Post-Collegiate Cooking à Deux

I Don't know What This Is, so I'm Going to Eat It

2011-08-25T20:07:00.007-04:00

There's a philosophy that applies equally well to me & my recipes as to toddlers & their boogers. NOM.

Tagliatelle with Prosciutto and Orange
This one is valuable more for the technique than the taste (although that too, is very good). Instead of crafting the noodles and sauce separately, you combine them in a skillet shortly before the pasta is al dente. In a sense, the sauce gets cooked in, flavouring each individual noodle and bringing the dish together much better than you could otherwise. Also, it takes literally no time at all; it's effortless deliciousness, no matter what you throw in the sauce. You could simply add pepper and cheese, and it would be to die for.

If you knew this trick already, good for you. If you don't, congratulations, you will never think of pasta dishes the same way again.

ps. homemade pasta rocks

salt
12oz egg tagliatelle or fettuccine (preferably fresh)
2 Tbs (1/4 stick) butter
2oz thinly sliced prosciutto, torn into 1-inch pieces
zest and juice of 1 orange
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream
freshly-ground black pepper
1/4 cup finely grated parmesan

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Season with salt; add pasta and cook, stirring occasionally, until 1min before al dente (about 2min for fresh pasta, longer for dried). Drain, reserving 1/4 cup pasta water.

Meanwhile, melt butter in a large heavy nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add prosciutto; sauté until browned, about 3min

Add reserved pasta water, orange juice, half of zest, and cream; bring to a boil. Add pasta; cook, stirring, until sauce coasts pasta and pasta is al dente, about 1min. Season with salt and pepper. Stir in cheese and divide among warm bowls.

Penne with Chocolate, Pistachios, and Goat Cheese
Ok, read this recipe. Right now, just read it. You will probably have the same reaction I did, namely: "...what? what? What the ...what?!" And so on. In my world, such a reaction to a recipe entails cooking it as soon as possible. I mean, come on! You boil your penne in wine, and then smother it in cheese and chocolate! How could you not want to eat that?

The dish works surprisingly well. Disparate flavours meld together to form an elusive yet elaborate taste that left me staring dumbly into my bowl. The catch is that it's very creamy -- so much so that you can't eat more than a medium-small serving before you simply get sick of the texture. Overall, I would qualify this as an unexpectedly impressive dish, but one better suited to fancy dinner parties. All chocolate dinner, anyone?

2 Tbs olive oil
1 small white onion, finely chopped
12oz penne
4 cups (1 liter) dry white wine
2 Tbs milk
1 Tbs salt
1/2 cup shelled pistachios
3oz white chocolate
4oz mascarpone cheese
2oz fresh creamy goat cheese
2 Tbs milk
3oz bittersweet chocolate, finely grated // waaay too much. Try 1/2oz

Heat the oil in a small saupan and sauté the onion until just transparent; do not let it color. Add the penne and stir well over medium heat for 2min. (Note: no, I have no idea why we're sautee-ing raw pasta with the onion. Suspect you could skip this.) Pour in the wine and milk and season with salt. Bring to a boil and simmer until cooked al dente.

Chop the pistachios coarsely in a food processor. Place the white chocolate in a double boiler over barely simmering water and stir until melted. Remove from the heat and stir in the mascarpone, goat cheese, and milk. Drain the penne and place in a heated serving bowl. Pour the chocolate sauce over the top and sprinkle with the chopped pistachios. Toss well. Serve hot with the grated dark chocolate sprinkled over the top.

Celebrating Anonymity (with pie!)

2011-08-08T21:34:00.004-04:00

Several weeks ago, I was tapped to take part of a collaborative project between my University's IT dept and the local art museum. In less than a month, we needed to plan, design, and implement some way to present interactive multimedia within their upcoming exhibit on the human form. That, by the way, is a very short and hard deadline to create something completely original, with no amount of previous experience.

After going through designs, initial builds, tests, snafus, bugs, rebuilds, and many cries for help to other departments, everything was up and running on time. I was particularly pleased with the product, given that I played an unusually central role in the project. From research to implementation, and following through with testing and monitoring, I feel like I did the bulk of this project's heavy lifting.

And today, there is recognition! The main news feature on the University's central website is devoted to my project! "Smart exhibit blends art and technology", it reads, "Organizers of Go Figure use touch-screen technology to engage visitors, tell artists’ stories." Organizers...? The article tastefully recounts what moved the exhibit's curator to create the videos, and how my boss was inspired to lead this innovative collaboration. It goes on to chronicle how their boundary-breaking brainchild elucidates the deeper meaning of the works to the average museum goer, granting each a discreet view into the artists' respective thoughts. The two of them felt very privileged to have been part of such a landmark work, and both see many opportunities for this sort of partnership in the future.

I think I might even be mentioned in there. Somewhere. Possibly the phrase "...and others" refers to me. Maybe.

Far be it from me to feel slighted, though! Rather, I am tacitly amused. And I won't deny that they deserve a good helping of credit for what was, despite my ironic posturing, a pretty cool project. But I'm going to extend thanks to some the poor plebes who don't have enough of a title to be publicly recognized: yours truly, for one, who built the thing from ground-up from little more than a photoshop design (and we'll just gloss over the amount of redesigning & debugging it required); one of my department's designers, for creating said design; the University's mobile iOS developer, who originally constructed the pseudo-browser app that we used as a platform to present the media; and finally, the Smart Museum's videographer, who filmed & edited all 19 videos currently on display, side-by-side with the art pieces. These must be thankless jobs: I worked with all of them, and even I don't know all of their names.

So well done, mates. Have some pie. Some crazy pie for a crazy good job on a crazy project.

This pie brought to you courtesy of Bon Appetit's August edition. And let me just say, you should go eat some immediately. It's divine.

Rhubarb-Gingersnap Icebox Pie

for the crust:

nonstick vegetable oil spray
1 cup ground gingersnap cookies (20-30 cookies, depending on brand, ground in a food processor)
2 Tbs sugar
1/4 tsp salt
1/8 tsp nutmeg
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, melted

for the rhubarb compote:

1 cup fruity red wine, such as Shiraz
3/4 cups sugar
3/4 lbs fresh rhubarb, (or frozen rhubarb, thawed,) cut lengthwise into 1/3-inch slices, then crosswise into 1,1/2-inch-long pieces (about 3 cups)

to assemble:

1 quart good-quality vanilla ice cream
1/4 cup chilled heavy cream
1/4 cup crème fraîche or sour cream
1 Tbs sugar

Crust
Preheat the over to 325 degrees. Coat a 9-inch glass or metal pie pan with nonstick spray.

Process cookie crumbs, sugar, salt, and nutmeg in a good processor until well incorporated. Transfer mixture to a medium bowl and drizzle butter over; stir to blend. Pour into prepared dish. Use bottom and sides of a measuring cup to pack crumbs onto bottom and up sides of dish. Bake until crust is deep golden brown, about 12min. Let cool on a wire rack and set aside.

Compote
Brine wine, sugar, and 1/2 cup water to a boil in a wide pot, stirring to dissolve sugar. Reduce heat to medium and simmer, stirring often, until syrup measures 1 cup, 10-12min. Add rhubarb, increase heat to high, and cook, without stirring and swirling pan occasionally, until compote thickens and syrup is slightly reduced, 4-5min. Slide onto a plate, keeping rhubarb intact. Freeze for 10min to chill quickly.

Assembly
Chill bowl and paddle attachment of a stand mixer (ie: a spatula) in freezer. Soften ice cream in the refrigerator for 20min. Spoon ice cream into the chilled bowl and beat with paddle attachment on low speed until smooth. Set 1/3 cup compote aside; add remaining compote to ice cream and mix until evenly incorporated. Spoon the ice cream into cooled crust; smooth top. Freeze until firm, about 2 hours.

Whip cream, crème fraîche, and sugar in a small bowl just until peaks form. Spoon into center of pie; spread evenly, leaving a 1-inch plain border. Spoon remaining compote onto center of cream. Freeze until firm, about 1 hour and up to 8 hours. Let pie stand at room temperature for 10min before serving.

Just Because Lee Asked...

2011-07-19T22:30:00.006-04:00

Here's the recipe for a cake I made along with the grape & wine pasta. It reminds me a lot of Crans Cake, playing on a similar nut & cream theme. The downside: pistachios are time-consuming to shell and blanch. And by the way, since the frosting is mostly butter (I'm really not kidding), be sure that the cake is completely cool before you try to spread it, else it will simply melt and dribble off. I mean completely cool. I ended up putting mine in the freezer for a few minutes.

Sicilian Pistachio Cake
for the batter:

2 large eggs
2/3 cup sour cream, divided
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp almond extract
1/3 cup blanched pistachios
1 cup sugar
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1,1/2 sticks (12 Tbs) butter

for the buttercream:

3 large eggs yolks
1/4 cup plus 2 Tbs sugar
1/4 cup light corn syrup
1 tsp lemon juice
2 sticks butter
1 tsp vanilla extract
3 drops pistachio essence (optional) // because everybody has that in their pantry, right?
1/2 cup plus 1 Tbs blanched pistachio nuts, slivered or coarsely chopped

The Cake
Set an oven rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees. Coat a 9-by-2-inch round cake pan with butter and flour.

In a small bowl, whisk the eggs, 3 Tbs of the sour cream, the vanilla, and almond extract, just until lightly combined.

In a food processor, process the pistachios with the sugar until finely ground but not to a powder.

In a large bowl, mix the flour, the pistachio mixture, the baking powder, baking soda, and salt on low speed for 30sec. Add the butter and the remaining sour cream. Mix on low speed until the dry ingredients are moistened. Raise the speed to medium and beat for 1,1/2min. Scrape down the sides of the bowl.

Gradually add the egg mixture in two parts, beating for 30sec after each addition to incorporate the ingredients and strengthen their structure. Using a spatula, scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the surface evenly.

Bake for 35-45min, until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Let the cake cool in the pan for 10min before removing the pan and allowing it to cool completely.

The Buttercream
In a medium bowl, mix the yolks until light in color.

In a small saucepan, preferably nonstick, combine the sugar, syrup, and lemon juice. Using a spatula, stir until all the sugar is moistened. Heat over medium-high heat, stirring constantly, until the sugar dissolves and the syrup begins to boil around the edges. Stop stirring and continue cooking for a few minutes, until the syrup comes to a rolling boil (the entire surface will be covered with large bubbles). Immediately transfer the syrup to a heatproof glass measure (or ceramic bowl) to stop the cooking.

Beat the syrup into the yolks in a steady stream. Continue beating for 5min. Let cool completely. To speed cooling, place the bowl in the refrigerator, stirring occasionally.

When cool, beat in the butter 1 Tbs at a time. The buttercream will not thicken until almost all of the butter has been added. Add the vanilla and pistachio essence (if using), and beat until incorporated.

Use the buttercream at once. Otherwise, place in an airtight container and use up to 4hrs later. If you are keeping it longer, refrigerate it and bring it to room temperature before using.

The Presentation
When the cake is completely cool, frost the top and sides with swirls of buttercream. Coat the top and sides with the slivered or chopped pistachios.

Food for a Bad Week

2011-07-17T13:17:00.003-04:00

I have spent the past week engulfed in melancholy.

Backstory: I was in New York last weekend, visiting friends from college -- you know, the important ones: those who make much of college worthwhile. It was glorious and exhausting and I relished every instant with a profound joy. The trip was touched with a bit of sadness, though; I learned that most of them are... (how to put this delicately?)... not in the best of places right now. Being the nosy nice guy that I am, I want to step in and help, changing the world so that they can have an easier time of it. That's simply not possible, of course, and it infuriates me. As a result, I have spent all my time since then brooding, frustrated and morose.

My mood deteriorated even further when I saw the state of the kitchen upon my return. Not only did it have the usual filthy characteristics that I hate (recycling: overflowed; sink: full of dishes; all surfaces: encrusted with grime), but furthermore, the dishwasher was broken! I realise that as students, we are incredibly spoiled to have this machine. But it is of little use when it refuses to use water. Disgusted, I withdrew to (read: hid in) my room for a few days.

Passive aggressive? Maybe. But you know things are bad in this apartment when I refuse to cook, especially since I'm the one who suffers most from that decision. I get antsy and irritable (if I'm not already) when I can't create anything.

Fortunately, the weekend has witnessed an upturn of sorts. Melancholy has given way to grim determination, somehow fueled by the memory of joy. I've managed to spend a few hours cleaning and running errands, and the dishwasher has reconciled itself with water. Life is getting tolerable again. I haven't made a difference in New York yet; that's next on my To-Do list. Me vs. the Universe. Yeah. Let's do this.

In the meantime, to keep myself distracted and celebrate the returned-to-functional kitchen, I continue to make interesting things. This here is a fascinating pasta dish that I once made a while ago, but didn't blog about it for some reason. If the mix of red wine, grapes, and Italian sausage doesn't grab your interest already, then think about the taste when the grapes macerate in the wine for 8 hours, along with sugar and vinegar. Hard to imagine, isn't it? Take it from me: the result is a delightful mix of sweetness from the fruit, bitterness from the vinegar, and spice from the sausage. And don't be intimidated by the wait; after the overnight maceration, the rest of dish assembles very quickly.

Strozzapreti with Sausage, Grapes, and Red Wine

1 cup seedless red grapes, cut in half lengthwise
1 cup dry red wine
1/4 cup sugar
2 Tbs red wine vinegar
1 lb dried strozzapreti pasta // or whatever type of pasta you happen to have on hand
3 Tbs olive oil
1,1/2 lbs Italian sausage (about 4 links, recommended 2 spicy and 2 sweet), casings cut away and meat roughly chopped
1 medium onion, chopped (about 1 cup)
10 sage leaves
2 Tbs butter
1/2 cup grated pecorino cheese, plus extra for sprinkling
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 Tbs chopped parsley

Day 1:
Combine the grapes, wine, sugar, and vinegar in an airtight container, and store in the fridge so that the grapes macerate for at least 8 hours or overnight.

Day 2:
Put a large pot of salted water on to boil for the pasta.

Remove the grape mixture from the fridge, place it in a medium saucepot, and bring it up to a boil over high heat. Cook the mixture at a boil until the liquid has reduced by half, about 10min.

When the pasta water comes to a boil, add the strozzapreti and cook until the pasta is just al dente.

Heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the meat and begin to brown it for about 3-4min, stirring and breaking up the meat as you go.

Add the onion and continue cooking, stirring well, until the sausage and onion have cooked through, about 5-7min.

Add the sage and stir to combine.

Add the grape mixture and stir well.

When the pasta is cooked, drain it (but do not rinse it). Add the pasta to the pot with the grape-and-sausage mixture and cook together so the flavours combine and the pasta cooks a bit more, about 1,1/2min.

Remove the saucepot from the heat and add the butter, cheese, black pepper, and parsley. Sprinkle with more cheese and serve immediately.

Fancy Frozen Desserts

2011-07-04T15:49:00.006-04:00

Falko continues to taunt me. I respond in kind.

Semifreddo
Shamefully, I had never heard of semifreddo before. The Italian concoction (it translates to 'semi-cold'), I am told, is usually made with a mix of gelato and whipped cream, presented as a frozen cake or custard. I'm sure they must get pretty fancy. The one that I found doesn't call for gelato (thankfully), requiring instead simply your own eggs, sugar, and cream. As an added bonus, it is triple-layered; each third composes a radically different (and very accurate) taste. The first gives you a base of green pistachio cream, followed by a pink strawberry layer, and topped with a pure and simple vanilla flavour.

The technique is pretty straightforward in theory, being essentially three parallel processes occurring at the same time. First, you extract the essence of the flavours into milk, then you add beaten eggs and sugar to each, then to you add whipped cream to each, and assemble. It does eventually become time consuming when you have to wait for everything to chill or freeze, though, so it would probably be best to make this long ahead (up to 3 days) of when you intend to serve it.

Serving tips: though you can scoop it out of the loaf pan, I recommend turning it out on a platter and slicing it with a hot knife. It's very presentable, and you get a better cross-section (literally) of the different flavours. It does mean you'll probably have to eat most of it in one sitting, but I doubt many would mind that.

1 cup shelled unsalted pistachios
4 Tbsp sugar, divided, plus 1/2 cup
1 cup whole milk, divided
1/4 tsp almond extract
1 vanilla bean, halved lengthwise
1 cup fresh strawberries (about 4oz), hulled, halved
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 large eggs, at room temperature
1/4 tsp salt
1,1/3 cups chilled heavy whipping cream

Line a metal loaf pan (approximately 9*5*3-inches) with 2 layers of plastic wrap, leaving generous overhang on all sides.

Grind pistachios and 2 Tbs sugar in a food processor until very finely chopped. Transfer pistachio mixture to a small saucepan. Add 1/2 cup milk; bring to a boil. Remove from heat, cover, and let steep for 20min. Set a fine-mesh strainer over a medium bowl; strain, discarding solids. Stir in almond extract; set pistachio mixture aside.

Place remaining 1/2 cup milk in a separate small saucepan. Scrape in seeds from vanilla bean; add bean and bring to a simmer. Remove from heat, cover, and let steep for 15min. Set a strainer over another medium bowl; strain, discarding solids, and chill vanilla mixture.

Purée strawberries and 2 Tbs sugar in a food processor until smooth. Set a fine-mesh strainer over another medium bowl; strain, pressing on solids to extract as much juice as possible. Discard solids. Stir in vanilla extract and set strawberry mixture aside.

Whisk eggs, salt, and remaining 1/2 cup sugar in a medium metal bowl. Set bowl over a medium saucepan of simmering water (do not allow bottom of bowl to touch water). Beat egg mixture at high speed until it triples in volume and an instant-read thermometer inserted into mixture registers 170 degrees, about 3min. Remove bowl from over water and continue beating until thick and cool, about 3min. Add one third of egg mixture to each of the pistachio, strawberry, and vanilla mixtures; fold each just to blend.

Beat cream in a large bowl until soft peaks form. Add on third of cream to each of the pistachio, strawberry, and vanilla mixtures; fold each just to blend. Cover vanilla and strawberry mixtures separately; chill. Pour pistachio mixture into pan; smooth top. Cover and freeze until firm, about 45min. Gently pour strawberry mixture over pistachio layer; smooth top. Freeze until firm, about 45min. Gently fold vanilla mixture to blend; pour over and smooth top. Freeze until firm, about 4hrs.

Ice Cream Bonbons
This is fancy and delicious, but before I talk about that, I have two issues with this dessert. First, I dislike the name "bonbon." Bonbon, to me, is the French word for candy -- just simple candy. Tootsie rolls and Hershey's chocolate are bonbons. But when the word is used in American English, it seems the height of presumption: "this thing is so good, we must give it a French name". An inaccurate French name. And frankly, the French are doing excellently well with their own desserts; they don't need this attributed to them.

My apologies. As you might have noticed, the adoption and misuse of foreign languages is a pet peeve of mine.

Secondly, the recipe is a bit of a cheat: it calls for ice cream as an ingredient. So I guess instead of being an alternative to homemade cream, it's more of a fancification of what you already have: a hardened chocolate shell with a center of ice cream and a sprinkling of rock salt. It's kind of complicated to make (you have to work fast), but well worth it if you want to turn store-bought ice cream into a fancy dessert. Besides, it's really tasty.

10 oz extra-dark chocolate, finely chopped
2 oz good-quality white chocolate from a bar, chopped
1 cup finely crushed chocolate wafer cookies
1 pint ice cream // I used mint; they recommend caramel, strawberry, chocolate, vanilla, or coffee
Flaky sea salt, for sprinkling

In a medium heatproof bowl set over a pan of simmering water, melt the dark and white chocolates together. Scrape into a smaller bowl and let cool slightly.

Put the crushed cookies on a small plate. Line 2 baking sheets with wax paper and place on in the freezer. Fill a cup with ice water.

Working very quickly, scoop a 1-Tbs-size scoop of ice cream, packing it tightly. Transfer it to the melted chocolate. Using a skewer, poke the rounded top of the ice cream and coat the ball in the chocolate. Lift the bonbon, allowing the excess chocolate to drip into the bowl. Dip the bottom of the bonbon in the cookie crumbs and set on the baking sheet. Sprinkle salt on top. Let stand for 10 seconds, then transfer the bonbon to the baking sheet in the freezer. Repeat to form the remaining bonbons; dip the ice cream scoop in the ice water between scoops. Freeze the bonbons until firm, 30min, then serve.

Summer Salads

2011-06-30T19:08:00.003-04:00

As I've explained before, I'm not comfortable with salads. Their apparent simplicity intimidates the daylights out of me. I just have no confidence that I can make it taste good -- ridiculous as that may seem. Which is why I was very surprised when I realised I had a craving for one a few days ago. But instead of simply throwing a bunch of greens together and drizzling it with a quick vinaigrette, I had to go and make a project out of it. Tsk. Just like me. I can't just eat something. I have to go and think about it. Higher education at work here, people.

Not that this is a bad thing by any stretch of the imagination. I probably should have more greens in my diet anyway, if USDA's new nutrition chart is anything to go by... Tangent: was anyone else completely dumbfounded that they didn't think to use a pie chart in the first place? And their recommendations are still difficult to interpret, since they evidently can't even center the design accurately. Moral of the story: if you need a statistics degree to figure out how to eat, USDA's doing it wrong.

Return from tangent: furthermore, that's the exact kind of meal that you would want to have during summer. Fresh, crisp greens with an acid tang; anything else would add to the lethargy you already experience from the heat. Now, personally, I don't think that a salad by itself it enough to constitute an entire meal. A potato salad or a chicken salad, sure. But just a salad? Isn't that kinda... limited?

A question to be explored at a later date. In order to satisfy my craving and food preferences, I uncovered these two recipes, which have temporarily turned the Salad to an accessible summer meal for me.

Chicken Cherry Salad
Obviously, the best way to make a salad more meaty is to add, well, meat. (Duh.) But this one goes a step further by also adding croutons and cherries. Vegetables, protein, starch, fruit -- boom! Full nutritional value in a single dish. I'm waiting for the government to pat me on the head like a good little drone.

Facetiousness aside, I did continue eating this for several days in a row, jealously hiding it from my roommates. It's not as crisp as I expected (maybe I didn't toast the bread fast enough?), but that didn't bother me. In fact, that would have distracted me from the soft texture of the cherries and chicken. The vinaigrette gives everything a pleasant bite (in nice contrast to the cherries' sweetness), especially if you let it all soak it in for a few minutes.

For the Chicken:

6 (2,1/4 lbs) skin-on, bone-in chicken thighs
1 Tbs vegetable oil
Salt and pepper

For the Salad:

1/4 cup lemon juice
3 tbs Dijon mustard
3 Tbs dill, chopped
2 Tbs honey
1 garlic clove, minced
1/4 cup olive oil
Salt and pepper
4 thick slices rustic bread, crusts removed, torn into 3/4-inch pieces
1 lb fresh cherries, stemmed, pitted, and lightly crushed
3 heads butter lettuce, cored and turned into pieces
4 radishes, thinly sliced
1 Tbs chopped chives

Preheat the oven to 475, and heat oil in a large cast-iron or heavy nonstick skillet over high heat until hot but not smoking. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Nestle chicken in skillet, skin side down, and cook 2 minutes. Reduce heat to medium-high; continue cooking skin side down, occasionally rearranging chicken thighs and rotating pan to evenly distribute heat, until fat renders and skin is golden brown, about 12min.

Transfer skillet to oven and cook 13min more. Flip chicken; continue cooking until skin crisps and meat is cooked through, about 5min longer. Transfer to a plate; reserve the fat.

Whisk together the lemon juice, Dijon mustard, dill, honey, and garlic together in a small bowl. Gradually whisk in oil. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Stir; set aside. Remove the crispy chicken skin and tear into pieces. Do the same with the chicken meat; discard the bones.

Heat the chicken fat over medium heat. Add bread to skillet and toast, turning frequently, until golden and crisp, about 2min. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. Season with salt and pepper while still hot.

Place chicken meat in a large bowl. Add cherries, lettuce, radishes, and chives and drizzle with vinaigrette; toss to coat. Divide salad among plates and garnish with croutons and chicken skin.

Celery, Grape, and Mushroom Salad
Another good way to add meatiness to a dish (minus the meat)? Mushrooms! This is a doubly good recipe for summer because it calls for a grill -- not only for the mushrooms, mind you, but for the grapes as well. What an awesome way to add smokiness to an otherwise fresh and nutty dish! At least, so I imagine. I don't have a grill, so I rely on my broiler. It still tastes excellent, but I will definitely have to make it again when I have earned that essential step on the path to adulthood. NB: if you happen to have unlocked this life achievement already, please make this in its original form and tell me what it's like!

Also, if you want to prove yourself a dork, place the oyster mushrooms on your face and pretend that you're Cthulu.

(...yes, I do such things.)

2 Tbs white wine vinegar
2 tsp lemon juice
1/2 tsp celery seeds
1/4 tsp Dijon mustard
2 small garlic cloves, minced
1/2 cup plus 1 Tbs olive oil (plus more for brushing)
1/4 cup almond oil
Salt and pepper
1/2 cup parsley leaves
1/2 cup celery leaves
1/4 cup salted roasted almonds, chopped
1 lb king oyster mushrooms, sliced lengthwise 1/4 inch thick
2 cups (12oz) green grapes
2 heads butter lettuce, leaves separated
2 cups very thinly sliced celery

In a small bowl, whisk the vinegar with the lemon juice, celery seeds, mustard and half of the garlic. Gradually whisk in 1/4 cup of the olive oil and the almond oil until emulsified. Season the dressing with salt and pepper.

In a food processor, combine the remaining garlic with the parsley, celery leaves and almonds and pulse until finely chopped. Add another 1/4 cup of the olive oil and puree to a chunky paste. Season the pesto with salt and pepper.

Light a grill (or heat your broiler). Brush the mushrooms with oil and season with salt and pepper. Grill over high heat, turning once, until tender and browned, about 5min. In a bowl, toss the grapes with the remaining 1 Tbs of olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Grill over high heat until the skins begin to blacken in spots, about 3min; line the grill with perforated foil if the grapes will fall through. Transfer the grapes and mushrooms to a large bowl and toss with the pesto.

Arrange the lettuce leaves on a platter and drizzle with half of the dressing. Spoon the mushroom-and-grape salad onto the lettuce. Toss the celery with the remaining dressing, spoon it on top and serve.

I Hate Ice Cream.

2011-06-19T09:45:00.004-04:00

There, do I have your attention now?

Ok, so it's not entirely true. It's not ice cream itself that I hate; it's the recipes that annoy me. Or, more specifically, the need for extra, unwieldy equipment that I don't have. I've lost count of the number of interesting flavours I've come across, only to be foiled by that last accursed step: "Churn in ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions." Argh! Couldn't you have told me that, I don't know, before I carefully reviewed the ingredients list and examined the other steps to ensure they were feasible. Or before I visualized spending a hot summer afternoon cooling off by having delicious ice cream and drinks while lounging on the roof of my building?

Yes, Falko, I'm talking to you. Why must you taunt me so with your divine-looking experiments? Your obsession is a bane to my culinary existence. I will be coming to your door soon, and you will rue the years of twarted anticipation you have caused me! Do you hear me? RUUUUUUE!

For all {Humans} \ {Falko}, this dear friend of mine is a frequent contributor to Serious Eats, and you should give serious thought to reading all his contributions. But I warn you: get an ice cream maker first. Otherwise, you'll be prone to outbursts like the above.

Ok, rant over. The reason I bring up this subject is -- as a result of somebody's quests into ice cream creation -- I have long wanted to find homemade ice cream alternatives that don't require any special equipment. Unfortunately, a lot of scoopable/hand-held frozen desserts are lost if you can neither a) churn the mixture, nor b) mold it. The good news is that the weather in Chicago is finally warming up -- for instance, the net increase in temperature this past week has been around 40 degrees (50 degrees 3 days ago, 90 degrees today). That isn't great in and of itself, but it does mean that the various foodie magazines I read have adopted a focus on cool desserts.

Like this one from Bon Appettit, a Mango-Chile Ice. The ingredient list caught my eye immediately; there are so few, yet each offers a distinctly noticeable influence on the finished dish: ripe mangoes for their fruity sweetness, lime for the acidic citrus tang, topped with red pepper to give it a memorable afterburn. In fact, I happily added a lot more lime zest and red pepper than was called for, and I never regretted it for an instant. The preparation time sucks, though: you have to crush and refreeze it three times, and be sure not to forget it in the freezer, lest you have to deal with a solid plate of ice, rather than gradually hardening slush. More research is definitely required on that front. But the taste of this dessert is the perfect thing for the soon-to-be sweltering summer days: cool and refreshing, with a bite that will keep your attention.

Mango-Chile Ice

6 large mangoes (about 5,1/3 lb) halved, pitted, peeled, diced (about 7,1/2 cups)
1,3/4 cups sugar
1/2 cup fresh lime juice
2 tsp lime zest
1/4 tsp ancho chile powder, plus more for serving

Set a strainer in a 13*9*2-inch glass baking dish. Combine half of all ingredients with 5 Tbsp water in a processor and purée until smooth. Strain mango mixture into dish. Repeat for second half of ingredients. Freeze until mixture is slushy, about 2 hours.

Working in 2 batches, purée in processor again. Return mango ice to same dish. Freeze 2 hours.

Repeat 2 more times.

Serving suggestions: let stand at room temperature for 20min. Scoop into dishes, sprinkle with chile powder, and serve.

Hallelujah!

2011-06-01T20:15:00.006-04:00

Supporting local food production, getting high quality ingredients, being challenged with new and unusual foodstuffs, learning what happens to the things you eventually put in your body... there are so many reasons to love farmer's markets, I don't think I could list them all if I tried. My local market just reopened from the winter hiatus. It's a little thing, hosting no more than a handful of stalls any given week, but compared to the goods at the grocery store ("America's Most European Supermarket!" - gag me) it's well worth the weekly pilgrimages to quality food. But since I would do my little market a great injustice by singing its praises insufficiently, I think I'm going to stop while I'm ahead. Instead, I'm going to talk about one thing about it that has me jumping up and down. And that thing is...

Meat.

Since moving to Chicago, I have encountered many interesting diets. Some are borne out of necessity (allergies, diabetes), and some of personal choice. With the exception of Zuckerberg's new diet, I can't think of any that are so overtly bizarre as to throw me for a loop. A little odd, sure. But friends who are vegetarian, vegan, kosher, allergic, or adherents to a particular culinary denomination are all welcome in my kitchen. In the meantime, however, I will remain happily omnivorous; I'll eat anything. Except licorice. Y'all can keep that shit to yourselves.

Moxie, on the other hand, is a locavore when it comes to meat. Make no mistake: she loves the stuff, but doesn't want to eat faceless-industry-processed muck. A fair opinion to have for an old farmhand. The issue is, what is local (and accessible) during a Chicago winter, when we live down in the south side? The answer: not much. Stray cat, maybe. Or the odd fattened rodent, if you care to catch it yourself (Zuckerberg?)

The result is that we've been eating mostly vegetarian during cold months. It hasn't been an issue: I have the odd meat dish when she's not around, and it's not difficult for either of us to get enough protein. But occasionally, that's not enough. There's a craving that arises. And sometimes, we heathen flesh-eaters - must - have - MEAT.

And now we can! Hallelujah and bless the farmer's market! To celebrate its reopening, we probably bought enough meat to last us a month, plus some other goodies (because, y'know, why not?). And to further mark the occasion, we planned to make a dish that I've been eyeing for a long time now -- to be precise, since I first got a copy of The Silver Palate, when Neen marked "Duck with Forty Cloves of Garlic" with 4.5 stars and the comment "use chicken!" Ultimately, we used two Cornish hens. Then joined forces with another apartment couple to have a spontaneous dinner party feast.

You may still be reeling from the title of this dish, in which case, further mention will probably throw you back into a frenzy. Yes, it actually does use 40 cloves of garlic. And it's delicious.

I'll wait for you to recover. Better? Good. 40 cloves of garlic! Blücher!

In all seriousness (hah), this dish deserves every bit of those 4.5 stars. Don't worry - since you roast the fowl with the cloves still in their skins, you won't be overwhelming the meat with a super-intense astringency. Instead, you enrich the moist bird with a faint je-ne-sais-quoi, giving it depth and flavour. The garlic is then added to the vinegary gravy, whose creaminess (coming from a stick of butter) is enough to tame it. As a whole, this recipe is a study in how to take disparate and pucker-worthy tastes and combine them to form a rich and satisfying meal. Definitely a celebratory meal.

"Duck" with Forty Cloves of Garlic

1 duck, 4.5-5 lbs, fresh or thoroughly defrosted // or equivalent in other fowl
salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
2 Tbs vegetable oil
1 cup finely chopped yellow onions
2 carrots, peeled and finely diced
1,1/2 cups chicken stock or canned chicken broth
1 tsp dried thyme
3 parsley sprigs
1 bay leaf
40 large garlic cloves
2 Tbs sherry vinegar
1 Tbs Crème de Cassis (black currant liqueur) // I skipped this
8 Tbs (1 stick) sweet butter, chilled
chopped parsley (garnish)

Remove neck and giblets from the duck; save the liver for another use. Chop neck, heart, and gizzard. Cut off wing tips. Remove all possible fat from the duck's cavity and prick the skin all over with a fork. Salt the inside and outside of the duck and set it in a shallow baking pan just large enough to hold it comfortably. Set aside.

Heat the vegetable oil in a small saucepan, add chopped giblets and wing tips, and brown over high heat. Season with salt and pepper, reduce heat, and add the onions and carrots. Cover and cook until vegetables are tender and lightly colored, about 20min.

Add the chicken stock, thyme, parsley and bay leaf, season with salt and pepper, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, partially cover, and simmer while the duck roasts.

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Separate the heads of garlic into cloves, discarding the papery skin from the heads; do not peel the cloves. Select about 6 of the largest cloves and stuff them into the duck. Arrange the rest of the garlic around the duck.

Set the pan on the middle level of the oven. After 15min turn the temperature down to 375 degrees and roast the bird for another 35min for medium; 5 to 10 for juicy and still slightly pink. Transfer duck to a platter, cover with foil, and keep warm.

Strain the broth, discard the solids (aside: don't you dare. Keep them to make the gravy chunky later, or eat them as is), and measure the broth. You should have 1/2 cup. If you have less, don't worry. If you have more, return it to the saucepan and cook briskly for 5min or so to reduce it.

Lift the garlic cloves from the cooking fat with a slotted spoon and force them through the medium disc of a food mill. Reserve the puréed garlic and discard the skins.

When the broth is properly reduced, add the vinegar and Cassis, bring to a boil, and reduce the mixture by one third. Whisk in the garlic purée and remove the pan from the heat.

Cut the chilled butter into 10 pieces and whisk the butter, piece by piece, into the hot sauce, always adding another piece of butter before the previous one is entirely absorbed. The sauce will begin to look creamy and thicken slightly. Cover the saucepan and set it in a warm (not hot) place.

Carve the duck and divide the serving pieces among multiple plates. Spoon some sauce over the duck and transfer the rest to a sauceboat. Retrieve the garlic cloves remaining inside the carcass and use them to garnish the sauced duck. Sprinkle with parsley and serve immediately.

OMG Bagels!

2011-05-08T13:07:00.005-04:00

Dear Wednesday Chef: marry me. Adopt me. Take me in as your kitchen slave. In what manner can I laud and adore you for this wonder that you have brought into my life?

Ahem. Oh, hi there!

As you might recall, some time ago, I was discussing the merits of Chicago deep-dish pizza vs New York's thin crust. And, I admit, shamelessly poking fun at New Yorkers' quirky and intense pride. Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I'm still a little bitter from losing all my friends to that city (*shakes fist). So, to make amends, today I'm going to focus on one of NYC's great culinary accomplishments: bagels.

To tell the truth, I approached this with even more skepticism than I had the deep-dish. I simply wasn't convinced that you could actually make bagels in your home's kitchen. The chewy interior, the lightly-blistered crust, and don't you have to boil them for a while...? Sounds like something better left to industrial -- or at least specialized -- kitchens. Visions of disaster, of bloated, soppy dough loosely shaped into a torus, blossomed in my mind. It occurs to me that I must have once eaten such homemade "bagels" for the thoughts to be so vivid.

And then I found myself on The Wednesday Chef, a cooking blog by a New Yorker living in Berlin. Heh, a blog -- by an expat -- recommend -- by an expat -- to me (an ex-expat): expatriates FTW! That, plus the fact that she sounds like my sister in a good mood led me to take a liking to her recipes. And who could not take a liking to this: a recipe on how to make bagels from your own kitchen. I was caught when her initial skepticism mirrored my own, and then swept up in her rushed ebullience as the recipe culminated into The *Perfect* Bagels.

You don't believe it. I understand. *I* didn't believe it! Not even when I took their perfectly golden forms from the oven, nor when I cut through their crispy blistered skin, nor as I bit into their perfectly chewy interiors. I couldn't have made these! Impossible! Surely the kitchen gnomes must have surreptitiously replaced my dough with these god-touched bagels from heaven. And you know what? I don't care! As long as the gnomes do the same thing next weekend, when I'm making this recipe again. Twice. Maybe three times.

It's been a good morning.

I'm going to stop talking now, because you need to go make this right now.

Peter Reinhart's Bagels
as presented by Luisa Weiss, verbatim (yay plagiarism!) Makes 6 to 8 bagels

3 1/2 cups (1 pound) unbleached flour (bread or all-purpose)
3 teaspoons salt, divided
3/4 teaspoon instant yeast
1 tablespoon honey or barley malt syrup, if you've got it
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons water
1 teaspoon baking soda
Poppy or sesame seeds

By hand, mix the flour, 2 teaspoons salt, the yeast, honey and the water until the ingredients form a stiff, coarse ball of dough (about 3 minutes). If necessary, add a little more water. Let the dough rest 5 minutes.

Knead the dough on a lightly floured surface until the dough feels stiff yet supple, with a satiny, slightly tacky feel, 2 to 3 minutes. If the dough seems too soft or too tacky, sprinkle over just enough flour as needed.

Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover tightly with plastic wrap, and place it in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour and up to several hours. Keep in mind that the bagels must be shaped before proofing overnight.

When ready to shape the bagels, line a baking sheet with lightly greased parchment paper or a silicone baking mat.

Remove the dough from the refrigerator and divide it into 6 to 8 equal pieces. Form each piece into a loose, round ball by rolling it on a clean, dry work surface with a cupped hand; do not use any flour on the surface. If the dough slides around and won't ball up, wipe the work surface with a damp paper towel and try again - the slight amount of moisture will provide enough "bite" for the dough to form a ball. When each piece has been formed into a ball, you are ready to shape the bagels.

Using your hands and a fair amount of pressure, roll each dough ball into a "rope" 8 to 10 inches long. (Moisten the work surface with a damp paper towel, if necessary, to get the necessary bite or friction). Slightly taper the rope at the ends so that they are thinner than the middle. Place one end of the dough between your thumb and forefinger and wrap it around your hand until the ends overlap in your palm; they should overlap by about 2 inches. Squeeze the overlapping ends together and then press the joined ends into the work surface, rolling them back and forth a few times until they are completely sealed.

Remove the dough from your hand and squeeze as necessary to even out the thickness so that there is a 2-inch hole in the center. Place the bagel on the prepared sheet pan. Repeat with the other pieces. Lightly wipe the bagels with oil, cover with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator overnight.

Remove the bagels from the refrigerator 90 minutes before you plan to bake them. Fill a large stockpot with 3 quarts of water (be sure the water is at least 4 inches deep), cover with a lid, and slowly bring the water to a boil. When it comes to a boil, add the remaining teaspoon of salt and 1 teaspoon of baking soda, reduce the heat and simmer with the lid on.

Thirty minutes before baking, heat the oven to 500 degrees.

Test the bagels by placing one in a bowl of cold water. If it sinks and doesn't float to the surface, return it to the sheet, wait 15 minutes and then test it again. When one bagel passes the float test, they are ready for the pot.

Gently lift each bagel and drop it into the simmering water. Add as many as will comfortably fit in the pot. After 1 minute, use a slotted spoon to flip each bagel over. Poach for an extra 30 seconds. Using the slotted spoon, remove each bagel and return it to the lined baking sheet. Continue until all the bagels have been poached. Generously sprinkle each bagel with a topping.

Place the baking sheet in the oven and reduce the heat to 450 degrees. Bake for 8 minutes and then rotate the sheet (if using two sheets, also switch their positions). Check the underside of the bagels. If they are getting too dark, place another sheet under the baking sheet. Bake until the bagels are golden brown, an additional 8 to 12 minutes. Remove from the oven and transfer the bagels to a rack for at least 30 minutes before serving.

Happy Birfday to Me!

2011-04-25T16:16:00.005-04:00

Black Forest Cake
for the cake:

1,2/3 cups flour
1,1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
5oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup butter, softened
1,1/4 cups brown sugar
2 eggs
1/2 cup sour cream

for the filling:

1,1/2 cups cherry jam or preserves
3 Tbs kirsch
2 cups heavy cream

for the frosting:

8 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped
2 Tbs butter
(optional) candied cherries to decorate

Bake the cakes
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter 2 9-inch round cake pans, then line them with parchment paper, and butter the parchment paper.

Mix the flour, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. Melt the chocolate and water in a double boiler over barely simmering water. Set aside to cool.

Beat the butter and brown sugar in a large bowl with an electric mixer at medium speed until creamy. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating until just blended after each addition. With mixer at low speed, gradually beat in the chocolate mixture, sour cream, and dry ingredients.

Spoon half the batter in each of the prepared pans. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the centers comes out clean, 45-55min. Cool the cakes in the pans for 10min. Turn out onto racks. Carefully remove the parchment paper and let cool completely. Split the cakes horizontally.

Make the Cherry Cream Filling
Mix the jam and kirsch. With mixer at high speed, beat the cream in a medium bowl until stiff.

Make the Chocolate Frosting
Melt the chocolate and butter in a double boiler over barely simmering water.

Assemble the Cake
Place on cake layer on a serving plate. Spread with one-third of the preserves mixture and one-third of the whipped cream. Repeat with the remaining cake layers, finishing with a plain layer. Spread the frosting over the top and sides of the cake.

Oh yeah, and assemble a large tapas dinner while you're at it.

No Heat Required

2011-04-10T11:50:00.004-04:00

Let's make one thing clear here: I'm a pasta addict. Sure, it's cheap and easy, thereby making it the kind of food off of which we graduate students base our existence. What's more, a good sauce provides the longest-lasting leftovers. I can think back to several periods in my collegiate life when all I had time to eat was Norma's Peanut Sauce. But I find that the real beauty of the food is that it acts as a base for just about anything. It offers a firm grounding for any inspired madman to create a sauce ridiculous and amazing. And as a result, I eat it all the time.

So when Moxie mentioned she wanted to make her mum's recipe for her favourite uncooked sauce, I was game to try it. I have witnessed others try to half-ass an uncooked sauce -- mainly by tossing on some oil, cheese, and calling it done -- and this is most definitely not that. This sauce relies on a collection of strong, distinct flavours: anchovies, olives, garlic, capers, etc. The blended result is amazing: potent, but not overwhelming, and easily diluted/focused by the addition/removal of more noodles. The taste lingers in your mouth without ever becoming abrasive, just leaving you craving more. Of all the sauces that I've experimented with, this is currently the most memorable. And what's more: it's really pretty! Not bad for a meal that takes no more than a few minutes of chopping & mincing to prepare.

Pasta with Uncooked Sauce

4 large tomatoes, chopped
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
14 large black olives //Kalamata recommended
3 Tbsp capers, minced
4 anchovy fillets, chopped
2 Tbsp olive oil
3 large garlic cloves, minced
1/2 tsp fresh ground black pepper
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese //or more, to taste

Mix all of the ingredients in a large bowl. Cook angel hair pasta until done. Drain and toss with uncooked sauce. Serve immediately. Sprinkle additional Parmesan cheese over pasta to taste.

This amount of sauce is good for approximately ½ lb of pasta

Raspberry Rolls

2011-03-27T14:13:00.007-04:00

When it comes to baking breakfast pastries, I ascribe to the French method. That is: lots and lots of butter. Unfortunately, in this country, the emphasis seems to be on sugar instead. After all, we do live in the land of Krispy Kremes and Twinkies, not croissants and pain-au-raisins. Guys, when you have popular myths about how your pastries can survive nuclear holocausts, you're doing something wrong!

All this to say, I know I shouldn't be encouraging this type of behaviour. But I have learned that such pastries as cinnamon buns (with less sugar and more cinnamon) are passable breakfast material. And when I found this recipe, that disregards the granulated, spicy filling for the sake of berries, I couldn't resist the temptation. Besides, it was getting on to exam week, and my roommates were in sore need of a sweetness boost in the morning.

It's pleasant to make from the cook's perspective, because you don't have to wake up at the crack of dawn in order to have it ready by breakfast-time. Instead, you can prepare everything the night before, leave it in the fridge overnight, and pop it in the oven when you wake up. Mixed feelings on the taste: though it's much better than many breakfast pastries out there, I would still trade more sugar for butter. The raspberries provide enough fructose by themselves. But I am opinionated this was, and the final product was universally appreciated, so I figured I should share it anyway.

Raspberry-Swirl Sweet Rolls
for the dough:

1 cup milk
2/3 cup sugar
1,1/2 Tbs active dry yeast
1 stick unsalted butter, softened
2 large eggs
1 tsp finely grated lemon zest
1/2 tsp fine sea salt
4,1/4 cups flour, plus more for dusting

for the filling

10 oz frozen raspberries // they recommend Individually Quick Frozen, but regular's good enough for me
1/4 cup plus 2 Tbs sugar
1 tsp cornstarch

for the glaze

3/4 cup confectioners' sugar
3 Tbs butter, melted
1,1/2 Tbs heavy cream

Make the dough
In a small saucepan, warm the milk over moderately low heat until it's about 95 degrees. Pour the warm milk into the bowl of a standing electric mixer fitted with the dough hook and stir in the sugar and yeast. Let stand until the yeast is foamy, about 5min. Add the softened butter, eggs, grated lemon zest and sea salt. Add the flour and beat at medium speed until a soft dough forms, about 3min. Increase the speed to medium-high and beat until the dough is soft and supple, about 10min longer.

Scrape the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead it with your hands 2 or 3 times. Form the dough into a ball and transfer it to a lightly buttered bowl. Cover the dough with plastic wrap and let stand in a warm place until doubled in bulk, 1-2 hours.

Line the bottom of a 9-by-13-inch baking pan with parchment paper, allowing the paper to extend up the short sides. butter the paper and sides of the pan. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and, using a rolling pin, roll it into a 10-by-24-inch rectangle.

Add the filling
In a medium bowl, toss the frozen strawberries with the sugar and cornstarch. Spread the raspberry filling evenly over the dough. Tightly roll up the dough to form a 24-inch-long log. Working quickly, cut the log into quarters. Cut each quarter into 4 slices and arrange them in the baking pan, cut sides up. Scrape any berries and juice from the work surface into the baking pan between the rolls. Cover the rolls and let them rise in a warm place until they are puffy and have filled the baking pan, about 2hrs.

If you're making this the night before, stop here. Cover the rolls and place them in the refrigerator. In the morning, return them to room temperature before baking.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Bake the rolls for about 25min, until they are golden and the berries are bubbling. Transfer the pan to a rack to cool for 30min.

Make the glaze
Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk the confectioners' sugar with the butter and heavy cream until the glaze is thick and spreadable.

Invert the rolls onto the rack and peel off the parchment paper. Invert the rolls onto a platter. Dollop glaze over each roll and spread with an offset spatula. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Asian Fusion Weekend

2011-03-10T17:54:00.007-05:00

This past weekend witnessed a host of continual successes in my kitchen. It seems that everything we made, be they desserts, breakfast, or actual main courses, ended up perfect. In addition to this excellence, it appears that we also had an unplanned theme of vaguely pan-Asian-ish flavours in our dinners. That probably had something to do with the abundance of teriyaki and soy sauce in use. Y'know, just maybe. In any case, both these dishes do a wonderful job of pairing distinct sweet and sour flavours together. They were such an unexpected treat, I can't help but blog about them.

Saturday: Teriyaki-Glazed Salmon Fillets
I don't eat enough fish in my life. This is because a) as a scuba dive instructor, I find it somewhat odd to eat my little aquatic friends, and more saliently, b) the price tag of fish in the Midwest doesn't like me. But when you get a craving, there's no fighting it. I needs me some fishies. So, bolstered by the earlier success of revisiting old cookbooks, I took another leap of faith and started examining the fish section ATK's 2009 Cooking for Two. I don't rely on this one much, because "for Two" doesn't generate sufficient leftovers in my opinion. The food is good, though, so there's no sense in completely ignoring it.

This dish stood out from the rest in the section. It involves pan-searing salmon until it's almost crisp, and then covering it in a thick, viscous glaze of homemade teriyaki sauce (because bottled just isn't good enough). What's more, the recipe leads you to serve it on a bed of simple cabbage-shiitake stir-fry. Though I would add more mushrooms next time, this is a quick way to add both the crunch of veggies and the je-ne-sais-quoi of shrooms to the already sweet-salty tang of the fish. Talk about rich in taste and texture! ATK FTW. And simple enough that even I might decide to assemble it on a weeknight. When I can afford salmon on a regular basis. Yeeaaah...

1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup sugar
1 Tbs mirin
1 tsp cornstarch
2 scallions, sliced thin
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp sesame oil
1/2 tsp grated or minced fresh ginger
4 tsp vegetable oil
6 oz shiitake mushrooms, stemmed and sliced 1/4 inch thick
1/2 small head napa cabbage (about 8oz), cored and cut into 1-inch pieces (about 4 cups)
salt and pepper
2 (6oz) skinless center-cut salmon fillets, about 1,1/2 inches thick

Adjust an oven rack to the middle position and heat the oven to 200 degrees. Whisk the soy sauce, sugar, mirin, and cornstarch together in a small bowl. In a separate bowl, combine the scallions, garlic, sesame oil, and ginger.

Heat 1 Tbs of the vegetable oil in a 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the mushrooms and cook until they soften and just begin to brown, about 2min. Stir in the cabbage and cook until wilted, about 5min.

Clear the center of the skillet, add the scallion mixture, and cook, mashing the mixture into the pan, until fragrant, about 30sec. Stir the scallion mixture into the vegetables. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and transfer the mixture to a platter. Tent loosely with foil and keep warm in the oven while preparing the salmon.

Pat the salmon dry with paper towels and season with salt and pepper. Wipe out the skillet with a wad of paper towels, add the remaining 1 tsp oil, and heat over medium-high heat until just smoking. Place the salmon, skinned-side up, in the skillet and cook until well browned on the first side, about 5min. Flip the fish and continue to cook until the flesh is opaque and flakes apart when gently prodded with a paring knife, 3-5min longer. Transfer the fish to the platter with the cabbage in the oven while preparing the sauce.

Wipe out the skillet with a wad of paper towels. Whisk the soy sauce mixture to recombine, add it to the skillet, and bring to a simmer over medium ehat. Cook until the sauce is a thick, syrupy glaze, about 2min. Spoon the glaze over the salmon and serve.

Sunday: Honey-Chile Chicken Wings
This recipe has been on my waiting queue for a while: Moxie and I had been planning to wait until the local farmer's market reopens to purchase quality meat. Unfortunately, we've both been suffering from meat-cravings recently, so we caved and bought the best free-range chicken the supermarket could provide (which isn't so much "happy" chicken as "vaguely content"). But man, does it hit the spot.

My first reaction to biting into the finished product was: "...buffalo wings?" Because indeed, they are similar to the restaurant appetizer that Do wants to order by the bucketful whenever he comes to visit. They have the same crispy skin and juicy interior; both are doused in sauce; finally, eating them with your hands makes a tasty mess that will leave you licking your fingers for hours. The sauce itself is what makes all the difference; I'm sure you can imagine the depths of taste in the combination of vinegar, honey, and soy sauce. Adjust the spice content to match your heat tolerance (Do, for instance, would triple the amount of crushed red pepper, and then add some hot sauce), and you can add the right amount of burn to the sticky sweet & salty mixture.

4 lbs chicken wings // You don't need that much; we used less than 3 lb
1/4 cup olive oil
salt and pepper
1/4 cup rice vinegar
1 tsp crushed red pepper
1/2 cup honey
2 Tbs soy sauce
2 scallions, thinly sliced

Preheat the broiler and set a rack in the center of the oven. In a large bowl, toss the chicken wings with the olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Arrange the wings on a wire rack set over a large, sturdy baking sheet. Broil for 45-50min, turning once or twice, until the wings are cooked through and crisp.

Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, combine the vinegar and crushed red pepper and simmer for 1min. Let cool, then whisk in the honey and soy sauce.

In a large bowl, carefully toss the chicken wings with the honey-soy mixture. Transfer the wings to a platter, sprinkle with the scallions and serve.

And Now for Something Completely Different

2011-03-04T23:03:00.009-05:00

My recent excursions/pilgrimages/quests to the slowly-dying Borders has left me with a ton of new books. Duh. That should be obvious. The unexpected part is that because of this, some mystery of my psyche gives me the desire to revisit all my old books, the ones that haven't been properly appreciated. Does this make sense on any level? Oh wait; I don't care. Books!

Some recipes collections, though, I've been reading far too often. I've been through my Italian a lot, so that's out. Bittman likewise; not good for recipe browsing. I'm sick of staring at a computer screen, so the Internet is of no use to me. Not feeling fancy enough for Food & Wine or the Silver Palate, and tapas are too much effort for too little output. And so on, until I had all but whittled my options away.

And then my eyes alighted on a little-used hardback tucked away in a corner of the bookshelf: Sephardic Flavors. Hmm, that's one I don't use often. Neen & Do gave it to me a few years ago when they were experimenting with new flavours. But not knowing how to approach the food, I haven't made good use of it. Time to remedy that, methinks!

Scanning through the various options, none of which seem remotely similar to my standard cuisine, I eventually settled on mantikos. Evidently based on the Turkish manti*, these are palm-sized savory pastries -- kind of like warm bread dumplings filled with fresh cheese and [meat|onions|spinach] (the recipe offers three possible fillings). Somehow, they both taste delightfully Mediterranean and are bracingly warm for the remaining cold nights of winter. Making them was a bit of a pain, as I am very bad at wrapping up fillings without making a horrible mess. It turns out that it doesn't matter, though: if you can't pinch one mantiko (?) closed, simply let it cook on foil or parchment paper with the opening facing up. Even though some of the filling might escape, the rest can be put out on display.

And if, like me, you end up with too much filling, let me say one word: quiche.

Mantikos
for the starter:

1 envelope (2,1/4 tsp) active dry yeast
1/2 tsp sugar
1 cup lukewarm water
2 Tbs flour

for the dough:

2,3/4 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp plus 1/3 cup vegetable oil

for the meat filling:

2-3 Tbs olive or vegetable oil
2 onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 lb ground beef
2 tsp salt
1 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

for the spinach filling:

1 lb spinach, stems removed
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 lb feta cheese, crumbled
1/2 cup ricotta cheese, OR 1/4 lb kashkaval or gruyère cheese, grated
nutmeg, salt, pepper

for the onion and cheese filling:

3 Tbs olive or vegetable oil
4 large onion, thinly sliced
1/2 lb feta cheese, crumbled
1/2 lb ricotta cheese, fromage blanc, or cottage cheese
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup fresh dill
pepper, nutmeg (optional)

to finish:

1 egg, beaten with a little water

To make the starter, in a small bowl, dissolve the yeast and sugar in the lukewarm water, then stir in the flour. Set aside for 10min until frothy.

To make the dough, in a bowl, stir together the flour, salt, and the 1 tsp oil. Add the starter and using a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook, beat on medium speed until a soft dough forms, about 10min. Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured work surface and divide into 18 to 24 balls. Place the balls in a bowl, add the 1/3 cup oil, and toss to coat the balls with the oil Cover with a kitchen towel and let rise until almost doubled in size, about 30min.

Meanwhile, select one of the fillings and prepare it. If making the meat filling, warm the olive oil in a sauté pan over medium heat. Add the onions and sauté until tender and translucent, about 10min. Add the garlic and beef and cook, breaking up the meat, until the meat is no longer pink, about 5min. Add the salt, pepper, and parsley and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until the meat is browned, about 10min. Remove from the heat and let cool.

To make the spinach filling, cook until wilted in the rinsing water clinging to the leaves, squeeze the spinach dry, and chop finely. Place in a bowl and add the eggs and cheeses. Mix well and season with the nutmeg, salt, and pepper.

To make the onion and cheese filling, warm the oil or margarine in a sauté pan over medium heat. Add the onions and saute until soft and golden, about 15min. Remove from the heat, place in a bowl, and let cool. Fold in the cheeses, eggs, and dill and season with pepper and with nutmeg, if using.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out a ball of dough into a rectangle or square about 1/3-inch thick. Place a generous tablespoon of filling on the center of the dough. Fold in the sides, fold up the bottom, then fold the top over the bottom to seal. Pinch the seams together securely and place seam side down on a prepared baking sheet. Repeat until all the pastries are filled. Brush the tops with the egg wash.

Bake the pastries until golden, 25-30min. Serve hot or warm.

* Plagiarising the recipe notes: "Traditional Turkish manti are made with a kind of pasta dough and are usually dressed with paprika and melted butter or yogurt and garlic sauce. The Sephardic mantikos pastry from Cannakale is a yeast-raised dough."

Farewell, Borders: Disaster Cake

2011-03-04T22:48:00.005-05:00

Everybody knows this by now, but Borders is slowly collapsing (like a flan in a cupboard). This includes their outlet store in my neighbourhood -- just a few blocks from my apartment. I mourn its loss. I won't deny that the corporation made some really dumb business decisions -- and often, at that -- but in my opinion, there can never be enough books. "Un livre, c'est un trésor," -- a book is a treasure -- as an elementary school teacher of mine would frequently repeat. Though I rolled my eyes at the time, I do believe she was right. Books are the currency of intellect, massive repositories of verbal artistry, alternatively bequeathing you with new knowledge of your world and offering a dream-like escape from reality.

So when the local store put everything on sale with huge discounts, I was one of the first to line up. Actually, that's not entirely true: it took me a few days to get there, but I went back again and again. By the time I was done (read: exhausted my budget), I had returned three times with my arms encircling a new pile of books. Unlike my usual M.O., I didn't just ravage their SF/Fantasy section; I gleefully snatched everything that looked interesting. I danced through the Poetry section, loitered in Science & Tech, and grabbed all manner of fiction, whether classic or pop.

It goes without saying that this included a cookbook or two. One in particular intrigued me. As it is entitled the "Golden Book of Chocolate" (kinda presumptuous, don't you think?) and has the shiniest cover I have ever seen, I hesitated to buy it. I simply don't trust cookbooks that gaudy. By the third trip to the store, though, I realised it was bugging me too much for me not to have it. Turns out to be an interesting purchase, and I'm sure I will talk about many times in the future. For now, though, I'm going to tell the story of how utterly disastrous my first use of it was.

The recipe wasn't THAT ridiculous: white chocolate fudge with pecans. Melted butter, milk, chocolate, vanilla, nuts, sugar, and a period of time chilling. Piece of cake--er, fudge-- right? Wrong. The ratio of liquid to solid is way off. What should have been a couple hours in the fridge turned into days in the freezer, and the damn mix never solidified. To add insult to injury, a roommate's bag of tortillas slipped and took a plunge into the pan. "Now I don't only have a lack of fudge," I muttered to myself, "but also a cold mess to clean up. Great. Bloody brilliant."

Irony aside, what was bloody brilliant was the idea to use the concoction as icing on a cake instead. I was clearly not the one to figure this out. A few brief minutes later, my standby chocolate cake was ready. Here, again, the fates attempted to thwart me: overeager to be done with the baking project, I popped the cake out of the pan before it was cool, causing its middle to collapse. Fortunately, the sides had dried out enough to hold their form, so the cake ended up looking somewhat bowl-shaped. Not a bad thing when spreading a viscous icing. A final touch to this victory-snatched-from-the-jaws-of-defeat was a handy box of raspberries tossed on top.

The result was better than I could possibly have hoped for at any step in the process. The icing, added judiciously, not only adds a nutty earthiness to the rich chocolate but, furthermore, traps the moisture in the cake. That means that you can save it for days, and it will keep its decadent texture. I'll include the recipe here, but you should be aware that you'll try it at your own risk. If it works like fudge, congratulations! Otherwise, know that it can be remedied.

Thanks, Borders, for all the wonder you have so disastrously provided. You are a collapsed cake with icing that should have been fudge. Whatever that means.

White Chocolate and Pecan Fudge / Disaster Cake icing

1 cup butter
1,1/2 cups milk
2,1/2 cups sugar
4 oz white chocolate, finely chopped
1 cup pecans
1 tsp vanilla extract

Oil an 8*10-inch baking pan. Place the butter, milk and sugar in a saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a boil and stir until the sugar begins to dissolve. Simmer the mixture until it reaches the soft ball stage. At this temperature, if you drop a spoonful of the mixture into ice water, it will make a limp, sticky ball that flattens when you remove from the water.

Remove from the heat and beat until it starts to thicken, about 5min.

Add the chocolate and stir until it has melted. Fold in the pecan nuts and vanilla extract. Pour the mixture into the prepared pan. Let cool to room temperature then chill in the refrigerator until set, 2-3hrs. (Lies! Lies! Lies!). Cut into 1-inch pieces.

Cookies, Part the Third

2011-03-04T22:02:00.006-05:00

The madness continues! Continual success with these batches.

Raspberry Cream Cheese Brownies
Seriously, you shouldn't even have to ask why this recipe is awesome. I mean, a) brownies. Duh. But if that wasn't enough, you get a center of cream cheese (which keeps them astoundingly moist, even after several days) and raspberry jam is spread throughout all the batter. Raspberry-y chocolate? How could you possibly go wrong?

I tell you, though: next time I make this, I'm putting all the chocolate batter on the bottom and leaving the marbled cream cheese and jam for display. Because that is a thing of beauty.

8 oz cream cheese, softened
1,1/2 cups sugar
1 large egg yolk
2,1/4 tsp vanilla extract
2/3 cup flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 stick butter, cut into pieces
4 oz unsweetened chocolate, chopped
1/2 cup raspberry jam
3 large eggs

Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350 degrees. Line 8-inch square baking pan with foil, allowing excess to hang over pan edges. Grease foil. Process cream cheese, 1/4 cup sugar, egg yolk, and 3/4 tsp vanilla in food processor until smooth.

Combine flour, baking powder, and salt in bowl. Microwave butter and chocolate in large bowl, stirring occasionally, until smooth, about 1min. Whisk in 1/4 cup jam and cool slightly. Add remaining 1,1/4 cups sugar, eggs, and remaining 1,1/2 tsp vanilla to chocolate mixture, stirring until combined. Add flour mixture and stir until incorporated.

Microwave remaining 1/4 cup jam until warm, about 30secs; stir until smooth. Scrape half of batter into prepared pan. Dollop cream cheese filling over batter and spread into even layer. Dollop warm jam over filling and swirl to partially combine. Spread remaining batter evenly over filling. Bake until toothpick inserted in center comes out with few crumbs attached, 50-60min. Cool completely, about 2hrs. Using foil overhang, lift brownies from pan and cut into squares.

Butterscotch Meringue Bars
Ok, so if we posit that meringues themselves are too sweet, where does that leave meringue toppings? Can they still be used without wrecking the taste with sugary sweetness? Answer: yes. In fact, I wouldn't make this bar without the topping: it adds a third layer that contrasts colour (which you can't really tell from that picture), texture, and flavour to the other two. "The other two," being a layer of pure melted chocolate, and a blondie base. A sweet sandwich of delicious. Ergo, the use of meringue is justified.

2 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
16 Tbs (2 sticks) butter
2 cups packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar
2 large eggs, separated
1 Tbs water
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips

Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position and heat oven to 350 degrees. Line 13*9-inch baking pan with foil, allowing excess to hang oven pan edges. Grease foil. Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in large bowl.

With electric mixer on medium-high speed, beat butter, 1 cup brown sugar, and granulated sugar until light and fluffy, 2min. Add egg yolks, water, and vanilla and mix until incorporated. Reduce speed to low and add flour mixture, mixing until combined. Spread batter evenly in prepared pan. Press chocolate chips lightly into dough.

In clean bowl, whip egg whites to stiff peaks. Reduce speed to medium-low and slowly add remaining brown sugar, mixing until smooth and shiny. Gently spread egg white mixture over chocolate chip layer and bake until golden brown, about 35min. Cool completely, about 2hrs. Using foil overhang, lift bars from pan and cut into squares.

Old-Fashioned Butter Crunch Candy
I'm not sure what makes this "old-fashioned," or why they titled it this way. Several folks I offered it to called it "bark." I've never had commercial bark candy, but I understand the general concept. This isn't too different, other than its caramel base and nut topping. It's pretty sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. Moreover, if you served a lot of soft warm desserts like I do, suddenly having something hard and crunchy can be a nice change of pace, especially if you serve it with ice cream. Besides, you can show off; everyone will be astounded that you made your own candy.

14 Tbs (1,3/4 sticks) butter
1,1/3 cups sugar
3 Tbs water
1 Tbs light corn syrup
4 oz [milk|semisweet|bittersweet] chocolate, chopped coarse
1/2 cup almonds or pecans, toasted and chopped fine

Line a 13*9-inch baking pan with foil, allowing excess to hang over pan edges. Grease foil. Melt butter in medium saucepan over medium heat. Stir in sugar, water, and corn syrup and boil, stirring constantly, until mixture is light caramel in colour, 10-12min. If you're all fancy-pants and have an instant-read thermometer, it should register 310 degrees at this point.

Carefully pour hot caramel into prepared baking dish. Let cool until slightly firm but still warm, about 5min. Scatter chocolate pieces evenly over top, let soften for 5min, then spread into even layer using back of spoon. Sprinkle nuts over chocolate and gently press to adhere.

Cool completely, about 1hr. Using foil overhang, lift candy from pan and break into various-size pieces by hand.

A Feast for All Senses

2011-02-19T19:17:00.004-05:00

So, I've been cooking a lot of sweets recently (as you might have noticed). It's an easy way for me to get my cooking fix -- I can make a dessert, place it out in a public area, and let the vultures -- that is, college students -- descend upon it and feast. This is unlike hearty meal foods; these, I feel like I must store and eat myself. If I were to make a meal for every time I wanted to be in the kitchen, I would leftovers pouring out of the fridge. So I restrict myself to sweets for the most part.

The only problem is, sometimes the taste of sugar gets really old. This happened to me in the past week or so, and I found myself leafing through my various cookbooks looking for something new and interesting that has neither any sugar content nor meat (the missus' take on dead flesh is... limiting). I ended falling upon the Urban Italian book to find a few interesting pasta sauces. It turns out that both of them played heavily on senses other than taste. The first was a thin sauce of anchovies, garlic, thyme, and rosemary. Its smell -- ah! It seemed like gods had come down to anoint my kitchen. But all hope was dashed when I actually took a bite. The texture, the taste -- everything was wrong! The cacophony of flavours eventually resolved itself into a dull burning which, thankfully, prevented me from tasting anything else. I'm never making that again. Blech!

So it was with great trepidation that approached the second sauce. As it was some sort of broccoli pesto, I was afraid that it would have the opposite problem: that it would come across as tasteless mushed greens. And I won't deny that even up to halfway through the recipe, it still seemed like that was the direction in which it was headed. But then something magical happened. At some point after blending the broccoli to a paste with added pine nuts and cheese, the flavour blossomed into something far greater than I thought it would. I'm not sure I can describe it, seeing as it was so unexpected. But the blanched greens mixed their fresh, though mild, taste with the more pervasive parmesan to occupy the whole of my mouth. Add pine nuts for a little texture, and you have a winner.

Of course, you're not done there. You go on to add garlic, oregano, red pepper flakes, and roasted peppers to the mix. The result is one of the most colourful dishes I have ever seen. Now, I don't know what your take on colour in food is. While I recognize that it is not a necessary element, I would much rather present a dish that's interesting to look at. Scoff though you may when cooks try their hand at artistry, you can't deny that a dish like this will give you pause. It's so pretty, how could you not admire it?

Linguini with Broccoli Rabe Pesto, Oregano, and Peppers
For the pesto:

1 bunch broccoli rabe
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 cup pine nuts
1/2 tsp salt
2 Tbs grated Parmigiano-Reggiano or pecorino cheese

To finish the dish:

2 Tbs olive oil
2 cloves garlic, sliced thin
1/4 tsp red peppers flakes
1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano or pecorino cheese, plus extra for sprinkling
1 Tbs fresh oregano leaves
3 roasted peppers // I won't recopy his recipe; suffice to say you should roasted them until their skins are black & blistered, with a lot of oil, salt, and pepper
2 Tbs bread crumbs // Optional, in my opinion
1 lb cooked linguini

Make the Pesto
Put a medium-sized pot of salted water on to boil to blanch the broccoli rabe.

Remove the leaves from the broccoli rabe, cutting them off right at the stem. Reserve the leaves. Trim the broccoli rabe stems so that 2-3 inches of stem remain below each floret. Cut these into thirds.

Blanch the stems and florets in the boiling water for 30sec, until the color has intensified. Remove with a slotted spoon to a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking process. Set aside.

Blanch the broccoli rabe leaves in the boiling water until they're tender, 60-90sec. Remove with a slotted spoon to a separate bowl of ice water to stop the cooking process.

When the leaves are cold, remove them from the water and squeeze out the excess water with your hands.

Combine the olive oil and the broccoli rabe leave in a blender and blend on medium until a smooth paste forms, about 30sec. Add 1/2 cup water and blend until the leaves are completely puréed, about 30sec. Add the pine nuts and blend on medium-low until smooth, about 15sec. Add the salt and the cheese and blend very briefly, about 5sec, to bring everything together. // Note: I used a food processor instead of a blender; the time to blend is then radically reduced.

To Finish the Dish
Heat the 2 Tbs of olive oil in a large pot over medium-high heat, then add the garlic and brown slightly for a minute. Add the broccoli stems and florets and the red pepper flakes and mix to combine.

Remove the pot from the heat and add the cooked linguini and pesto; blend well. Add the grated cheese and fresh oregano, and mix well to blend everything to a rich smoothness. Top with slices of the roasted red peppers, a dash more cheese, and a pinch of breadcrumbs. Voilà!

Winter Strikes Again

2011-02-12T11:49:00.008-05:00

Remember last week's blizzard? You might have known it as the Snowpocalypse or Snowmageddon. I'm talking about the one that blanketed most of the country with several inches (read:feet) of white fluff, to be accompanied by 60mph gusts, followed shortly thereafter by far-below-freezing temperatures. The storm in which many of us got to enjoy thundersnow for the first time, cozily contemplating the apocalypse? The storm that convinced the UChicago administration to stop classes for a day, an event that hasn't occurred in several decades? And then went and made them do it again? Yeah, that storm.

It's still snowing.

Granted, it's not the violent windy downfall that besieged us last week. After that experience, I barely noticed the delicate flakes currently drifting down from on high. But they're there. And a quick gander over to NOAA's forecast informs me that it is currently 13 degrees with a windchill of -3 degrees (Fahrenheit, mind you). Tomorrow is supposed to be colder.

Can I stay home?

No, probably not. But I can do the next best thing: make myself a big steaming pot of stew for when I get back. The stew I have in mind is one that has actually already been posted once on this blog. But I feel that Do, the Guinness-hating heathen, did not do it justice the first time around. Also, it's one of my most common go-to recipes throughout winter, so why not share it again?

The obvious selling point is that the stew has "Irish" in its title. As well as garner a little pride from Irishmen & women around (of which I am not one), this means that there's a certain amount (read:big heaping portions) of booze in the dish. In this case, the meat and vegetables stew for a few hours in a pint (or more...) of Guinness, which gives the softened chunks that subtle aroma of the bitter stout (the way a dancing elephant with a tutu and a neon sign is subtle). The preparation of the meat, as Do points out, is also a nice touch: before stewing, you cover the beef with a mixture of cornstarch and paprika, with a later addendum of salt, pepper, and (sure, why not?) basil. Some of this will get washed onto the veggies when you pour in the beer, but the rest sticks to the beef and offers a bracing seasoning for the cold weather.

The original recipe can be found at the Thyme for Cooking blog, which I've recopied here for convenience.

Irish Beef Stew

1 lb beef suitable for stewing
1 onion
2 cloves garlic
3 carrots
1 bay leaf
1/2 tsp dried thyme
1 pint Guinness
2 tsp beef paste (or stock cube)
1 tbs oil
3 tbs cornstarch
1 tbs paprika

Cut beef into 1 inch cubes. Cut onion into quarters, then slice thinly. Mince or press garlic. Cut carrots in half the long way, then into 1 inch pieces.

Combine paprika and cornstarch in a plastic food bag. Add beef and toss to coat evenly.

In a large sauce pan, enough to hold everything easily, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add onion and sauté until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add beef and brown on all sides. Add garlic and sauté 1 minute more. Add remaining ingredients, bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, cover and simmer at least an hour. If it starts to dry out, add more Guinness. If you would like the sauce thicker stir in 1 tbs cornstarch dissolved in 2 tbs water.

When ready to eat, remove bay leaf and serve with boiled jacket potatoes.

Chicago. Deep-dish. Pizza (?)

2011-02-07T23:49:00.005-05:00

This may very well be the most controversial post on this blog. At least, it's about what seems to be one of the most controversial foods I've come across. That's right, I'm talking about Chicago-style deep-dish pizza.

When you think about it theoretically -- and as a good UChicago grad, I do -- pizza is conceptually very simple. All it consists of is a flattened loaf of bread covered with tomato sauce, cheese, and anything else you care to throw on it. But there exist so many different methods of actually preparing one that bickering about the correct and proper nature of the dish pops up in every region (unless you eat solely from Dominoes, in which case, shame on you). Chicago has its own specific style: the dough is much puffier and is pressed into the bottom and sides of a 2-inch-deep (roughly) pan. This makes it more of a savory pie, in which you can stuff enourmous quantities of anything you can get your hands on. With the base "crust" of soft, warm bread with all the various toppings you care for, the end result is thick, cheesy, and versatile -- you can go anywhere with the dish when you can fit the kitchen sink into it.

Flattened bread? Check. Tomato sauce? Check. Cheese? Triple check.
Pizza? Evidently still up for debate.

The problem I have is that many of my friends are from the East Coast, where pizza is traditionally served with a thin crust. No, wait, let me revise that sentence: I have many friends from New York, where pizza crust is thinner than crackers. I don't mean to say that I dislike thin crust -- heaven forfend! I love pizza in all its forms. But I preach a culinary gospel of diversity, which doesn't always jive with the New Yorker view of the world.

Unfortunately, I have yet to find a universal argument against deep-dish. One person complains that it's like eating a lump of melted cheese. Having lived in Switzerland, I have no problem with this. Many others focus their arguments on the crust: about how that's simply not the way it should be made. I say, what's wrong with using a thick & hearty bread instead of something thin from time to time? Regardless of the specifics of the debate, there seems to be one common agreement: Chicago deep-dish is just not pizza.

Once we get to this point, both sides descend into sputtering disbelief, each appalled at the others' clear lack of reason. Sigh. Oh, my dearest New Yorkers. I love you all, and will try to accept all your quirks, as I'm afraid you will have to continue putting up with all of mine.

I decided to make a deep-dish a long time ago, mainly because I wanted to figure out the process: how does the preparation of something so thick differ from making a traditional pizza? I did my research online, but wasn't entirely satisfied with what I uncovered. Ultimately, I referred (as I always do) to Mark Bittman's How To Cook Everything. The process ended up being very convoluted: for the dough, he uses a rosemary focaccia recipe, which itself is based on a different recipe for pizza dough. At that point, he sends you past several hundred pages to find how to make the sauce, and then backwards to a different section on topping suggestions. I've tried to straighten out all the jumping around below.

It's not the perfect deep-dish. The dough puffs up a little too much during the initial baking (before you add everything else), so I would recommend the use of pie weights or uncooked rice or beans to help tamp it down -- a larger pan might have helped as well. Also, don't be afraid of letting the tomato sauce dry out: even though baking helped, mine ended up just a little bit runny. I probably should have boiled off its liquids a little longer. Clearly, more experimentation is called for. I did like my selection of toppings, though: mushrooms, spinach, peppers, and Italian sausage -- a very Chicago combination.

Chicago Deep-Dish Pizza
for the dough:

3 cups flour, plus more as needed
2 tsp instant yeast
2 tsp salt, plus extra for sprinkling
5 Tbs extra virgin olive oil
1 Tbs chopped fresh rosemary leavens, plus more to taste

for the sauce:

salt
3 Tbs extra virgin olive oil or butter
1 medium onion, chopped
1,1/2 to 2 lbs canned tomatoes, drained and chopped
freshly ground black pepper

to finish:

1 cup grated mozzarella cheese
1 cup grated parmesan cheese
toppings of choice

Make the dough
Combine the flour, yeast, and salt in a food processor. Turn the machine on and add 1 cup water and the oil through a feed tube.

Process for about 30 seconds, adding more water, a little at a time, until the mixture forms a ball and is slightly sticky to the touch. If it is still dry, add another tablespoon or two of water and process for another 10 seconds. (In the unlikely event that the mixture is too sticky, add flour a tablespoon at a time.)

Turn the dough onto a floured work surface and knead by hand for a few seconds to form a smooth, round dough ball. Put the dough in a bowl and cover with plastic wrap; let rise until the dough doubles in size, 1-2hrs. (You can cut this rising time short if you're in a hurry, or you can let the dough rise more slowly, in the refrigerator, for up to 6-8hrs.) The dough can be frozen, tightly wrapped, for up to a month.

Assemble the sauce
Put the olive oil or butter in a 10- or 12-inch skillet over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot or the butter is melted, add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft, 2-3min. Add the tomatoes and a sprinkling of salt and pepper.

Cook, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes break down and the mixture comes together and thickens 10-15min. Taste, adjust the seasonings, and keep warm. (Or let cool, cover and refrigerate for up to several days; reheat gently before serving.)

Prepare the crust
Lightly knead the dough, form it into a ball, and put it on a lightly floured surface. Sprinkle with a little more flour, cover with plastic wrap or a towel, and let it rest for 20min.

Use 1 Tbs of the oil to grease a large jelly roll pan. Press the dough into a small rectangle and put it in the pan; let it relax there for a few minutes. Press and stretch the dough to the edges of the pan. If it resists, let it rest for a few minutes, then stretch it some more. Sometimes this takes a while, because the dough is so elastic. Don't fight it; just stretch, rest, then stretch again. Try not to tear the dough. Cover the dough and let it rise for at least 30min or until somewhat puffy.

Make the pizza
Heat the oven to 425 degrees. Uncover the dough and dimple the surface all over your fingertips. Drizzle with the remaining olive oil and sprinkle with the rosemary and plenty of salt.

Put the dough in the oven, lower the temperature to 375 degrees, and bake for 10min. Remove, and place the mozzarella and parmesan in the partially-baked dough. Add any other toppings. Finally, smear with a layer of sauce. Bake the pizza for 20-25min more, until hot and bubbly and browned on the bottom. Let cool for a few minutes before cutting out the first slice.

Buttermilk Biscuits

2011-02-07T23:14:00.004-05:00

If you're like me, you probably don't take too much time to worry about breakfast in the morning. A bowl of cereal or oatmeal, maybe some toast, is all you need to expedite your way out the door and into a new day. Something fast & simple that you can make on autopilot, and if you're running late, can be skipped entirely with minimal consequences.

This is why I like baked goods for breakfast: their rarity alone makes them prized meals. But moreover, the time they take to prepare forces you slow down and not rush out haphazardly. Growing up, having my mother's breakfast biscuits, blueberry muffins, or even store-bought croissants were an indication that it was a weekend. We knew that there was nothing immediately pressing when my mother could bake first thing in the morning, so we could relax for a leisurely breakfast fresh from the oven.

Which is why, when I found a recipe for buttermilk biscuits sandwiches, I immediately decided to alter the recipe to make breakfast buttermilk biscuits instead. Why concern yourself with making an egg-ham-bacon sandwich monstrosity when you can enjoy the simple pleasure of freshly baked bread? It took a couple tries to lower the salt content and manage the cooking heat/time, but the result a delicious (and large!) pile of biscuits.

Buttermilk Biscuits

4 cups flour, plus more for dusting
1 Tbs salt
1,1/2 Tbs baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
2 sticks butter, cubed and chilled, plus more for spreading
1,1/2 cups buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and position racks in the upper and lower thirds. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. In a large bowl, whisk the flour with the salt, baking powder and baking soda. Using a pastry blender or 2 knives, cut in the butter until it is the size of small peas. Add the buttermilk and stir until a shaggy dough forms.

Turn the dough out onto a floured surface: knead until it comes together. Pat the dough 3/4 inch thick. Using a 2 inch round cutter, stamp out as many biscuits as possible. Reroll the scraps and stamp out more biscuits.

Transfer the biscuits to the baking sheets and bake for about 20-25min, until golden and risen, shifting the pans halfway through baking. Let the biscuits cool. Devour.

Cookies, Part 2

2011-01-29T12:42:00.005-05:00

I've stopped moping. I could continue on in the same vein, but no matter how depressed I get if people don't like my food, I can't deny a simple fact: I take great joy from making it. The process of creating a dish or ten, of producing a meal from raw ingredients infused with some time and energy... it is very satisfying. It's a good stress reliever, a meditative exercise, an experiment of in-house chemistry, an creation of culinary art all at once. And besides, after giving so much of my daily life to food, how can I stay away from it for long?

Also, it helps to know that it really is just the sugar content of the cookies that makes them an issue. I tested this theory and discovered that savory baked goods disappear just as quickly as before. But if you think that means that I would ever even consider giving up on desserts, then you are sorely mistaken. Maybe I'll focus a little more on heartier food, but no one can ever persuade me to abadon chocolate. Do you hear me? I WILL NEVER SURRENDER!

And in that spirit of delicious defiance, I'm still throwing together these nom-ables on a weekly basis. Here are some of the recent discoveries.

White Chocolate and Peppermint Brownies
This one's a winner. Fortunately, you don't have to actually like white chocolate to enjoy this brownie; the recipe doesn't focus on it. Instead, it uses the white chocolate as a backdrop to the pulverised peppermint. Combined, the two eventually harden, making a bark-like crust that keeps the brownie component from drying out its dark, chocolaty goodness. It's excellent, and I don't use that term lightly when it comes to chocolate.3oz unsweetened chocolate, chopped

8Tbs (1 stick butter
1 cup sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
2/3 cup flour
1 cup (6oz) white chocolate chips
1/3 cup finely chopped peppermint candies // I prefer more pulverised

Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350 degrees. Kine 8-inch square baking pan with foil, allowing excess to hang over pan edges. Grease foil. Microwave unsweetened chocolate and butter in large bowl, stirring occasionally, until smooth, about 1min. Cool slightly.

Combine sugar, baking powder, salt, eggs, and vanilla in medium bowl and whisk until well combined. Add chocolate mixture and whisk until smooth. Stir in flour until just combined. Spread batter evenly into prepared pan. Bake until toothpick inserted in center comes out with few crumbs attached, 22-27min.

Remove brownies from oven, sprinkle with white chocolate chips, and let sit until chips have softened but not melted, about 5min. Using spatula, smooth chocolate evenly over top of brownies, then sprinkle ground peppermint candies over chocolate. Cool completely, about 2hrs (yeah, right). Using foil voerhand, lift bars from pan and cut into squares.

Salty Chocolate Caramel Butter Cookies
I tapped this recipe to use as a caramel spill-over for last week's Chocolate Turtle Cookies. I knew I would have too many candies, and figured this would be a good way of using the rest of them. But to be honest, I'm tempted to say that this recipe is superior. Though they're a little tougher on the teeth (the textures of dry caramel and dry cookie differ greatly), their topping of salt & caramel guarantees that the dessert will have a very distinct taste. What's more, since it doesn't come across as very sweet, you feel less guilty about eating many in one sitting.

20 Tbs (2,1/2 sticks) butter, softened
1/2 cup cocoa powder
1 tsp instant espresso powder // I had to skip this, but I bet it'd be great!
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 tsp salt
2 large egg yolks
1 Tbs vanilla extract
2,1/4 cups flour
1 (14oz) bag soft caramel candies
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/2 tsp flaky sea salt

Melt 4 Tbs butter, cocoa powder, and espresso powder in saucepan over medium heat; stir until mixture forms smooth paste. Cool 15min.

With electric mixer on medium-high speed, beat remaining butter, sugar, salt, and cooled cocoa mixture until fluffy, 1min. Add yolks and vanilla and mix until combined. Reduce speed to low, add flour in three additions, and mix until cohesive dough forms. Divide dough into three disks, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate 1hr.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Roll each dough disk to 3/16-inch thickness. Using 2,1/2-inch round cutter, cut out cookies and place 1 inch apart on prepared baking sheets. Bake until centers are just set, 10-12min, switching and rotating sheets halfway through baking. Cool 5min, then transfer to wire rack to cool completely. Repeat with remaining dough.

In saucepan, melt caramels an heavy cream over medium-low heat, stirring constantly. Top each cookie with heaping teaspoon glaze and sprinkle with sea salt. Let cool 30min.

Christmas Meringue Kisses
I'm not actually a huge fan of meringues. Though light/airy and very easy too make, they fall prey to two faults -- or rather, two aspects of one fault: they have no interesting taste and what little taste you do get has an overwhelming sugar content. This take on meringues solves the first problem, but definitely not the second. First, you add crushed peppermint candy to the beaten egg whites (a convenient way to use some leftovers from the brownies above). Then, you dip the cooked/dried cookies in melted chocolate. The three tastes (meringue, peppermint, chocolate) work well together, but there's just too much to handle. Overall, I would say these are definitely worth making... once. Maybe experiment with them with you're fond of meringues. But ultimately, these will be enjoyed only by those with a very serious sweet tooth and a penchant towards hyperactivity.

2 large egg whites
1/8 tsp salt
1/8 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
2/3 cup sugar
2 cups mini semisweet chocolate chips
3 Tbs crushed peppermint candies (about 8)
2 tsp vegetable oil

Preheat oven to 275 degrees and line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. With electric mixer on medium-high speed, beat egg whites in large bowl until foamy. Add salt and cream of tartar and continue beating until soft peaks form, about 3min. Add vanilla and sugar, 1 Tbs at a time, and continue beating until mixture is glossy and stiff, about 2min. With spatula, fold in 1 cup chocolate chips and peppermint candies.

Using piping bag with plain 1/2-inch tip or teaspoon, pipe or dollop teaspoon-sized dots of batter, about 1 inch high, onto prepared baking sheets, spacing 1 inch apart. Bake until cookies begin to crack and are light gold, 25-30min, switching and rotating sheets halfway through baking. Cool completely on sheets.

Melt remaining 1 cup chocolate chips and mix with oil in bowl. Dip bottoms of cooled kisses into chocolate, scrape off excess, and place, chocolate side up, on wire rack until chocolate sets.

Cookies

2011-01-22T17:20:00.011-05:00

Apologies for the small bout of radio silence. I had assumed that providing Neen with the means to take pictures of her food would lead her to post more blog entries -- at least enough for me to take a small break. But alas! She has been so affixed to her camera that she's been unable to pry herself away, not even enough to visit the computer. I appreciate the irony.

My absence has a variety of causes. First off, of course, there's the wonderful ladyfriend (<3!) acting as a new, and very welcome, distraction. But since a monologue of cooking & canoodling seems, uh, awkward, I'll just spare you. Secondly: a tale. I returned from my excursion to the Helvetica country armed and rarin' to go. I had acquired the December edition of the Food & Wine magazine (which, I must say, is excellent) and America's Test Kitchen 2010 collection of holiday cookies. I was so excited to try all of these new dishes, I was practically twitching. Before I fully shook off the seven hour jetlag, I was on a maniacal cooking spree. I made everything I had room & ingredients for: cookies, biscuits, breads... there were no limits.

And then... nothing.

I put everything out in public areas, where folks know to help themselves. But with only the occasional exception, the food just sat out there. It seemed to get nibbled on from time to time, but with such rarity that I started getting doubts. What happened to the days that I could throw an overabundance of food at the world and it would disappear in a matter of days? Were fewer people than usual passing through the apartment? Maybe they had all made resolutions regarding the intake of sugar. Or maybe they actually didn't like the food I made for them! I slowly started sinking into the role of a wounded artiste. I felt like the Players at the beginning of Tom Stoppard's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead: duped into performing for an audience that wasn't there.

I realised the levels of my own ridiculousness, and that for once, it wasn't necessarily helping anyone. So I stopped. I am still restless. I want to bake, but know I can't eat it all myself. This stifled urge, not to mention the weather, my two unengaging part-time jobs, and the dullest academic class since I came to the University, has turned me into a character from a Chekhov play: the intelligentsia burdened with the unbearable weariness of being. That's me, a regular Uncle Vanya.

But I digress.

Really, my goal here is to use you, Denizens of the Internets, as the audience to my madness. Sorry, you don't get a choice in the matter. If those physically around me don't want the glorious products of my labour, then maybe you can do something with them instead. Here are some of the cookies I've been making. I'll leave other products for later posts.

Russian Tea Cakes
I've heard these are also called Snowballs, but I shun such plebeian nicknames. They are definitely my favourites so far. Unlike so many other cookies, they are not overly sweet. Despite the fact that you toss the entire cookie in confectioners' sugar after baking, the attractive aspect is instead the amount of butter that you use. A full 2 sticks, creamed to within an inch of their lives, make for a light and delicate texture. And don't skip the pecans! They are a must-have for this simple and delicious bite.

16 tbs (2 sticks) butter, softened
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp salt
2 cups flour
3/4 cup pecans, toasted and chopped fine
1 cup confectioners' sugar

With an electric mixer on medium-high speed, beat butter, sugar, vanilla, and salt until very light and fluffy, 3min. Reduce speed to low, add flour, and mix until just combined. Add pecans and mix until evenly distributed. Wrap dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 1hr, or up to 2 days.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees and line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Roll dough into 1-inch balls and place 1,1/2 inches apart on prepared baking sheets. Bake until edges are light golden brown, 10-12min, switching and rotating sheets halfway through baking. Cool 5min.

Sift confectioners' sugar into medium bowl. Working with 4-5 warm cookies at a time, gently toss each in sugar to coat. Transfer cookies to wire rack and cool to room temperature. Toss cooled cookies once more in remaining sugar to coat.

Molasses-Spice Lemon Cookies
The process of making these cookies is actually a little unappetising. Probably sleep-deprived at the time, we gleefully cackled at how the icing looked like snot and the rolled dough like "little turds!". For those of you not deterred and disgusted, let me convey to you that these are fantastic. I have always liked the [judicious] use of molasses, especially coupled with such spices. The addition, albeit messy, of the lemon filling makes it all the more worthwhile. Citrus-y, spicy, sugary goodness.

2 cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ginger
3/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cloves
2 cups sugar
1/4 cup dark molasses
1 large egg
15 Tbs butter (12 Tbs melted, 3 Tbs softened)
3 Tbs lemon juice
2 cups confectioners' sugar

Combine flour, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, salt, and cloves in a bowl. In separate bowl, whisk 1,1/2 cups sugar, molasses, egg, and melted butter together until combined. Add flour mixture to butter mixture and stir until incorporated. Chill until dough is firm, 1hr.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees and line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Place remaining 1/2 cup sugar in bowl. Roll dough into 3/4 inch balls, toss balls in sugar, then place 2 inches apart on prepared baking sheets. Bake until tops are just beginning to crack, 8-10min, switching and rotating sheets halfway through baking. Cool 5min, then transfer to wire rack to cool completely. Repeat with remaining dough.

Combine remaining 3 Tbs butter, lemon juice, and confectioners' sugar in bowl and whisk until smooth. Spread heaping teaspoon filling over bottoms of half of cooled cookies. Top with remaining cookies and let filling set, 1hr.

Chocolate Turtle Cookies
I confess, I made these principally out of curiosity. I was definitely attracted by the idea of a chocolate cookie, covered in pecans, and with a caramel center. But really, I wanted to find out how well using cannibalised candy as an ingredient would work -- wouldn't the overprocessed, super-sweet goodies affect the outcome of the baked goods? Surprisingly, no; at least, not adversely. The other alluring features of the cookie speak for themselves.

1 cup flour
1/3 cup cocoa powder
1/4 tsp salt
8 Tbs (1 stick) butter, softened
2/3 cup sugar
1 large egg, separated, plus 1 egg white
2 Tbs milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
1,1/4 cups pecans, chopped fine
14 soft caramel candies
3 Tbs heavy cream

Combine flour, cocoa, and salt in bowl. With an electric mixer on medium-high speed, beat butter and sugar until light and fluffy, 2min. Add egg yolk, milk, and vanilla and mix until incorporated. Reduce speed to low and add flour mixture until just combined. Wrap dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate until firm, 1hr.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Whisk egg whites in bowl until frothy. Place pecans in another bowl. Roll dough into 1-inch balls, dip in egg whites, then roll in pecans. Place balls 2 inches apart on prepared baking sheets. Using 1/2 tsp measure, make indentation in center of each ball. Bake until set, about 12min, switch and rotating sheets half through baking.

Microwave caramels and cream bowl, stirring occasionally, until smooth, 1-2min. Once cookies are removed from oven, gently re-press existing indentations. Fill each with 1/2 tsp caramel mixture. Cool 10min, then transfer to wire rack to cool completely.

Kale and Seaweed Salad. And Qs about Online Sharing

2011-01-08T13:01:00.006-05:00

I’ve written three very different versions of this blog post this week. I thought that I was rejecting drafts because I couldn’t get the voice right, but today it occurred to me that it’s the content that was giving me difficulty. I don’t have an answer to the questions that I’m posing; in fact, I don’t even know if they’re the right questions. So this entry is less of a declarative statement than a snapshot of the ideas swimming in and out of focus in my head. Really, I’d just like to grab a beer and have a spirited debate on the subject. So, imagine your favorite draft in hand and bear with me. And this is a soliloquy only due to the format choice – I really would like to hear your point of view.

Why share personal content online? That is the question. Recipes, photos, anecdotes, opinions, musings. Facebook, flickr, blogspot, twitter, Google Buzz, Google Reader. Why share?

That of course begs the question, “sharing with whom?” Because I update my Mom on my latest adventures for different reasons than I post a recipe for a bunch of (very agreeable) strangers. Or at least I think they’re different reasons.

In no particular order: archiving valuable information (recipes, photos) for easy retrieval, getting feedback and thereby validation on creative attempts, keeping in touch/strengthening relationships with distant friends and family, creating communities out of strangers, enjoying hearing myself talk uninterrupted on my soapbox, immediate attention from a wide audience, “popularity” (albeit highly transient…obsessing over hit rates and comment counts…blogging as a gateway drug…).

Why do you share? I bet your first answer is a highly logical, rational, reasonable one. I’m interested to hear that reason, but I’m also interested in the more subconscious one lying just under the surface.

Realization/Confession: I’m an information junkie. My crack is highly concentrated doses of really high quality content, content that pushes my brain to think slightly differently and makes me want to start a discussion with somebody immediately. A juicy local news item pertaining to a business or neighborhood or government institution that I know. An artistically impressive photo that succeeds in communicating a complex set of feelings. A blog post that not only disseminates a recipe but is able to articulate and therefore pass on the meaning buried in that particular combination of ingredients and technical steps. Or the briefest of high quality content messages -- and these days, one I come across with alarming frequency, the facebook update “X has gotten married.”

Quality. À la Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

This is important, because I’m trying to figure out how I want to use this blog and my flickr space. Whom am I posting for? How much personal detail is too much? How can I create and share compelling content while protecting myself emotionally and honoring the privacy of my loved ones? Ironically, I feel more comfortable sharing terribly intimate musings with perfect strangers than with remote acquaintances who know me in real life.

That’s all I’ve got for now. Oh, and this recipe. One of the best parts about living in a place and in a social circle where vegetables carry no stigma is that we’ve learned to expect them to be fun. This recipe honors the ingredients that go into it, producing something that is greater than the sum of its parts. It’s one of those rare reasons to love winter produce, that interminable sea of tough greens. The salad itself is fast, flavorful, and incredibly forgiving: change the ratio of greens to seaweed, supplement kale with chard, add mushrooms to make a hearty lunch… you really can’t go wrong. Believe me: we must have made this recipe 5,000 times while I was in grad school. It’s also vegan; translation: Everybody Will Like It. We bring it to almost every potluck we’re invited to between October and March.

Kale and Seaweed Salad (serves six as a side)

1 bunch Kale or Chard
1/2 cup seaweed flakes ("sea vegetable" - dried or fresh. Our grocery sells dried Wakame flakes in its Asian section.
1 Tbs peeled, minced ginger
1 Tbs minced garlic
1 Tbs toasted sesame seeds
Seasame oil
Soy Sauce

Optional: additional veggies like mushrooms or carrots, sliced.

Optional: 2 serrano peppers, chopped.

If using dried seaweed, let it soak in water 5 - 7 min. Drain and place in the serving bowl. Add 1 tsp sesame oil and the minced ginger.

Soak the Kale in water to loosen any dirt, rinse thoroughly. Chop in 1"x2" strips.

In a large skillet, heat 2 tsp sesame oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and serrano (if using) and gently sauté for 1 min.

Add the Kale and optional supplemental veggies and 3 Tbs Soy sauce. Sauté at high heat, stirring constantly. Alternatively, if not using mushrooms, turn heat to low and cover, cooking gently for 5-10minutes.

Add Kale to serving bowl, add sesame oil and soy sauce to taste. Garnish with toasted sesame seeds.

Cheddar-stuffed Challah French Toast served with caramelized Apples and Red Onions

2011-01-04T01:11:00.010-05:00

Disclaimer: most of this post was written on December 2, 2010 but I had no camera with which to capture the truly majestic awesomeness of the dish. Kudos to our families for helping me to overcome that particular barrier, and for their ongoing interest in the recipes we recommend here.

It was the most wonderful time of the year, so they say. Twinkling lights, perky tunes, an abundance of invitations to schmooze with semi-strangers juggling alcoholic beverages and green-and-red themed hors d’oeuvre plates. December is also the season of butter and deep-fat fried foods. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.

We had had an epic Than ksgiving. There was more food than you could shake a stick at. Do’s sister and brother in law made a superb meal with at least 10 dishes. My father lovingly prepared and FedExed barbequed ribs from Texas. And the whole thing culminated with a glorious 9 course meal carefully arranged by Do and Spuds on Saturday. There was Harissa soup. There were meatballs. (The two together constituted only one course. Yeah. Think about that). It was three full days of indulgences.

In other words, on December 1^st my digestive system was ready for Lent, not Advent.

After barely four days to recover, it was time to haul out the festive spirit and deck the halls for Hanukkah, the Holiday of Lights. (The Holiday of Deep Frying would be more apropos, unless by “lights” you mean the inevitable ensuing stovetop flames). Allow me to recommend this for a nontraditional take on the homey comfort that is holiday food: Cheddar-stuffed Challah French Toast served with caramelized Apples and Red Onions.

Let me skip to the punchline: it’s to die for.

The original recipe was published this time last year in the New York Times. As the original cook describes, this dish started as a gussied up grilled cheese for when your family gets sick of latkes, then morphed into something truly festive. It’s essentially a one-pot dish of creamy, cheese-y, custard-y goodness, but savory. It reminds me a lot of the Germanic flavors that my grandmother brought over with her from Prussia and passed on to her progeny, flavors that say “home” and “Christmas” and “Mommy” to me. More than dinner, this dish becomes a way to include my family heritage in celebrating a holiday from Do’s roots.

I made this dish for both the first and second nights of Hannukah (you can tell it was a success!), and this morning we finally settled on a permutation that’s good enough for the archives. We replaced her gruyere with a sharp cheddar (personal preference), added mozzarella for cheese-y gooeyness and goat cheese for unctuous luxurious flavor, caramelized the red onions in the pan along with the apples, and nixed the “stuffing” concept for the “sandwich” concept (way easier to handle, and the flavors are better integrated). With a little bit of mustard, I promise this version is way better.

Cheddar-stuffed French Toast With Caramelized Apples and Red Onions

2 challah hamburger buns, or 4 1/2-inch-thick slices challah bread from middle of loaf. (If in the East Bay, Semifreddi’s is our fav).
4 oz grated Cheddar cheese (about 1 cup)
3 oz grated mozzarella (about ½ cup)
5 oz goat cheese
1 red onion, thickly sliced into half-moons.
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
3/4 cup whole milk
kosher salt, ground black pepper, olive oil
1 apple, cored, sliced
Really good quality French-style mustard.

1. Make the sandwiches: Grate cheddar and mozzarella, combine into one bowl. If using hamburger buns, gently remove “crust” from bottom and top to better allow the bread to soak up the egg. Spread goat cheese on the inside of all bread slices, and tuck as much of the cheddar/mozzarella mixture into the sandwiches as they will bear. Don’t worry if there’s leftover cheese.

2. Transform them into French toast: In a wide, shallow dish, whisk together the eggs, milk, salt and pepper. Carefully, so as not to lose the cheese filling, soak the sandwiches in the egg mixture, turning once halfway through, until most of the liquid has been absorbed, about 5 minutes.

3. Cook with Glamour. Heat oil in

a large skillet over medium heat. Add the apple slices and the red onion in a single layer and cook for 2 minutes. Push them to the side of the pan and add the bread slices. Cook until bottoms are golden, about 4 minutes. Carefully turn bread and apples and cook until bread is golden and the apples are caramelized, 3 to 5 minutes. Crumble any leftover cheese on top, and serve with mustard.

Yield: 2 servings.

Maple-Pear Salad: A Confession

2010-12-20T12:50:00.008-05:00

I don't consider myself a foodie.

My roommates find this utterly preposterous, but it's true, I don't. I definitely love to prepare food, and the more extravagant the experimentation, the more fun it is. But I have no insight on how to make flavours fit another in innovative ways. My expertise lies in finding interesting recipes and following their instructions. I could never assemble anything from scratch. Originality is not my forte.

What am I getting to? Neen said it once, and I will repeat it: salads intimidate me.

I don't know why, but I suspect it's because I can't fall back on a reliable recipe to tell me what to do. I guess I could always toss a bunch of rabbit food together with a vinaigrette. But that's not particularly fun.

That's why I was so excited when my father started talking about this salad that he discovered in a holiday cooking issue of Cook's Illustrated. Well, to be perfectly honest, he was complaining about it. The basic idea was that you toss the pears in maple syrup before you roast them to get a sweet, slightly burnt exterior. The problem with that is that you're liable to smoke yourself out of the house. Even if you don't, you'll probably have to chip the burnt syrup off the baking sheet with a hammer and chisel.

We debated the best way to join roasted pears and maple syrup; ultimately, we decided to roast the pears first, and then apply a light coat of syrup to each slice with a pastry brush. I can't compare it to the original recipe, but I can speak to the goodness of this approach. You don't get a crusty exterior on the pears (which is just as well, really), but you can definitely taste the maple syrup on the pear. The blend of such sweetness with blue cheese and walnuts -- ah! Délicieux!

I'm fully aware that this isn't actually going to make me better at creating new foods. But it's certainly going into my répetoire of dishes. And next time I make a big dinner, I can present this funky, funky salad.

Maple-Pear Salad

1/4 cup maple syrup
1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
3 firm pears, preferably Anjou or Bartlett
Salt and ground black pepper
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 small shallot, minced
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 bunches watercress, thick stems removed (8 cups)
1 head Bibb lettuce, torn into bite-sized pieces (6 cups)
1 cup crumbled blue cheese

Line a baking sheet with aluminium foil and place it in the lower-middle of the oven. Heat the oven to 500 degrees.

Peel and quarter the pears lengthwise. Core the pears, then halve each quarter lengthwise. Whisk the syrup and ginger together in a bowl.

Original: Toss the pears with 3 Tbs of the syrup mixture and spread them on the baking sheet. Season with salt and pepper, and then roast until they are browned on the bottom (about 15min). Flip the slices and roast for an additional 5min, or until they are tender and deep golden brown.

-- OR --

Alternative: Arrange the slices on the baking sheet, season with salt and pepper, and roast for 15min. Remove from the oven, brush the syrup mixture over the slices, and return to the oven (having flipped the pear slices first). Roast for an addition 5min, and remove.

While the pears are cooling on a baking sheet, whisk together the vinegar, shallot, oil, salt, and pepper to taste into the remaining syrup mixture. Combine the watercress and lettuce in your serving bowl, tossing with the vinaigrette. Scatter the pears and blue cheese and serve.

Delicious Simplicity

2010-12-16T18:21:00.009-05:00

Hi. I'm in Switzerland. Just putting that out there for you to chew on. And, perhaps, grind your teeth over.

Neen and I have a long history with this place. It has been one of the only geographical constants of our lives -- we moved to a new country every few years, but would always come here for vacation. Nowadays, it's not as easy to visit as much as we used to, but it's just as well: for one, we don't have to bemoan the changes to our once-tiny Alpine village; moreover, we don't have to worry about the tensions inherent in cramming our entire family in the still-tiny apartment.

That said, it still makes for a glorious escape. Nothing compares to leaving an American metropolis to find yourself in little Crans-Montana. A single step outside (because you would never drive) and you are greeted with icy-pure air and a magnificient view of the mountains all around you. Then come back inside to huddle in the warmth, read for hours, or assemble a nifty jigsaw puzzle. These are all well-loved family traditions.

It goes without saying that our cuisine changes as soon as we get here. That's partly due to the quality of certain products: you wouldn't come to this country and not have the chocolate, the cheese, the wine, or the pastries. That's heresy supreme. But likewise, we wouldn't indulge in quantity as much as we might in the States: groceries are extraordinarily expensive, especially with the exchange rate as it is. Our meals tend to lose a lot of their complexity while here: simple decadence is the result.

But I shouldn't forget: there is one more important factor to consider when baking: the elevation. At roughly 1500 meters, dough and batter behave differently. They will rise more, resulting in much lighter breads and desserts. That's the secret of this cake. The almond cream cake, dubbed "Crans cake" by baby Neen & Spuds, is our traditional fare for the Alps. With a batter composed greatly of whipped cream and almond extract, it offers the essence of light, just slightly sweetened dessert. Its richness is derived as much from its texture as from its taste: fluffy, with a nutty icing that has been ever so slightly toasted. Now, we've never been able to reproduce the texture exactly when closer to sea level. The cake will be more dense; nothing to be done about it. Consider yourselves warned.

Crans Cake (almond cream cake)
for the batter:

1 cup heavy cream
2 eggs
3/4 tsp almond extract
1 1/2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/8 tsp salt

for the topping:

2 Tbs butter
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 cup blanched slivered almonds
1 Tbs heavy cream
1 Tbs flour

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Whip the cream until it holds stiff peaks. Beat the eggs in one at a time, very well. Add the almond extract (don't be stingy).

Sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt, then stir in several additions into the batter.

Pour the batter into a greased & floured 8-inch spring form pan. Bake 35min or "until done" (I'm quoting the recipe; I assume that means when a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean. Don't overcook it).

Meanwhile, combine the topping ingredients in a small pan and stir over low heat until blended. Pour over the cake, spreading it out, and bake 10min longer. Let the cake cool on a rack for 20min; it will shrink as it does so.

The recipe indicates that it can be served with sweetened whipped cream ("That's overkill" says my mother). It would probably also work nicely with a mélange of fruit. Ultimately, though, keep it simple: this cake works just fine by itself.

Cobble Cobble Cobble

2010-12-09T00:55:00.003-05:00

Here's a quick one, since I just got out of 5 hour final. I ordinarily would wait until I could think of a bit more of a story to tell, but I was asked to post the recipe as soon as humanly possible. And since "as soon as humanly possible" was actually a few days ago, I don't want to dally around anymore.

This is a blueberry cobbler recipe I got from Mark Bittman's "How to Cook Everything." I've spoken before about how I find this man disarmingly charming, and the same, I guess, goes for this food. I don't restrict myself to just blueberries, though. Raspberries! Blackberries! Greenberries! Purpleberries! Cyanberries! Puceberries!

...wait, puceberries? Now I know finals are getting to me.

Blueberry Cobbler

4-6 cups blueberries or other fruits, washed and well dried, peeled and sliced as necessary
1 cup sugar, or to taste
8 Tbs cold unsalted butter, cut into bits, plus some for the pan
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
pinch salt
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Heat the over to 375 degrees. Toss the fruit with half the sugar and spread it in a lightly greased 8-inch square or 9-inch round baking pan.

Combine the flour, baking powder, salt, and remaining 1/2 cup sugar in a food processor and pulse once or twice. Add the butter and process for 10 seconds, until the mixture is well blended. By hand, beat in the egg and vanilla.

Drop this mixture onto the fruit by tablespoonfuls; do not spread it out. Bake until golden yellow and just starting to brown, 35-45 minutes. Serve immediately.

Naturally, this goes quite well with some vanilla ice cream -- except during a Chicago winter -- or whipped cream. When I made this, I whipped some cream with some sugar and just a touch of honey (y'know, for funsies). The ratio was roughly 1 1/4 cup cream : 1/8 to 1/4 cup sugar : 1-2 Tbs honey, depending on how sweet you want it. I'm told maple syrup is also an interesting addition.

Mmm... doughnuts...

2010-12-04T13:27:00.015-05:00

I just reawakened from my Thanksgiving food coma. Have I missed anything?

We have a wonderful Thanksgiving tradition in Do's extended family (which naturally includes Neen and myself). Actually, we have several wonderful traditions. We spend the weekend on a tree farm 2-3 hours from the city, laugh watching his brother-in-law shove his entire arm into the turkey, indulge in Do's fine wines... I could go on and on.

The tradition I'm referring to now, though, is the day after T-day. One massive dinner simply isn't enough for our family. Oh no. After having all the usual foods, we then make a second dinner -- this one comprised of fancy non-standard dishes. Usually an effort between the three of us, it's an opportunity to let loose with our most extravagant hosting/cooking tendencies. Pairing drinks to dishes, sides to main plates, and decorating every bite artistically, we strive to make one continued culinary masterpiece.

The actual menu (as far as I gathered) is below. Maybe Do will enlighten me as to what wines we was serving at the time.

H arissa soup (Do) // Meatballs stuffed with goat cheese (Me)
Korean fish medley (Do's invention) // Bacon-wrapped dates (Me)
Lemon-olive chicken on couscous (Do)
Lime-yogurt mousse (Do) // Tuscan doughnuts (Me)

As you can see, the meal had a bit of Mediterranean citrus framework matched against heartier meat and butter dishes. I'd say it worked well, but it's all a blur right now; I just remember lots of delicious food.

I've already blogged about most of the dishes I contributed, with the exception of the doughnuts. This wasn't the first time I've made doughnuts, but the last batch were a bit of a letdown: the jelly filling made the dough messy and hard to handle and the dough itself didn't rise as much as I'd hoped. I'm told they were good, but eh, I wasn't satisfied.

That's when I picked up this recipe. It's another one from the Urban Italian cookbook. Success! The resulting product had the right density: the dough was light & fluffy from its multiple risings, and the cream filling didn't weigh it down too much. The choice of toppings is nice too: rolling the fried doughnuts around in a bowl of sugar gives them a light coating, and then you can offer your guests a bowl of chocolate dipping sauce on the side.

Don't be fooled, though: this is a serious endeavor. To give you an idea, the cookbook lists it as: "Timing: Major project." The dough needs to proof to a combined three and a half hours. During this time, you'll be jumping back and forth between the filling, the dipping sauce, and the main course[s] (because no, you can't eat doughnuts alone). And let us not even talk about the actual frying! The dangers/fun should be self-evident when standing next to a half-gallon of boiling oil, dipping things in and out of it, and then handling them while they're still sizzling.

And so, without further ado, I give you:

Tuscan Doughnuts

For the dough:

1 cup whole milk
2 Tbs plus 2 tsp active dry yeast
1 vanilla bean
4, 3/4 cups bread flour // all purpose is fine
1/2 cup plus 3 Tbs sugar
1 tsp salt
9 egg yolks
juice of 1 melon, strained through a sieve to remove all the pulp
1/3 cup brandy or rum
1 Tbs orange-blossom water (or zest of 2 oranges mixed with 1 Tbs brandy)
1 stick butter, cubed and kept cold

Bring 1/2 cup of the milk to room temperature in a medium-sized bowl. Add all the yeast to the milk and stir until it dissolves. Allow it to activate until the yeast begins to foam, about 5min.
Cut the ends off the vanilla bean, split it lengthwise, and scrape out the meat. Combine the vanilla-bean meat, flour, sugar, and salt in the large bowl of a mixer or KitchenAid.
Add the activated yeast (in its milk), the remaining 1/2 cup of milk, and the egg yolks, lemon juice, brandy or rum, orange-blossom water, and butter to the bowl.
Mix all the ingredients at low speed (speed 1 on a KitchenAid) with the hook attachment. When everything begins to combine (just a few seconds), increase the speed to medium-low (speed 2 on a KitchenAid) and continue mixing until all the ingredients are well combined and there are no chunks of butter. The dough should have some play to it: it will be a little bit sticky and stretchy, and will not tear easily.
Remove the dough to a large bowl or container (at least twice as large as the dough), coated with an unflavored nonstick spray or a thin coating of canola oil (or some other neutral oil that won't flavor the dough -- do not use butter). If the container is square or rectangular, be sure to spread the dough out a bit to fit. Cover the container with plastic wrap, being sure to keep the wrap from touching the dough, place it in a warm area (about 70 degrees), and allow the dough to proof until it has doubled in size and become very soft and almost silky to the touch, about 2 to 3 hours.
Turn the dough out on a lightly floured work surface. Beat some of the air out with flat palms, pushing down on all areas of the dough with the heel of you hand. Then form the dough into a large, tight ball, folding and rolling it to make it smooth.
Reflour the work surface and lightly flour the dough. Rool out the dough with a rolling pin, rolling in every direction, until the dough is a more or less circular shale, 1.5 feet or so across and about 1/2 inch thick. There will be air bubbles in the dough; they're important for the consistency of the doughnuts. Continue to flour the dough and the surface as you work to prevent sticking.
Place a piece of parchment paper over a backing sheet and transfer the dough to the sheet by placing the rolling pin (like rolling a skein of wool). Cover the sheet with plastic wrap and place it in the freezer until the dough has cooled and firmed, about 30min. (If you have a really small, Manhattan-apartment-style freezer, and a sheet tray won't fit, cut the dough in half and place it in the freezer on 2 smaller trays.)
Flour the dough on both sides and place it on a lightly floured work surface. roll the rolling pun across the dough to make sure that it's even in thickness (sometimes the dough continues proofing in the freezer). Then, using a round 2-inch cutter, cut out rounds: place the cutter over the dough, press down evenly with the heels of both hands, and then twist the cutter back and forth quickly to release the edges. Remove each round as it is cut. (The rounds will look exactly like dough-colored macaroons.) Save a little bit of the cutout leftover dough for testing the oil later -- and remember you'll need to proof these leftover bits along the rounds.
Place a sheet of parchment paper on a baking sheet and lightly spray with an unflavored nonstick spray or brush with canola or another neutral oil. Place the rounds (and you bits of leftover dough) on the baking sheet, leaving enough room between each on (about 1/2 inch all around) to allow them to proof without touching on another. Spray or brush the tops very lightly with more oil, so that the rounds glisten; this will stop them from drying out, and from sticking if they touch. Place the baking sheet in a warm area and allow the rounds to proof until they have doubled in size, about 1 1/2 hours. When you poke the top of a proofed doughnut, the dough will indent and then spring back; the rounds will be light but firm, Be sure the doughnuts are fully proofed: otherwise, they'll stay raw on the inside when you finish them.

For the pastry cream:

2 cups milk
meat of 1/2 vanilla bean (or 1 tsp of vanilla extract)
1/4 cup sugar
1 Tbs all-purpose flour
1 Tbs cornstarch
3 egg yolks

Combine the milk and the vanilla-bean meat (or vanilla extract) in a medium-sized saucepan, and bring to a boil over medium-high heat.
Combine the sugar, flour, and cornstarch in a small bowl.
Place the egg yolks in a medium-sized bowl and slowly whisk the dry ingredients into the yolks, so that you have a thick mixture.
Pour about 1/3 of the hot milk into the egg-yolk mixture and whisk unil all the ingredients are combined. Whisk in the rest of the hot milk and pour the combined liquid back into the saucepan.
Cook the liquid over medium heat until the mixture starts to thicken and coats the back of a spoon, about 3min. Remove the cream mixture from the heat and strain it through a chinois or fine strainer into another bowl, so that any lumps are removed.
Immediately cover the cream with plastic wrap, placing the plastic directly on the surface of the cream so that a skin does not form. Refrigerate the pastry cream for at least 2 hours, until it's completely cold. The cream will hold in the fridge for up to 1 day.

For the chocolate sauce:

1/2 cup corn syrup
1 cup sugar
3/4 cup cocoa powder
2 Tbs butter
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup roughly chopped 64% dark chocolate

Combine 3/4 cup of water and the corn syrup in a small pot and bring the mixture to a boil over high heat.
Combine the sugar with the cocoa powder in a small bowl.
Add the sugar-cocoa mixture to the corn-syrup-and-water mixture and bring it back up to a boil, then reduce the heat to low.
Add the butter, heavy cream, and dark chocolate, whisking well until everything dissolves. Increase the heat to medium-high and bring the mixture back up to a simmer, whisking continuously until the mixture becomes a shiny sauce, about 2-3 minutes.
Strain the sauce through a chinois or fine strainer and reserve. The sauce will hold in the fridge for up to 5 days.

For frying the doughnuts and finishing the dish:

1/2 gallon canola oil
3 cups granulated sugar

If the chocolate sauce is in the fridge, set it out so that it comes to room temperature by the time you're ready to serve the doughnuts.
Pour the canola oil into a large stockpot (about 1 foot deep) and over medium heat until the temperature reaches 350 degrees. (If you don't have a thermometer, you can test the oil by throwing a little bit of the leftover dough into the pot. If the oil bubbles when the dough hits it and the dough fries up, you're good to go.)
Remove the chilled pastry cream from the refrigerator and place it in a pastry bag with a pastry tip, being sure to tie the end of the bag.
Fry 4 or 5 of the doughnuts at a time, turning them when they are brown on the bottoms (about 30 seconds), and pressing them down to submerge them in the oil. Lift the doughnuts out with a slotted spoon or spider and transfer them to a paper towel. The finished doughnuts will be very light and yeasty inside and well browned outside, and should pull apart easily.
While they're still warm, fill each doughnut with pastry cream until it starts to feel a little heavy (about 2 Tbs' worth).
Pour the sugar into a large bowl. Roll each doughnut in the sugar so it's lightly coated.
Serve the doughnuts immediately, piled on a serving platter with a bowl of the chocolate sauce on the side for dipping.

Aah... another excellent Thanksgiving under our now-loosened belts...

ps. thanks to Neen & DR for the gorgeous photos.

So not Kosher: Goat Cheese-stuffed Meatballs

2010-11-22T22:17:00.008-05:00

Ok, so when I started thinking about this entry, I wanted to open by quoting Shakespeare. In case my previous post didn't suggest this enough, just take for granted that I'm permanently hard-wired into the Bard's collected works. I kept trying to find something that was said by Shylock, from the Merchant of Venice. He's Jewish, he's Italian. There ended my justification.

I couldn't find anything.

But then! It occurred to me that I was being too classical. Instead, I should be looking to open with a pop-culture reference. And I found the perfect one, too: this dish is very much like Inception. Bear with me: you know about the dream within a dream within a dream? This is goat cheese. Within meatballs. Within the pasta. Within my belly. Now I just need to work in some trains, explosions, and an all-star cast.

I may be trying too hard, but in all seriousness, this is an impressive dish that surprises you with sudden twist of flavour while you're eating it. It would well deserve an epic soundtrack. The idea is pretty simple, and accordingly relatively straightforward to implement: you mash all your meatball ingredients in a bowl first. Then you roll out small spheres of slightly chilled goat cheese, and work the meatball around it. While cooking, the cheese seeps through the meat, keeping it tender. The taste of the cheese spreads delicately in such a way that there's only a whiff of it along the outside of the meat. Of course, when you bite into one, you'll be digging right into the center, where the fresh cheesy goodness is waiting. It's an unexpected, delicious contrast.

This recipe is from another of my graduation cookbooks: "Urban Italian Cooking" by Andrew Carmellini and Gwen Hyman. Much of the food in it is just like this: the chefs take a traditional Italian dish and give it an innovative twist. Moreover, they do so without gimickery. The process is deft, never relying on a cheap "gotcha!" sensation. Instead, one wonders why food hasn't always been made like this. If you're looking to escape cheesy "American-Italian" and don't feel like reverting back to the Traditional ways, give Urban Italian a go. It's well worth it.

Lamb Meatballs Stuffed with Goat Cheese
For the meatballs:

3 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil
1 small onion, chopped (about 1/2 cup)
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1/2 tsp ground coriander seed
1 tsp ground fennel seed
1 Tbs rosemary, finely chopped
1/4 cup fresh goat cheese
1/2 lb merguez sausage, about 8 links (or 2 links hot Italian sausage, if you prefer) with casings cut away
1 lb ground lamb /* if you don't want to be overly decadent, beef works well, too */
1/2 cup dried breadcrumbs
2 eggs
1/2 tsp salt

For the sauce:

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, diced (about 1 cup)
1 28oz can Italian tomatoes (San Marzano, if possible) plus their juice
1/4 tsp red pepper flakes
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp dried oregano, preferably on the branch

To finish the dish:

1/4 cup Crumbs Yo! /* this is his special bread crumbs recipe -- toasted with salt, pepper, and spices of your choice. Nice, but not necessary */
1/4 cup grated Pecorino cheese

To make the meatballs:

Heat olive oil in a sauté pan over medium heat. Add the onion and sweat for 3min. Add the garlic and cook for 1min, stirring occasionally.
Add the coriander, fennel, and rosemary. Cook together 1min, so that the aromas of the spices and herbs are released. Remove to a bowl and place in the fridge to cool (about 5min), so that you're not combining hot onions with cold meat.
Meanwhile, roll the goat cheese between your palms to form 1/2-inch balls (the size of a pebble). Place them on a plate and reserve.
When the onion-herb mixture has cooled, combine it in a large bowl with the sausage, lamb, breadcrumbs, eggs, and salt. Mix well with your hands.
Form the meatballs: for each meatball, scoop up about 2 Tbs of lamb mixture and roll and press it into an oval, about the size of a distended Ping-Pong ball. Use your thumb to create a goat-cheese-ball-size dent in the middle, and drop a goat-cheese ball inside. Pinch the lamb mixture up around the goat cheese to close the hole, and roll the meatball between your hands till it's round and smooth. Repeat until you've used up all the goat cheese and the lamb mixture.

To make the sauce:

Heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium-high heat. Add the onion and cook until it starts to soften, about 1min.
Crush the tomatoes in a bowl with the heel of your hand. Add them to the pot, then add the tomato juice, red pepper flakes, salt, sugar, and oregano. Mix to combine. Cook over medium-high heat for 10min, until the flavours combine and the sauce is reduced.
Add the meatballs, being careful not to break them. Reduce the heat to low, so the sauce is at a very low simmer, and cover. It's very important that the liquid never come to a boil. You want as slow a simmer as possible, so the flavors really come together, the cheese melts, and the meat becomes rich and tender. Cook for 5min, turn the meatballs with a spoon, and simmer another 5min, until the meat is cooked and the sauce takes on the flavour of the meatballs. (Some goat cheese may find it's way out during the cooking process -- it depends on how tightly you've made your meatballs -- but don't worry about this: the meatballs will still taste good.)

To finish the dish:
Ladle the meatballs and sauce into 6 bowls. Sprinkle with the Crumbs Yo! and the grated cheese. Serve immediately.

Drunken Shakespeare

2010-11-18T23:31:00.007-05:00

Yes, you read that correctly. Drunken Shakespeare. In a university setting, what better way could you possibly spend a Saturday night than with a large group of inhibitionless friends hacking our way through the Bard's works? Answer: you can't. It was glorious.

I have always been a Shakespeare buff -- my father was proudly taking me to the theatre as soon as I was old enough to stay up that late. High school English classes were dull, because I was more familiar with the plays than the others students (and sometimes the teacher, too). I wrote my extended essay on Rosencrantz & Guildenstern, the dubious 'friends' of Hamlet. And without provocation, I will happily pick up one of the big tragedies to read through some monologue or other.

And now, my madness is being bolstered by the encouraging warbles of everyone else.

Eminently Shakespearian characters do not like your Pyramus & Thisbe

The booze may not be necessary, but it has been known work wonders. Everyone is more likely to jump in and claim a character for their own, and hilarity always ensues. The centuries-old text comes alive, and sometimes the characters even get a bizarre makeover. Imagine, if you will, Macbeth as played by Marlon Brando. Or Midsummer Night's peanut gallery composed of Statler and Waldorf (OOOHOHOHOHO!).

Since the weather is turning Turk-- uh, cold, on this occasion, I thought some late-Autumn drinks would be appropriate. Something warm and fuzzy. Ultimately, I settled on Mulled Wine and Hot Buttered Rum. Both feel like grown-up versions of tea or hot chocolate, and the alcohol blends well with the other tastes well enough that you almost don't notice it. This calls for caution, of course: Othello is much less eloquent when he's passed out on the floor. But if you serve it warm-to-hot, folks are less likely to drink too fast.

"Is this a dagger I see before me?"

Unfortunately, I have yet to find an exact recipe for mulled wine that works 100% of time. If anyone has one, please let me know! I'm tired of having to wing it, not knowing if it will taste good or not. In essence, I tossed these ingredients in approximated amounts together. Heat -- but don't boil -- them in a pot before ladling them out into mugs.

3 bottles Beaujolais // I'd try a Merlot next time
zest of 3 lemons
zest of 3 oranges
juice of 1 orange
1/2 cup sugar
3 sticks cinnamon
cloves
nutmeg
allspice
pinch cardamom // don't overdo it. Really

I didn't even have to worry about the Hot Buttered Rum, as one of the night's actresses was adept at throwing it together at moment's notice. I learned later that she got the recipe from the Food Network website, which surprised me; I'm usually suspicious of the kind of recipes one might find there. But thumbs-up on this one -- warm, fuzzy, and delicious. I want to drink this every night of the upcoming Chicago winter. So Cheers to you, Witch #1 / Horatio / whomever-the-hell-else-you-were!

Hot Buttered Rum

1 stick unsalted butter, softened
2 cups light brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg
Pinch ground cloves
Pinch salt
Bottle dark rum
Boiling water

In a bowl, cream together the butter, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and salt. Refrigerate until almost firm. Spoon about 2 tablespoons of the butter mixture into 12 small mugs. Pour about 3 ounces of rum into each mug (filling about halfway). Top with boiling water (to fill the remaining half), stir well, and serve immediately.

Liver

2010-11-10T23:00:00.005-05:00

I wish I had a camera to show you how beautiful my dinner is. Because who eats liver any more, anyway? Even at my somewhat elitist neighborhood grocery store, the chummy check out clerks who know me by name expressed their skepticism and dismay when I presented myself with a pound of beef liver, an onion, parsley, egg noodles (which I only later realized are "no cholesterol," a rather self-defeating perk given that they're being served with a POUND of liver), and 4oz of chocolate (for brownies!, I protest). Last week, in Paris of all places, where you'd think they'd refrain from turning up their noses to classic, simple preparations, Do and my best friend from high school bonded over their mutual disgust that I ordered seared veal liver with mushrooms at a restaurant. Of course, the only person who was actual French at the table is notoriously finicky (but lovable! very, very lovable!), so I probably shouldn't judge the whole country on that basis.

Liver is heritage. It's a cut that our great grandparents had absolutely no problem with, in the days before all American butchery was reduced to a mere dozen cuts of any given animal, unceremoniously bundled in styrofoam and plastic and discounted for 2.99 per pound. It is unctuous, like a rare steak or top grade salmon sashimi. It smells like earth mixed with blood -- life, really, in all its depth and raw-ness.

Here's how Julie Powell, of Julie and Julia fame, describes it in the first chapter of her new book, Cleaving (in which she becomes a artisanal butcher's apprentice, an ideal perch from which to wax poetical about under-appreciated cuts of carcass):

"I now slice off eight pretty burgundy flaps of liver. The cut organ releases a metallic tang into the air, and yet more blood onto the table. Changing knives now, I delicately excise the tight pale ducts that weave through the slices. Perfectly cooked liver should be crisp on the outside with a custardy-smooth center. Nothing tough or chewy should get in the way of that sensual quintessence. Six of these slices are for the gleaming glass and steel case at the front of the shop; the last two I set aside, to wrap up and take home after work for a Valentine's Day dinner tomorrow. Once, I thought the holiday merited boxes of chocolate and glittery cards, but in these last couple of eye-opening years, amid the butchery and wrenches of the heart, I've realized life has gotten too complicated for such sweet and meaningless nothings; I've even learned I'm okay with that." Julie Powell, Cleaving: A Story of Marriage, Meat, and Obsesssion, p.3.

Poetry. What a way to start a book! She then inserts a recipe for Valentine's Day Liver for Two, where she coats the beef liver with flour, and sears it on the rare side in butter, oil, salt, and pepper. That prose inspired my dinner tonight, but instead I used a recipe from Elizabeth Ehrlich's autobiography about acquiring a sense of self by learning to cook with her Holocaust-survivor mother in law. She devotes a whole chapter to learning how to cook liver, of which the sentences below are extracts:

"'Then we can start with the leybern.' Leybern - livers. Lukshn mit leybern: chicken livers with noodles. I am here to learn this, and next Friday, something else. For my husband, and for our children.

I remember my first taste of this dish. Just home from the hospital with Miriam's first grandchild, I found her in my kitchen, warming her pot on my stove and insisting I come to the table. The richness, the oil, the iron, the cholesterol, the onion, the salt overtook my body like an intravenous drug. Miriam beamed. "It's good," she stated. There had never been a dish like this one.

Many women of Miriam's generation and background have moved toward broiled fish or chicken. But Miriam stays with her chopping bowl, soup pot, and frying pan, with the old labor-intensive recipes, the rich and salty ways.

Can I use less oil, I wonder?"

Elizabeth Ehrich, Miriam's Kitchen, p.41-47

Miriam's recipe, which is the one that I made for dinner, is below. My comments are in italics.

Lukshn Mit Leybern. Serves 4.

1 lb chicken livers (I used top quality beef livers, because my butcher didn't have chicken)

1 large onion, diced (I'm tempted to use two next time)

Black pepper

1/4 cup vegetable oil

3/4 Tbs flour

3/4 Tbs sugar (I eliminated this, as unlike Polish Jews I don't fancy sugar in my mains)

1/4 tsp salt

Egg noodles, medium width (I used 1/2lb, could go with less).

Hot Water

Parsley, chopped, for color.

Clean livers. Slice into generous bite-size pieces. Broil gently until done, then drain on toweling to remove all blood (remember, this is a Kosher recipe).

Place onion in medium saucepan and sprinkle [generously] with black pepper. Cook on low heat until onion pieces sweat. [Or until you're so hungry you can't stand it any more.]

Add the oil to cover bottom of pan and onion. Mix. Saute until just golden. Stor in livers. Cook for a few minutes over low heat. Add the flour and sugar and mix together. Cover with hot water and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes over low flame. Add salt to taste. Simmer for a few more minutes. Serve hot on cooked noodles, sprinkle with parsely.

The broth tastes like that from a 6 hour long beef stew - the kind where you make your own beef broth from scratch with bones in order to enrich the broth with marrow. The richness of it all makes it kind of taste like Stroganoff... even though there's clearly no cream in it. I'm half tempted to add just a half teaspoon of mustard to emphasize the similarity. This isn't necessarily Liver at its most shocking - that would be seared, minimalist. But it's simple, honest. Rooted in another era.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to settle down with my bowl full of days gone by and my glass of wine, and enjoy.

This meal brought to you by Forward Momentum

2010-11-04T15:32:00.004-04:00

I guess I was remiss when last when writing about the Great Tapas Dinner. I didn't even mention the amount of prep work that went into it. Don't worry, I won't wax poetical about the last minute stress of hosting a dinner party. I'm sure we've all been there before. The fact that this gathering involved me planning to single-handedly put together 21 different dishes, well... that just illustrates how I have way too much fun for my own good.

To quote a militaristic literary idol of mine, no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy. Just so in this case. I plotted out the menu way in advance (which just means I didn't say: "Oh, this looks interesting; let's make this tonight!"). Having no real idea where to start, I simply paged through the The Book of Tapas, noting which recipes looked tasty or interesting (or just bizarre and intriguing). Unfortunately, this gave me a list with roughly 50 items on it. After several cuts, and one dessert addition from Rick Bayless' website, I had the expected 21.

You would think that would be sufficient planning. But no! Then I had to figure out if it was even possible to make those dishes: many called for seasonal ingredients that aren't always easy to find in a Midwestern Autumn. Which brings me to the first great obstacle: grocery shopping. (Here I must apologize, because I said I wouldn't wax poetical. The shopping deserves an exception.) My memory is hazy (stress-induced delirium?), but I believe I had to make four distinct trips to the store. The first was to determine if all the ingredients could be had, and if not, what I could use instead. That was a success.

The second and third trips, as the actual 'buy stuff' excursions, were not. You see, I don't have a vehicle -- which is usually fine, because I live within walking distance of two grocery stores. However there is a limit to how much a person can carry in one trip. This was made even more difficult because two of my roommates promise to help carry bags... and then both flaked out on me. I must have been quite a comical sight, carrying all that stuff back by myself. Ok, rant over. Those were trips 2 and 3. Trip 4 was the last minute shoot-where-is-the-x-oh-damn-quick-go-get-it-now trip.

And that was all before the day of the event. During the week preceding the dinner, I pretty much spent every night reviewing the recipes (to ensure I'd be able to construct them with a minimum of difficulty), sometimes almost falling asleep on the cookbook. It was actually pretty funny. By the end of the week, I was virtually dreaming of tapas. I was definitely reverting to Spanish whenever I started talking to anyone. Aaawkward.

And by the end of it, I didn't even get to serve everything! While actually in the kitchen, I had to spontaneously remove 4-5 courses from the meal. The cuts were bourne of a realisation that there was no way my guests were going to be able to eat so much. Hey! In my defense, tapas are supposed to be small!

Anyway, that's enough blabber and ranting from me. Let's get to the interesting stuff: the food! These two dishes fall under the 'curiosities' category. Definitely not something you would serve every day, but an intriguing combination regardless. On the whole, this is the type of food on whose taste you might reflect, but it won't cause any cravings. They fit in well in a large complicated meal, and might work better as a small Amuse-Bouche.

Orange, Fennel, and Onion Salad (Ensalada con Naranja, Hinojo y Cebolla)

1lb 5oz fennel, peeled and cut in half lengthwise
3 large oranges
5 Tbs olive oil
2 Tbs lemon juice
1 small onion, thinly sliced
handful of black olives, pitted and sliced
mint leaves, to garnish (optional)
salt and pepper

Bring a pan of salted water to a boil. Add the fennel, being back to a boil and cook for 2 minutes, then drain. Peel the oranges, removing any traces of white pith, and thinly slice crosswise, reserving any juices. when the fennel is cool enough to handle, thickly slice it and set aside. To make the dressing, beat the olive oil, lemmon juice and reserved orange juice together in a large bowl with a fork. Season with salt and pepper.

Combine the fennel, oranges, onion and olives in the bowl, gently tossing together. Pour the dressing over the salad and toss gently just before serving. The salad can be garnished with mint leaves, if desired

Hard-boiled Eggs with Smoked Salmon (Huevos duros al Salmón)

4 eggs
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 generous slice smoked salmon
salt
3,1/2 Tbs bottled salmon row, drained, to garnish

To hard boil the eggs, pour enough water to cover them into a large pan, add 1 tablespoon salt and bring to a boil. Add the eggs carefully and stir gently with a wooden spoon to that then they set the yolks will be in the center. Cook medium-size eggs for 12 minutes. (Add 1 minute for bigger eggs and subtrract 1 minute for smaller eggs.) Drain off the hot water, fill the pan with cold water and leave the eggs until required. When the eggs are cool enough to handle, shell and halve the eggs lengthwise. Cut a thin slice off the base of each egg white half so it stays upright.

Put the mayonnaise and smoked salmon in a blender and blend until well mixed. Season with salt, if necessary, as the salmon might be already salted. To improve the presentation of the eggs, use a pastry bag to pipe the salmon and mayonnaise mixture onto the halved eggs. Garnish with the salmon roe and serve. If no serving immediately, store in the refrigerator until required.

Election Day

2010-11-02T17:47:00.005-04:00

Midterm elections are today.

If one more person asks me if I've voted, starts talking about their party affiliation, or generally brings up politics at all, I'm going to shove carrots in my ears, stick out my tongue, and go PBBBBTTTTLLLL.

Originally, this post was going to be much longer than it is now. But I found myself going on an ideological rant against American politics in general. It actually felt good to refine my thoughts to the point of committing them to writing, but the results serve me better in the writing than it would you in the reading. So I'll spare you the extended edition in favour of the sound bites edition:

U.S. citizens get loud and stupid about politics.
The Tea Party movement discomforts me.
I have high hopes for the G.O.P. My main hope is that when they retake the House and Senate, they will focus on governing more than merely crushing the democrats.
President Obama may not be the great leader for whom everyone was hoping. But he has a good head on his shoulders, and that counts for a lot in my book.
I need more carrots.

And with that out of the way, I leave you with a discovered treasure that I am sure to make many many times in the near future. Though as of yet untested, this looks like a chocolate & peanut butter treat to appease the gods of angry voters: Buckeyes, from the Smitten Kitchen. With something like this, nothing can frustrate me. Not the fact that I have carrots in my ears, nor that I need to stick more of them in. Not even that I should really be studying for tomorrow's 5 hour midterm instead of blogging.

So, in closing, I leave one political thought that doesn't bother me about our democracy. This is from Aaron Sorkin, via the West Wing's Josh Lyman. He was talking about radical extremists at the time, but I find it the best solution to deal with short-sightedness and pride.

"You want to get these people? You really want to reach in and kill 'em where they live? Then keep accepting more than one idea. Makes them absolutely crazy."

Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger.

2010-10-31T11:22:00.003-04:00

I don't know if this happens to anyone else, but my cooking habits are bizarrely similar to a steam engine. Everything runs smoothly if I'm making things regularly. But if I make too much at once, I run out of steam and can't bear to enter my kitchen for days at a time. Or even worse, if I don't cook anything, the pressure builds up until I'm forced to let it all loose in a massive culinary explosion.

This was the case a few weeks ago. I had been so distracted with the many bureaucratic distractions of day-to-day life that (I'm ashamed to admit) I hadn't used my kitchen for much other than cereal and pasta. This lasted a good long time, and by the end of it, the emergency release valve was going off like there's no tomorrow. The only way to cope was to do something about it that was equally ridiculous.

I made a tapas dinner. It was a dinner for a dozen people that lasted better of 5 hours.

I know. I'm a nutter.

But it was a marvelous experiment, and it finally gave me the opportunity to break in one of my graduation cookbooks (I was given 3 -- my family knows me well): "The Book of Tapas," by Simon and Ines Ortega. I recommend it. The book offers a great variety of hot/cold veggie/meat/fish platters in proportions that will content a small group (giving you the opportunities to make several, if you want them to leave stuffed). The glossy pictures offer some illustration to what you're trying for (which is useful for some of the more creatively-named recipes).

Unfortunately, I can't offer any images of my own. The roommate I tasked with taking a pictures was far more interested in the sangria. It's just as well -- there's no way I could blog about all of it. But since I have been asked to say something about the evening, I suppose I can post some of the better dishes. This will have to come in separate installments, though. I'm not sitting here for all of them.

I guess I'll start with the two dishes that most epitomize tapas in my mind: bacon-wrapped dates and Roquefort-stuffed prunes. They are small -- bite-sized, in this case -- tasty combinations of flavours that you really wouldn't be exposed to otherwise. The feeling you end up with is a rich decadence, though it's unclear as to whether that's due to a cuisine with foreign influence or just because it's a fancy course.

Fried Date and Bacon Pinchos (Pinchos de dátiles y bacon fritos)

20 dates
20 slices thin rindless bacon
2-3 Tbs peanut or groundnut oil // I'm not convinced this is necessary

Slit the dates along the longest sides and carefully remove and discard the puts. Wrap each date in a strip of bacon and secure with a wooden toothpick. Heat the oil in a skillet or frying pan, add the bacon rolls and cook, turning occasionally, for about 10min, until the bacon is cooked through and lightly browned. Drain well and serve immediately.

Prunes with Roquefort, Raisins and Pine Nuts (Ciruelas rellenas de Roquefort, pasas y piñones)

3,1/2 oz (100g) Roquefort cheese
1 oz pine nuts
1/4 cup raisins
1 Tbs Malaga wine or sweet sherry
4 Tbs light cream
12 ready-to-eat prunes ("To use standard prunes, soak them in warm water to rehydrate them")

Crumble the Roquefort into a bowl and mash lightly with a fork. Add the pine nuts, raisins, wine or sherry and cream and mix to a paste. Remove the pits from the prunes and fill the cavities with the Roquefort paste. Close the prunes and secure with a wooden toothpick. Put the prunes on a plate, cover and chill in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours before serving.

Parents and Children and Zombies. (Oh my.)

2010-10-28T10:10:00.003-04:00

No matter how many times I've been over it, I always get confused when professors try to introduce process handling in a Systems class. At least the terminology is entertaining. Parents beget children using forks. For the sake of cleanliness, children should die before the parents, at which point, the parent in question should reap its children promptly, lest it leave zombies behind. If you're not clean, the Initial Process will have to adopt the orphans (and deal with the aforementioned zombies, which you cannot kill). And these conversations invariably lead to a discussion of pipes, and how you have to flush them frequently to avoid corruption. This knowledge, of course, is just to enable me to make a shell.

Um, yes. This is all true.

OH LOOK A CONVENIENTLY PLACED PHOTO TO DISTRACT YOU. DOESN'T THAT LOOK DELICIOUS? Maybe you should stop thinking about the inner workings of your computer and go make Rick Bayless' Chocolate Truffles with Anejo Tequilla and Chipotle instead. And then you should make a second batch so I can have some too.

NOM NOM NOM

Caramel Sauce Snobbery

2010-10-27T17:13:00.006-04:00

Am I a snob?

I mean, I don't think of myself as a snob. I don't consciously look down on folks who don't cook as assiduously as I do (read: don't undertake lunatic baking projects at 3am). But several friends have poked fun at my tendency to refuse any culinary shortcuts. They do it mostly to get a rise out of me, but it is true: I stubbornly attempt to make (almost) everything from scratch.

I can think of many reasons why I do this. First and foremost is my desire to be good at everything. I don't count that as one of my neuroses. Rather, I have a mindset from bygone era: in a more civilized age, a Gentleman was supposed to demonstrate a mastery of many skills: riding, dancing, fencing, hunting, the niceties of high society, etc. While some of those abilities are regrettably defunct, I still think a sign of class when someone has interests and [dare-I-say] proficiency in a variety of fields.

There you go: I'm in my twenties and am already coming out as a nostalgic fossil. Go figure.

Anyway, back to the issue at hand. I recently rediscovered the blog of an old friend of mine, The Moody Foody. Michelle and I went to high school in the Caribbean together, spending most of our extra-curricular time on the theatre dept's tiny tiny stage. I still have vivid memories of her bringing the house down as a fiery Italian matron. After so many years, it was a lot of fun to find that she'd become a foody and going over her culinary adventures through New York and the Old Continent.

That is, until I came to her recent post about Caramel Apples. Not having been able to make the caramel sauce from scratch, she reverted to (gasp!) Kraft Caramel! Michelle, Michelle, how could you? Capital treason!

Thus went the first few reactions from my stunned and horrified brain. But then I saw the pictures she left behind (nice dramatic touch, leaving those at the end, btw). And you know what? Those apples look damn good. I like them apples. And that was enough to give me pause and reflect. Why is the idea of purchasing pre-made portions of recipe such a repulsive idea?

I can think of arguments for both sides of the question, but since I don't want to take on a global theoretical debate, I pondered a simpler question: what does it mean for me? The answer is: I'm not sure. There's nothing strictly wrong about the ideology of it. By that, I mean to say that I can't find reason to condemn someone for buying something they could have made themselves. If that were so, were would we draw the line? Should we bake our own bread whenever we want a PB&J? Or take it to an extreme: let's all move out of the city and become farmers. We'll make everything ourselves. Because a national agrarian society is definitely the way to go. Right. (rolls eyes)

I simply believe that everyone should know how to cook. To quote a literary character: "He who cooks well, eats well." It doesn't mean that you have to be in utter control all the time, but it does imply a certain level of awareness about what you consume. Not only is that a damn good idea from a dietary point of view, but it also means you can prepare your meals to your own taste (instead of fitting into the generic consumer model). And that, of course, brings in the capitalist industry take on it. I simply don't want some big company telling me what to eat. Especially not when the ingredient list usually contains sugar, sugar, corn syrup, and some flavouring. My uncle is an industrial chef, and he doesn't eat his products, for crying out loud.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter. I'm still going to make everything from scratch. Why? Because I can. Because doing so makes me happy. That's enough for me, and I'm not out to change anyone's mind on the matter. If that makes me a culinary snob, then so be it. It doesn't bother me if other people approach it from a different angle (so Michelle, you're still ok in my books). After all, diversity makes life all the more interesting, and that goes for the kitchen, too.

SO! To conclude this long, drawn-out reflection (who knew a post about caramel apples could do such a thing?), I going to respond to Michelle's challenge. She asked to be given a single good, interesting recipe for caramel sauce this Halloween. I'm going to do one better, since there's only so much creativity you can put into butter, sugar, and cream. This is the dish that I'll be bringing to a party this weekend. It's clipped from the November edition of the Food & Wine magazine.

Caramel-Croissant Pudding

2 stale all-butter croissants, coarsely torn
1/2 cup sugar
2 Tbs water
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup milk
2 Tbs bourbon
2 large eggs, beaten

1. Preheat the oven to 350F. Lightly bitter a 1-quart shallow baking dish and arrange the croissant pieces in the dish. In a small saucepan, stir the sugar and water over moderately high heat until the sugar dissolves; wash down any crystals on the sides with a wet pastry brush. Cook without stirring until a medium amber caramel forms, about 5min. Remove from the heat and stir in the cream, milk, and bourbon. Cook over low heat just until any hardened caramel dissolves.

2. In a bowl, whisk the eggs. Gradually whisk in the hot caramel. Pour over the croissants and let stand for 10min, pressing the croissants to keep them submerged.

3. Bake the pudding in the center of the oven for 20min, until puffed and golden. Let cool for 10min, then serve.

ps:

I realise the irony in using a recipe from Food & Wine after discussing snobbery. Believe me, I don't read it for the articles.
If you start talking about this dish out loud, do me a favour: pretend you're French when saying "croissant" (the r is guttural and the t is silent). This is not me being a snob; this is me having a pet peeve. Do your part to stop the mispronunciation of foreign words!

pps:
Victory! I made the pudding successfully last night. I will confess I was pretty nervous when the caramel first turned out completely liquid, as opposed to the the viscous, gooey deliciousness I was expecting -- but 20min in the oven fixed that. Surprisingly, even though the croissants are submerged in this sugary liquid for several minutes before cooking, they loose none of their buttery flaky texture. This is definitely not a mushy bread pudding. It's not crisp, per se, but you could almost cut it into squares and eat with your hands. Definitely recommended for your sweet tooth!

Happy Halloween!

Wrong Season, but whatever!

2010-10-26T20:28:00.005-04:00

Hey! Look what I found when rooting through the recesses of my camera's memory card. I have no idea about when I actually made this -- I can assure you, it was many weeks ago -- but I do recall that it was excellent! The crust was sweet and buttery (much as its name would suggest), the filling had just the right consistency - delicately balanced between runny and gelatinous - and really, how could you refuse a mountainous pile of fruit like that?

I like to follow the various recipes to make it all from scratch. It's more rewarding, and you have more control over the taste and texture. But, if you're pressed for time, or simply intimidated by any single part (hey, crusts scare me, too!), I sure you could substitute store-bought stuff.

Ladies and Gentlemen, from the Silver Palate, I give you:
Pinwheel Fruit Tart

This is actually a combination of 3 smaller recipes, which you can do simultaneously, or apart. Let's start with the filling:

Pastry Cream

2 cups milk
1/2 cup granulated sugar
4 Tbs unbleached all-purpose flour
2 egg yolks
1 Tbs sweet butter
2 tsp vanilla extract

1. Scald the milk in a heavy pan (bring it almost to a boil over high heat, stirring to keep the sugars from burning onto the pan)

2. While milk is heating, whisk sugar and flour together in a stainless-steel mixing bowl.

3. When milk is scalded, remove skin and slowly pour milk into flour and sugar, whisking constantly. Place bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and cook, stirring, until mixture lightly coasts the back of a spoon, about 10min.

4. Add egg yolks and cook, stirring constantly, until mixture heavily coats the back of a spoon, about 10min more. Remove from heat.

5. Add butter and vanilla and mix well. Chill; before chilling cover top with a lighty coating of butter, or cover surface directly with plastic wrap, to prevent formation of a skin.

Then go on to the crust:

Sweet Buttery Tart Crust

1,2/3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 cup ver fine granulated sugar
1/2 tsp salt
10 Tbs (1,1/4 sticks) sweet butter, chilled
2 egg yolks
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 tsp cold water

1. Sift flour, sugar and salt into a mixing bowl. Cut chilled butter into pieces into the bowl. Using your fingertips, rapidly rub the butter and dry ingredients together until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Be careful to use only your fingertips as your palms will warm the dough.

2. Stir egg yolks, vanilla and water together and add to the flour-butter mixture and blend in, using a fork. Shape dough into a ball. This should not take more than 30-45 seconds.

3. Place the ball of dough on a pastry board. With the heel of your hand, smear about 1/4 cup of dough away from you into a 6- to 8-inch smear; repeat until all dough has been dealt with. Scrape dough together; re-form into a ball, wrap in wax paper, and chill for 2 to 3 hours.

4. Roll out dough between 2 sheets of wax paper, or use a floured pastry cloth and floured stockinette on your rolling pin, into a round large enough to line your pan. Work quickly, as the dough can become sticky.

5. Line either an 8- or 9-inch false-bottom tart pan with the dough, fitting it loosely into the pan and pressing to fit sides. Trim edges 3/4 inch outside top of pan, and fold this edge over to inside and press into place with fingers. Chill.

6. Preheat over to 425F.

7. Line dough in the tart pan with a piece of aluminum foil or wax paper and weight with rice or beans. Bake for 8 minutes. Remove foil and weights. Prick the bottom of the dough with a fork in several places. For a fully baked shell, return to the oven for 8 to 10 minutes longer, or until edges are a light brown.

Put them together:

Pinwheel Fruit Tart

4 kiwis, 1 pint raspberries, 1 pint strawberries // I look at these as suggestions. Add whatever fruit you want!

1. Peel the kiwis and slice thin. Rinse, stem, and halve the strawberries.

2. Spread the pastry cream in cooled tart shell.

3. Arrange the fruit on the cream. Silver Palate says: Make a pinwheel design over cream, arranging each fruit in a whorl pattern, first using raspberries, then strawberries (cut sides down), then layered slices of kiwis. Repeat with remaining fruit.

4. Brush the fruit with:

Red Currant Glaze

3 Tbs red currant jelly
1 Tbs Kirsch

Whisk jelly and Kirsch together over medium heat until smooth. Use glaze while warm.

Try to serve the tart within 2 to 3 hours.

Death by Chocolate

2010-10-25T23:24:00.009-04:00

This is something I wrote and put aside many weeks ago. I think I lost the pictures somewhere along the way. More updates to come...

A lot has happened since I last posted here. That applies to all three of us, really, but mostly to me. As of a few months ago, I am officially an alumnus of the University of Chicago (yaaaaaay!). Granted, with that comes all the "fun" of post-graduation: job-hunting, grad school-applying, student loan-paying, etc. (booooo!). Another piece of that unfortunate collection is saying good-bye to everyone who I've been suffering alongside through the past few years. As all graduates know, it's hard to do. You become attached to people fighting through the cerebral chaos of college. But you rarely realise that when you go on to the real world, you probably won't be able to share that camaderie as before.

But anyway, I'm not here to wax poetic and maudlin. I'm manly that way.

One such fellow whose company I no longer enjoy is my former roommate. God knows why, but the man has decided to leave Chicago to go to graduate school in Arizona. Frozen tundra to arid desert. What? I'm sure he'll have plenty of fun with his new pet scorpions (they hide in the shoes!) -- they will probably be more cooperative listeners to his advanced math lectures. More so than his former smartass roommates, at least.

The greatest loss here, of course, is that I have one fewer guinea pig on whom to test my baked concoctions. Evidently, being exposed to these hazardous materials, the boy has developed a mild addiction to them. Our most recent report from the Southwest informs us that he is "wasting away" without them. So, without further ado, I hereby provide the recipe to one of my most-favouritest cakes ever: the Silver Palate's Decadent Chocolate Cake. And when they say "decadent," they aren't kidding around. This is Death by Chocolate. I don't know if baking is quite as enjoyable down there, but the products of this recipe are always worth it.

So, Fluffles, this is for you.

Decadent Chocolate Cake

1 cup boiling water
3 ounces unsweetened chocolate
8 Tbs (1 stick) sweet butter
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 cups granulated sugar
2 eggs, separated
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 cup dairy sour cream
2 cups less 2 Tbs unbleached, all-purpose flour, sifted
1 tsp baking powder
Chocolate Frosting (below)

1. Preheat your oven to 350F. Grease and flour a 10-inch tube pan. Knock out excess.

2. Pour boiling water over chocolate and butter; let stand until melted. (you don't really have to do that. Really. Just ensure that the butter is in liquid form.) Stir in vanilla and sugar, then whisk in egg yolks, one at a time, blending well after each addition.

3. Mix baking soda and sour cream and whisk into chocolate mixture.

4. Sift flour and baking powder together and add to batter mixing thoroughly.

5. Beat egg whites until stiff but not dry. Stir a quarter of the egg whites thoroughly into the batter. Scoop remaining egg whites on top of the batter and gently fold together.

6. Pour batter into the prepared pan. Set on the middle rack of the over and bake for 40-50min, or until the edges have pulled away from the sides of the pan and a cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool in pan for 10min; unmold and cool completely before frosting.

Chocolate Frosting

2 Tbs sweet butter
3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips
6 Tbs heavy cream
1 1/4 cups sifted confectioners' sugar, or as needed
1 tsp vanilla extract

Place all the ingredients in a heavy saucepan over low heat and whisk until smooth. Cool slightly; add more sugar if necessary to achieve a spreding consistency. Spread on cake while frosting is still warm.

If you are so fortunate as to have a pint of berries on hand (raspberries are best, I think), I recommend tossing half in the batter, mixing some in with the frosting, and placing any remaining pieces on top as decoration.

Pecan Squares: the Vanishing Food of Choice

2010-03-03T22:39:00.007-05:00

Some things just aren't made to last.

This is the thought that passes through my head as I watch the product of my baking labors disappear. It's Wednesday night; I'm sitting in my living room with three other people, sprawled about on the couch and the floor. It's getting late, and the warm air is making us drowsy, but we're diligently working or (in my case) pretending to work. Laptops are out, mugs of tea are within reach, and some buttered toast is on the way. Also out are my recently-baked pecan squares. These are the subjects of my observation.

I can't help but sigh. This is the second batch I've made. The first one didn't last as long as I would have liked, so I was hoping that this would survive the first day. Looks like that's just not in the cards.

Which is peculiar, really. You would think that these were too rich to be eaten in such a short amount of time. The base is a simple combination of flour, sugar, and butter, but the topping -- the glue that keeps the pecan chunks on -- is a decadent combination of melted butter, heavy cream, honey, and brown sugar. It makes for a succulent treat to accompany ice cream or somesuch, but not a snack that you would want to eat continuously. And yet as I sit here, I can see their number gradually diminishing.

This leads me to my next observation: man, these kids are going to get a sugar-crash soon!

Crust:
2/3 cup confectioners' sugar
2 cups flour
2 sticks (1/2 pound) sweet butter, softened

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9*12 inch baking pan.
Sift the sugar and flour together. Cut in the butter, using two knives or a pastry blender (or your fingers), until fine crumbs form. Pat crust into the prepared baking pan. Bake for 20min and remove from the oven.

Topping:
2/3 (approx. 11 Tbs) melted sweet butter
1/2 cup honey
3 Tbs heavy cream
1/2 cup brown sugar
3, 1/2 cups shelled pecans, coarsely chopped

Mix the first 4 ingredients together, then stir in the pecans, coating them thoroughly. Spread the syrupy heaven-sauce over the crust. Return the whole thing to the oven and bake for 25min more. Let it cool completely before cutting into squares.

Brownies. They make life better.

2010-02-24T12:45:00.010-05:00

There's something about Chicago weather. It has meteorological attitude problems. It misbehaves.

For those of you who have never been here, this is not simply because it gets really cold and really windy. No, it's because it conspires to trick you like no other place I have ever been. Only in Chicago could you be caught unawares in a heavy snow in no more than a sweatshirt, or be more layered than an Inuit for what turns out to be a sweltering day. Only in Chicago could you expect to experience a 30 degree temperature jump from one day to the next. Only here, on the banks of Lake Michigan, would you find yourself in a place that has been colder than Alaska, Moscow, or even the North Pole. Or hotter than... well, we haven't conducted that experiment yet. We only researched other temperatures around the world this winter. (So no, I'm wasn't kidding.)

Take this week as an example. After several days of clear skies and brilliant sunshine, I couldn't help but feel that, at long last, we were inexorably crawling towards spring. The Chicago Weather demons must have sensed the joy in my thoughts, and decided it was a fit time to anoint us with that delightful precipitation that is somewhere between rain, freezing rain, hail, snow, and sleet. I think the NOAA has taken to calling it a Wintry Mix. Five days of it.

In Chicago, one does not walk. One trudges.

[Insert rant about how Neen & Do are living the Bay Area, the Land of Neverending Spring. Grr.]

How in the world, you might ask, does any of this relate to food? Very simple: the "comfort" variety. And what can possibly be more comfortable than chocolate? Long and short of it: brownies. Brownies make life better.

HISTORICAL ASIDE: My obsession is geographically appropriate, because brownies were invented in Chicago. Seriously. In the Palmer House Hilton, in the Loop (downtown). Mrs. Palmer assigned her chef to create a new dessert for the ladies at the 1893 World Fair -- something with chocolate, preferably that could be handheld, but similar to a cake. Et voila: brownie.

Now, like Neen, I usually rely on the New York Times' old Supernatural Brownie recipe. As a matter of fact, I think it was this recipe that convinced my roommates that I was a chocolate fiend. There is unanimous agreement in my apartment that when I am in the kitchen, I provoking the slow and delicious deaths of all around me. Mwahaha!

Recently, however, I've uncovered a new way of making them. It lightens up ever so slightly on the butter and chocolate, allowing you to have more control over whether you end up with more cakey or more fudgy brownies depending on your cooking time. Furthermore, with the different proportions, they lose nothing of their luxuriousness while nevertheless not making you feel like you'll die if you have more than one or two. Or three. Or-- yeah, actually, I recommend you make multiple batches. In my experience, they disappear in about as many days.

These are "Classic Brownies," I believe originally clipped from the Joy of Cooking.

-1,1/4 cups cake flour (regular flour is fine)
-1/2 tsp salt
-3/4 tsp baking powder
-6 oz unsweetened chocolate (chopped fine)
-12 Tbs (1.5 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces
-2,1/4 cups sugar
-4 large eggs
-1 Tbs vanilla

Adjust your oven rack to the middle position and preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Line a 13*9 baking pan with aluminum foil or parchment paper.

Combine flour, salt, and baking powder by whisking them together in a medium-sized bowl.

Melt together the chocolate and butter, stirring until it's smooth. Once smooth, whisk in the sugar. Add the eggs one at a time until they are thoroughly combined. Whisk in the vanilla.

Add the dry ingredients in three additions, folding in with a rubber spatula until the batter is completely smooth. Transfer to the prepared pan and bake 30-35min, or until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out with a few moist crumbs attached. I recommend sprinkling the top with some powdered sugar, just for decoration.

Supposedly, you should to let it cool on a wire rack for 2 hours before cutting and serving. Yeah, right. As if I could wait that long.

Suddenly, facing the outdoors isn't so bad anymore.

Homemade Parmesan Polenta with Shrimp, Pancetta, and Chard topping

2010-02-07T12:04:00.009-05:00

So to celebrate Do passing his PhD exams (yes! He passed!), we spent this past weekend in Santa Cruz. Four blocks from the beach, in a 1929 Victorian house that had 5 bedrooms, 30 stained glass windows, and a giant box of Playboys hidden in the attic. I mean, there was stained glass in the stairway, stained glass in the bathrooms, stained glass on the kitchen ceiling. Not kidding. And if all that weren't deliciously random enough, we were there with a college friend we hadn't seen since 2005, my cousin, his wife, his wife's sister + beau, and five other people whom Do & I had never even heard of before we all arrived Friday night. We drove up, made introductions, and promptly began exploring all the nooks and crannies of the crazy house and giggling over the epic quantity of board games we had all brought down. It was that kind of weekend.

By the way, if you're ever in Santa Cruz, the best coffeeshop in the entire Western Hemisphere is called The Abbey. It's this renovated space behind a brick church with huge, comfy, retro couches, funky art, and some of the best coffee drinks I've had anywhere. Do & I happily spent Saturday afternoon there reading and discussing the late 20th century bureaucratization of science research. Very us.

So we read books on the beach. We ate seafood at every possible opportunity. We visited the Monterey Bay Aquarium (just as awesome as everybody claims -- Do remembered almost nothing from when he visited about 15 years ago, until we got to the ray touch pool. You get to pet Rays! Apparently that made a big impression on him back in the day. They feel like velvet, BTW.). It was a very ocean-themed weekend.

We didn't do much cooking during the weekend, partly because we were so busy running around having a good time and partly because cooking for 12 people whom you don't really know is complicated. However, at our last supper club get-together, we had a massive success with a new seafood-themed recipe: an Italian take on southern Shrimp & Grits. Massive Success.

I don't really cook with polenta or shrimp. The former is too often just a swanky cardboard-tasting filler, and the latter is a bitch to clean and/or tastes like rubber when pre-frozen. But this recipe... oh, man. Like most top-quality homemade Italian food, this recipe takes my preconceived notions of "shrimp" and "polenta" and throws them back at me with "You keep using that word. I do not think if means what you think it means."

(This weekend also involved ample quotations from Princess Bride. What better way to bond instantaneously with perfect strangers on Valentine's Day than by talking about "Twue Wuv"?)

Cook's Illustrated has an amazingly simple and delicious recipe for homemade Parmesan Polenta: creamy like grits, but much lighter (think fluffy clouds of goodness), and chock-a-bloc full of a Parmesan/olive oil/black pepper flavor. Not delicate, this one. Which goes well with the rough and ready take on the shrimp: lots of garlic, tomatoes, meaty pancetta flavor, hearty greens, and then these really delicately cooked shrimp. Think Italian. Think Addictive. Vampire deterrent served on pillows of Parmesan.

For those of you who find the thought of homemade polenta intimidating: it is so worth it. And it only takes 5 minutes total of hand time (25min cook time). Please, please, please try it.

For the vegetarians out there, I'm tagging this as "vegetarian" because the meat products are in no way critical to the dish: top the polenta with whatever you want and it'll still be awesome.

And by the way, a great use for the leftover Parmesan Polenta is to have it for breakfast, topped with fried eggs. Almost exactly three years ago, the Nytimes published a recipe for that very dish. Yes, we've had the clipping squirreled away that long and only ever fantasized about it. And I can finally assure the world that the dish is as good as it sounds.

Homemade Parmesan Polenta, from Cook's Illustrated (serves 6-8)
1.5 tsp salt
Pinch baking soda
1.5 coarse-ground cornmeal (also called "corn grits")
2 Tbs butter
4oz good quality Parmesan cheese, grated (~2 cups)

Bring 7.5 cups water to boil in heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Stir in salt and baking soda. Slowly pour cornmeal into water in steady stream, while stirring back and forth with wooden spoon or rubber spatula. Bring mxture to boil, stirring constantly, about 1 min. Reduce heat to lowest possible setting and cover.

After 5 min, whisk polenta to smooth out any lumps that may have formed, about 15seconds. (Make sure to scrape down sides and bottom of pan). Cover and continue to cook, without stirring, until grains of polenta are tender but slightly al dente, about 25min longer. (Polenta should be loose and barely hold its shape but will continue to continue to thicken as it cools.)

Meanwhile, cook a polenta topping (see recipe below)

Once 25min are up, turn off heat, stir in butter and Parmesan, and season to taste with black pepper. Let stand, covered, 5min. Serve.

Shrimp, Pancetta, and Greens over Polenta, inspired by Gourmet Nov 2009 issue (serves 4)
Homemade Parmesan Polenta (recipe below)
1/3lb pancetta, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 - 1/2 tsp hot red pepper flakes
1 bunch winter greens, sliced into thick strips (chard, kale, whatever floats your boat)
2 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil
1 14oz can diced tomatoes in juice
1-1.5lb cleaned large shrimp
1 Tbs chopped flat leaf parsley

While polenta is cooking, heat 2Tbs oil in a heavy 12-inch heavy skillet over medium heat. Cook pancetta, garlic, greens, and red pepper until garlic is golden (~2-3min). Add tomatoes in their juice and simmer until liquid is reduced to ~1/4cup (~6-8min). Add shrimp and cook, stirring occasionally, until shrimp are just cooked through (~3min). Season with salt.

Spoon Polenta into bowls and top with shrimp mixture. Season with pepper and sprinkle with parsley.

Surviving PhD Exams with Indonesian Chicken Soup

2010-02-06T18:43:00.011-05:00

Do's PhD Qualifying Exams are this Wednesday. He has been studying every day, evenings and weekends, for 11 months. For those of you outside academia, this event carries all of the anxiety of an Indiana Jones "Are you worthy to pass through, if not you'll die a painful death" ancient booby trap, but without the 3rd Reich and the Steven Spielberg dramatic soundtrack playing in the background. Like in the ancient Roman Coliseum, it'll come down to a thumbs up or a thumbs down from the Committee: thumbs up and Do magically transforms into a PhD candidate, thumbs down and we have to go through this 11 month hell again. If you get thumbs down twice, you get fed to the Lions: you're kicked out of the PhD program and pretty much have to give up on a career in the sciences.

Yeah, and he goes to the Coliseum this Wednesday. In 3 days. After 11 months of preparation.

All things considered, he's handling it pretty well.

So we've been eating a lot of "whatever will make Do happy." Turns out these days that's a lot of chicken soup. Friday night was our Matzo ball soup, and the week before was this crazy Indonesian Chicken Noodle Soup.

The soup was beautiful. The flavors and textures were complex. The ****ing recipe had so many moving parts that you should not make it without a sous chef (unless it's a dire emergency, like the week before Quals). I knew what I was getting into: this is a recipe out of the Williams & Sonoma Asian cookbook, a source known to gratuitously throw in esoteric ingredients and insert as many unnecessarily cumbersome steps as possible. Don't believe me? This recipe calls for you to grind a bunch of ingredients into a paste, which you then cook until fragrant (pretty standard for a south Asian recipe). I used a cuisineart. This cookbook wants you to do it by hand using a mortar and pestle! I mean, even freakin' Madhur Jaffrey (the Julia Child of Indian cooking in the 1970s) wanted you to use a blender!! Gah!

Anyways. So the soup is complicated and hand-intensive. But Do was so happy. The noodles expanded so that they sucked up almost all the liquid (the proportions are more Udon-style than a western chicken noodle soup). The dish was bright yellow and green, very cheerful for a winter day. It's delicious hot or cold (so good for leftover lunches). The flavors are authentically complex and nuanced. The fried shallots and hard boiled eggs and mung beans and all the other goodies add a ton of varying texture in every bite. He'd like it a little hotter, but didn't think it really necessary. Seriously, he took this dish into work every day for lunch and was so happy.

It's easy to buy chocolates and roses. In this household, we tend to display love by undertaking a very personal, labor-intense project, preferably resulting in something edible. One of our very first blog posts was about one such endeavor. In the spirit of V-day, if you want to really pamper somebody special (including yourself, because you're special too right?), I offer you this recipe. It takes so much effort, it must mean love.

Indonesian Spicy Chicken Noodle Soup, from Williams-Sonoma Asian cookbook (serves 6-8)
8 cups Chicken stock
1/2 lb bone-in chicken breast, skin removed
1/2lb bone-in chicken thighs, skin removed
1/2lb vermicelli
3 jalapenos, chopped (or more)
7 shallots
2 fresh ginger slices, peeled
3 cloves garlic
5 blanched almonds
2 Tbs lemongrass, chopped.
2 tsp tumeric
1/4 tsp ground coriander
2 Tbs fish sauce
2 Tbs lemon juice (Neen: don't add more, or lemon flavor will be more dominant than you want it)
3 eggs
1 cup bean sprouts (~ 1oz)
1 bunch cilantro, chopped
3 green onions, sliced on the diagonal.

In a heavy bottomed pot or large saucepan, bring the chicken stock to boil. Add 1 Tbs salt and the chicken, and return to a boil. Reduce heat to meduim and cook, uncovered, until the chicken is opaque throughout (~30min).

Meanwhile, soak vermicelli in water to cover for 15min. Drain and set aside.

Meanwhile, hard boil your eggs. (Suggestion: put eggs in saucepan and add cold water to cover by 2 inches. Bring just to a boil over medium heat, remove from heat, cover, and let eggs stand in water 20min. Rinse under cold water until cool, peel).

Meanwhile, roughly chop 4 shallots. In a cuisineart, combine 2 jalapenos, chopped shallots, ginger, garlic, almonds, lemongrass, tumeric, coriander, and 1-2 Tbs of water. Grind together until a paste forms. Set aside (Neen: if you have leftover lemongrass, which I did, just toss it in the simmering chicken broth).

Meanwhile, slice remaining 3 shallots and fry in 3 tsp canola or peanut oil until crisp and golden brown (7-10min). Drain on paper towels.

Once the chicken is cooked, use tongs to transfer chicken to a plate to cool. Pour broth into a heat resistant bowl. In the pot or large saucepan over medium, heat 2 Tbs oil. Add chile paste and saute until fragrant (~2min). Pour reserved broth back into the pot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer, uncovered, for 15min. Stir in fish sauce and lemon juice and season to taste with salt and pepper, and simmer for another 5min.

Meanwhile, shred the chicken into thin pieces, discarding bones. (Neen: again, throw them back into the simmering broth to add flavor).

Meanwhile, quarter the boiled eggs.

When broth is ready, discard all the solids (all that lemongrass and bones you added in). Add the drained noodles to broth and cook until just tender (~2min). Add chicken, bean sprouts, cilantro, green onions to pot. Ladle soup intro individual bowls and garnish with eggs, fried shallots, and the remaining jalapeno. Serve.

Kale, Potato, and Chorizo Soup for long, wet days

2010-01-20T10:36:00.016-05:00

The research center that I work for is putting together a conference on the Green Economy tomorrow. It has ballooned into a relatively big deal: the Obama folks have latched onto it as a symbol and are sending out a Deputy Assistant Secretary from the US Department of Commerce. Suddenly there's going to be press, TV. The facility can seat only ~180 people, and we already have 60 folks on the waitlist. Ack! Exciting, but I started having nightmare visions of having to play bouncer at the registration desk. (For readers who know me only via internet, I don't look very intimidating. Loud, but small.).

Then it started raining. Hard. As in big hunks o' hail yesterday. Umbrellas violently turning inside out every couple minutes because the winds keep changing direction. Dead umbrellas littering the pubic trash cans. The sewers are getting backed up. People get stuck indoors, buses are overcrowded and running extremely late, meetings canceled. I got an inordinate amount of work done yesterday, simply because I got trapped at my research center and couldn't leave.

We have hopes, high hopes, that our waitlist will magically vanish. Because who wants to wade their way to downtown Berkeley, either squished on a late bus or having paid a left kidney for parking, just to wait around in a lobby for an hour before being informed by an innocuous graduate student that, sorry, thanks for coming, but we're over subscribed and you should turn around and go home? And don't forget your inside-out umbrella, sir.

So, for all of my waitlistees and anyone else out there whose plans have been thwarted by the rain, I offer a bowl of warm soup.

Apparently this Portuguese Kale, Potato, and Chorizo soup was very popular last year: both Bon Appetit and Food & Wine published recipes within a month of each other. We crossed the two recipes, used our secret makes-everything-tastier ingredient (Elgin sausage), supplemented canned chicken stock with some leftover homemade stock, and the results were really quite impressive. The soup's broth made the dish: hearty, with a depth of flavor that usually comes only from multiple hours of slow simmering. The potatoes add creaminess, the chorizo adds heartiness, the greens add texture but no bitterness. Think comfort. And it's good for you.

Do would prefer the potatoes a little more solid, so that they don't quite melt in your mouth. DNA would prefer a little more sausage, so that you get some in almost every bite. I love it just the way it is.

Portuguese Kale, Potato, and Chorizo soup (serves 6)
2 Tbs Olive Oil
1/2 lb chorizo or other very flavorful sausage
1 medium onion, chopped
2 minced garlic cloves
2 tsp smoked paprika
1 1/2 lb russet potatoes, cut into 1/2" pieces
1 1/2 lb Kale, stemmed, leaves thinly sliced (Neen: For color, use a combination of Kale and Red Chard)
8 cups chicken broth

Heat oil in a 5 quart heavy pot over medium high, and brown your sausage (2-3min). Transfer to a plate using a slotted spoon. In the remaining fat, cook onion and garlic over medium heat until soft and slightly browned. Add paprika and Kale, cook 1 min till bright green. Add pototoes and chicken broth, and bring to a boil. Simmer covered until the potatoes are tender but not disintegrating (~15-20min). Add sausage, add salt and pepper to taste, and serve.

Vodka Sauce for my Last First Day of School

2010-01-19T11:51:00.012-05:00

Today is the first day of my last semester in graduate school.

Not to be melodramatic or anything. Actually, it's somewhat anti-climactic: it's pouring rain today and my first class isn't till 6pm. It's going to be a pretty crazed semester, with a business school studio, a community development studio, an econ development methods class, a Master's thesis, a job at a research institute, a job at the pro-downtown nonprofit, Do taking his PhD qualifying exams, not to mention extra-curricular commitments. But today, the first day, I can technically sit around in my P.J.s until 6pm.

Given the circumstances, either this blog is going to end up in hibernation again or readers are going to be inundated with "30min or less" dishes. Might as well start now.

Do has been increasingly interested in quality Italian food for a while now -- not Americanized Italian but designed-for-the-Italian-palate dishes. He and DNA have a good Italian friend whom they have both visited in Pisa, and returned much more rotund and waxing poetical about the dishes served by the friend's Italian grandmother. For Christmas, my Mom and grandmother got him two beautiful tomes: Marcella Hazan's first cookbook (think Julia Child for Italian food), and The Silver Spoon (a 1200+ page magnum opus published in Italy for the last 50 years and only recently translated into English. Maybe the Italian equivalent to Joy of Cooking?).

The first dish he tried was Silver Spoon's recipe for Penne in Vodka Sauce. This was last Thursday, a rainy work night. I had had a harrowing day and when Do insisted on taking over the kitchen, all I wanted was something creamy and comforting.

Did you know that parsley is a bitter herb? As in, that whole dipping parsely into salt water at Passover thing and mumbling about the bitter tears of our ancestors is not just for show? As in, cooking with parsley is kind of like using water when baking bread: you really, *really* shouldn't be blazé about proportions? Yeah... This recipe calls for 1 Tablespoon of fresh parsley. For the love of God, do not add the entire bunch of parsley. Do and I have scientifically proven for posterity that the results will be inedible. Think bitter. For my family: think of those daily anti-malarial pills that we used to take, and imagine one of those crushed and mixed into a delicate cream sauce. Yeah. Not so much.

We threw the first batch out and started over. This time, using ONE Tablespoon of parsley.

The second batch was quite impressive. Delicate texture but hearty flavor. Just enough cayenne bite to cut through the cream, and enough chewiness from the thick cubes of ham to lend gravitas to the dish. Vodka sauce is inherently not the most sophisticated pasta sauce out there, but this version takes a simple, comforting dish and turns it into something adult. Something that you're more likely to find in an Italian grandmother's home than in little Italy.

Penne Rigate in Vodka (serves 2 for a light super. We recommend supplementing the penne with a salad, or doubling the recipe)
1/4 cup butter
1 thick slice cooked, cured ham, diced
2 Tbs tomato paste
1 Tbs chopped fresh parsley (no more!)
5 Tbs heavy cream
1/4 cup vodka
3 cups penne rigate
2 tsp cayenne
1 Tbs red pepper

Melt the butter in a pan, add the ham, tomato paste, and parsely, season with salt and pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, for about 10min. Stir in the cream and vodka and cook until the vodka has evaporated. Season to taste with cayenne and red pepper. Cook the penne in a large pan of salted, boiling water until al dente, then drain and tip into a warm serving dish. Pour sauce over the pasta, garnish with a little leftover parsley.

And for Dessert... Lime-Yogurt Mousse

2010-01-18T18:55:00.017-05:00

I promise this is the last blog post about the potluck housewarming.

I just had to share this success. Because I almost never make desserts.

Desserts intimidate me. Too often the batter's texture has to be just so, the relative temperature of the ingredients perfect, the cup measurements accurate, and the stars aligned. Yeah... I follow directions well, but not that well. And most dessert recipes are either way too sweet, or way too complicated. And really, you only wanted a small bite anyway, but now you've got this ginormous "serves 8-12" dessert occupying the previously free territories of your fridge. Either you're going to end up throwing half of it out, or any pretentions at weight control have just flown out the window. It's a lose-lose situation.

So I eat dessert at other people's houses. Thankfully, it seems like everyone in the known universe, including my kid brother, are more adept dessert-makers than I. I'm okay with this.

But sometimes, rarely, there is success.

Lime-Yogurt Mousse, people. It takes less than 20 minutes to throw together. It calls for everyday ingredients that I had lying around. It's not too sweet. If you replace the sugar with Agave syrup, it's arguably good for you (get your Calcium, ladies!). But best of all, it's elegant, light, and extremely tasty. Think Key Lime pie meets pillows of clouds, in your mouth.

The recipe supposedly serves 10, but the five of us inhaled all but the very last cupful. This definitely makes our All Time Favorite list.

Lime-Yogurt Mousse (From Food & Wine's May 2007 Issue.)
1 1/2 tsp unflavored gelatin
2 Tbs cold water
6 Tbs fresh Lime Juice
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup plain whole-milk Greek Yogurt
1 cup heavy cream
Optional: Zest from 1 lime, as garnish
Optional, but recommended: a handful of berries, as garnish

In a small bowl, sprinkle the gelatin over the water and let stand until softened, about 5 minutes.

In a small saucepan, combine the lime juice with 6 tablespoons of the sugar and simmer over moderate heat just until the sugar is dissolved, about 3 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the softened gelatin until melted. Transfer the lime gelatin to a medium bowl and let cool slightly. Whisk in the yogurt.

In another bowl, beat the cream with the remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar until softly whipped. Fold the cream into the yogurt mixture and refrigerate until chilled and set, at least 1 hour (i.e. a good time to pause and have dinner -- dessert will be ready when you are). Just before serving, garnish with lime zest and berries.

DNA's Spicy Fried Chickpeas

2010-01-16T19:26:00.001-05:00

So I've mentioned our friend DNA several times already. Do and he have been friends since our Chicago days, and they would definitely be inseparable roommates if I weren't around. Actually, they lived together for a month while Do was apartment hunting out here, and were kind of disappointed about ending their nightly House marathons when the car & I finally rolled into California. DNA is the kind of guy who, with literally 30 seconds warning, is willing to drop everything and go wine tasting in Napa , test out new Dim Sum places in SF or Richmond, join us for a theatre performance at Berkeley Rep, attempt to recreate Alinea-style food chemistry in the kitchen (we really should break out photos of that), etc, etc. This may not seem particularly impressive until to you realize that DNA is a science PhD candidate in a work environment where 6.5 work days a week is common if not expected. DNA rocks my world.

And he's game for experimenting with cooking, both being our guinea pig and offering up new creations. Last Saturday, inspired by a recipe he'd seen in a Southwest Airlines magazine, he threw together a spicy fried chickpeas appetizer and brought them to our Supper Club get-together. And there was much rejoicing.

The appetizer is really very simple. Breaded and fried chickpeas, with mucho spice added. Result: addictive, a-typical, and better for you than most other appetizer's out there. The 0riginal recipe is here, but DNA found it extremely bland slash didn't have time to finish, so he dumped a bunch of extra spice in. And you know? It worked.

Spicy Fried Chickpeas (serves 8 as an appetizer)

Olive and canola oil for frying

2 (15-ounce) cans chickpeas, thoroughly drained and rinsed

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons kosher salt

2 Tbs smoked paprika
1-2 Tbs cayenne (or to taste, conceivably much more)

Fill a large heavy-bottomed pot fitted with a deep-frying thermometer with 3 inches of oil (1/2 olive, 1/2 canola) and heat to 375°F over medium heat.
Meanwhile, dry drained chickpeas thoroughly with paper towels. Combine 2 tablespoons of the flour, the salt, and the paprika in a large bowl and briefly whisk to break up any lumps. Add chickpeas and toss to coat. Line a baking sheet with paper towels and set aside.
Working in two batches, fry chickpeas until they stop popping and have turned golden brown, about 3 to 4 minutes per batch. (Be careful: A lot of commotion and steam erupts from the oil when the chickpeas first drop.) Remove with a skimmer or a frying basket to the paper-towel-lined baking sheet.
Toss together chickpeas and paprika and cayenne in a bowl and serve immediately.

Super Garlicky Eggplant Parmesan and a Housewarming

2010-01-12T09:03:00.004-05:00

Sometime last year, we started getting together with a small group of friends for dinner every weekend. It was very much the sort of thing depicted in photos of glossy magazines trying to sell you something -- happy laughter around a dinner table, glasses of wine, ample quantities food, relaxed atmosphere, and people just looking like they're having a darn good time. Magazine spreads usually don't show you the "let your hair down" parts of a supper club: everyone hanging out in the kitchen even when a new recipe's not ready until 9 or 10pm, lingering for hours at the table, squishing onto the couch to watch movies off a 15" laptop, lounging on the kitchen floor exchanging stories at 2am, making sure folks are sober enough to bike home at 4am, and having special toothbrushes set aside for when they end up staying the night. Okay, so the last two don't happen every week, but you get the idea. Our little supper club parties hard, if you use a very intimate definition of the word "party."

To celebrate one friend's recent emancipation to a studio of her own (a mere five blocks from our apartment! yay!) and the end of the holiday travel, we all got together last Saturday night. The second-best highlight of the evening was the grand tour of her new place, which is gorgeous and cozy and comfortable and laid out like something from apartmenttherapy.com. The absolute best highlight of the evening was the eggplant parmesan that the hostess made.

[Note: I have no photos of my friend's dish. Eggplant Parmesan, for all its deliciousness, is notoriously NOT photogenic. Somehow Lisa of the Lisa is Cooking blog took the most flattering photos of Eggplant Parmesan, including the one on the right. I'm intrigued by the fact that she used Marcella Hazan's recipe (the Julia Child of Italian cooking), as Do just got that cookbook as a Christmas present].

I'm not kidding, this was the stuff of fantasies. The recipe came from the cookbook "Garlic Garlic Garlic" -- already off to a good start -- *and* the hostess doubled the quantity of garlic in the recipe. It was super rich, the texture was almost creamy, and pungent, oozing with cheese and flavor. It's the kind of dish that demands all your attention as you savor each bite. Even Do, my walking Midwestern diet stereotype, honestly didn't care/didn't notice that there was no meat present. This is infinitely better than chicken Parmesan, and a whole different category from the shoe leather dry versions of eggplant Parmesan I'd had before.

Apparently the dish is a whole production to make, since one of the secrets is a special garlicky-buttery homemade Marinara sauce. The super secret ingredient in the super secret sauce is: 1/2 tsp baking soda. Whoda thunk? The sauce is fairly quick and easy (~30min, 20 of which is unattended simmering), and tasty enough that it's become my friend's go-to tomato sauce. She keeps a half dozen mason jars around just to store big batches of this recipe. That said, putting together the sauce on top of the rest of the dish can become pretty time consuming, so either cook this dish over two days or call over a bunch of friends and put them to work chopping garlic. Clearly, my supper club has strong preferences for the latter.

Eggplant Parmesan (serves 8-10)
5 cups Special Marinara Sauce (see below)
3.5 - 4 lb eggplant, peeled and cut crosswise into 1/2" slices.
up to 2/3 cup olive oil
16 garlic cloves
1/3 cup basil leaves
1/3 cup parsley
1 lb mozzarella, thinly sliced
1 cup Parmesan, grated
2 lb pasta (for serving)

Optional: Pour Marinara sauce into a small saucepan and bring to boil over medium heat. Simmer briskly until sauce is reduced to 4 cups. Set aside. (My friend doesn't find this step to be necessary).

Heat broiler. Lightly brush Eggplant slices with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Place slices close together on rack and broil until lightly browned on one side (~6-8min). Turn, brush with oil and brown. Transfer browned eggplant to cooling racks. Repeat until all slices are browned. When done, Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

While the eggplant is broiling, mince together parsely and basil and garlic. Set aside.

Generously oil a 3-4 quart casserole, preferably one that is wide and not too deep. Ladle 1/2 cup sauce into the bottom. Cover the bottom with a third of the eggplant. Sprinkle with a third of the garlic mixture, then one third each of the Mozarella and Parmesan. Cover with 1 cup sauce. Repeat layers. Then, for the last layer, cover with the remaining garlic mixture, then mozarella, then the remaining 1 1/2 cup sauce, then the last of the Parmesan.

Bake uncovered for 50min, until top is browned and sauce is bubbling. Let stand for 10min before cutting into squares and serving over pasta.

Special Marinara Sauce (makes 2 Quarts)
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
6 Tbs butter
12 garlic cloves, minced
1 onion, chopped
1 large carrot, chopped
2 tsp dried basil
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/8 tsp cayenne
2 28oz cans plum tomatoes, with juices
1 tsp crushed red pepper
1/2 tsp baking soda

In a large heavy saucepan, heat olive oil and butter over medium heat. Add garlic, onion, and carrot and saute until carrots are soft (4-6min). Add tomatoes, basil, oregano, red pepper, and cayenne. Bring to a boil and simmer 20min. Season to taste. Add baking soda. Blend thoroughly. It is now ready for use.

Num Pangs: Spicy Southeast Asian Sandwiches

2010-01-11T09:58:00.009-05:00

Wow, has there been a lot of good food in my life recently. Today's episode is brought to you by "Spring Cleaning." While "spring" cleaning in January may seem a little pre-emptive, I rest my case on the facts that a) the Bay Area has no discernible seasons and therefore b) returning to Oakland after -4 degree temperatures in Chicago over the holidays fully resembles the advent of spring. So, spring cleaning it was that prompted an attack on our overflowing basket of old Bon Appetits, Gourmets, Food & Wines, and misc other grocery store check-out indulgences. And the resulting clippings have definitely been worth-while.

In September 2009, on page 74, Food & Wine reviewed a Cambodian sandwich shop in Manhattan and offered the recipe for Pequillo-Pepper Num Pangs. Though I apparently found the idea of a southeast asian sandwich very tempting, judging by the dog-ears, the length of the ingredient list alone was enough to get this baby categorized in the "make someday, on a weekend, with Do as a sous-chef, after we've both finished graduate school." Lies! Even if you make your own mayonnaise (which I do these days, more on that some other day), this recipe takes a very relaxed hour. And it's unbelievably creative and delicious.

Experiment: try to think about this from the taste-bud perspective, not the time perspective: take luxury homemade garlic bread, spread on some (homemade) mayonnaise, drizzle with Sriracha chili sauce, layer with paper-thin cucumbers, pickled carrots, roasted red peppers, and cilantro springs, coat with a spicy asian take on pesto, and voila.

It's funky, it's colorful, it's packing a *heavy* punch of flavor, and it falls pretty damn high on my virtuous eating scale. If you can live without anchovies (I can't), it's vegetarian. If you use a substitute for the mayonnaise, its vegan. And, unbelievably, you don't need any crazy Bay Area ingredients to make it happen.

Highly Recommended.

Pequillo-Pepper Num Pangs (makes 4 sandwiches, takes 1 hour).
2 medium carrots
2 Tbs cider vinegar
1 Tbs sugar
3 cups Thai basil leaves (normal basil leaves are a fine substitute)
2 anchovy fillets (or, if you're me, the whole can, drained).
Juice from 1 lime
1 1/2 tsp Asian Fish Sauce
1 tsp crushed red pepper (make that 2)
3 garlic cloves - 2 chopped, 1 whole.
1/4 extra virgin olive oil (or less)
Four individual sandwich baguettes or kaiser rolls, split.
4 Tbs butter.
Mayonnaise, for spreading. (it takes 10 min to make yourself, and then you know what's in it!)
Sriracha chili sauce, for drizzling
One 6" cucumber, thinly sliced lengthwise on a mandoline/box grater/whatever you have.
One 6 oz jar of pequillo peppers, drained and patted dry. (it's a shortcut alternative to roasting and peeling 2 of your own red peppers).
12 large cilantro springs.

Julienne carrots. For the love of God, use a box grater or a mandoline or the "slice" function on a cuisineart. As long as the slices aren't so thin that they become mushy, the aesthetics don't matter. In a medium bowl, toss the carrots with the vinegar and sugar. Let stand at room temperature for 1 hour, stirring occasionally.
Take the butter out of the fridge so that it'll be room temperature when you need it. If you're making your own mayonnaise, do so now.

In a food processor, combine the basil, anchovies, lime juice, fish sauce, crushed red pepper, and chopped garlic and process to a paste. With the machine on, slowly pour olive oil and puree until blended. Go easy on the olive oil, you don't want this pesto to be too liquidy. Check for seasoning, and let stand at room temperature for at least 30 min.

Preheat the broiler. Spread the butter on the cut slices of bread (~1/2 Tbs per slice). Toast in broiler. Rub the toasted sides with the garlic clove (you may need more than one clove to do this). Spread with the mayonnaise. Drizzle with Sriracha. Arrange the cucumber, carrots, and pequillo peppers on the bottoms and garnish with cilantro. Spread the tops with the pesto and close the sandwiches. Cut in half and serve.

** You'll probably have half a cup of pesto left over. I haven't decided what to do with mine yet.. though that may not turn out to be a problem, given that I've been dipping my finger in it and licking it off every 3 seconds...

Craving Greens: Chinese Chicken Salad

2010-01-06T16:03:00.003-05:00

As Spuds has already described, the 2009 December holidays were fantastic culinary experiences. The family classics were phenomenal, and the younger generation did its best to translate "until it looks good" into as many written recipes as possible. It was also a real coming-of-age experience to surprise parents and grandparents with the quality of the recipes that we had in our back pockets. The greatest validation came when my Prussian grandmother asked for a copy of my mint pea soup recipe and Do for the soy sauce-wine reduction he'd used over sashimi for a Christmas Eve appetizer. We do okay in the cooking department.

But it sure was hard to put together menus without our recipe notes! Since our blogging had lapsed, we found ourselves straining to remember the details of our 2009 culinary successes. "What was the secret behind that amazing kimchi soup?... oh well, we'll have to scratch that idea." Not to mention that, without the blog, it became a lot more difficult to share recipes with our family.

So here's a recipe y'all should know about: Chinese Chicken Salad. It's pseudo-Asian creation from the November 2009 Food & Wine magazine, designed to satisfy cravings for Chinese flavors while still serving a light, green-centric meal. When D and I got back from the holidays, we were craving greens -- this totally did the trick. It's super flavorful, a nice blend of crunchy and smooth textures, and colorful. For folks on the Perfect Ten diet, you can make the salad Aziz-friendlier by eliminating the sugar, making your own mayonnaise (which takes 5min, really), using Low Sodium Soy Sauce, and generally cutting down on the volume of dressing. Warning: this recipe makes a huge quantity (I had to break out D's massive Le Creuset just to hold everything!).

Oh, and did I mention it takes 20-30min to make, depending on how quick your knife skills are?

Chinese Chicken Salad (serves 8-10)
1/4 mayonnaise (feel free to make your own. It's just 1 egg + olive oil)
1/4 cup unseasoned rice vinegar
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 Tbs sesame oil
1-2 Tbs Tabasco
3 Tbs sugar (can be eliminated if your diet so dictates)
1-2 garlic cloves
One 1" nub of ginger, peeled and grated.
One 2.5lb rotisserie chicken (or smaller), meat shredded
3 scallions thinly sliced
1 bunch of cilantro
1 small napa cabbage
1 head of romaine lettuce
1 cup unsalted roast peanuts, coarsely chopped
1-4 celery ribs, sliced
2 oranges, peeled and cut into sections.

Thinly slice napa cabbage and romaine into ribbons. Rince, and put into very large bowl. Toss with 2 Tbs vinegar, 1 1/2 tps sugar, and 1 Tbs olive oil. Set aside.
In a large bowl, whisk mayonnaise with vinegar, sugar, soy sauce, sesame oil, Tabasco, ginger, and garlic. Add chicken, scallions, celery, peanuts, and cilantro. Mix to coat. Add the chicken mixture to the napa cabbage mixture. Add the orange wedges. Stir and serve.

Achieving the Impossible: My Mother's Quiche

2010-01-05T17:04:00.007-05:00

Does your family have certain traditional family recipes? Dishes that only a certain person can make, just so? And does that person know the dish so well that the need of a concrete recipe has become completely unnecessary? And have you attempted to recreate the dish, only to be thwarted with the realization that these things are made by pure instinct?

It is so with my family. Try to get a list of ingredients of some of your favorite childhood dishes and you'll end up with a grocery list containing some gems like "some of this and that" or lots of "whatever you feel like." Such ingredients usually come in quantities of "enough" and "until it looks right." You, as an innocent, naively attempt to follow such accurate and detailed instructions. Culinary disaster ensues.

But! This holiday season witnessed not one, but two miracles! Neen, Do, and I may have finally cracked some of our most beloved family recipes! Our obsessions are satisfied! The haunting tastes will cease as our appetites are finally satisfied! Well, mine are, at least. I have made one of my mother's quiches! Neen and Do were faced with the more daunting task of our Grandfather's Beef Stroganoff, so they may still be writhing in agony and frustration somewhere. Oh well!

Unfortunately, I'm not sure what has set this quiche apart for me. The addition of cheese above and below the filling? The combination of spinach and mushrooms ("enough" of "this and that"), easily topped with an addition of ham (plus "whatever you feel like" -- "until it looks right")? It certainly gives the dish a taste and texture that scrambled eggs in a pie crust otherwise wouldn't have. But there's always been something about my mother's quiche that has given it a distinct taste that no other quiche has ever lived up to. It's made me quite prejudiced against the quiche population, really. I have come to believe that all other quiches are inferior. I guess that makes me a quichist.

SuperMom Quiche
-a single pie crust (I used Mark Bittman's Flaky Pie Crust -- not prebaked)
-3-4 eggs1 to 1,1/2 cups of milk/cream/half-and-half
-a fistful of cheese ("I like Gruyere, but really, whatever you have sitting around...")
-1 to 1,1/2 cups of cooked spinach
-1/2 cup of mushrooms (Champignons de Paris recommended)
-salt & pepper & nutmeg
-1/2 cup(ish) of ham (optional; if you're adventurous, give cooked bacon a try)

Mix the eggs and milk/cream/half-and-half as if you were making scrambled eggs (you are, really). Toss the spinach in the microwave to cook it quickly (3min for a bowlful was the most accurate cooking time I could get), and add that to the egg mix. Clean, chop, and sauté the mushrooms. Add them to the egg mix. If you're using meat, toss that in as well. Season to taste with salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Fit the crust into a 9-inch pie pan and sprinkle the bottom with some of the cheese. Pour in the egg mix, and sprinkle the top of it with the rest of the cheese. Bake it at 350 degrees for 50min - 1 hour. Examine for culinary disasters. Devour.

Hello, World! Have a pie ....have four!

2009-11-14T11:07:00.018-05:00

Hello, World! I'm the much-alluded-to little brother. Though Neen has mentioned me here and there, she has finally convinced me to contribute something more to the blog than a grateful stomach. So here I am, the collegiate portion of the Post-Collegiate Cooking blog. You may call me ...Spuds.

If there's one thing you need to know about me, it's this: I stress-bake. When the going gets rough, I believe the rough make pastries. When I realize I am in my last year in college and have completely overcommitted my time, I need to ask myself: Cake, or Death?

Cake, clearly. With a little wine.

This past weekend was one such time. I went into it knowing that would have a manic, half-crazed cooking extravaganza. The tip-off was when I caught myself about to make some fresh bread at 4am Saturday morning. Fortunately, Neen, Do and I had gutted a few cooking magazines a few weeks back, so I didn't have to angst the night/morning away leafing through recipes. After getting some sleep, the products of my day were as follows: two raspberry-blackberry upside-down cakes, a Huguenot torte, a fresh pear pie with dried cherries and brown sugar streusel, and a ginger-spice cranberry-apple streusel pie. Oh yeah, also made some candied ginger, onion soup, and Do's creamy tomato pasta sauce. I mentioned the 'stress' part, yes?

I won't claim any credit for the upside-down cakes: I got the recipe from Giz & Psychgrad's blog, Equal Opportunity Kitchen. You can find the recipe listed under Strawberry & Blueberry Upside-down Cake. This is really the perfect cake: light, fluffy, and the berries on top seem like a divine touch in the cold autumn days. Yes, I did switch the type of berries (for the sake of experimentation), but it works for any sweet, not-tart fruit. I also like to add a little extra citrus just to give it a tad more zing, but that's a personal preference. As I said, this cake is divine.

The Huguenot torte (recipe on the New York Times website) is a bit of a curious beast. Mind-numbingly simple to throw together and requiring only the simplest of baking ingredients (plus some apples and pecans), what comes out is a sweet, coarse, and completely shapeless thing. No points for presentation, but full credit for texture. The outside is deeply-browned and slightly crispy, while in the torte, the sugar and apples have combined to create something of a viscous syrup -- the texture of which is mitigated by the pecans. As you can see from the pictures, after a few days there is almost nothing left of this one, making it the most popular item. Definitely something I'm going to have to make again.

Regarding the pies, I have to confess: I wasn't really thinking about the fillings. Don't get me wrong, they sound spectacular -- and have a taste to match -- I just wasn't particularly intrigued by what went in the pie. That was merely an excuse to experiment with pie crusts. Crusts, like breads, intimidate me. I'm not sure why, but I suspect it's a family thing. Neen makes a challah for which I would gladly sacrifice one of my limbs. Our father regularly bakes various kinds of bread, from sourdough to bagels to cinnamon rolls. And our mother! Well, let's just say there's a reason we have called her SuperMom. Like her mother before her, she can throw together virtually any miracle dish (with emphasis on its miracle taste) with less effort than I could make a bowl of oatmeal. That includes, namely, pie crusts.

So, in an effort to uphold the tradition of making baked goods better than any supermarket, I have latched on to (who else?) Mark Bittman. I like this guy. Not only does he provide cooking videos on the New York Times (with possibly the most absurd/amazing intro ever), he has the charmingly-understated audacity to have written a cookbook entitled "How to Cook Everything." In it, I found a recipe for a "Flaky Pie Crust." I have made it a few times now and have been very happy each time. Spoiled as I have been by my family's breads, that's saying something.

Mark Bittman's Flaky Pie Crust
1 cup + 2 Tbs flour (plus more for rolling)
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp sugar
8 Tbs butter (cut into about 8 pieces)
3 Tbs ice water (more if necessary)

Combined the flour, salt, and sugar in a food processor, pulsing once or twice (or by hand). Add the butter and process until the mixture looks like cornmeal -- about 10sec.
Put the mixture into a bowl and add ice water. Mix with your hands until you can work the dough into a ball (be patient; you may have to work the dough for a little while. If it's really giving you trouble, add a little more water). Wrap it in plastic and freeze for 10min or refrigerate for 30min. You can keep the dough refrigerated for up to a couple of days, or frozen for a few weeks.
Sprinkle a clean counter-top with flour. Put the dough on it and sprinkle it with flour as well. Use a rolling pin to roll with light pressure from the center outwards. If it's too hard, let it rest a few minutes. If it's soggy, add some flour. If the edges develop tears, you can repair them with a touch of water and a piece of dough from elsewhere in the crust.
When the diameter of the dough is about 2 inches greater than the pie plate, drape it over your rolling pin and transfer it to the plate. Press it down firmly and refrigerate for an hour before filling (or freeze for 30min or so).
Trim the extra dough, and tuck the edges under itself, decorating them as you see fit. You can fill it now, but I recommend prebaking it first. To do so, prick it all over with a fork, cover with buttered aluminum foil, and weigh down the foil with uncooked rice, beans, pie weights, etc. Bake it for 12min at 450 degrees. Remove the weights and the foil, lower the heat to 350 degrees, and continue to bake for another 10min or so.

And after the crusts are ready, there's little left to do but fill them.

Fresh Pear Pie with dried cherries and brown sugar streusel

for the streusel:
1 cup flour
1/2 cup oats
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 tsp salt
8 Tbs butter

for the filling:
5-6 medium pears /* peeled, cored, and chopped */
1,1/2 Tbs lemon juice
2/3 sugar
1/4 cup flour
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp nutmeg
3/4 cup dried cherries /* cranberries will do in a pinch */

Make the streusel: Combine all the ingredients together, blending the butter in with your fingers.
Make the filling: Toss the pears with the lemon juice. Whisk the sugar, flour, salt, cinnamon and nutmeg. Combine the two, and add the cherries. Mound the filling into the crust, and sprinkle the top with the streusel. Bake at 350 degrees for 55-65, or until the pastry is golden-brown and the filling is bubbling viscously at the edges. Tada!

Ginger-Spice Cranberry-Appple Streusel Pie

for the streusel:
1 cup flour
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup chopped, lightly-toasted walnuts
1/4 tsp salt
6 Tbs butter

for the filling:
4 tart baking apples /* peeled, cored, and chopped into rectangles */
1, 3/4 cups cranberries
1 cup sugar
3, 1/2 Tbs flour
1 Tbs finely chopped crystallized ginger
1/4 tsp cardamom
1/4 tsp cinnamon

Make the streusel: Combine all the ingredients together, blending the butter in with your fingers. Set aside.
Make the filling: In a food processor (or not), pulse the cranberries with 3/4 cup of the sugar until coarsely chopped. In a large bowl, combine the remaining sugar with the flour, ginger, cardamom, and cinnamon. Toss in the apples and cranberries. Mound the filling into the crust, sprinkle on the streusel. Bake at 350 degrees for 65-75 minutes, or until the streusel is deeply browned and the filling is bubbling vigorously. Remove, cool, devour.

PS: If you didn't get the "Cake or Death?" reference, you should watch more Eddie Izzard. It's another acceptable to deal with stress.

Moroccan Pumpkin Stew: Recreating Autumn.

2009-10-12T21:56:00.012-04:00

My least favorite thing about the Bay Area is the absence of autumn.

It's pretty pathetic compared to autumn in Chicago, or even autumn in Washington D.C. (and that's saying something). We live in the East Bay flats, where trees are pretty few and far between and most of those don't change colors. If they do, they go from green to dull brown. I mean, c'mon, I'm not feeling your enthusiasm here, trees! Where's the Glory, the Passion?? And the lack of crispness in the air, what's up with that? My hands down favorite thing about moving to the Northern Hemisphere after a childhood near the Equator was breaking out the cute sweater/mitten/scarf/hat/boots outfits, with crisp wind, red cheeks, hot cider, new textbooks for school. Hitting the pavement after summer with infectious enthusiasm about all the possibilities of a new year. Feeling driven to change the universe. Because, hey, if the trees are breaking out in the visual equivalent of Beetoven's 5th, by god I can put in my all too.

A pathetic autumn leaves me feeling lethargic, apathetic.

So I attempt to recreate fall. Kind of like when we were kids in Africa, we decorated our Christmas bush, hung our Christmas stockings on the back of couches, and ate Christmas cookies to round out the experience. Food and ritual really are critical to seasonal make-believe. To recreate fall, I haul out my boots and sweaters, glorify in my new textbooks, and cook with as many squash and apples as possible. It's not the same, but it's closer.

This pumpkin stew is from the same North African cookbook that gave us the harissa soup, the brik, and a number of other exotic dishes that we haven't posted about. Long term blog followers will remember that, as we discovered during Lent 2008, our biggest struggle with vegetarian dishes is making sure that they're flavorful enough. Hence the significant prejudice against Northern European vegetarian dishes in favor of Indian, Thai, Greek, Tunisian. When I earmarked this pumpkin stew for this week, I was imagining a heavily spiced, hearty concoction. The kind where the flavor combinations blow your mind and meat isn't necessary to provide an underlying robustness.

I should really have read the recipe more closely.

You may like this recipe, which is why I'm posting it. It wasn't what I was going for. Hearty, yes, good texture, but delicately spiced and sweet. Sweet like sweet potatoes lightly drizzled in maple syrup and baked are sweet: not a desert, but more appropriate as a side than as a main. At least to our taste. New discovery: we really far prefer savory main courses to sweet. As Do put it: "if it's sweet, there better be a big hunk of meat in there to counter-balance the flavor." It's not bland at all, but because we really wanted something savory we ended up tripling all spices and serving the stew with generous dollops of Siracha Chili sauce.

Anyways. For those of you less weird than us, enjoy!

Pumpkin Stew (Marak dar Marhzin). Serves 4-6
3 Tbs oil or butter
2 large onions, chopped
2-4 cloves garlic (N: up to 3 more if you have mediocre Harissa, or are omitting the Harissa)
1 tsp Tumeric
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground cinnamon
2 medium carrots, sliced
2 small white turnips, peeled and cut into quarters
3 cups of water (my recommendation: add a veggie or chicken bouillon cube)
1 lb butternut squash or pumpkin, peeled and cubed
1 lb sweet potato, cubed
1 tsp Harissa (N: supplement w 1 tsp Thai Siracha Chili sauce for heat)
1/3 cup raisins
3 tsp honey (N: omit if you don't like sweet main courses)
salt and pepper
cilantro for serving
couscous for seving

Chop onions, peel and cube the squash, cube the sweet potato. Now bribe someone to re-sharpen all your knives.

Melt butter in a large heavy pot. Add onion and cook gently for 5 min. Add garlic, tumeric, ginger and cinnamon, and cook, stirring occasionally for 2 min. Stir in carrots, turnips, and water (and bouillon cube if using). Bring to boil. Cover and simmer for 10 min. Add pumpkin, sweet potato, harissa, chili sauce if using, raisins, honey, and salt and pepper to taste. Cover and simmer until the vegetables are tender (~20min).

Meanwhile, cook the couscous. Add couscous and boiling water to a bowl in equal amounts (1 cup couscous = 1 cup water), cover tightly for 5-10 min. Fluff with a fork to get lumps out.

Serving ideas: pile hot couscous onto a warm platter, make a crater in the middle and pile pumpkin stew into that crater. OR transfer stew to a warm bowl and serve alongside the couscous. OR prepare individual plates of couscous and stew. Don't forget to garnish with cilantro.

Best German-style Pork Chops ever.

2009-10-10T15:12:00.005-04:00

You wouldn't tell it from this blog, but eating habits in the Do-Neen household have changed dramatically since we moved to the land of amazing produce/long growing seasons. Without really meaning to, and despite Do's meat-and-potatoes midwestern background, we're cooking predominantly vegetarian these days. The other day I even put my foot down and declared that meat is too much of a pain in the ass to prepare, takes too long to cook for my grad student schedule, and that I just don't enjoy cooking it. This may or may not have been related to a browning chicken pieces incident, for which the damn browning took longer than the rest of the recipe and the oil splatters dirtied everything within 5 feet of the pot. And then there was that amazing NYtimes article about the dangers of mass produced ground beef. Maybe Michael Pollan has put something in the water. In any case, I rarely cook meat anymore.

Which leaves it up to Do. Every so often he'll put his foot down: "I. Need. MEAT." Then a series of things will happen:
1. He'll reach for Julia Child's MTAOFC Vol 1.
2. He'll realize the dish he wants is fairly time consuming (i.e. weekend only) and/or serves 12.
3. We end up throwing a spontaneous dinner party, for the sole purpose of drafting others to help us consume the product of his labors.

This happened, almost exactly as described, a few weeks ago. It started with Do deciding that he couldn't go another week without pork chops, and ended with one of the larger dinner+board game parties that we've hosted since moving to California. The whole experience yielded some revealing insights:

This is why we've become closer to our meat-eating friends than to our vegetarian friends, even though we eat mostly vegetarian ourselves. We can (and do) have our meat-eating friends over at the drop of a hat -- or a couple hours after meat-related inspiration strikes Do. Vegetarian dishes are simply easier to scale and less of an event, and so less likely to prompt a last minute "We're making X, want to come over?"
Do loves Julia Child. This cracks me up. I think his inner scientist really appreciates how precise she is, and his inner Midwesterner hearts her meat-centric take on food.
Do makes effing good pork chops. I had always thought of pork chops as dry and leathery. Oh no. Not this recipe. Not this cook.
Always serve a Julia Child dish over noodles. Best pasta sauce EVER. And face it, what else are you going to do with all that cream?

Cotes de Porc Sauce Nenette (serves 6)
6 thick pork chops (min 1"). Can be marinated ahead of time*
3-4 Tbs cooking oil
2 Tbs butter
2 cloves garlic
1/2 cup white wine or beef stock
1 1/2 c whipping cream
2 Tbs mustard
2 Tbs tomato paste
2 Tbs fresh chopped basil or parsely
salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Dry the pork chops with paper towels. Heat oil until almost smoking in a large heavy-bottomed casserole. Brown the chops, 2 or 3 at a time, on each side for 3-4min. Transfer to side dish. If you didn't marinate them, season with salt, pepper, and 1/4 tsp thyme.

Add butter and garlic to casserole. Return the chops, overlapping them slightly. Baste them with the butter. Cover and heat the casserole until the meat is sizzling, then set in lower third of preheated oven for 10-15min. Turn and baste the chops once or twice.

While the pork chops are cooking, simmer the cream, 1/4 tsp salt and a pinch of pepper in a small saucepan for 8 - 10 min, or until it has reduced to one cup. Meanwhile, beat the mustard and the tomato paste together in a small bowl, then beat into the hot cream. Set aside.

Once the chops are done, remove them to a serving platter and pour the cream mixture into the casserole. Simmer 3-4 min, deglazing. Correct seasoning, stir in the basil, return the pork to the casserole and let heat.

Serve over noodles.

Neen's Roasted Yam salad

2009-10-03T13:25:00.008-04:00

I don't invent recipes. I really don't. I'm not the type of person who walks into a Farmer's Market and designs the week's menu based on what's available, nor am I the type who has all recipes memorized. I'm the chick with the planner and the mountain of (organized) recipe index cards and one list of ingredients assigned to each person shopping. Yeah. I don't do spontaneous. I'm slowly moving away from teaspoon and tablespoon measures. Very, very slowly.

So you can imagine how impressed and dubious Do was when he came home last night and I presented him with a dish that I had invented. In the grocery store, on the fly. Yah. Who da man.

I swung by the grocery store yesterday to pick up some eggs (for challah) and a head of cauliflower (for spiced Cauliflower soup, recipe to follow). The Piedmont Groceries had just set up its fall display, with pumpkins, Indian corn, and all those cool squash. My brain went from "aaaw, I guess it is fall. Maybe I should do something fall-like for dinner." to "Oh, crap, tonight is the first night of Sukkot [Jewish harvest festival]. I should definitely do something fall-like." to "I think I have a recipe clipping at home for a roasted yam salad that sounded yummy. Ok, let's work from there."

I did end up using the recipe clipping for inspiration (Food & Wine's Roasted Yam and Apple Salad, unknown issue). It had a great method for roasting the yams: sesame oil and cumin. And, with a few tweaks to suit our preference for strong flavor, the vinaigrette was pretty damn good too. The lettuce is indispensable, both for color and because it alone adds crunch to an otherwise creamy salad. You may want to soak the lettuce ahead of time to make it extra crunchy. The tangerines add citrus, again to balance out the creamy flavor of the roast yams. Red Cabbage for color. And the rest, just because I'm the type who likes a lot of "stuff" in my salads and on my pizzas.

It was damn good: we had thirds. Really addictive. FYI, for those celebrating Thanksgiving with us, this may well occur.

Neen's Roasted Yam Salad (serves 8-10)
2 yams or sweet potatoes
1 small butternut squash (alternative: use two more yams)
1 Tbs cumin (on the plus side)
1 Tbs sesame oil (on the plus side)
vegetable oil or spray-on oil
1 cup raisins or dried cranberries
2 heads butter lettuce, torn into bite size pieces.
2 tangerines or apples
1/3 of a small purple cabbage
1/2 cup pine nuts
1/2 bunch of cilantro, coarsely chopped.

Vinaigrette
1/2 cup olive oil
2 1/2 Tbs apple cider vinegar
1 1/2 Tbs Dijon Mustard (on the plus side)
2 garlic cloves, crushed.
1 Tbs Korean Chili paste or any curry paste.
1 tsp Balsamic vinegar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Peel butternut squash. Chop squash and yams into 1" cubes. Spread on a baking sheet, drizzle with the vegetable oil, the sesame oil, the cumin, salt and pepper to taste. Roast approximately 1 hour.

Meanwhile, whisk all vinaigrette ingredients together in a small bowl and set aside. Separate tangerines into sections, and cut each section into three. Put tangerines into a large salad bowl, along with the pine nuts, the raisins, the lettuce*, and the cilantro. Using a Cuisinart, shred the red cabbage and add it to the salad bowl.

Once the yams are roasted until tender, add them to the salad bowl and mix with the vinaigrette.

*ALTERNATIVE PRESENTATION: Do really liked the contrast between the crunchy lettuce and the creamy yams. One way to keep the lettuce crunchy for as long as possible is to prepare the salad as stated above without adding the lettuce, and instead to prepare a mound of lettuce on each person's plate. Then the salad can simply be heaped on top of the lettuce bed, and mixed together by each guest.

Round Challah for Rosh Hashana - aka Victory Dance

2009-09-18T19:16:00.007-04:00

It's traditional to bake round Challah for Rosh Hashana. I mentioned to Do this morning that I was just going to bake a normal round loaf, but he (knowing the best way to get exactly what he wants) went off on a long shtick about how much he loves my Challah, and how the braiding gives it this perfect texture, without the braiding it just wouldn't be the same, yadda yadda. On top of it, I haven't baked Challah for almost a year, so he's been deprived, yadda yadda.

So I give you *drumroll* braided round Challah. The things one does for a loved one. Before a dinner party, no less.

How fucking awesome does that bread look???? I can't wait to see his face when he comes home!

Braiding Instructions are here: http://alturl.com/bnof. The challah recipe is in this blog's files.

30min Thai Chicken Curry

2009-09-13T21:02:00.011-04:00

Last weekend Do and I undertook the pruning of our recipe clippings collection. Our stash was pretty typical: ~50 recipes at any one time waiting to be tested, sorted into self explanatory categories like "veggies" or "chicken" or "deserts." It had simply become unwieldy and uninspiring, with clippings for recipes that may have been inspiring two years ago but no longer. So we culled and reorganized... and in the process re-discovered some very exciting dishes, like the 30min Thai curry pictured at right.

If I remember correctly, this recipe was part of an article on weeknight chef-worthy meals, published in the May 2007 issue of Food & Wine (when we were still in college -eep!). The 30minutes is overly optimistic, unless you either a) buy chicken that is very quick to prep (i.e. boneless or pre-cubed), b) recruit your favorite kitchen buddy to help, or c) all of the above. Do thinks that the sauce could stand to be reduced a little further to be a little thicker, but that's a common criticism of his. He's really happiest when everything is stew-like.

And those are really our only criticisms. It's a fast but solidly-flavored south-east Asian curry, using only commonly-available ingredients. As in, you don't have to have access to Bay-area grocery stores or be feeling particularly adventurous to enjoy this -- m... (Do quietly covers Neens mouth before she says something unforgivable). Vegetarians should have no problem substituting a firm tofu for chicken. Oh, and as we discovered, this is one of those dishes that does just fine with less-than-stellar chicken (ours had been cheap to start with and then languished unloved in the freezer for, er, a long time. Tasted great in this recipe). Definitely moving this clipping to the permanent collection.

Spicy Red Curry Chicken (Food & Wine May 2007 issue).

2/3 c unsweetened coconut milk (~half a can)
2 -3 tsp Thai red curry paste (Do: Korean Red Pepper paste is a fine substitute. Siracha Chili paste is not flavorful enough, use it just to add extra spice.)
1 Tbs Asian Fish sauce
3 Tbs vegetable oil, separated
1 1/2 lb skinless boneless chicken thighs and/or breasts, cut into 1/2" strips or 1 1/2" chunks
1/2 lb shitake mushrooms, quartered
1 Tbs grated ginger
2 large garlic cloves, very finely chopped
1/2 cup water
1 cup frozen baby peas
For serving (all optional): rice, peanuts, chopped cilantro, and lime wedges

Do the prep: cut up chicken, clean and chop mushrooms. Start making rice, if you plan to serve the curry over rice.

Shake the can of coconut milk before opening. In a small bowl, whisk the 2/3 cup of coconut milk with the red curry paste and the fish sauce until combined. Set aside.

Heat a large wok or skillet until very hot. Add 2 Tbs vegetable oil and heat until just smoking. Season the chicken with salt and pepper, and add it to the wok in a single layer. Cook over high heat, turning once, until the chicken is browned but not cooked through (~4-5min). Transfer the chicken to a plate and pour off the fat in the wok.

Add the remaining 1 Tbs vegetable oil to the wok. Add shitake caps and stir fry ovr high heat until lightly browned (~5 min). Add ginger and garlic, and saute for 1 min. Return the chicken and any accumulated juices to the wok. Add the red curry mixture and the 1/2 cup water and bring to a boil. Add the frozen peas and simmer until the liquid is slightly reduced and the peas are warm (~2-3min).

To serve: transfer the chicken curry to a serving bowl and garnish with peanuts and cilantro. Serve immediately with rice and lime wedges.

*******
And I couldn't resist: when we were putting together our menus for this upcoming week, the more mischievous of our two cats, Harissa, somehow wedged himself into the empty spot in our cookbook bookshelf. Yeah Reesie, you almost look like Julia Child. Keep working on it.

[Trying to make] Brik. Or, why Julie Powell is dangerous.

2009-09-06T22:12:00.014-04:00

[Continuing to explore Tunisian cuisine through Tessa Mallos' North African Cooking cookbook...]

I had to leave the kitchen. I put down my implements, left the hot deep-frying oil, marched into the bathroom, and dissolved into tears. Actually, I just crumpled and the wails erupted on their on. Have you read Julie and Julia? It was much more Julie Powell than Amy Adams, complete with irrational declarations that, clearly, the universe was over. Obvi. (Image from http://alturl.com/jbpf)

I had tried to make Brik. I had failed. The wrappers were brittle and were breaking, they weren't sealing around the filling, the egg yolks were bursting, the oil wasn't hot enough so the result was soggy, oily, egg-y, mess. Every single fire alarm in our apartment went off during the first minute and a half of my endeavor. Boiling oil splattered all over the clean stovetop, my clothes, my bare arms, everything. It was a DISASTER.

In one of Do's few memories of his great-grandmother, he was thirteen and visiting extended family in Paris, and his Tunisian great-grandmother made him brik. He still recounts the event with wonder and adoration. Brik are, essentially, deep-fried dough pockets filled with raw egg and a salty filling. The recipe in North African Cooking calls for anchovies and capers. About a teaspoon of the filling and a small raw egg get dumped into the center of a wonton wrapper (actual Brik dough is super time-consuming to make, my used-to-live-in-Algeria Mom informs me), the wonton wrapper seals around the filling, and the whole thing gets deep fried until barely crispy. As Do puts it: "It's salty, deep fat fried egg. What's not to like?" (The photo above is clearly not my creation. It was taken by Sheryl of the Crispy Waffle blog during her vacation in Tunisia, and can be found here.)

Fiasco. Bawling in the bathroom.

::Do Grabs The Talkie Stick ::

So, anyone that lives with a foodie knows all about managing explosions in the kitchen. I have generated a little check-list for myself.
After hearing loud shrieking/sobbing from Neen while she is cooking:
1. Check to make sure all limbs are attached. [If no - proceed to emergency first aid routine]
2. Remove any fire hazards from heat. (If something might overcook - remove that from heat too.)
3. Attend to Neen.

There were no missing limbs in this situation, but there was a fire hazards - so I turned the heat off on the oil before proceeding back to the bathroom to find out what was eating Neen. Now, it is worth mentioning that this is a VERY hard recipe, and I had known it from the start. I had tried unsuccessfully to convince her of this. So when Neen felt like she just couldn't make it work, the resulting meltdown was not completely unexpected.

[Neen: insertion] Actually, Do was trying very hard not to giggle. We had just seen Julie & Julia that afternoon, so the over-the-top explosion was just too stereotypical for words. Of course, his trying to suppress his smirk made me giggle... which was naturally followed by an especially loud wail to prove I was serious. [/Neen insertion]

Thankfully the solution to my portion of this problem was VERY easy - I just had her take bite out of one of the "failed" Brik she had just made. Fabulous - melt in in your mouth, salty, and rich. Everything Brik should be. So they weren't picture perfect, so what? Some of the wrappers didn't shut, but upon returning to the kitchen we realized that (of course) you are supposed to soak the wonton wrappers in water before using them - the recipe hadn't of course mentioned that! Once we corrected for this issue, we actually turned out some impressive-looking ones.

The happy ending to this story was a delicious meal of brik and white wine, set to candlelight. Perfection.

Neen: Yeah. Still not happening again any time soon. I'll wait to get hands-on instruction from the experts the next time we visit Do's family in Paris.

Brik bil Ancouwa (Brik with Anchovies)
a package of large spring roll wrappers
1 Tbs olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 1/2 Tbs fniely chopped canned anchovies
2 Tbs chopped parsely
3 tsp capers, drained
oil for frying
Small fresh eggs (Neen: this is critical)

Heat olive in oil in a small frying pan. Add onion and cook gently until very soft and translucent (~12-15min), stirring often. Add anchovies and mash in. Remove pan from heat, stir in parsely, capers, and add pepper to taste. Let cool.

Separate spring roll wrappers and soak ~5 or 6 in a bowl with cold water, to soften them. Add oil for shallow=-frying to a depth of 1/4" in a 10" frying pan and heat well. Open all the windows in your kitchen. Turn on air vent. Prepare your partner/brother/sister/child to handle the fire alarms if/when they go off.

Place one soft wrapped on a plate. Add ~1 Tbs anchovy filling in a heap on one side,with the edge of the filling just touching center. Make an indent in the filling and break one egg into it. Fold the wrapper over to enclose the filling and press the edges to seal. Try not to break the egg yolk, but if you do it's okay.

Slide brik immediately into the hot oil and shallow fry until golden brown and crisp, about 45 seconds on each side. Lift out and drain on paper towles. Repeat with remaining brik/filling. Serve immediately.

Harissa Soup

2009-08-23T16:35:00.008-04:00

For years now, Do and I have grown progressively more interested in the culinary culture of the Tunisian Sephardic community, where Do's maternal side hails from. A recent family reunion, complete with spirited arguments over the proper way to make Malmoula, so fueled this interest that we picked up Tess Mallos' North African Cooking cookbook the next time we were near a good cookbook bookstore. (P.S. Culinary Institute of America in Napa has an outrageous collection of cookbooks in their shop). We have very high hopes for this book: it has all the Tunisian classics of Doran's childhood memories, there are beautiful photos of every recipe, and the dishes seem exotic yet do-able given our time/energy constraints.

So last Thursday we tried it for the first time. We made Harissa Soup.

Yes, you got the name right. Harissa, as in the super fiery hot condiment that is ubiquitous on Tunisian tables. In a soup. Yup. :) It's like saying, "oh we had Tabasco soup tonight." Even my Texas self was a little apprehensive about that one.

Let me just say, it was amazing. I had seconds, Do had thirds. This recipe is going into the regular dinner rotation, and into the "All Time Favorites" category on this blog.

Some reassurance: it was nowhere near as spicy as I was expecting. In fact, I doubled/quatrupled most of the spicy ingredients just to suit our taste, and it still was a perfectly reasonable dish to serve company. Well, maybe not our German friends, but all others. It's spicy, but more in the complex, deep, exotic way than in the fire-in-your-mouth way. It's spicy and complex the way Indian food is spicy and complex: the heat is fun but not essential and definitely not all-encompassing. And it's perfect like that; I wouldn't try to make it hotter.

The soup itself is beautiful - the color is very vibrant in a way that my camera couldn't capture in the kitchen light. Unlike most soups, this one has great texture thanks to the couscous, the potatoes, the bits of tomato, etc. Every bite is interesting, texturally.

I'd be interested in trying to replace the can of tomatoes with fresh tomatoes, especially given how fantastic our tomatoes are out here in California. Do cautions me that some Tunisian dishes, like Malmoula, just aren't as good with fresh tomatoes. I'm thinking that with fresh tomatoes, and chilled, this soup could be a (much more interesting) Algerian take on gazpacho. In the winter, the soup's heartiness could be preserved with the canned tomatoes and Kale would be a fine addition.

Oh, and it's vegan.

Chorba hara bi keskou (Harissa soup with couscous). Serves 6.

4 Tbs Olive Oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed (Neen: use more if your Harissa isn't garlicky)
1 tsp Harissa (Neen: Er, no. If not using imported Harissa, use 4-5 large dollops.)
1 Tbs Paprika (Neen: make that ~3 Tbs)
14 oz can chopped tomatoes, undrained.
6 cups water (Neen: add 3 cubes veggies bouillon cubes)
2 medium potatoes, ~12oz in total
1/2 cup instant coucous
3 Tbs finely chopped cilantro. (Neen: or more. We heart cilantro and used one bunch).

Heat oil in soup pot. Add onion and cook gently until transparent (~10min). Add garlic and cook for 1 min. Add Harissa to taste and cook gently, stirring, 1-2min. Add paprika, tomatoes in their liquid, water, and veggie bouillon cubes. Bring to Boil.

Cut potatoes into 1/2" cubes and add to soup. Cover and simmer until potatoes are tender (~20min). Stir in coucous and boil gently, uncovered, until coucous has swelled and softened (~10min). Taste, add more harissa and/or salt and pepper if desired. Stir in cilantro, let stand 5 min.

Serve hot in deep soup bowls with bread.

Quick and Elegant Salmon with Israeli Coucous Salad

2009-08-19T21:38:00.010-04:00

Major success on the cooking front last night:

1. Had an unexpectedly delicious dinner
2. Rediscovered an old cookbook
3. Made up a successful dish from scratch
4. All prep took less than 20 min.

Did I say major success?

When we were planning the weekly menu last weekend, I picked up our copy of New Kosher Cuisine. It's a community cookbook that I'd gotten back in D.C. on recommendation from a good friend. It turned out to be too practical for our cooking style back then (though the Challah recipe is still our go-to challah recipe), but our interests and time constraints have changed radically in the past year or so. Like all community cookbooks it can be hit or miss, but I've gotten better at guesstimating what a dish would taste like based on reading the recipe. And oh man, was "Company Fish" a hit.

It's supposed to be a Shabbat dinner meal, when you have company over (hence the title of the dish). I'm not sure that would work for the super observant unless they were also super prompt (the fish needs to go straight from the broiler to the table, meaning your guests must already be home from shul and/or you don't mind using your broiler after sundown), but it's otherwise perfect for inviting guests over on a weeknight. The dish is super quick: since you marinate it ahead of time, it takes literally no more than 10min to have it from the fridge to the table. It's also quite impressive: strong complex flavors infuse all of the fish, and you really can't help but make sure the last drop of sauce is consumed. And the marinade ingredients are all standard (inexpensive) pantry fare -- what's not to like? Added bonus: the flavor of the sauce and the texture of the fish are on showcase here, so it's good for folks who are apprehensive about "fishy" flavors AND you don't need to feel compelled to buy expensive cuts of fish. Fresh fish, and voila.

The other success was the impromptu salad. Again, very simple: it was all ingredients we had in the fridge, and the chopping was the longest part. But it was so full of flavor and the freshness of summer that (don't read this part Mom) we totally started digging into the serving bowl with our forks once we we'd inhaled the servings on our plates. Great showcase for those uber fresh farmer's market veggies.

Israeli Couscous Salad, serves 4 generously

1 cup Israeli Couscous
1 cucumber
1 beautiful heirloom tomato,
4 oz feta
1 small-medium red onion
2 lemons
1/2 cup chopped mint

Toast the israeli coucous in a little bit of oil, stirring regularly. Meanwhile boil water in a kettle. Once the couscous is toasted to your taste, pour ~2 cups boiling water into the pot (slowly, and stand back, it's pretty exciting). Simmer water for ~6min, or until coucous is done. Drain couscous, put into salad bowl.

Mince 1 red onion, chop 1 cucumber, 1 tomato, and 1/2 cup of mint, and all it all to the salad bowl. Crumble 4oz of feta into the bowl. Add the juice of two lemons. Salt and Pepper very generously.

Company Fish (New Kosher Cuisine cookbook), serves 8-10.
Neen: don't bother being too precise with your measurements. And don't be afraid to cut the recipe down -- fish is always best straight out of the oven.

1/3 cup soy or tamari sauce
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/4 cup fresh lime juice
2-4 cloves garlic, minced
1 Tbs Dijon
Grated zest of two limes (Neen: or a couple tsp lime juice, if that's what you have)
1/4 cup peanut oil
1/4-1/2 cup scallions, chopped
4 lbs ocean perch or salmon, skin removed.

Combine marinade ingredients in a small bowl. Place fish in a non-aluminum dish and cover with marinade. Refrigerate for 3 to 6 hours.

Preheat broiler. Broil fish 4 to 8 min until brown. Transfer to platter and spoon sauce over fish. Serve immediately.

Taking advantage of Tomatoes

2009-07-07T21:13:00.007-04:00

Okay, first off: Psychgrad and R not only got married but also finished graduate school in the past month..!! I leave the foodie blog world for 12 months and it turns upside down! Do and I have felt a definite affinity for Psychgrad and R ever since we found them: they're some of the friendliest blogging folks around (along with co-blogger/MOB Giz) and their food/life/career situations seemed pretty similar to ours up until last month. Mazel Tov, you two.

Second thing: Fun new toy: Delicious.com. So last year, we had no good way of collecting and indexing the foodie blog recipes that struck our interest. We knew what blogs to turn to for certain recommendations (Lisa for Vegetarian Indian, for example), but didn't keep a virtual set of recipe clippings anywhere. No longer: delicious.com was made for people like us: it stores blog recipe links (no retyping the recipe or losing the photos), you create your own tags to organize the recipes, and you can share. So far, we're pleased and recommend it to others who collect blog recipes. And if your bored, our budding clippings collection is available at http://delicious.com/PostCollegiateCooking. Sweet!

Back to food. It turns out that none of our stock recipes really show off local, in season summer produce to its best advantage. Fall, Winter, and Spring we're starting to get a handle on, but we've spent the past 5+ summers moving around for internships or research or jobs. It's hard to devote much attention to culinary exploration when living out of a suitcase in a hostel or while driving all one's worldly posessions across the country. So expect to see a lot of tomato, squash, and fruit recipes this month.

Monday's dinner was a tomato and rice soup from Joyce Goldtein's Sephardic Flavors cookbook. To our initial disapointment, the cookbook focuses only on a small subset of Sephardic recipes, those from the eastern Mediterranean (Greece, Turkey, etc.). This recipe is supposedly an adaption of a Ma'min Jews of Salonika.

The recipe is little more than tomatoes and chicken stock, so we set out to acquire the best tomatoes within driving distance. We went to Berkeley Bowl West for the first time. For those not part of the cult (and only those who do not live within driving distance can choose not to be), Berkeley Bowl is the single best grocery store on the face of the planet. Michael Pollan shops there. People drive from the South Bay to shop there. It's supply of fruit and veggies is shocking: common veggies like tomatoes have 8 varieties on display (including heirlooms of peak ripeness), surrounded by shelf after shelf of exotics like yucca, star fruit, cacti leaves, edible flowers, etc. The dried goods sections are just as amazing, particularly their Asian sections. Seriously, if you ever visit the SF Bay Area, even if just for a weekend, you must visit this grocery store. AND, unlike the rest of us poor souls, you can completely bypass the original downtown Berkeley Bowl with its cramped aisles and overcrowded parking. The new one has ample parking, is located in the industrial part of town near the highway, and is freakin' gi-normous. Look Below:

So we went there to get our heirloom, peak ripeness tomatoes and Do walked out with something like 10 additional pounds of fresh fruit. Anyways, we get back to the apartment, still glowing from our first visit to Berkeley Bowl West, and I set about making the soup... and finish just minutes after Do has finished unpacking our groceries. Now, that says something about how much we bought, but it also says that this is a ridiculously easy and convenient recipe. A trait much appreciated by working grad students.

How did it taste? Refreshing. Like Perfect summer tomatoes, only better. This was no apathetic tomato juice: it had body and slight spicing coming from the chicken stock. The rice and tomato pulp added texture and heartiness. And I thought the lemon wedges were a brilliant addition: zingy, adult, and even slightly exotic to our American palate. I don't think that this recipe will work with anything but the best summer tomatoes, so take advantage and try it now!

Summer Tomato and Rice Soup
2 Tbs Olive Oil
3 lbs very ripe tomatoes, coarsely chopped
3-4 cups chicken stock
1/2 c white rice (add an extra 1/4 if you want an extra hearty soup)
3 Tbs chopped fresh parsley or basil
Lemon wedges

Warm olive oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add tomatoes and cook, stirring often and smashing them down with a wooden spoon, until they break down completely into a puree (~10min).

Meanwhile, heat chicken stock to a simmer in a soup pot. Add rice and tomatoes to the pot and bring the mixture to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to low and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, until rice is tender (~15-20min).

Season with salt and pepper and stir parsley in. Ladle into bowls and pass the lemon wedges at the table.