C. chicken broth and de-glaze the pan, scraping up any browned bits, keeping the heat at medium-high. Lower the heat to medium, add the chicken, stirring occasionally and seasoning with herbs to taste until meat is cooked through. (The liquid will continue to reduce.) When the liquid has reduced by almost half, add in the red chard, and stir until it begins to wilt, about 3 minutes. Drain the liquid and reserve. Set the meat/chard mixture aside.

Cook the pasta according to the directions. While the pasta is cooking, bring the sauce up to medium heat. Add in the reserved liquid from the meat/chard mixture to desired taste and consistency. (I like the complexity that the mushroom/chard/chicken broth reduction gives the sauce.) Be careful not to add too much, though. If the sauce is too tart, you can whisk in more butter, or a dash of sugar to remove a bit of the tang. Salt and pepper the sauce to taste.

Coat the pasta with about 2/3 the sauce to start. Add in the chicken/chard mixture, the mushrooms, and about 1/2 cup of freshly grated Parmesan cheese. Stir in more sauce, as desired, mixing well. Serve immediately. Is great with a simple, mixed green salad.