This past weekend we celebrated my roommate Eliz's boyfriend Matt's birthday. In between saving lives and not sleeping, Dr. Eliz prepared dinner for 20 at our house on Saturday night. It was an affair to remember, from the spinach cannelloni to the pasta bolognese to the satisfyingly salty dill bread. I heard that the mini-cheesecakes and hand-decorated cake supplied by our friend Dylan were also to die for, but after consuming multiple pounds of cheese and carbs, I was ok with skimping on the dessert options. The array of solid consumables was complemented by copious amounts of wine and champagne in addition to hand-crafted French 75s and dirty vodka martinis supplied by bar-tending friends, as well as no less than about five bottles of scotch brought for the birthday boy.
How I love the dinner party hosted at my own home. It's no secret that I prefer to be the chef as this means I have control over the menu and the kitchen, but second best is having a roommate man the helm so I can simply enjoy the champagne and not stress over timing the food, keeping everything hot, organizing the courses, and of course, being ultimately responsible for the clean-up phases. Meanwhile, I can still enjoy the dinner party benefits: the food never stops flowing, the drinks are easily accessible, the company is familiar, and there is no check served at the night's conclusion. And I can enjoy the benefits of being in my own home: I can control the music (although, must admit, it was stressful given Saturday night's company, which is given to eclectic -- and more importantly strong -- tastes in music), and when the night is over, I have to walk only as far as my bedroom. Oh - and I can wear weather-inappropriate outfits including sleeveless tops and open-toed shoes even if it's 40 degrees outside, because I don't ever have to go outdoors. Fantastic.
A big part of a successful dinner party, in my personal opinion, is having the right things out on the table for when guests first arrive. Growing up, we had Friday night Shabbat dinners at my Nana's house. Please don't expect that my fondness for food is something that has developed over time -- when I was little I'd race into Nana's door and head straight for the little silver tray of Pigs in a Blanket. Yes, that humble appetizer that consists of mini hotdogs swaddled in dainty segments of Pilsbury crescent dough (I'm referring to the classic Midwest version; no chorizo in artisan cornmeal crust here). Please, no commentary on the fact that we were eating traif on the Sabbath.
I could also expound on the many delightful bites my mother always has ready and waiting any time she entertains, the simple pleasures of Muenster and artichoke dip or bacon spread on mini-ryes, but the list would be too long and deserving of its own entry.
Instead I'll bring things back around to this past Saturday night, which found guests munching on peppery sweet marinated olives, caprese bruschetta, and chicken liver spread -- this last guest being the owner of this entry's title. For less than $4, you can purchase a pound of chicken livers and prepare a poor man's pate that I'll eat alongside a foie gras spread anytime. Of course, you need to be ok with eating the livers of chickens, but if you're able to get past that, your mouth will be richly rewarded. 20 recent guests can testify. Without further ado, a small present -- a great recipe from a fall 2009 Saveur issue for chicken liver spread. Enjoy, and keep the dinner party spirit alive.
Chicken Liver Crostini
- 1 lb. chicken livers, trimmed
- 4 anchovy filets in oil, drained and finely chopped
- 1 medium onion, finely chopped
- 1 medium carrot, finely chopped
- 1 rib celery, finely chopped
- 1 clove garlic, finely chopped
- 2 tbsp. vin santo or sherry
- 1⁄4 cup chicken broth
- 1⁄4 cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
- 2 tbsp. salted capers, rinsed and chopped
- 2 tbsp. fresh lemon juice plus 1 tbsp. lemon zest
- Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
- 1 baguette, cut into 36 slices
Heat 3 tbsp. oil in a 12" skillet over medium-high heat. Rinse chicken livers and pat dry with paper towels. Add to skillet and cook, flipping once, until browned and slightly pink on the inside, about 4 minutes. Remove skillet from heat, transfer livers to a cutting board using a slotted spoon (so oil is left behind), and finely chop them. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
Return skillet to medium-high heat. Add anchovies and cook, stirring frequently, until they dissolve in the oil, 2–3 minutes. Add onions, carrots, celery, and garlic; cook, stirring, until soft, 10 minutes. Add vin santo and cook, stirring, until evaporated, about 30 seconds. Add chicken broth and cook until liquid is mostly evaporated, about 2 minutes. Add livers and their juices, along with parsley, capers, lemon juice, and zest; season mixture with salt and pepper and cook until hot, about 2 minutes. Remove skillet from heat; let cool slightly. Transfer liver mixture to bowl of a food processor and pulse until chunky (or, if you prefer, purée until smooth). Refrigerate.
Put bread slices on a baking sheet and brush lightly with oil; bake until golden, about 10 minutes. Let cool slightly and serve with liver mixture.
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