Member of House has flair in the kitchen

ARLINGTON -- State Representative Jim Marzilli (D-Arlington/West Medford), who is in his eighth term in the Massachusetts House of Representatives, is known for many things: his stand on the environment and climate change, his fight to increase the minimum wage, his advocacy for working families, and progressive tax reform. When he's not in the State House, he may be in the kitchen. One specialty there is pork tenderloin with coffee-chili-tamarind sauce and Oaxacan mashed potatoes.

Marzilli, 49, is an avid, adventurous, and skilled cook who entertains frequently; those dishes and many more turned up recently at his annual July 4 party, at which he entertained 50 guests. It's not hard to see the correlation between his style as a host and his success as a politician. Marzilli is gregarious and likes to forge connections between various groups, often around the table. Instead of being a pol who feeds at the public trough, he's a pol who likes to feed the public at his own trough.

On a recent warm evening, Marzilli prepared the pork tenderloin, its potato accompaniment, and a few other dishes for a smaller group to enjoy on his Arlington deck, which, on a clear day, affords a distant view of downtown Boston and the Zakim Bridge. He describes his food as falling into one of two categories: outdoor cooking, with bright, intense flavors and smoke -- "think Chris Schlesinger," he says -- and a Mediterranean style, usually cooked indoors.

The state rep grew up in Arlington, just three-quarters of a mile away. His parents weren't much for cooking. "My dad was a backyard griller, my mom was Scottish," says Marzilli, as if that explains it all. He began cooking seriously about 10 years ago, but perhaps the roots run deeper; he says that even in elementary school, he enjoyed watching Graham Kerr, the Galloping Gourmet, on TV. His frequent travels, both for work and pleasure, have helped expand his repertoire. Mexico is a favorite destination for Marzilli and his wife, Susan Shaer, and it's there that he first tasted the Oaxacan potatoes that have become a mainstay on his menus.

To make them, first he boils the potatoes, then mashes them with light cream and sour cream. In Mexico, explains Marzilli, cooks would use crema, unpasteurized cream that's similar to the French creme fraiche. As he prepares the potatoes and the sauce for the pork, he explains that "the food in Oaxaca seems to be trapped around 1700. There's an influence of the Mediterranean and the ingredients of the Americas -- the Mediterranean and old Mexico blended -- and it's stayed there and hasn't changed over the years." Oaxaca, says Marzilli, is known as the "city of seven moles," referring to the classic dark Mexican sauce. Many are delicate, complex, and sophisticated, but this potato dish is more rustic, Sunday-lunch fare.

The creamy mashed potatoes are combined with a number of chunky ingredients, a mixture of salty, spicy, piquant, and sweet. "The goal," he says, "is that I want every bite to have two or three contrasting tastes and textures." The resulting melange is baked through and served hot, at room temperature, or even cold, in the manner of potato salad. It's a gutsy yet soothing counterpoint to a flavorful dish like the pork.

Marzilli is the kind of cook who works with what's at hand, turns to his extensively stocked spice cabinet for inspiration, and rarely uses recipes. He sometimes adds corn or other vegetables to the potatoes, as the mood strikes. Oaxaca potatoes might include French mustard, pickled onions, capers, raisins, and hot chili peppers.

He also keeps 12 kinds of stock in the freezer and, on this night, adds strawberries and red onions marinated in balsamic vinegar and sambuca to the salad, in what he describes as "a fit of madness."

This meal is comparatively casual for Marzilla, compared to what he usually does, which he describes as serious food.

"I get totally weird," he says, describing multicourse meals, prepared from scratch, that stretch from Caribbean curried crab through homemade pickles, three types of ceviche, smoked gazpacho, home-smoked salmon, grilled chicken, six side dishes, three desserts, and, of course, the pork and Oaxacan potatoes.

With no stem-winding speeches, no backslapping cronyism, and definitely no rubber chicken, Marzilli's style of entertaining gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "political dinner."