Tastytown: of Mind and Belly

A revolutionary object

2010-03-13T18:43:00.006-05:00

A non-stick pan is a revolutionary object. For the past two of three nights, I've relied on mine to make a varaition on the same dinner: eggs and hashbrowns. Jeff's been gone on a work/play trip across the pond, which means that I've had to fend for myself in terms of dinner. I mean, no bigs, but it's not as fun to cook something elaborate if it's just me hanging around the house. But who cares, when hashbrowns are involved?

You may remember my teeny tiny obsession with hashbrowns. And how I feel sorry for myself every time that I go out to brunch and am left with some pathetic, vaguely soggy, flatly spiced home fries. I mean, people, please.

Have I mentioned that I don't like home fries?

But hash browns have always eluded me. I mean, I make a mean latke at Hannukah, but otherwise I have left hashbrowns alone. They have a tendency to not cook through, turn gray, and and are a general pain in the neck. But the NON-STICK PAN.

Hellllooooo, non-stick pan. Hashbrowns come out creamy on the inside and crisp on the outside. No sticking, no turning gray. Just nice, crispy bits and a melting center. They're still a work in progress, but for now, I'm pretty happy about it. Happy enough to keep eating them every other day. Or not. But I make no promises.

Hashbrowns

So there are a few caveats about this recipe. First, I've been using the shredder attachment of my Cuisinart. You can just as easily use the large holes of a box grater. It does the same thing, but your arm will get less tired if you have a machine. The second thing is that this recipe easily doubles, or triples, according to how many people you are trying to feed. One medium-sized potato is more than plenty for one person, but it's weird to make less than one whole potato. That's how I feel about it, at least. You can also shred some onion into the mix, if you like.

1 potato (Yukon Gold is slightly preferable to Russet, I think)
2 small pats of butter (1 tablespoon total)
salt and pepper, to taste

1. Shred the potato using the shredding attachment of a food processor or using the big holes of a box grater.

2. Using a cheesecloth, wring out the potatoes until it's really, really hard to get out any more water. (Don't skip this step! This helps the potatoes to not turn to mush.)

3. Heat a small, non-stick pan over a medium flame, and melt the first pat of butter. When the pan is hot and the butter is melted, add the potatoes and pat them down into a single layer. Cook, not disturbing, for 10-15 minutes. Adjust the heat so the potatoes don't burn. When the potatoes are brown on the bottom, flip out onto a plate, melt the other pat of butter, and replace potatoes in the pan, browned side up. Cook 10 or so minutes more.

4. Season to taste, serve hot.

Serves 1

Cookie starts with C!

2010-02-08T19:49:00.004-05:00

Here's the thing. Being in pastry school is a game-changer. I still love to bake at night and on the weekends, but it's become somewhat harder to justify spur-of-the-moment baking. In all fairness, though, I don't bring anything home these days, but still...

Anyway. To make a long story short is that I've come to believe that chocolate chip cookies are my true culinary love.

I mean, who doesn't love a chocolate chip cookie? Warm, chewy or crispy, nutty or not, gooey or not, it's useless resisting. I mean, everyone, everyone loves them. I can think of a few particularly fine versions that I have fallen into and out of love here in New York (Birdbath/City Bakery's, Levain's etc.), despite the fact that I haven't lived here all that long.

However, it's more than satisfying an eating craving, right? Making them is equally satisfying, at least, it is for me. (I mean, who doesn't like to eat fresh cookie batter that's been set aside? Or sneak a few chocolate chips before they get thrown in?) If I think about it logically, I can probably say that I have been making chocolate chip cookies dozens of time every year since 1998. (Thanks, Mom, for being so cool about that when I was in high school. It paid off, see?) My standby recipe was on the back of the Nestlé TollHouse package. Pros: yummy, not crispy. Cons: Crisco.

I've been through a few others since then. Amanda Hesser's, King Arthur Four's, Jacques Torres's, etc. But the one that has taken my heart (at least, for the past year or so), is the one from Baked. I know I've talked about them before, so I won't elaborate. Let's suffice it to say that if you add an extra (very large) pinch of salt, a small handful shredded coconut, and a handful of toasted, chopped pecans, the results are divine. It's everything I want in a cookie. It's also everything that I like to make in a cookie. No commentary needed.

Kitchen-Sink Chocolate Chip Cookies, liberally adapted from Baked

When you've got these in the oven, keep a sharp eye, and absolutely do not overbake them. They will get bready and sad, which is no way to eat a cookie. Also, feel free to cut back on the salt and change the kind (though no less than a teaspoon) and remove the coconut and pecans. Just be sure to compensate with plenty of chocolate chips.

Also, there is no law saying that you have to chill your dough. But it makes a nicer-looking cookie, and also helps the egg to absorb some of the dry ingredients, resulting in a dough that's slightly drier and flavors that are more completely melded.

2 cups AP flour
1 3/4 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
16 Tablespoons unsalted butter (2 sticks), softened
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs, at room temperature
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/2 cup sweetened, shredded coconut
1/2 cup chopped toasted pecans, cooled

1. In a medium-sized bowl, sift together the flour, salt, and baking soda. Set aside.

2. Using an electric mixer, or with a wooden spoon, cream the butter and sugars together until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, until completely incorporated. Stir in vanilla.

3. Add the flour all at once and stir in until just combined.

4. Stir in the chocolate, coconout, and pecans by hand.

5. Cover your bowl tightly and refrigerate for up to 24 hours.

6. When you're ready to bake, preheat the oven to 375 F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

7. If you have an ice-cream scoop, use that to scoop and release your cookie dough onto the sheets (you want about two teaspoons in size), or just scoop it out with spoons and round them. Place about 1 inch apart on the baking sheets, and bake for 12 - 14 minutes, rotating the pans once during the cooking time, until the edges of the cookies are golden brown and the tops just starting to darken.

8. Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack for about 5 minutes. Then remove individual cookies to rack to cool.

Makes about 24 cookies

We ate our weight

2009-12-29T10:58:00.006-05:00

It would appear as though we only have a few days left in December. I could be mistaken, though--yesterday, Jeff pointed out that the last time I wrote here was in, um, October. October???

He was right. Whoops.

So for those of you who are dying of curiosity, here are a few of the highlights from the past couple of months, in no particular order:

> I started writing for another blog, Eat Life.

> As of this weekend, I will be half of the way through my course at French Culinary! I have to start looking for a job. HA! HA! HA!

> My parents came for Christmas and birthdays. It was GREAT to have them here--so fun! We all ate our weight in dinners. Jeff and I put up a Christmas tree. There was much holiday cheer.

> I turned a whopping 28 and so far have nothing but positive things to say.

> I went to Chicago for Thanksgiving, saw a great friend who I hadn't seen in AGES, and got hit on by two men approximately my parents's age at the bar. No, thanks, guys. I'm really not into men who remember the Nixon era as first-hand experience.

> I've managed to be a terrible communicator, even with the people I miss the most. I don't return phone calls, rarely return emails, and feel guilty about it ALL THE TIME.

So that's about it, folks. I have a tasty pasta dish for you to make, but alas, no photos. My parents, Jeff and I may have gobbled the entire dish up before I had a chance to photograph it; you'll see why when you make it. It's creamy, cheesy, and hearty all at once, and I very highly suggest it if it's a cold night and you want to stay in, watch movies, and eat something cosy. After all, who can resist baked pasta with spinach, cheese and cream? Not I, my friends. You shouldn't either.

Have a happy 2010, and I'll see you then.

Alpine Baked Pasta, adapted from The Best of Food and Wine

My mother and I have made this many, many times. We find that it's best if you have a dish that's not too big. I used a 9 x 13 glass casserole/brownie pan, and it worked perfectly. I also massively increased the vegetable content. Below are the adaptations I made. You will want to make them, too.

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for buttering the dish
1 teaspoon freshly chopped sage
3 tablespoons freshly chopped Italian parsley
1 pound penne/farfalle pasta (pretty much anything that's chunky/long (not spaghetti like, not macaroni like) works)
2 leeks (white part plus 1 inch of the green), well washed and thinly sliced crosswise
1 large box baby spinach leaves, rinsed--use the kind that's pre-washed and is in the salad refrigerator at the store. It's well worth it. (I know, I know. If you want, use 2 bunches of spinach, well washed and roughly chopped)
1 cup finely grated fontina cheese
3/4 cup finely grated Parmesan
1/2 + 1 delightful splash heavy cream

1. Preheat the oven to 375. Butter a baking dish (the recipe recommends 12 inches square) and set aside.

2. Put a very large pot of water on to boil over high heat, and salt well.

3. While waiting for the water to boil, melt the 4 tablespoons of butter in a pan over medium heat. When the butter becomes a light nut brown, add the herbs and turn off the heat; set aside.

4. When the water has boiled, add the pasta. When the water returns to a boil, time your pasta carefully, and cook it to 3 minutes under the recommended time (approximately 6-8 minutes, depending on your shape); add the leek to the pasta. After the water has again returned to a boil, add the spinach and cook for an additional 2 minutes. Drain the pasta and vegetables in a colander, return them to the hot pot, and add the herb/butter, salt and pepper to taste. Stir in the fontina, Parmesan, and cream, and toss well to incorporate all the ingredients.

5. Turn the pasta out into the buttered baking dish. Bake for 12-15 minutes, until the cheese has melted and the top edges begin to brown.

Serve immediately.

Serves 5-6 pretty darn generously.

Mighty fine

2009-10-28T20:16:00.008-04:00

In my house, there is no sound more horrendous than the smoke alarm. By all accounts, though, the smoke alarm in the new house is heads and shoulders above the one in the old place. The old one, after shrieking for a few beeps, said in a woman's automated voice, "FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!" It would also beep, every three seconds, when it was low on battery. Take the time that we went to Denver for Thanksgiving and came back, and it had been beeping for god knows how long. Or the time that it started at three in the morning and couldn't figure out how to remove the battery until four thirty.

Undoubtedly, we were not our building's preferred neighbors.

Part of the problem of a triggered alarm is that a lot of the things that get shoved in the oven are overfull and slightly liquidy.

Liquidy + heat + rising agents = bubbling over that gets stuck at the bottom of the oven and burns off whenever the temperature surpasses 350 degrees (F).

This would be the case at the present moment. Pizza, for which I have had an unnatural craving for the past three weeks, is causing my smoke alarm to sound, thus making me a little less happy with it. That really isn't saying much, though, since this pizza is delicious. The crust is good: bready, chewy, and a little sour. It might even rival Mark Bittman's, which has been my standby for the past few years. You don't even need to roll it out--just a little poking and prodding does the trick. Topped with sautéed vegetables and a little crumbled sausage, it's a mighty fine thing. Mighty fine, indeed.

Basic Pizza Dough, from Jim Lahey's my bread

Jim Lahey is best known around these parts for his magnificent, easy-peasy no-knead bread. You remember when that recipe came out. It seemed as though the entire foodie community was suddenly in the kitchen, stirring a few magic ingredients together to make the easiest rustic loaf in the world. (Recipe here). This pizza dough takes after the bread--totally easy, and totally worth it.

Yield: two baking pan-sized pizza crusts

3 3/4 cups (500 grams) bread flour
2 1/2 teaspoons (10 grams) instant or active dry yeast
3/4 teaspoon (5 grams) salt
3/4 teaspoon plus a pinch (approx 3 grams) sugar
1 1/3 cups (300 grams) room temperature water (body temperature or cool to the touch)
olive oil, for the pans

1. In a medium bowl, stir together the flour, yeast, salt, and sugar. Add the water and, using a wooden spoon or your hand, mix until blended, at least 30 seconds. (I found this took a little longer--more like a minute or two.) Cover the bowl and let sit at room temperature until the dough has more than doubled in volume, about 2 hours.

2. Oil two 13 x 18-inch rimmed baking sheets. Use a bowl scraper or a rubber spatula to scrape half of the dough onto an oiled pan in one piece. Gently pull and stretch the dough across the surface of the pan, and use your hands to press it evenly out to the edges. If the dough sticks to your fingers, lightly dust it with flour or coat your hands with oil. Pinch any holes together. Repeat with the second piece. Use as you like.

*One note: this dough takes a few minutes longer to cook all the way through than does regular pizza dough. Bake accordingly.

Eating my words

2009-10-28T18:10:00.003-04:00

So. The other night. I did make that soup after all. And you know what? It was good. Really really good, actually--full of satiny onions and carrots, dimply pasta, and loaded with beans. I may have gone overboard with the beans. By double the amount. They were so nice, though--thick and starchy and satisfyingly creamy. If you ever get a chance to try some beans from Rancho Gordo--do it. (Even though they are absurdly expensive. I tell you, they are worth it.)

Really, though, I needn't have worried. It was a perfect soup for the chilly days that have engulfed us here in New York. It was so good, even, that I didn't... take any pictures. I ate it all first. Sorry about that. I will, though, someday. Hopefully someday soon. In the meantime, make a batch for yourself. You'll see.

White Bean and Pasta Soup, adapted from Bon Appétit

1/4 cup olive oil
2 cups chopped onions
2/3 cup chopped carrot
2/3 chopped celery (I peeled it--a fussy step, for sure, but there was no stringyness)
3 1/2 to 4 cups water
1 Parmesan rind (I save mine whenever I run out of a chunk, wrapped, in the freezer)
4 cups cooked white beans, with 3/4 cups reserved cooking liquid
1 large tomato, seeded and finely chopped
1 cup small pasta (I used dittalini)

1. Heat the olive oil in a heavy arge pot over medium heat. Add onions, carrot, and celery. Sauté until all vegetables are soft, about 12 minutes. Add 3 1/2 cups water, beans and cooking liquid, tomato, and Parmesan rind; bring to a simmer. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer 25 minutes to blend flavors, stirring occasionally.

2. Mix in pasta and bring to a boil. Cook until pasta is just tender but still firm to bite, adding more water to the soup if the the mixture is very thick. Season with salt and pepper.

Problem

2009-10-26T17:37:00.004-04:00

There are a few things in life that are more frustrating than having a plan and then not wanting to execute when the moment arrives. Take that outfit the other night--you know the one. The one over which you had hemmed and hawed, set out the night before, picked out the shoes, the necklace. And then, ten minutes before your date? OH MAN WHAT A TERRIBLE OUTFIT. Who would want to wear that? What were you thinking??? And then you have nothing to wear. Nothing looks good. All clothes are suddenly offensive. But you can't go back to the carefully planned outfit, no sirreee Bob you absolutely cannot.

Now what?

This is how I feel about dinner, maybe two days out of five. It happens all the time. Example: tonight, I am supposed to make a bean soup. Yesterday, I went to the store--I have everything I need, I have enough time, and I'm 82% certain that it will be good. I am also 82% certain that bean soup, no matter how tasty or nice, is definitely not what I want to eat.

Let's make a list of things I would rather eat:

Chinese stir fry (beef/broccoli/onions/red peppers)
Boeuf bourguinon
Ramen noodle soup
Italian Sausage Sauce with pasta

We might need a serious change of plan.

More often

2009-10-18T15:07:00.006-04:00

It would appear as if I will not, in fact, be reporting for rice month.

Whoops.

Where did the time go? No, seriously--I feel like the beginning of September was last week or something. But then I think about all the stuff I've been up to--going to class and attempting to be student number one, going back to work, going to Denver for an AWESOME wedding, hosting Jeff's parents--it's been a little chargé, as they say.

So today I took the day off. Off from hosting, off from cleaning, off from working on school stuff. I'm listening to music Jeff doesn't like and baking things NOT in my curriculum. (Ok, tha'ts not exactly true--I'm working on a batch of pains au chocolat, but can you really count that as WORK?? I didn't think so.)

I really should do this more often.

Honeyed Goat Cheese Tart with Pistachio Crust, adapted from Food and Wine

1/2 cup unsalted shelled pistachios
1 stick unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cups AP flour
11 ounces soft goat cheese
2 cups full-fat Greek-style yogurt
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
2 teaspoons finely grated lime zest
1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
1/3 cup honey

1. In a food processor, pulse the pistachios and 2 tablespoons of the sugar until finely ground. In the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle atachment, beat the butter with the granulated sugar at medium speed until pale and fluffy, about 1-2 minutes. Add the pistachio/sugar mixture, almond extract and salt and beat until combined. Add the flour and beat at low speed until incorporated and the dough is crumbly.

2. Scrape the dough into a 9-inch fluted tart pan with a removeable bottom. Press the dough until it is evenly spread out along the bottom and up the sides of the pan. The heel of your hand works well, as does a glass. Refrigerate until well-chilled, about 30 minutes.

3. Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F. Prick the dough all over with a fork. Bake the crust for abotu 45 minutes, until lightly golden. Transfer to a rack and let cook completely.

4. In the bowl of a mixer, beat the goat cheese, yogurt, lime juice and lime zest until combined. Add the confectioner's sugar and beat until smooth. Scrape the filling into the crust and refrigerate for 2 hours.

5. Just before serving, in a small sauce pan, cook the honey over moderatly high heat until it reaches 236 degrees F on a thermometer, about 2 minutes. Remove the honey and stir until slightly cooled, about 2 minutes more. Drizzle the honey over the tart and let stand until the honey firms up, about 5 minutes. Cut and serve.

Rice, rice, baby!

2009-09-10T15:26:00.004-04:00

Hey! Did you know that September is National Rice Month? (OK, I didn't know either, but Gourmet.com filled me in, and now we know.) Do you know what this means? This means that I can have all the rice I want, and I don't have to feel bad about it!

I'm not one to feel bad about overindulging on rice, anyway. Just ask Jeff about how I'll stand over the pot of rice after dinner and eat more. Straight out of the pot.

Anyway. Since I found out this juicy tidbit of information, I think what I'm going to do is eat a lot of rice this month. Then I will tell you about it. Hah!

Please note that I am acutely aware of the banality of rice. But you know what? I love it. Love love love it.

What's your favorite way to eat rice? Tell me! So I can join in.

Iron Chef

2009-09-04T13:35:00.003-04:00

Here is a picture of the results of my first exam! There was a written component, and then a 3 hour practical. Everyone had to make three different things: a large tart, mini tarts, and then some cookies. We all had to work separately, and we didn't know what we were going to get before we started.

So this is what I made (from left to right): Tarte aux noix caramel (French nut caramel tart), Vanille-Kipferl cookies, and Quiche Lorraine.

It went well.

Jam, revisited

2009-08-27T15:01:00.004-04:00

Could someone please inform me when summer stuck it's foot out the door? Please? Because today is chilly and rainy, and I have less than a week to go until I have to turn up to teach again, and I have a test, that's right--you heard me--a test at school (also) in under a week. Let's not get too carried away: I am in no way mourning the hot humidity, but another week of not doing a whole lot would be nice. Hello? Summer gods? Is there anyone around to listen? Anyone?

Luckily, I received a lagniappe of fresh plums from my CSA this week--since so many people are on vacation, attempting to soak up that last bit of August, there was more fruit left over than you could shake a stick at. So much that each volunteer was able to take home as much fruit as they could carry, which made the guy with the pregnant wife very, very happy. Apparently, she's been craving fruit. Not a terrible craving to have, if you ask me.

So I made jam out of my plums--pretty much a redux of last year's experiment. It's so lovely and beautiful, and a gorgeous shade of pink. This year, I added some ginger, though it didn't come through all that well. But that's OK. Now there's at least a little summer left for the rest of the year to come--a bright reminder of the fleeting pleasures of the market, and of summer at it's peak.

Ginger, Vanilla, and Plum Jam

2-2 1/4 pounds plums
1/3 cup + 1/4 cup tablespoons vanilla sugar, to taste
1/2 vanilla bean
1 two-inch thumb of ginger, peeled and cut into three pieces

1. Cut your fruit into bite-sized pieces and put in a large, heavy-bottomed pot. Add the sugar and the vanilla bean, and cover with a parchment lid, placed right onto the fruit. Let sit 30-45 minutes, to macerate the fruit--some of the liquid will start to leech out and sit at the bottom of the pot.

2. Remove the vanilla bean, and scrape out the seeds from the pod--add them into the plum mixture. Discard pod. Put the pot over high heat, and bring to a boil. Lower the temperature and let lazily simmer until the jam reaches the consistency that you want. (Mine took about 30 minutes.)

3. Pour into jam jars, leaving some space at the top. If you're not going to sterilize your jars, keep the jam in the refrigerator.

Wait it out

2009-08-24T09:45:00.005-04:00

In my life, coffee is non-negotiable. I realize that I am not alone in this, and that the majority of the American population is with me. There is little more pleasurable than waking up to a warm cup in the hand, reading the paper, and suddenly knowing that today is going to be OK. That's what coffee does for me, at least. (Let's not talk about the bad days, though. They are a completely different story. We don't need to elaborate on that today. Or ever.)

On the contrary, breakfast is completely negotiable. I'm not the biggest breakfast fan, unless breakfast comprises some sort of crispy potato, eggs, or cinnamon rolls. Honestly, I could not eat breakfast foods and be happy. Maybe it's the Chinese in me--I'd *almost* always prefer leftovers from last night. But... it all depends, of course.

Yesterday was a non-breakfast day. Jeff had his, but I preferred to wait it out until lunch. (We got up late, so it wasn't that much of a stretch, really.) Lunch! Delicious pasta salad with tomatoes and a lovely, light dressing. It seems so criminal to waste any time not eating tomatoes at present, especially when they're in season, and your CSA delivered, despite the blight. Thanks CSA!

Really, though. Eat this up. You'll be glad you did.

Tomato and Herb Pasta Salad, adapted from Gourmet

2 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons crème fraîche
1/2 tablespoon (1 1/2 teaspoons) white wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon sugar (optional)
1 pound mixed tomatoes (preferably heirloom)
1 tablespoon finely diced shallot
1/2 pound curly or curvy pasta
1/2 cup chopped mixed fresh herbs

1. Whisk together oil, crème fraîche, vinegar, sugar, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper in a large bowl.

2. Coarsely chop tomatoes and toss with shallot and dressing. Marinate until ready to use.

3. While tomatoes stand, cook pasta in a pot of well-salted boiling water until al dente. Drain in a colander and immediately add to tomato mixture, tossing to combine. Cool to warm or room-temperature (do not chill), tossing occasionally; add herbs before serving.

Tart fever!

2009-08-21T18:21:00.005-04:00

It would appear as though tart fever has taken over my life. I go to school, bake a bunch of tarts and cookies. I come home and am supposed to practice said tarts and cookies. (For a visual, check out my Flickr page.) But what happens when the decision is made to branch out and make a different tart? One that has nothing to do with class? And everything to do with the delicious tomatoes that showed up in my CSA this past week? I guess there is also the need to practice making crust. Which is slowly killing me.

However, it should be noted that crust, it should be noted, is waaaaaaay easier when you have a brand spanking new KitchenAid mixer at your disposal.

Yes, it has arrived! And yes, it is my most favorite thing in the apartment. Sorry, Jeff.

So if you're in the mood for making crusts, and savory tarts, this one is a good place to start. It's summery and nice, and with a salad, makes a lovely, light dinner.

Granny's Tomato Tart, adapted from the New York Times

1 recipe pâte brisée, chilled; recipe here

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/3 pound Gruyère cheese, coarsely grated
4 medium-sized tomatoes, thinly sliced into rounds
1 teaspoon herbes de Provence
Freshly ground black pepper
salt, to taste

1. Roll the dough into a round of about 9 inches. Transfer to a baking sheet and crimp edges 1/2-inch hight. Refigerate for 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

2. Remove dough round from the refrigerator, and prick all over with a fork. Place parchment paper or foil on top and weigh down with pie weights or dried beans. Bake until lightly browned, 10-15 minutes. Remove paper/foil and weights from dough, and continue to bake until golden brown, about 15 minutes more. Remove from oven and set aside to cool; do not turn off oven.

3. Spread the mustard thinly over bottom of the cooled shell. Scatter evenly with cheese. Arrange tomatoes in even, slightly overlapping rows. Sprinkle with herbes de Provence, and season to taste with pepper. Bake until tomatoes begin to shrivel and cheese melts, 10-12 minutes. Sprinkle with salt, and serve either hot or at room temperaure.

Deb's Best Birthday Cake

2009-08-15T17:33:00.007-04:00

Yesterday was a busy baking day--class: two tarts, cookie dough, crème pâtissière, cold custard, flambéed apples in Calvados (YUM--if you've never done this, I HIGHLY SUGGEST doing so, because it makes plain apples into divinity incarnate). Fin bref, there was more butter and sugar than you could shake a stick at.

Then I came home and made a birthday cake.

Not just any birthday cake. Deb's Best Birthday Cake. As we all know by now, Deb is never wrong. She is especially right about everyone deserving a birthday cake, one that's homemade tastes like someone cares for you.

Are you reading this, Jeff?

(OK. Just kidding. Sort of.)

So I made a cake. I won't bore you with the recipe, since it's faithfully reproduced from the Smitten Kitchen, and let me tell you, this may have to go into my permanent repertoire. It's fluffy and light and, importantly, not dry and gross. I attempted Alice Waters' 1-2-3-4 cake from my most favorite of books, but it wasn't what I was hoping it would be. It has the extra, fussy step of whipping the egg whites as a leavener, and it just wasn't worth it. It just wouldn't do.

(Like I said, Deb is never wrong. Trust her.)

A total and utter wuss

2009-08-10T16:32:00.008-04:00

Normally, I wouldn't complain about the weather. Actually, it's something I make a point not to do--for nine months out of the year, I'm surrounded by people who have nothing better to gripe about. See, living for the first 20-something years of my life in the upper Midwest means that weather doesn't really faze me. Rain, snow, heat, cold, whatever. I have students who don't come to school when it rains. Because they don't go outside when it rains. I have a few concerns about them. Life concerns.

New Yorkers don't really get it about the weather. About how cold it can get. About how much snow actually can accumulate.

I will admit this, however: I'm a total and utter wuss when it comes to heat and humidity. I am not above going shopping for hours in order to stay in an air conditioned place. Yesterday, I seriously considered staying on the subway all day. Not that I needed to go anywhere. Just to sit and read in an air-conditioned spot. All day.

Eating? Forget it. I would live on a steady diet of ice cream and sorbet and fresh limeades if I could. But alas, a girl cannot live on ice cream alone. Even if it's Malted Milk Ice Cream with Fudge Ripple. Which may be one of the earth's most perfect foods. Tell me: what do you eat when it's so hot that you lose your appetite?

Malted Milk Ice Cream with Fudge Ripple, adapted from The Perfect Scoop

for the Malted Milk Ice Cream
1 1/4 cups whole milk
2/3 cup sugar
pinch of salt
1 1/4 cups heavy cream
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
2/3 cup malt powder
3 large egg yolks
1 teaspoon cornstarch + 1 tablespoon milk, mixed to make a slurry

1. Prepare an ice bath in a large bowl; set aside. In a medium pot, warm the milk, sugar, and salt. In a large bowl, whisk together the heavy cream, vanilla, and malt powder and set a mesh strainer on top.

2. In a separate mixing bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and cornstarch/milk mixture. Temper the eggs--slowly pour the warm mixture into the egg yolks, whisking constantly (it helps to have a partner at this stage), then scrape the warmed yolk mixture back into the pot.

3. Stir the mixture constantly over medium heat with a heatproof spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens and coats the spatula. Pour the custard through the strainer and whisk it into the malted milk mixture. Stir until cool over an ice bath.

4. Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

for the Fudge Ripple
1/2 cup sugar
1/3 cup light corn syrup
6 tablespoons Dutch-process cocoa powder
1/2 cup water
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Mix all ingredients except the vanilla in a medium saucepan, and whisk constantly over medium heat, until it starts to bubble at the edges.

2. Allow mixture to simmer for 1 minute, whisking occasionally. Take off the heat, and stir in the vanilla extract. Chill in the refrigerator.

Hello Fava!

2009-08-08T19:36:00.008-04:00

Before last night, I'd never really considered the fava. I know, I know. Fava beans, favorite food of Hannibal Lecter. I'd had them once, in a purée at a fantastic little Italian restaurant in Chicago, but that had been about it. (The purée was good--bright green, sweet and bitter all at once--delicious. It must have been, since that meal was in 2005 and I'm still thinking about it.) But I'd never really given them too much thought otherwise.

Then they started showing up in my CSA. This past Wednesday was the third week in a row that they've poked their stalks through my little bag, and I decided that a cache of three weeks worth of beans would probably be enough to work with. See, you can't treat favas like any other bean. They are sneaky little buggers, hiding under layers of pod and fake bean. Like anything else worth having, favas are more than meets the eye. Even though they fat and heavy, they not only require shelling from the original pod, but then a boiling in their pale green fake bean shells, and then you can slip the fake beany shells off, revealing the tender bean beneath.

Oof. That's a lot of work for a bean, don't you think?

But the end result is beautiful: bright, shiny little pods that are grassy and earthy and slightly bitter. They are better than the best Lima bean in the world. (I don't really like Lima beans, so I guess that's not saying much, but really, they are quite nice.) I put them in at the end of a plain risotto, and they were just lovely. Along with a fresh green bean salad, it made for a light supper that was worth the work.

Fava Bean Risotto

1 1/2 to 2 pounds fava beans, peeled, boiled and shelled again, set aside

1 tablespoon butter
1 1/2 cups risotto rice
1 small onion, finely chopped
4-5 cups stock, either chicken or vegetable, warmed
1/2 cup dry white wine
parmesan cheese, grated

1. In a medium pot, melt the butter over medium heat. When it's melted, add the onion and sauté until translucent, not allowing the onions to brown. When they are soft, add the rice, and stir constantly until glistening. Pour in the wine, and let simmer until it's just about gone, stirring constantly.

2. When the pot is almost dry, add 1/2 cup of the stock, and stir in. Let simmer, stirring from time to time, until the pot is almost dry. Repeat this process until the rice is plump and tender, and when you try it, it's just about cooked through, but still has a bite to it. This will take about 4-5 cups of stock or water, and about 15-20 minutes once you start adding the stock.

3. About 15 minutes after you started adding the stock, fold in the prepared fava beans. Add a tablespoon of butter and a handful of grated parmesan cheese, and beat in, to release the starch in the rice. Let sit 2 minutes before serving.

Make as directed

2009-08-04T09:23:00.002-04:00

See that beautiful machine right there? This is my new toy. I love it! I am *sightly* obsessed. You would be, too, if you loved ice cream as much as I do, and now had the opportunity to make it all the time. Let me explain. My dad and I, for some reason that neither of us can properly explain, love ice cream. My mom says that when they were first married, Dad would have some every night, for dessert. Not knowing this, I bought a lot and had it not infrequently, when Jeff and I first moved in. Father and daughter apparently had the same, nasty consequences: cavities. And you know what? Cavities are painful and expensive. So after quite a bit of mouthwork, we cut back.

However, let's remember that ice cream is the perfect summer food. (Let's ignore the butterfat content, shall we? Then we can go on believing that it's the perfect summer food.) I find that I'm often too hot to eat anything much, but ice cream and sorbet always seem to do the trick. So two weeks ago, the day before we had to load up all of our stuff into a truck and haul it to the new place, I took a Craigslist-inspired jaunt up to the Bronx. I mean, who doesn't take a two hour break from packing only to add more last-minute stuff to the already groaning pile of their belongings at the instant before they move?

It was the first thing I unpacked, and definitely the first appliance that I used (besides the stove) in the new house. Here is what I discovered: ice cream makes the unpacking process bearable. And thanks (?) to David Lebovitz, making ice cream is a snap. You should seriously consider an ice cream maker. (It would also make a lot of those food magazine articles more bearable--my pet peeve is when they require some equipment that you don't have and are like, make as directed for your machine! Spare me.)

Chocolate Star-Anise Ice Cream, slightly adapted from Not Eating Out in New York*

1 1/4 cups whole milk
1 1/4 cups heavy cream
8-10 pieces star anise
5 tablespoons dutch-process cocoa powder
3 egg yolks
1 teaspoon cornstarch + 1 tablespoon milk, mixed to a slurry
3/4 cup sugar
a pinch of salt

1. Combine the milk, cream, star anise, and cocoa powder in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, stirring, then reduce heat to very low and continue heating for 20 minutes, without boiling. Turn off heat and let stand, covered, another 10 minutes. Remove the star anise pieces from the milk.

2. Beat the egg yolks, sugar, and cornstarch slurry in a medium bowl until light and fluffy. Temper the mixture by adding tablespoonfuls of the hot milk mixture and whisking at the same time--do this nice and slowly as to not make scrambled eggs. Repeat until about half a cup of liquid has been added. Transfer egg mixture to the milk mixture in the saucepan and stir constantly, cooking over medium heat, until the mixture is thick enough to coat the back of the spoon. You will know that it's done when you dip a spoon in, coating the back, and can draw a finger down the middle, but the mixture doesn't run or try to go anywhere else. Do not let boil. Chill in an airtight container overnight; churn in the morning.

*It would appear as though this website's domain has "expired", and that the recipe has "disappeared." Thank god for chached websites.

Like a construction zone

2009-08-02T09:44:00.006-04:00

Annnnnnd.... we're back!

Hello everyone, and greetings from the depths of *almost* unpacked boxes and *almost* completed new furniture. It sure does look a lot nicer out there where you are, unless, of course, you happen to live in New York, where it's been raining every other day for weeks on end.

The new apartment is working out just fine, all things considered. It's spent a week looking like a construction zone, and therefore I have felt as though I've been living in one, too. It's been so hectic, even, that I've avoided grocery shopping, because there is no place to put food that isn't a) in the refrigerator, or b) on the floor, in a bunch of grocery bags that are holding all of the groceries from the old place.

Last night, though, was a breakthrough. We put together a new bookshelf, so that my cookbooks no longer feel neglected on the kitchen cart, and have begun to put together a kitchen island, which has loads of shelf space. I was so thrilled that I reached into the refrigerator to make a little more usable space and got out my rain-induced green tomatoes and fried them up.

It's funny sometimes, right? I mean, fried green tomatoes are a part of the American Cultural Identity (also, it was movie way back when), but how many of us, if we didn't grow up in the South, have eaten them? I certainly hadn't, and neither had Jeff. As a confirmed Yankee, I can wholeheartedly recommend them. I cut down the amount of egg, and swapped in panko for the cornmeal called for--also, Aleppo pepper, besides being my favorite, was the only one I had in the house, though cayenne or something else spicy would have worked here, too. They are tangy and sweet and crispy and good. If you are faced with green tomatoes, this is a pretty good way to eat them.

Fried Green Tomatoes, adapted from Epicurious

4 medium green tomatoes
salt and pepper
3/4 cup panko bread crumbs
1 heaping teaspoon Aleppo pepper
1 large egg, beaten and set aside
vegetable oil

1. Slice the tomatoes into 1/4-1/2 inch rounds, and salt and pepper them. Set aside.

2. In a shallow bowl, combine the panko and the Aleppo pepper, set aside.

3. In a large skillet, heat enough oil to liberally coat the bottom of the pan, and heat on medium-high. When the oil is hot, dip the tomato slices in the egg, and then dredge them through the panko mix. Try not to have either coating be too heavy (though you do want the panko to completely coat the tomatoes), or it will be less fun to eat. Fry them until nicely browned on both sides, about 2 minutes per side. Once they're done drain on paper towels, sprinkle with salt, and eat!

Sour Cherry Pie, and commotion

2009-07-20T13:15:00.006-04:00

Let me tell you something. This is the third post that I've written in a week. You don't believe me? It's probably better that way, since they were terrible. Terrible! Let's pretend that I didn't write them at all. That would make me feel better.

The thing is, I've been a little distracted. The weather has finally been nice, so I've been attempting to be outside for most of the time, and Jeff and I are moving in less than seven days to a new apartment with a kitchen that is even tinier than the one I have now. "How can that be?" those of you who have been at the current apartment are thinking. Ummmmm, I'm not sure. It just is. And I have been moping about it.

I suppose that I should be doing my darndest to take advantage of the kitchen that I have now, but really? It's been hot.

Whine, whine, whine.

Thankfully, we caved and put in the air conditioner, and that makes me feel better. YAY AIR CONDITIONER!! Now I can bake you a pie. Please excuse me while I do this.

While I'm off baking air-conditioner allowed pie, I should probably let you know that I'll be taking (another) brief hiatus, just so I can get things packed up and shipped out to the new place. I still have a few things to tell you about (maybe I'll re-write those posts that never made it), so hopefully I can get my act together. If not, I'll just throw myself a pity party and eat the rest of this pie.

Classic Sour Cherry Pie with Lattice Crust, adapted from Bon Appéit

for the crust: make two recipes worth of pie crust, found here, chilled in rounds

filling
1 cup sugar
3 tablespoons corn starch
1/4 teaspoon salt
5 cups whole pitted sour cherries, or dark sweet cherries (about 2 pounds)
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice (if using sour cherries), or 3 tablespoons (if using sweet cherries)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 tablespoons raw sugar

1. Position rack in lower third of oven and preheat to 425 degrees F. Whisk sugar, cornstarch, and salt in a medium bowl to blend. Stir in cherries, lemon juice, and vanilla; set aside.

2. Roll out 1 dough round on floured surface to 12-inch round. Transfer to a 9-inch glass pie dish. Trim dough overhang to 1/2-inch. Roll out second round on floured surface to another 12-inch round. Using large knife or pastry wheel, cut ten 3/4-inch wide strips from dough round. Transfer filling to pie dish, mounding slightly in center. Arrange dough strips on top, forming a lattice**; trim dough strip overhang to 1/2 inch. Fold bottom crust up over ends of strips and crimp edges to seal. Brush lattice crust with milk (but not the edges). Sprinkle top of pie with raw sugar.

3. Place pie on rimmed baking sheet and bake 15 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 375 degrees F. Bake pie until filling is bubbling and crust is golden brown, covering edges with foil collar if browning too quickly, about 1 hour longer. Transfer pie to rack to cool completely.

**NB: A lattice crust is a painful thing to make. Next time, I'm going with a fully-covered pie.

New York, New York

2009-07-11T20:16:00.003-04:00

Where to even begin? This weekend has been the first that we've spent in New York in nearly a month, and it was a good one for reimmersion into city life. This whole week, actually, has been nice. Aside from making a delicious Boy Bait for a friend's backyard shindig, we also went to Katz's Delicatessen with our occasional dinner group, and today went to the Greenmarket at Union Square and bummed around Soho.

But back to Katz's. Perfect pastrami on rye, cheesy When Harry met Sally atmosphere, and great half-sour pickles, so green that they looked as though they were straight from the vine. Pickled. Check out the background, because it looks exactly the same now as it did in 1989:

After dinner, cinnamon babka from Russ and Daughters, a gem of a smoked fish and other Jewish foods outlet, only a block away from Katz's. I also picked up some smoked salmon. The picture above is from their website. I didn't take it myself.

What I did do myself, however, was make a version of our friend Mo's salmon carbonara. And maaaaaaan... it was good. It was simple and creamy and lemony and everything you would want out of such a dish. Moreover, it took about ten minutes to make, a perfect note to end on after a day of tromping around. I suggest you make it after such a day, too. It's delicious.

Salmon Carbonara, adapted from Mo Gunning

1/2 small onion, finely diced
1 tablespoon butter
1 cup cream or thereabouts
zest of 1/2 lemon
3 sprigs fresh dill, leaves only
1/2 pound angel hair pasta
1/4 pound smoked salmon, cut into small pieces, or flaked

1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil, and season well with salt. Add pasta, and cook.

2. Meanwhile, heat butter in a large skillet, and add onion. Sauté until translucent. Add cream, lemon zest, and dill. Simmer slowly until pasta is done.

3. Drain pasta and add to cream mixture. Turn heat to medium and simmer for a minute or two, or until the cream sauce starts to thicken and absorb into the pasta. Add salmon and toss. Serve immediately. Add salt to taste.

Seriously, here

2009-07-08T13:55:00.005-04:00

One of the major things I miss about living anywhere else but here (and Paris) is the absence of a personal grill. Man, do I love grilled food. But who's kidding whom? We all love grilled food. So last night, when we were invited to an impromptu backyard/patio barbecue, we dropped everything else and hightailed it over there. And it was such a pleasant evening--sitting around with wine and beer, the tantalizing aroma of fat sizzling on hot coals, looking up at a quickly overcasting sky, it was great. I offered to bring dessert. Quelle surprise!

Even though Deb at the Smitten Kitchen only posted this recipe yesterday, I couldn't resist making it immediately. (By the way, how much do you love the Smitten Kitchen? I mean, seriously, here.) I had blueberries lying around from my less-than-stellar foray to the grocery store, and leftover buttermilk from my cherry cake from a few weeks ago, so there was nothing standing in my way! (I love knowing that I have all the ingredients for something. Running to the store can be the pits.)

And our cake? Light, luscious, slightly caramelized from the sugar topping--this may be my new favorite dessert. We all had seconds. More than a few of us surreptitiously went back for (small!) thirds. As one of our friends described it, it tasted fresh--not heavy, not cloying, just fresh. With or without all the baited boys that hang around the door.

Blueberry Boy Bait, adapted from the Smitten Kitchen

2 cups all purpose flour, + 1 tablespoon, set aside
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 sticks/ 16 tablespoons butter, softened
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar (use vanilla sugar if you've got it)
3 large eggs
1 cup buttermilk
2 teaspoons lemon zest
1/2 cup blueberries (if frozen do not defrost first

1/2 cup blueberries
1/2 cup sugar (vanilla, again, if you've got it)
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a 13 x 9-inch baking pan with parchment paper.

2. Whisk two cups flour, baking powder, and salt together in a medium bowl, and set aside. In a large bowl, beat sugars and butter until light and fluffy; add eggs, one at at time, stirring until just incorporated. Beat in one third of the flour mixture in, and stir until just added; add half of the milk, and stir in. Repeat, ending with the flour mixture. Toss blueberries with remaining tablespoon of flour, and fold in to the batter with a spatula. Spread batter into prepared pan.

3. Scatter remaining blueberries over the top of the batter. In a small bowl, mix sugar and cinnamon, and sprinkle over the top of the cake. Bake until a toothpick comes out clean, 45-50 minutes. Let rest in pan 20 minutes, then turn out and let cool completely.

Reset

2009-07-06T17:26:00.004-04:00

Now that I've come back from the West, it would appear that my reset button has been pushed. Yesterday, wandering around the little grocery by my apartment, nothing looked good except yogurt, blueberries, and croutons. (I purchased all three.) And today... well, let's just say that I'm making my *new* standby of fried potatoes and sunny side up eggs, since I actually have a few potatoes, and a few eggs. I don't really want to go to the store. And thanks to Project June, my pantry is pretty much wiped out. I mean, looking at the canned goods, I have... 2 cans of pumpkin/sweet potato purée, one can of sliced bamboo shoots, and waaaaay more grains and pasta than I'll be able to eat in a few weeks. Also, way too much tea. Let's not even talk about the fridge. I mean, it's OK to eat eggs that have been sitting there for just over a week, right? That's what I thought, too.

I'm not even getting that little tingly glow from looking at my piles of recipes. I'm telling you, this is very dire. Luckily, Wednesday will bring fresh vegetables and new eggs, and maybe then I can start thinking about feeding myself again. Wish me luck.

SumSumSummertime

2009-07-04T15:00:00.007-04:00

There is nothing so lovely as a roasted tomato. I love them straight-up roasted, with nothing but some baguette to soak up the juices, or with a little aged goat cheese on the side, or over pasta or polenta or with nothing else, save perhaps a fat basil leaf or two.

For me, roasted tomatoes are the essence of summer (that and anything grilled, but I don't have a grill *SOB*). They are especially good if you start with good tomatoes, preferably from the back yard, or the farmer's market or your CSA, if you're unfortunate enough not to have a good place to grow tomatoes. See, to me, a good tomato tastes like sun and warmth and is meaty and delicious. And the best part is, roasted tomatoes can be as ugly as they come--since they're going to melt in the oven anyway, there's just no reason for them to be perfect specimens. All tomatoes can get some love.

So it was only fitting that Jeff and I ended our summer vacation with them--after having spent almost 10 lovely days in Denver, we gave Jeff's mom a night off from cooking, and we made Jeff's very favorite summer pasta. Summer pasta has roasted tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and plenty of herbs to brighten it up. It is warm and creamy and tastes pretty much like you would hope summer would.

Summer Pasta, adapted from The New York Times

2 1/2 pounds ripe tomatoes, sliced about 3/4-inch thick
1 teaspoon sea salt
2 teaspoons sugar
2 tablespoons olive oil

1 pound chunky pasta, such as farfalle or orichiette
6 cloves garlic, finely minced
2 tablespoons melted butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
2-3 cups fresh, ripe cherry tomatoes
1 tub (about 12 ounces) fresh mozzarella, either the small balls or large
1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan
1 cup torn mixed herbs, such as assorted basils, parsely, and mint

1. roast the tomatoes Heat oven to 275 degrees F. Line two large baking sheets with parchement paper or aluminum foil, and place tomato slices evenly on them. Sprinkle the tomatoes evenly with salt and sugar; pour on olive oil. You may need a little more; also, make sure that each tomato gets at least a smattering of oil--I usually rub it in with my fingers. Bake tomatoes for 15 minutes, and reduce heat to 200. Continue baking, turning halfway through, until tomatoes are shrunken and chewy, but not crisp, 4-6 hours.

2. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add pasta, and cook until al dente. Meanwhile, chop roasted tomatoes very finely, until they are almost a paste. Place in a large serving bowl, and add the garlic, butter, and olive oil. When the pasta is done cooking, drain and add it to the tomato mixture. Toss well.

3. Slice the cherry tomatoes in half, and cut the mozzarella until it's about the same size as the tomatoes. Add these, as well as the parmasan and herbs, to the pasta mixture. Toss again, and serve warm.

Busy days

2009-06-25T10:23:00.007-04:00

For no particular reason, today was a lot more tiring than it should have been. I won't bore you with the details. Luckily, I had a friend drop by to borrow a book, and we chatted with a glass of wine. Just what the doctor ordered--things just look so much brighter after a good chat. And good wine.

But being busy also meant that I wasn't in the mood for making dinner. Luckily, making pesto is a snap--just throw some stuff into a food processor, boil some pasta, and voilà! Dinner. An intensely green, fresh and grassy and herbal dinner. (Sorry about the lack of visual here, but Jeff's camera is packed away for our upcoming trip and I'm not sure where he put it--hopefully I will remember to post them sometime soon.) Pesto freezes very nicely, too, so make a big batch and put it in the freezer, ready for the days when you just can't deal with cooking.

Garlic scapes are a great addition to pesto--they are curly and springy and nearly as pungent as garlic. I got mine through my CSA, and I wasn't sure what to do with them, but this worked out perfectly. If you don't have scapes, punch up the basil and add 2-3 cloves of peeled garlic. Works like a charm.

Garlic Scape and Basil Pesto

1 cup fresh basil leaves, packed
5-7 or so garlic scapes, green parts sliced into 1/4-inch pieces
1/2 cup olive oil
salt to taste
lots of Parmesan cheese for sprinkling

1. Wash your basil leaves, and put into a food processor. Add the scapes. Chop finely, until the basil and scapes make a heady green paste. (Note: this paste will be kind of chunky. Chop as finely as you like.)

2. With the food processor running, drizzle in the olive oil, 1/4 cup at a time, adding salt in between drizzles.

3. Serve over pasta, but be sure to save some of the pasta water to loosen the pesto. Otherwise it gets really clumpy and sad. Shower with Parmesan. Eat.

More CSA madness

2009-06-24T17:42:00.007-04:00

I have to say that the CSA experience this year is dramatically improved from last year. Last year, we had a fruit share that came in every other week. The fruit was okay, not great, and Jeff and I were constantly forgetting to go pick it up. Also, the produce was just kind of sad, wilting listlessly in its bins. I struggled for a while with the fact that I wasn't a fan. That I didn't want to do that again this year.

But I didn't want to give up on CSA in general. It's something I believe in, something important. I believe that supporting small farms is better for the environment, makes for better community, and really? The food tastes better too. (Joe would contend that I sound like Michael Pollan. So what? I think, no, I know, he's right. Go read the book(s), lazy.) It is difficult, though, to send in a fair amount of money up front, only to not know what kind of produce you'll be faced with when the growing season comes around.

So far, I'm glad I haven't given up. Our produce is beautiful, and I just bought a share of eggs, too... because really? I. Love. Eggs. On the other hand, I've been wracking my brain for ways to use chard, without going back to the world's best quiche. Tonight: quick stir-fried greens. I made these last week, before heading out to Minnesota, and they were fantastic. Not entirely original, perhaps, but waaaaaaay better than I had been expecting. Pair it with some stir fry and some steamed rice, and you're good to go. If you don't have chard, any green will do, really (like the bok choy featured along with the chard in the photo).

Soy Sautéed Greens

1 bunch fresh large-leaf greens (chard, spinach, ect.)
1-2 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes, to taste.
1 tablespoon peanut oil, or another neutral oil
1-2 teaspoon soy sauce
salt, to taste

1. Wash greens well, and remove the tough stems. If you're using large leaves, stack them, roll like a cigar, and slice, about 1/2-inch thick or so. This is only helpful, though, if you don't want to gnaw your way through large leaves. Just a thought.

2. In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium-high. When it's hot, add the garlic and pepper, and sauté about 30 seconds or so, until fragrant. Add greens, and sauté until wilted. Add soy sauce, and stir to coat, taste, and add salt. When the greens are cooked though, take off the heat and serve. This really doesn't take long, so keep a sharp eye on them. Three minutes max, if you're working with a hot stove.

CSA madness

2009-06-23T18:00:00.007-04:00

I have to admit that I am having a teeny bit of a hard time keeping up with the produce that my CSA has been throwing my way (even though we only have half a share). What is mostly to blame is the fact that Jeff and I have been traveling fiends for the past month: first we went camping in the Catskills, last weekend we went to Reunion ('04Ever!), and Friday we're off again, this time for an extended 10 days. This time, we're headed to Colorado, to see both sets of parents, friends, and some mountains. In the meantime, I've been trying to clear out my fridge, with limited success. Today, though, I did finish up my chard from last week. Thank goodness. Tomorrow looks like more chard... it may be a stir-fry night.

In any case, if you need something to do with chard (besides lap it up with fried eggs, of course), I highly suggest these darling little rolls. Though I have to say that next time, I would increase the number of rolls to about 15 or so, maybe even a few more. I also only had about half of the chard recommended, which was fine, I think. I might also make a quick tomato sauce to replace the béchamel. Actually, this is one of the great things about Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone: her recipes are solid, but often need a little tweaking (mostly for salt). And with her, it's fairly easy to figure out what to do, because her recipes are familiar enough, but also not.

Cannelloni with Chard Filling, adapted from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone

12 sheets no-boil lasagna noodles (Barilla is a good bet)
béchamel sauce, made with 1 1/2 cups milk, 3 tablespoons butter, 3 1/2 tablespoons flour; also salt and pepper to taste
2 large bunches chard, stems removed
1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1 white onion, finely diced
1/4 cup finely chopped parsley
1 cup fresh ricotta cheese
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
salt, pepper, and grated nutmeg, to taste

1. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil, and blanch the chard for 5 minutes. Remove chard, and pour water over noodles, to soak them, 5 minutes. Set aside while you rinse the chard under cold water; squeeze dry, finely chop, and put into a large bowl. When the noodles are "done", place them on clean kitchen towels to rest; discard water.

2. Heat the oil in a small skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and parsely and cook until the onion is translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the onion to the chard and mix with the ricotta, half of the Parmesan, lemon zest, and 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg. Season with salt and pepper to taste, set aside.

3. Meanwhile, make your béchamel: heat the butter and flour over medium-low heat, whisking constantly for about 2 minutes, or until the mixture starts to turn lightly brown. Gradually add the milk, still whisking constantly, until it is nice and thick. Not milkshake thick, but definitely getting there. Remove from heat.

4. Butter a shallow baking pan and preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Shape and fill the cannelloni: place about 2-3 tablespoons filling onto one edge of the pasta, and roll fairly firmly, as though you were making a fat cigar. Place into pan seam side up, nestled next to each other. Pour béchamel over rolls, and bake until lightly browned and bubbling, about 30 minutes.

Beautiful cake

2009-06-17T21:49:00.005-04:00

Doesn't this cake look beautiful? It's such a lovely one to make, and so easy. Mix some stuff, but not too strenuously. Scatter fruit. Sprinkle sugar. Bake. It tastes beautiful, too--all red-fruity and light and moist. This might turn into my go-to summer dessert this year. Raspberries are the original recommended fruit, but I had some leftover cherries from last weekend's camping trip (you can see the photos on my flickr page), and they worked out wonderfully.

I made it for my book club last night, and it went over pretty darn well--especially considering that the members of said book club are generally restrained when it comes to eating sweets. It went over so well, in fact, that I'm considering making another one to bring to the MN for Jeff the girls at Reunion tomorrow.

**A few notes on the cake**
1. I would cut the sugar just a little. Maybe 1/2 cup instead of 2/3.
2. Ideally, this should be served warm, so the sugar crust stays nice and crisp. It's not bad, don't get me wrong, when it's been resting all day, but a little heat would do it nicely.
3. I'm going to add a little lemon zest next time, too.

Cherry Buttermilk Cake, adapted from Gourmet

1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup + 1 1/2 tablespoons sugar, divided
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 large egg
1/2 cup well-shaken buttermilk
1 cup fresh cherries, pitted and halved

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F, with rack in middle. Butter and flour a 9-inch round cake pan.

2. Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.

3. Beat butter and 2/3 cup sugar with an electric mixer at medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about 2 minutes. (I did this all by hand, and it came out just fine.) Beat in vanilla. Add egg and beat well.

4. At low speed, mix in flour mixture in 3 batches, alternating with buttermilk, beginning and ending with flour, and mixing until just combined.

5. Spoon batter into cake pan, smoothing top. Scatter cherries evenly over top and sprinkle with remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons sugar.

6. Bake until cake is golden and a wooden pick comes out clean, 25-30 minutes. (Mine was done right at minute 25, so be sure to start checking around then.) Cool in pan 10 minutes, then turn out onto a rack and cool to warm, 10-15 minutes more. Invert onto a plate.

With a bang

2009-06-16T17:52:00.007-04:00

Summer produce has finally arrived with a bang. Yesterday's quick tour of the Union Square greenmarket proved that--there were so many different things to see and to eat: lovely bouquets of freshly-picked flowers, new strawberries, fat zucchini, green onions, and more salad greens than you could shake a stick at. I tried to restrain myself, as I was only there for a few potatoes and onions, but couldn't resist a quart of beautiful, small strawberries, shining in the sun.

Part of the reason I attempted to demonstrate a little restraint was that the veggies from our CSA started to come in last week. Perfectly sweet turnips, sharp braising greens, oh-so-pink radishes, and enough scallions and new garlic to make my house smell like onion for days. And there are a few more coming in tomorrow, so... I'm doing my best not to overstock the fridge. And so to use up those perfectly lovely greens, I made an old standby: braised greens with polenta and fried eggs.

I know. If you don't like eggs, this is not the recipe for you. If you don't like bitter greens, see the previous comment. (I'm fairly certain that most of you like polenta, so I won't have to say anything about that.) But this is one of my favorite things to eat, especially if I'm cooking for one (I just cut the recipe in half). The sharp bite of the greens, along with the sweetness of the polenta, smeared in runny egg yolk, well... this might be the ultimate comfort food, if you're me.

Polenta with Quick Greens and Olive Oil Fried Eggs

3 cups water
3/4 cup + 2 tablespoons stone-ground polenta (I cannot recommend highly enough seeking out decent polenta. The 5-minute stuff that comes in a box is foul.)
a pinch of salt
1 bunch braising greens, rinsed and chopped into 1-inch pieces
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped.
olive oil
1 generous teaspoon (or 2) red pepper flakes
4 eggs

1. Bring the water to a quick boil, and pour in your polenta and salt. Whisk for about a minute, and turn the heat down to low. Simmer the polenta for about 25 minutes, or as long as you like, stirring frequently. I ususally let mine go for 20-30 minutes, but longer is fine. Add water if it's getting too thick.

2. In a large skillet, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil. When it's hot, add the garlic and pepper flakes, and sauté until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add the greens, stir to coat with the oil, and cover. Let steam and wilt for about 2-3 minutes. Take off the lid, and let cook a few minutes more. Sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste.

3. Meanwhile in a non-stick skillet, fry your eggs to your preferred consistency.

Serve all together, generously sprinkled with parmesean cheese, if you like.

serves 2

Still kicking

2009-06-09T17:38:00.007-04:00

For the most part, I'm glad I've started on the Project June mission. I've been meaning to eat up my pantry for a long time, but you know how it goes. There's so many things that are good to eat, and often so appealing, that are not made of ingredients that you already have. That just seems to be how it rolls, you know? So it seemed like tackling the dried garbanzo beans would be a good way to start.

I tried making garbanzo beans from scratch a few years ago, and it was a complete and utter disaster. I don't even know where I went wrong, but I know I soaked those beans for hours, and then had them simmering for hours more on the stovetop, and they just refused to cook through. After that one, pathetic attempt, I decided that cooked, canned beans were the way to go. I trust them pretty well. I mean, they taste fine. They are a little more expensive than I would like, but hey, that's the breaks. Every time I so much as glanced at a dried bean, I remembered the garbanzo bean debacle. Canned it was.

And then. I keep reading about these beans from Rancho Gordo. They are supposed to be more delicious than delicious. I caved and bought a pound, and they now stare at me reproachfully whenever I open the pantry. In order to assuage my guilt, I decided to take another stab at the garbanzos before heading for the reportedly delicious ones. So I consulted with Mark Bittman, followed his directions and... voilà! Perfect, and really good tasting. I can't believe I waited this long. But you knew where that was heading, didn't you? Obviously.

The garbanzo beans don't really merit a recipe. Instead, I present to you the moronically simple steps I followed. (I'm still kicking myself about this. It's a little ridiculous.)

Rinse and pick over a pound of garbanzo/whatever kind beans. (Mark Bittman says to source your beans from a place with a high turnover, so they don't sit on the shelf for a million years before you cook them, rendering them impossible to cook.) Before you go to work in the morning, pour the beans into a large pot with a tight-fitting lid, and cover with plenty of water (a couple of inches). When you get home, 8-12 hours later, drain the beans and taste for doneness. If they still need time, cover them with about 2 inches of water and set them on the stove. Bring to a simmer. Taste for doneness every 10 minutes or so. Salt. Use in whatever bean dish your heart desires.

Non-winner pie

2009-06-08T16:31:00.005-04:00

Secret project revealed:This weekend I entered a pie contest. Oh, I know, I know. Why the secrecy? Well... I just didn't want to jinx it, ok? I kind of wanted to win, but I didn't. I had a really good pie, too--it was creamy and chocolatey and crispy crunchy on the bottom. Honestly? We think it should have won. This was completely unbiased opinion, by the way. But it probably didn't help my case that I had to carry it to Governor's Island from my house on a fairly warm day, and it really needed to be refrigerated. So it was a drippy pie by the time it got to the contest.

BUT: the Jazz-Age Festival was fun--there was a live band playing music from the 20s, and there were plenty of people walking around in white linnen, flapper dresses, and cloche hats. There was even a dance floor. And it was a completely gorgeous day: sunny, breezy, a lawn for sitting. Governor's Island is less than a mile off of the southern tip of Manhattan, and we met some friends for a picnic. I provided the pie. A non-winning pie.

(I don't mean to sound bitter, really. But you know what? The winner was a brownie pie. I know what you're thinking. "What's wrong with a brownie pie? That sounds good!" Yeah, well, as far as I could tell, it was some brownies baked into a crust. Excuse me, but since when are brownies baked into a crust "pie"??? As far as I can tell, the judges really needed to be judging brownies. Brownie pie seems like cheating. Grumble.)

Cream of Coconut-Chocolate Ganache Pie with Ginger Crust

for the crust
1 thumb-sized piece of fresh ginger, peeled
1/3 cup sugar
1 cup + 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
7 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, diced, plus a pat to grease the pan
1-2 tablespoons cold milk

for the chocolate ganache
10 ounces good-quality bittersweet chocolate, very finely chopped
1 cup heavy cream

for the coconut pudding
4 large egg yolks
3 cups canned unsweetened coconut milk
2/3 cup granulated sugar
5 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon salt

1. make the crust Grease a tart or pie pan with butter and set aside. Grate the ginger using the smallest grater you have; discard the woody fibers and save the pulp and juice. In a medium bowl, combine the sugar, flour, and salt. Add the butter and ginger remains, and rub them into the dry ingredients with the tips of your fingers or with a pastry blender, until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add a tablespoon of the milk and blend it in, handling the dough as lightly as you can. The dough should still be crumbly, but it should clump if you gently squeeze a handful in your hand. If it doesn't, add a little more milk, teaspoon by teaspoon (there are 3 in a tablespoon), and blend again, till working lightly, until it reaches the desired consistency.

2. Pour the mixture into the prepared pan and use the back of a tablespoon to spread it evenly over hte bottom. Using the heels of your hands and your fingers, press down on the dough to form a thin layer, covering the surface of the pan and creating a rim all around. Don't worry if the dough feels kind of dry--this is normal. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes and up to a day.

3. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until golden, keeping an eye on it. Transfer to a rack to cool.

4. make the ganache Put the chocolate medium mixing bowl, preferably stainless steel. Bring the cream to a simmer in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium-low heat. Pour half of the cream on the chocolate, let stand for 20 seconds, and stir gently in the center with a whisk, gradually blending the cream with the chocolate until smooth. Add half of the remaining cream, and stir again until combined. Repeat with remaining cream.

5. Pour the chocolate into the tart shell, and level the surface with a spatula. Put in the refrigerator to set for an hour.

6. for the coconut cream Prepare an ice bath and set aside. In a bowl, lightly whisk egg yolks and set aside. In a saucepan, whisk together coconut milk, granulated sugar, cornstarch, and salt. Bring to a simmer (do not boil), and cook, whisking constantly, 3-4 minutes.

7. Whisk a quarter of the hot milk mixture into the egg yolks, then whisk in the remaining milk mixture. Strain into a clear saucepan, and cook over medium-high heat, whisking constantly, until custard is thick and bubbles appear in the center, 2-3 minutes. Transfer to a medium bowl, and cover with plastic wrap, pressing it directly onto the surface to prevent a skin from forming. Set in the ice bath until completely chilled, 30-35 minutes. Filling can be kept in the refrigerator, covered with plastic wrap, for up to 1 day.

8. When everything is nice and chilly, pour the custard on top of the ganache, and chill once again before eating.

Coconutty

2009-06-04T16:39:00.005-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about dessert lately. About how much I like to make dessert. About what I like to eat. And about what other people like to eat. More specifically, I've been thinking about pie. See, I have a project involving pie, but I don't want to tell you about it--not yet. I will, soon, I promise. All my thinking means that I've been looking through my millions of dessert recipes for inspiration, pie-related and otherwise. So when we were invited to dinner for tonight, with a request to bring dessert, I knew exactly what I wanted to make.

This never happens. I mean, I usually hem and haw and choose something and then something else. I'll put in a call to my mom, and try ideas out on various and sundry ears. This time it was different. See, I had to clean out my massive stack of cooking magazines, and, in a fit of extreme organization, I collated all the recipes I wanted to try out into a nice, neat, less than half-pound notebook. Fresh from that little escapade (collating, whoo!!) I had in mind a coconut mint cake. Reading the recipe, though, I wrinkled my nose at the thought of making a double layer cake. Cupcakes, though... perfect.

And they are delicious. The coconut milk-sweetened condensed milk mix makes the cupcakes really moist and lovely, and the mint whipped cream was a nice addition, too. Next time, though, I think I would make a not-terribly-sweet mint buttercream frosting instead, since the whipped cream doesn't travel well. And despite the strong presence of coconut, they are very mild. I refrigerated them before we ate them, and I think that helped the consistency, too; I suggest you do the same.

Coconut-Mint Cream Cupcakes, adapted from Food and Wine

cupcakes
1 1/3 cups cake flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/3 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup whole milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/2 + 1/4 cup sugar, divided
2 large egg whites
10 tablespoons sweetened condensed milk
10 tablespoons coconut cream (the thick stuff on the top of a can of coconut milk--I needed two cans worth of milk and saved the rest)

mint whipped cream
3 tablespoons chopped fresh mint leaves
2 tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons water
3/4 cup heaving whipping cream, chilled

sweetened flaked coconut, for garnish

1. cakes Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line 12 cupcake tins with liners, and set aside.

2. Sift cake flour, baking powder, and salt into medium bowl. Mix milk and vanilla extract into a small bowl, and set aside.

3. Beat butter and 1/2 cup sugar in large bowl until well blended. Beat in flour mixture alternately with milk mixture in several batches, alternating, and beating just to blend after each addition.

4. With clean, dry beaters, beat egg whites in another large bowl until soft peaks form. Gradually add remaining 1/4 cup sugar and beat until stiff but not dry peaks form. Fold egg whites into batter in 3 additions.

5. Pour batter into muffin tins. Bake until tester comes out clean; check at 15 minutes. (Be very careful with your timing here--cupcakes can go from perfect to terrible in about 2 minutes.)

6. Meanwhile, combine condensed milk and coconut cream in a small bowl.

7. Remove cakes from oven and let cool 5 minutes. Poke holes all over top of each cake layer with toothpick. Pour coconut cream mixture by large spoonfuls over cakes, allowing mixture to be absorbed before adding more. Cool completely in pans.

1. mint whipped cream Stir mint, sugar, and water in a small saucepan over low heat until sugar dissolves. Cook just until bubbles appear. Cover and remove from heat, let steep 30 minutes.

2. Strain syrup into large bowl, pressing on mint. Cool completely. Add 3/4 cup whipping cream to syrup and beat until firm peaks form. Turn cakes out of pans, and frost.

Tiptoeing around

2009-05-31T16:53:00.003-04:00

Beth was one of my favorite people in college, and she was killer. I mean, she was just SO COOL. She was nice, really smart, and outdoorsy. She loved her friends, loved math, loved to walk around on her tiptoes, and loved to sing her heart out, preferably in two- or three- part harmony. She had more grace and a bigger spirit than almost anyone else I know. She was also an awesome cook and loved to eat and drink well, especially in the company of family and friends.

The first year that Culinary House was open for students, she was there. One afternoon I went over to hang out, and she made the world’s best snack: spicy, simmered black beans accompanied by tortilla chips. I hadn’t ever eaten anything like it, but it quickly became a part of my snack, and dinner, repertoire.

Now I eat them as the bean component whenever I make Mexican food (though I am partial to refried pinto beans every now and then). Even though I haven’t seen my friend in a while, I still think of her every time I make black beans--sometimes I like to stand on my tiptoes and sing in harmony along to the radio. I know Beth would laugh at that, but she would certainly approve.

Spicy Simmered Black Beans, adapted from Beth Miller

1 can black beans, preferably low-salt
1 tablespoon neutral-tasting oil, such as corn or canola
2 garlic cloves, minced
½ white onion, finely diced
approximately 1 cup vegetable stock, or chicken stock, or water
½ teaspoon or so ground cumin
1 teaspoon or so hot chile flakes
1 teaspoon or so dried oregano or thyme
salt and pepper to taste
½ cup chopped fresh cilantro

1. Drain the beans and rinse. Set them aside.

2. Heat the oil in a small to medium sauce pan, and add garlic and onion. Sauté until onion is softened; try not to let either the onion or garlic brown. Add beans and dry spices, stir to combine.

3. Add some of the stock, about 2-3 tablespoons. Turn down the heat as far as it will go on the stove, and stir. Keep the beans gently simmering for about 30 minutes, adding more stock when the beans look dry. The beans will be done when they have started to break down and look creamy and a little mushy. If you like them mushier, keep adding stock until everything reaches the correct consistency.

4. Turn off the heat and stir in cilantro. Serve.

Project June

2009-05-30T17:07:00.004-04:00

Even though nothing is official, I feel like it's time to start paring down on the amount of things that are lying around my house, busy being good-for-nothings. I mean, seriously. You live in a place for more than six months and what happens? Accumulation of stuff, that's what. And what better place to start than with the pantry?

So the pantry is going to go through the one-two: I pledge to you now to not buy anything that adds to what is already there (pasta, whole grains, etc.) until I've properly used up what I have (as in: I won't buy any more chickpeas, even if they are on sale and eyeing me flirtatiously in the store, if I have some in my pantry).

Hopefully I will be of sound enough mind to tell you about my misadventures. Here we go!

Pretty darn perfect

2009-05-25T21:54:00.004-04:00

When I was little, we used to go visit my grandparents in Florida. We would hunt for shark's teeth on the beach with a long rake apparatus, kind of like a boxy meshed basket on the end of a broom-length stick. We also made the occasional foray to Disney World/Epcot Center, which, once, ended in a legendary headache since I loved loved loved the water slide at the hotel maybe a little too much. Ask my parents. I'm sure they would be more than happy to tell you all about it.

The all-time best, though, was this place we used to eat dinner, a dimly-lit, seafood oriented restaurant called "Sharky's", where we all used to go, grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and me. The most memorable item on the menu, as far as I am concerned, was its Key lime pie. In all honesty, though, I don't remember what it was like, but I remember loving it. So when we were invited to the beach this weekend, I thought that a Key lime pie would be the way to go. (See? Beach = Key lime pie. It's a good equation.)

This was pretty darn perfect. Cool and tangy, with the a hint of sweetness and raspberries. It complemented nicely fresh bluefish and brown rice and salad. It was the grace note on the end of a lovely, beachy, sunny day.

Key Lime Tart, adapted from Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook

for the Graham Cracker dough
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups graham flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter, at room temperature)
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 tablespoons agave nectar

for the custard filling
4 large egg yolks
1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
4 key limes worth zest
1/2 cup freshly squeezed Key lime juice (about 12-15 Key limes)

1 pint raspberries, or more, for decoration

1. make the crust In a medium bowl, whisk together both flours, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt; set aside. In a large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat butter, brown sugar, and agave nectar on medium speed, until light and fluffy, 2-3 minutes.

2. With mixer on low, add flour mixture, and beat until just combined.

3. On a lightly floured surface, roll out dough to fit a fluted tart pan with a removable bottom (mine is 11 inches, and it worked perfectly). Fit dough into pan, and press into edges. Using a sharp paring knife, trim dough flush with the rim. Prick the bottom of the dough all over with a fork. Chill the tart shell until firm, about 30 minutes.

4. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line tart shell with parchment, leaving a bit of an overhang. Fill with pie weights, and bake until crust is beginning to turn golden, about 12-15 minutes. Remove parchment and weights. Return to oven; continue baking until crust is goden brown, about 12-15 minutes more. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

5. Using an electric mixer fitted with whisk attachments, beat yolks on medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about 2-3 minutes. Add condensed milk, lime zest, lime juice, and salt, and beat to combine, about 1 minute, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.

6. Pour filling into cooled crust, and bake until set, about 1o minutes. Transfer tart to a wire rack to cool. Once completely cool, loosely cover with plastic wrap; refrgerate until until well chilled, at least 1 hour and up to a day.

Just before serving, garnish with raspberries.

Sharky's on the Pier
1600 Harbor Drive South
Venice, FL 34285
(941) 488-1456

Saving grace

2009-05-22T11:00:00.007-04:00

It would appear that one of the main problems of being me is the fact that I am pretty much always hungry. I eat, and then I do whatever it is that I'm supposed to be doing, and then my belly starts whining. Take last night, for example. I ate dinner, went to bed at a reasonable hour, and then woke up two hours later only to find that I was a seriously problematic combination of discombobulated and ravenous. Ravenous! I thought of my mother's perennial advice: "Just go to sleep."

Fat chance (sorry, Mom). Part of the problem is that I'm wired like my dad, who, once his brain gets going, cannot even pretend to sleep, and thinks a lot about the sleep that he's losing because he can't sleep, amongst other things. I can't even remember what I was so worked up about. But worked up I was, and hungry to boot. Never a good combination. So this morning, getting up and realizing that there wasn't too much in the breakfast mode, I decided, foolishly, to forgo breakfast, and settle for coffee instead.

Whoops. Eleven o'clock rolls around, and what am I? Hungry, and cranky, and tired. Brilliant. Luckily, I managed to pull myself out of the slump enough to make scones. Easy, and quick. However, they didn't turn out as nice as I would have liked, which is due to the fact that I didn't add enough liquid to the dough before trying to knead them as little as possible. Which of course, led to a tougher scone, thanks to the by then more necessary kneading that they had to go through. Sorry scones. At least they turned out tasty, which is really what I needed this morning--something to uplift, and revive. Scones? Definitely my saving grace for the day.

Currant and Fennel Scones, adapted from Orangette and Delicious Days

1 1/2 cups + 1 tablespoon four
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
2 1/2 tablespoons white sugar
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
4 tablespoons cold butter
1/4 cup dried currants
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
4-5 tablespoons milk, cream, or half-and-half

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees F, and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

2. In a medium-sized bowl, mix together flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt with a wooden spoon. Mix in fruit and fennel seeds.

3. Cut in butter with a pastry blender, or with two knives, until the butter looks like small peas.

4. Add milk until dough just comes together, and dump out onto a work surface. Knead 3-4 times, and pat into a round about 1 1/4-inch thick. Cut out rounds with a biscuit cutter, taking care not to twist it on the lift. Re-knead and cut out more scones as necessary.

5. Bake 13-15 minutes, until golden brown, and let cool on a wire rack.

My favorite things

2009-05-21T09:49:00.008-04:00

Does you remember The Potato Song, Cheryl Wheeler's homage to the lovely tuber? If you don't, take a look at the link above. It's great. And it will give a decent insight into the fact that I have never met a potato that I couldn't love. Mashed, baked, roasted, gratin, fries, they're all good. Even though I have a special place in my heart for hash browns, making them at home has proved more than a challenge. Latkes, fine. I've got those under control. But hash browns? I don't even know where to start. It's especially sad, too, since it's nearly impossible to find them at all in New York--every place out here has the dreaded "home fries."

Home fries? No thank you. I mean, the thing about that is, I can make them at home. And they turn out more or less fine. But nothing beats a hash brown.

Unfortunately, I've given up on them. In their place, though, I did manage to get fried potaotes down pat. I know, I know. How hard could it be? I mean, it's just fried potatoes, after all. I have memories of my mother's, sizzling away on a Saturday morning, the pan covered with some tin foil and me anxiously peeking under it, just in case they were ready and Mom hadn't realized it yet. Hers were sliced in thin rounds, and evenly browned on the bottom. In my adult life, they always turned out terribly--gray, mushy, rubbery, you name it.

BUT. Again, Alice Waters came to the rescue, giving me golden, crispy, deliciously fantastic fried potatoes. And now... I can't stop making them. I'll make them for breakfast, an afternoon snack, or even an easy-peasy dinner. It's like I'm desperately trying to make up for five years of terrible potatoes. I also like to throw in a couple of eggs at the very end, and let them fry until they are just cooked through, so that the potatoes can have a nice, easy coating of runny yolk.

I feel as though I have been initiated into the secret breakfast club. I never plan on renouncing my membership. Come on over any time.

Fried Potatoes

2 medium-sized waxy potatoes (anything but russet), peeled and diced into about 3/4-inch
salt
2 tablespoons butter
1-2 tablespoons canola or corn oil

1. Put potatoes into a pot of salted water. Bring to a boil, and simmer until tender, about 10-15 minutes.

2. Drain the potatoes and set aside. (This step is crucial, since a bunch of the water drains off, leaving you with pretty potato specimens that will actually crisp up in the pan.)

3. In a large pan, heat oil and butter over medium to medium-high heat. Stir in the potatoes, and let them sit and sizzle for about 5 minutes. After that, gently turn them every few minutes, shaking the pan so that they don't stick, until golden and crispy. All in all this will take 15-20 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Eat anytime, day or night.

Like lost sheep

2009-05-16T17:22:00.004-04:00

Sometimes, when Jeff and I feel that a simple, lovely meal is in order, we pick up a box of fresh pasta at the farmer's market. We head straight to the Knoll Crest Farm stand, which is also where we buy our eggs (which, by the way, are the best eggs ever, especially when served extremely runny over pan-fried potatoes, recipe coming soon). We also pick up some herbs and salad, and voilà! A lovely springtime meal.

It is espeically nice when compensating for the night before, if you had gone out, as we had, to eat a good deal of Italian food. A few friends and we made the long trek up to the Arthur Avenue section of the Bronx, one of the last bastions of true Italian food in New York. We were all so excited about going, until we realized that getting to Arthur Avenue itself took much longer than we had expected--about 30 minutes of wandering around like lost sheep, hoping that we were headed in the right direction.

But we did have some good pizza at Zero Otto Nove. Good thing, too, because all that walking had made us hungry. There was also excellent cannoli. I hadn't had a cannoli for such a long time, and this was just so lovely--a crispy, shattering shell, filled withe fresh ricotta and mascarpone cheese filling. KILLER, I tell you.

So that left us last night wanting something a little simpler. And as pesto season really hasn't hit yet, this preparation really does the trick. It's very light, herby, garlic-y, and spicy. Have it with a green salad, and you have exactly what you want. If you do make this, be very careful when you add the water to the oil. Stand as far back from the stove as you can, so you don't get splattered all over with hot oil. Wear an apron. And don't worry about the amount of oil used in this recipe. I promise, it's well worth it.

Fresh Fettuccini with Garlic, Olive Oil, and Red Pepper Flakes, adapted from Everyday Italian

1 pound fresh pasta (dried also works just fine)
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
5 garlic cloves, peeled and lightly crushed
1 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper flakes, plus more to taste
1/4 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
1-2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint

NB: this is a very quick recipe, so be sure to know what to expect before you head into cooking. I find that I need to time this pretty carefully, since everything takes less than five minutes once the pasta gets going. Have a mise en place. Be sure to have your cooking tools at the ready.

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Don't leave out the salt, because it gives the pasta just a little more oomph than if you don't. Add the pasta and cook, stirring often, until tender but still firm to the bite (about 3 minutes for fresh pasta--it will overcook very quickly, so keep an eye on it). Drain, reserving 2 tablespoons cooking liquid. Do not rinse the spaghetti with water, you want to retain the natural starched that help the sauce adhere to the pasta.

2. MEANWHILE, in a large sauté pan, heat the oil over a medium flame. Add the garlic and sauté until golden and fragrant, about 1 minute. It's important not to overcook the garlic or else it will become bitter. Using a fork, remove and discard garlic. Add the red pepper flakes and sauté for 1 minute. Carefully stir in reserved cooking liquid (keep at arm's length!) and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Immediately add drained pasta and toss for 1 minute to coat well. Turn off heat, and add the fresh herbs, toss to distribute evenly. Serve immediately, with freshly grated cheese.

Zero Otto Nove
2357 Arthur Avenue
Bronx, NY 10458
(718) 220-1027

Give me a break, ConAgra!

2009-05-14T20:26:00.004-04:00

Since when is it OK for food corporations to not take responsibility for the products that they put on the market? It is SO frightening to continually read about disease and pathogen outbreaks, caused by food. I realize that food-borne disease is nothing new. But it's scary. Think of those kids in China who were drinking milk that was knowingly contaminated by producers trying to prove how nutritious and protein-filled their milk was. Think of the peanut salmonella outbreak. The spinach salmonella outbreak. The countless recalls.

I love the title of this article: "Food Companies Try, but Can't Guarantee Safety." Basically, Big Food is shifting the responsibility of food safety to the consumer--explicit instructions as to how to cook something, and how long, and at what temperature. But isn't that contrary to the entire mission of pre-packaged foods? That they are easy and taste OK, and, oh, by the way, you can depend on them to not make you sick?

This shift is completely problematic. In no other industry is the consumer responsible for harm by a product. Think about it: baby product recalls, car recalls, electrical appliance recalls. Those companies would get hit so hard, and so fast, that it's just not worth it to them to keep them out on the market. So where does that leave us and our food? Why is food under-regulated and potentially dangerous and this is acceptable to the marketplace?

I can't answer that question. What I can do is tell you what you have probably already gathered: I believe that the less handled your food, the better. The fewer pre-packaged, pre-processed foods in your pantry and fridge, the better. That if you make your food yourself mostly from scratch, not only will things taste really, really good, but you risk less in terms of health, too. It's hard, I know. It involves foresight and organization, which takes a lot, a lot of practice. It's a tall order. But it is totally, completely worth it. I promise.

Like ghosts

2009-05-09T19:46:00.007-04:00

For reasons I can't really explain, today has been an exceptionally sleepy one. I went to bed last night at a reasonable hour (no, really), and then took my sweet time dragging myself out of bed. Breakfast of some majorly deformed pancakes and half of a mango. Then to the farmers market! And then we went to Brooklyn Flea, mostly for lunch, but also to see what there was on offer. Jeff also had an extreme craving for a chorizo hurache.

Huraches are kind of like this: Take a very very large tortilla, about 12 inches in diameter, and stuff it with refried beans in a thin layer. (I am NOT sure as to how they accomplish this. It is very impressive.) Then take the very large, bean-stuffed tortilla, shape it like a taco, and add delicious, spicy chorizo, pico de gallo, guacamole, cheese, sour cream, and two kinds of hot sauce: red and green. It is about as large as my forearm and much, much more substantial. I would have taken a picture for you, but Jeff ate the entire thing while I was still waiting in line for my own snack.

And then we both took naps. Since then, we've both been drifting around in our apartment, like ghosts--Jeff is groggy from his nap, and I can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm sleeping and yet awake. Luckily, there is the sweet aroma of fresh bread coming from the oven. Focaccia, and without a mixer! Focaccia with caramelized tomatoes and briny olives, baked into a lovely golden mass. I've been meaning to make this for months now, and today, well, I'm glad it actually happened. Maybe soon we will also have sweet basil to go with it, thanks to our lovely plants acquired today. I can't wait for tomato and basil season... so for the time being, we'll just have to do with tomatoes and olive oil and olives. I think I can handle it.

Focaccia Ai Pomodorini, adapted from Saveur

1 1/4 teaspoon active dry yeast
2 tablespoons sugar
3 1/2 cups flour, plus a little more for kneading
1 tablespoon
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 1/2 pints cherry tomatoes, halved
1/4 pound pitted, oil-cured black olives
coarse sea salt, such as fleur de sel

1. In a small bowl, combine yeast, 1 teaspoon sugar, and 1/4 cup body-temperature water (as in, when you run the tap over your hand, the water should be neither hot nor cold, just, neutral). Let mixture sit until foamy, about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, whisk together flour, the remaining sugar, and salt in a large bowl; form a well in center. Pour in yeast mixture, 1 tablespoon oil, and 1 cup body-temperature water; mix into a stiff mass. Transfer dough to a floured work surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. Form dough into a ball and transfer to a bowl greased with 3 tablespoons oil; cover with plastic wrap and let rise until dough has doubled in size, about 1 1/2 hours.

2. Rub bottom and sides of a 12-inch cast iron skillet with 2 tablespoons of the oil. Transfer dough to the pan and gently flatten into the bottom of skillet with fingertips. Cover skillet with a damp kitchen towl; set aside and let rise 1 hour.

3. Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.

4. Gently press tomatoes and olives into dough and sprinkle with fleur de sel. Bake until golden brown and cooked through, 30-35 minutes. transfer to a rack to cool slightly before serving.

Two for one, veg special

2009-05-06T17:20:00.006-04:00

Recently I've had a thing for vegetables. I mean, it happens every year, right about the end of winter, when, of course, there are no fresh vegetables to be had. It's like tomatoes: I can't bring myself to buy them in the winter (especially after reading this article). And during the winter, I stick to the colder-weather regulars: chard, broccoli, mushrooms. Now, I do realize that these are not necessarily seasonal in the dead of winter. Or seasonal at all, for that matter. But a girl has got to eat, no two ways about it.

So now that the season's début has arrived, I'm gobbling everything that I can, vegetable-wise. Jeff and I have been making a concerted effort to eat more vegetarian dishes, for a variety of reasons. Mostly, we like vegetables, and we both firmly believe that cutting down our meat consumption is an overall positive step in our contribution to agricultural sustainability. It's hard, though, completely cutting out meat or meat products, even for a few meals per week; I make a lot of dishes that are completely veg except for chicken stock, or a slice of bacon (yes, yes, I'm aware of how un-vegetarian things made with bacon are).

In that spirit, what I have on offer for you, are two bona-fide vegetarian dishes. The orzo is surprisingly good, almost like an extremely simple risotto. I would even venture that you could do the whole dish, risotto-style, with rice and stuff. And the asparagus... it is my hands-down favorite way to prepare it. The spears become tender and sweet, and they are absolutely wonderful. We had them together last night, and it was the perfect early-spring dinner. Try them! And if you have any ideas for truly vegetarian meals, please please send them my way.

Wild Mushroom Orzo, adapted from Urban Italian

for the mushroom stock
1/2 cup dried porcini mushrooms
1 sprig fresh thyme

for the orzo
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 1/2 cups mixed wild mushrooms (I used a mixture of oyster and crimini), washed, dried, and chopped into 2-inch pieces
1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
pepper, to taste
2 tablespoons dry sherry
1 1/2 cups orzo

to finish
2 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup finely grated parmesan cheese
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves

1. prepare the mushroom stock In a small pot, immerse the dried porcini in 4 1/2 cups of water. Add the sprig of thyme whole.

2. Bring the mushroom mixture to a boil over high heat, then remove immediately from the stove and set aside for 5 minutes.

3. prepare the orzo Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepot. Add the onions and cook over medium heat until it takes on a light golden color, about 3 minutes, stirring regularly to prevent burning.

4. Add the mixed wild mushrooms and stir well to combine. Sauté on medium-heat for 1-2 minutes, until the mushrooms are just starting to color. At this point, but not before, add the salt and pepper. Mix well to combine and continue cooking for another 30 seconds or so, until the mushrooms have started to reduce and color.

5. Add the sherry (preferably away from the heat, so that you don't catch on fire). Stir to combine and then return to the heat for just a few seconds, until the vermouth and mushroom juices form a syrupy mixture in the bottom of the pan. This will not take terribly long, so pay attention!

6. Remove the pan from the heat, add the orzo, and mix well, so the grains are covered with the pan juices.

7. Remove the thyme sprig from the porcini mixture and discard. Pour the porcinis and liquid over the orzo.

8. Return the pan to medium-high heat and bring to a low boil, stirring well to combine. Turn the heat down to low, and keep the mixture at a lazy bubble for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. The orzo is done when it's swelled up and become tender but still has a slight bite. There should be a little liquid on the bottom, and the orzo mixture should be a bit wet. (Note: this instruction didn't make a lot of sense when I read it first, but it did once I saw what was happening. You'll see--trust the writing!) See, if you cook all of the liquid away, and completely absorbed, you will have a sticky mess.

9. to finish Remove pot from the heat. Add the butter and mix in well, add the cheese and continue stirring. Add the thyme and mix well, until the texture of the dish is softer and richer from the butter and cheese and all the ingredients are well combined. Serve immediately, with extra cheese grated on top.

Roast Aparagus

1/2 - 1 pound fresh asparagus, tough ends sliced off, ends peeled
1-2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.
2. On a baking sheet, pour oil over asparagus spears. Swish around to coat. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
3. Roast in oven 15-20 minutes, or until tips start to caramelize and spears are tender.

Color Scheme: Decode the Encrypted Message

2009-05-03T11:37:00.002-04:00

I know it's a little superflouous to have two posts in one day, but I seriously enjoyed this, and maybe you will too.

Color Scheme: Decode the Encrypted Message

Posted using ShareThis

Dinner in a bowl

2009-05-02T18:57:00.012-04:00

And so we arrive at Saturday night. Jeff is out of town, so I can make whatever I want. I mean, we don't generally have too many disagreements about what we like to eat, or not eat, but Jeff doesn't seem to appreciate the finer points of one of my most favorite things: soy chicken, aka dinner in a bowl. Much like Italian sausage sauce, soy chicken is one of those things that I've grown up eating, that I eat now as an adult, and that I intend to eat until I can no longer actually eat. Growing up, it was the one thing that I wanted to eat for my birthday, and, year after year, my mother graciously complied. It also helps that my parents like it, too.

When I went to college, it was one of the few recipes stashed in my back pocket. Even my roommates liked it. I know of at least one of them who makes it for dinner, every now and then, too. There may be more, but they're not telling.

So it makes me a little sad that Jeff doesn't like it. But it does make his solo trips so much more bearable. Besides, sometimes a little alone time is good. Especially when it involves soy chicken. So for tonight, we have Garrison Keillor on the radio, rice in the rice cooker, and dinner on the way. Not so bad at all.

Soy Chicken

1 largeish chicken breast, or thighs, or whatever you like
1/2 cup good quality soy sauce (I only use San-J low-sodium Tamari, I think it tastes the best)
1/2 cup water
1 or 2 star anise(s)
1 medium-sized nob ginger, sliced thin

1. Wash the chicken off and place in a medium-sized pot. Add soy sauce and water, star anise and ginger. Bring to a boil, lower heat to low, cover, and simmer for an hour, turning chicken over at about 30 minutes.

Serve with rice, silken tofu, and steamed broccoli for the most authentic Mei kind of experience.

Harbinger of spring to come

2009-04-30T18:46:00.005-04:00

Spring has finally arrived in the Northeast. YES. Even though the temperature is only in the 50s today, it's been raining on and off, spring is here to stay. See, I had intended to pop in and out of the Farmer's Market today, only for some mushrooms. I did a few other errands first, including picking up some buttons (which, by the way, are completely gorgeous--who knew buttons could be so lovely?). By the time I emerged from the subway, it had started to rain. But then, right across from the exit was a stand full of asparagus. Asparagus! From New York! So far, the only asparagus I've seen has been from California or Mexico, so the sight of the reaching, beseeching, lovely stems was a welcome sight. Who cares about rain when there is fresh lovely bright asparagus to be had?

Looking around, it was also clear that the spring harvest had begun, in earnest. Cucumbers as long as my arm, fresh herbs, salad greens, fresh spinach, even. After weeks of hoping and dragging my bags down to Union Square and seeing only sad, repeated offerings of potatoes, onions, carrots and wintered-over apples, green produce is a welcome sight, indeed.

As for the asparagus? What's not to like? It's such a versatile vegetable, and everything is possible: roasted, soups, braises... you name it. But I like to showcase it in risotto, something I discovered last spring. Peel some, chop it up, and stir it into some lovely, creamy risotto in the making, add a splash of lemon juice or zest if you have one lying around, and it's the perfect harbinger of spring to come. It's also the perfect dish when you're thinking about how great it would be not to go to the store because you are too busy enjoying the sun. At least, that's my opinion.

Asparagus and Pea Risotto

1/2 pound asparagus, woody stem removed, and peeled and cut into 1/2 to 1-inch pieces
1 cup frozen or fresh peas
2 tablespoons butter
1 small onion, diced fine
1 1/2 cup arborio rice (or whatever you use for risotto)
4-5 cups stock (chicken or vegetable)
1/2 cup white wine or light beer
1 tablespoon butter
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese

1. In a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan, melt 2 tablespoons butter over medium heat. When the butter is melted, add the onion and cook until translucent, stirring occasionally, about 10 minutes. Do your best not to let them brown. Add the rice, and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent. Meanwhile bring stock to a boil and then turn off heat; let sit. Also, blanch your peas in a small pot of boiling water for about 5 minutes. Drain and set aside.

2. Pour in wine or beer to rice, stirring often, until it is all absorbed. Add 1 cup of the warm broth and cook at a vigorous simmer, stirring occasionally. When the rice starts to get thick, pour in another 1/2 cup of the broth and add some salt (how much depends on the saltiness of the stock; if you don't know how salty your stock is, add just a little and add more later on). Keep adding broth, 1/2 cup at a time, every time the rice thickens. Do not let the rice dry out.

3. After about 12 minutes, stir in the asparagus. Cook for 10 more minutes, and add peas. Cook until the rice is tender but still has a firm core, about 20-30 minutes in all. When the rice is just about done, add the last tablespoon butter, and shower the rice with cheese. Stir vigorously to release the starch in the rice. Taste for salt, adding more as needed. Turn of the heat and let sit 2 minutes before serving.

Yes, please

2009-04-24T16:52:00.003-04:00

Cookies!
Originally uploaded by meizilla

So project Lose Five Pounds has not made a lot of progress. (See previous post.) It also hasn't helped that I actually worked a full week (heavens!) and the kids totally wore me out. So I get home, and really, all I want is a nap. And a snack. Luckily, we've discovered tasty hummus and pita. It is seriously tasty. I don't even like hummus, and I think this is good. So there's been that.

Back to business: get home, snack. Then I have to let myself digest. By the time I've digested, it's time to make dinner. And we've been trying to be so good: no dessert, no ice cream, no cookies. (Confession: we have nice bars of chocolate from Easter that are screaming to be eaten. So sometimes I have a square or two after dinner. But only one! Or two! I promise.) This has been going on for a week.

Let me tell you something. My sweet tooth is sobbing as we speak. Sobbing! All I want is a chocolate chip cookie. Just one! But see, this is the big problem: you can't just make one cookie. But just one of these beautiful cookies...I think eating one would be lovely. Yes. Yes I do. Jeff, don't you think so, too? Let's make cookies?? Please???

Not normal days

2009-04-23T16:50:00.005-04:00

Is it crazy to seriously consider mail ordering $60 worth of cheese? I would normally say YES, but these are not normal days. In fact, I am in a serious state of denial. Instead of going on a run, I am sitting inside snuggling in my sleeping bag and reading magazines and eating Red Hawk cheese, which might be one of the most intense, pleasurable cheeses I have ever had. I feel like I'm hiding out, being sneaky. Except for the fact that I'm in my late 20s (when did that happen??) and can do pretty much whatever and no one cares. Except for the exercise enjoyer in me. Sorry, exercise enjoyer.

(This is not my photo. Thanks, internet!)

It's a kind of triple crème, nice and smooth and rich, but at the same time it's full and musty and just absolutely beautiful, with a washed rind. I LOVE LOVE LOVE it.

While we're talking about THINGS I LIKE, can I also say how much I love this book:

It is completely engaging and charming and lovely. The introduction roughly explains that there has been a growing "unification" of regional cultures into one mass American culture (via the Internet, TV, large chain stores, etc.), but at the same time, when people meet each other, they often ask, "Where are you from?", and that states have strong identities of their own. It's been sitting on my night stand for two months--I finally broke down and bought myself a copy. I figured that after having renewed the book twice from the library and with no forseeeable end in sight, it would be better to not have to worry about it.

Happy Anniversary, Mr. Jeff

2009-04-18T10:39:00.009-04:00

Do you know what? My feet are tired. Sore and tired, and three of my toes aren't functioning quite as they should. I blame it on the heels.

Aren't they gorgeous, though? Mom gave them to me last last Christmas, the year we moved to New York. I wore them out for the first time last night, when Jeff and I went out to celebrate our improbable consistency of FIVE WHOLE YEARS. For us, at least, five years seems like a lot of time. Other things that we have done for that amount of time include studying French (me) and playing baseball (Jeff). So we went to this lovely, delicious restaurant called Cookshop, where the ingredients are sourced as locally as possible, and where everyone is really, really nice, even if the server tells you that you can snag the last order of scallops of the night and then comes back forty minutes later telling you that she was wrong and you have to choose something else, which causes much stress in the middle of an otherwise lovely meal.

And this morning, well, this morning. Doughnut muffins, courtesy of Orangette, because yesterday they looked fantastic and I just couldn't resist. I love nutmeg. And muffins. And doughnuts. And anything that has a combination of those? Well...

Like I said, I couldn't resist.

You shouldn't either.

Orangette's Nutmeg Doughnut Muffins

muffins
1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
6 1/2 tablespoons whole milk
1 tablespoon buttermilk
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
7 tablespoons sugar
1 egg

topping
2 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degress F.
1. Combine the dry ingredients in a medium bowl and set aside.
2. Combine the milks in a small bowl, and set aside.
3. Cream the butter until it looks light and fluffy. Add the sugar, until the consistancy is nice and ribbony, and looks a little like frosting. Add the egg until just combined.
4. With a wooden spoon, add one fourth of the dry mixture into the the butter mixture. Add 1/3 of the milk mixture until combined. Repeat, ending with the dry ingredients. Mix until dough is smooth and combined, but do not overmix.
5. Line six muffin tins with liners, and fill them. Bake for 25-30 minutes, being sure to check at 25 minutes. The minute that a toothpick comes out clean, they are done. Let cool on a rack.
6. When the muffins are cool enough to handle, melt the butter in a small pan or the microwave, and brush over the tops of the muffins. Roll in powdered sugar. Serve to your honey with a strong cup of coffee.

Makes enough for a 6-tin muffin tin.

Cookshop
156 10th Avenue
New York, NY 10011
(212) 924 4440

The problem with vacation

2009-04-16T17:33:00.009-04:00

Do you know what the problem with vacation is? I'll tell you what the problem with vacation is. The problem with vacation is the fact that your brain turns to mush and you find yourself sleeping to, oh, let's say about 10:00 every day and then you're not very hungry but it would be such a shame to let all those fantastic eat-at-home opportunities go to waste, so you do your best to clean out the fridge by eating the fantastic leftovers that your family didn't finish the weekend they were here.

Another problem with vacation is that since your afternoons are quiet and light-filled, and that your apartment is very lovely to read in during said afternoons, that you have taken to reading about cowgirl romance and then your afternoons are gone and you're not very sure what the heck happened to them. This can be especially frustrating when you realize that you turned on NPR, so that at least you have some idea of what's going on in the world that is not on vacation, but don't actually hear anything due to the absorbing nature of your reading material, because, really--let's be honest here--NPR can't beat out romance. Sorry, NPR.

But getting back to the food. The biggest problem with vacation, really, is that since you are finally relaxed enough to not think about work and not think about the horrible economy every. single. waking. moment., you don't really think about anything at all, except how nice it is not to do anything. Along with sleeping in, going out to lunch with your boyfriend suddenly becomes high on the list. This is problematic because you often realize that you also wish that you were going to order takeout from your favorite Thai place, too, but you can't because you already ate out once today. It's really quite unfortunate.

The good thing, though, is that since you're spending so much time at home reading internet love sagas, you have a lot of down time for foods that need to sit, like this lovely yogurt that Harold McGee wrote about in yesterday's Times. (See? I do have some sense of routine.) I was even motivated enough to head to Zabar's and pick up a large glass jar, only to realize when I got home that it's too big. Unfortunately for me, though, my yogurt turned into slightly yogurty milk? Where did I go wrong? Thoughts? Thoughts??

Plain Yogurt, deciphered from a very loose recipe in the New York Times

1 quart whole milk
2 tablespoons yogurt, preferably plain

you will need a thermometer for liquids

1. Heat your milk in a large pot until it reaches about 175 degrees F (or a little warmer--just so that your milk is steamy and is bubbling a little bit).
2. Let your milk cool to about 115 degrees F, and stir in yogurt.
3. Pour into a large-ish container (probably a little bit bigger than a quart would be ideal), and let sit about 4 hours, or until set.
4. Once your yogurt sets, refrigerate it to firm its structure and slow the continuing acid production.

If you want to make your yogurt thicker, spoon it into a fine-mesh strainer or into a colander lined with cheesecloth, and let the whey and its lactic acid drain into a bowl for several hours.

Spring

2009-04-13T10:28:00.008-04:00

Strawberry Mascarpone Tart, adapted from Gourmet

for tart shell
1 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
rounded ¼ teaspoon salt
7 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch pieces
1 large egg yolk
½ teaspoon pure vanilla extract
½ teaspoon fresh lemon juice
3 tablespoons cold water

for filling
1 ½ pound strawberries, trimmed and sliced lengthwise
1 pound mascarpone (about 2 cups)
¼ cups confectioners sugar
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
½ teaspoon grated lemon zest
¾ teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1. make the tart shell: Blend together flour, sugar, salt, and butter in a bowl with your fingertips or a pastry blender (or pulse in a food processor), just until mixture resembles coarse meal with some roughly pea-sized butter lumps. Beat together yolk, vanilla, lemon juice, and water with a fork, then drizzle over flour mixture and stir with fork (or pulse) until mixture comes together.
2. Gently knead with floured hands on a lightly floured surface until a dough forms, then gently knead 4 or 5 times. Press into a 5-inch disk. Place in center of tart pan and cover with plastic wrap. Using your fingers and bottom of a flat-bottomed measuring cup, spread and push dough to evenly cover bottom and side of pan. Prick bottom of pan all over with a fork and freeze until firm, about 10 minutes.
3. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Line the tart shell with aluminum foil and add pie weights. Bake for 20 minutes, remove foil and weights, and bake 10-15 minutes more, until the crust starts to brown at the edges. Remove from oven and let cool.
4. Meanwhile, combine mascarpone, sugar, lemon juice, zest and vanilla with a whisk or large wooden spoon, until well-combined and creamy.
5. When the crust is cool, pour mascarpone mixture into the crust and spread it out so it is lovely and even. Artfully arrange strawberries on top. Serve to your favorite people, especially if they've managed to gather at your house for a weekend and you can't remember time better spent.

Omnivore's 100

2009-04-07T16:08:00.003-04:00

I came across this while looking up random recipes, and I thought I'd give it a try. Anyone else, feel free to follow...

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating. (**I have to put a big fat X, since I don't have a cross-out button**)
4) Optional extra: Post a comment here at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results.

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

Shark's Fin and Sichuan Pepper

2009-04-03T16:30:00.003-04:00

When is the last time you read something that made you really, really hungry? I mean, I love my cooking magazines, food memoirs, and cookbooks, and I usually have a few open at any given moment, but nothing has ever made me this ravenous.

Fuchsia Dunlop recounts her years living in China, starting out in the city of Chengdu, where time is slow and the food is laced with Sichuan pepper. (By the way, I love Sichuan pepper, since it makes your mouth all tingly and a little numb and has a good heat, to boot.) Her descriptions of food and the people that she meets are beautiful and evocative. Also, there is a recipe for Dan Dan Noodles that is so mouth-watering that I am willing to bring the fringes of Chinatown to find ingredients. Now, about brushing up on my Chinese...

Spicy brownies

2009-03-30T16:31:00.004-04:00

Do you know what? Teenagers do not, I repeat, do not, know what is good for them. (I can just see an image of the teenage me pouting and protesting in her dad's old army jacket and rainbow beads in the corner of my brain. Sorry, girl, you just have to deal with it this time.) The last time I made brownies for a bake sale, I made some awesome kick-ass peppermint dark chocolate brownies that no one ate. "We don't like mint!" they declared. "Mint and chocolate is gross!" decried another. No matter, the other teachers and I lapped them up. They were rich with chocolate and butter and mint, and were delicious. Those girls just don't know what they're talking about.

So when it came time for another bake sale, I decided that I was not, under any circumstances, about to waste some high-quality chocolate on them. I determined to buy a box mix. Mom used to make this Ghirardelli box mix with coffee and they were killer. I had something like that in mind when I set out to the store; luckily for my students, I went to Trader Joe's and aquired a box of their truffle brownie mix. I had also just bought a mini-muffin pan, because, really, is there anything cuter than mini-brownies or mini-cupcakes?

No. There is not.

So I swallowed my lofty make-it-from scratch ideals, and you know what? The Trader Joe's Truffle brownies were good. Like, way better than I had expected them to be. Point one, Trader Joe's.

But then, needing to bring something sweet to a party the following night, I decided to make brownies again, though this time they were going towards a more appreciative audience. Now, I know that I keep raving about this cookbook, but seriously, with a little work, the recipes are just about right. The authors have clearly put a lot of effort into making everything just right. I had made their brownies before, but then I saw a spicy version, posted on the Smitten Kitchen, and the nearly perfect brownies became that much better. I love the combination of chiles in chocolate, with the heat and tingle of the chiles ratcheting up the smoothness and depth of the chocolate. Slightly spicy, deep and chocolatey, and pretty darn delicious, I highly recommend them for your next party. I would also recommend using the best chocolate you can find, since there is quite a bit involved, and the flavor really shines through. If you like your brownies in a more traditional style, simply omit the spices.

Spicy Baked Brownies, adapted from Baked: New Frontiers of Baking

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons dark unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/2 teaspoons chipotle powder, or hot smoked paprika
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
3/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
11 ounces dark chocolate (60-72% cacao), coarsely chopped
1 cup unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
5 large eggs, at room temperature
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Either butter the sides and bottom of a 9 x 13-inch class or light colored metal pan, or put small baking cups into mini-muffin pan.
2. In a medium bowl, whisk the flour, salt, cocoa powder, and spices together.
3. Put the chocolate and butter in a large bowl and set it over a saucepan of simmering water, stirring occasionally, until the chocolate and butter are completely melted and smooth. Turn off the heat, but keep the bowl over the water and add the sugars. Whisk until completely combined, then remove the bowl from the pan. The mixture should be room temperature.
4. Add 3 eggs to the chocolate mixture and whisk until combined. Add the remaining eggs and whisk until combined. Add the vanilla and stir until combined. Do not overbeat at this stage, or your brownies will be cakey.
5. Sprinkle the flour mixture over the chocolate mixture. Using a spatula (not a whisk), fold the flour mixture over the chocolate mixture until just a bit of the flour mixture is visible.
6. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake in the center of the oven for 30 minutes (if you're using a pan), and 25 minutes (if you're using the mini pans), rotating the pans halfway through the baking time, until a toothpick inserted into the center of the brownies comes out with a few moist crumbs sticking to it. Let the brownies cool completely, then cut into squares and serve (if using pan).

Makes about 38 mini-cupcake brownies.

Birthday pie

2009-03-25T16:57:00.006-04:00

When I was little, I had the same birthday party every year. I would have a sleepover that included my best friends, dinner, games, and cake. Dinner was always and without fail: soy chicken (which I know that I still haven’t told you about, but I’ll get there, I promise) with steamed broccoli and carrots, and rice. Then there was cake. One year my mom made me a Bûche de Noël, a French cake shaped like a log. (Honestly, I don’t remember too many of the other ones. I think there was a Rainbow Brite cake in there somewhere, but my memory of those years is a little shaky.) (Also, Bûche de Noël is a really beautiful cake, something that must be experienced, despite it being shaped like a log.)

Basically, what mattered to me was the soy chicken, and the fact that there was a cake at all. I mean, what’s a birthday without a birthday cake?

So the year that I moved in with Jeff, when March rolled around, it was only natural that I offer to make a birthday cake. Anything you want, I promised. Chocolate? Vanilla? Layers? You got it.

“Pie,” was what he said, not missing a beat. “I want an apple pie. My mom makes the best one. Can I have a pie? We can get her recipe.”

I was not thrilled with this idea. Who ever heard of a birthday pie? But what was I going to say? You can’t deny your best guy his birthday desert (especially after you not-so-subtly try to make him see the error of his ways and he insists on his right to have a birthday pie because it is his birthday after all). So I made a pie. (I also made a cake, to make myself feel better.) It was a perfectly good apple pie. The recipe turned out to be a keeper, even. But I secretly hoped that 2006 would be the year of the birthday pie and then we wouldn't hear anything more about it and could happily go back to cake.

No. No, no, and no. Apple pie is probably Jeff's number one most requested desert. So I took it to myself to learn to make a mean apple pie, and I think it's worked out. Jeff is happy, anyway. If you’re going to have a birthday pie, this one isn’t a bad one to have in your arsenal (Jeff would even argue that it’s really the only one that you need). It bursts with apples, and tastes like them too, unlike so many pies that call for too much sugar and washes them out with cinnamon. It’s quite good. If you make one, think of us.

And wish Jeff a happy birthday, while you’re at it.

Birthday Pie (Lorie’s Apple Pie)

2 pats of pie crust, chilled

6 cups apples, peeled cored, and thinly sliced (anything tart will do)
1 scant cup sugar (I usually cut it by a few tablespoons, but I like a tarter pie)
2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
¼ teaspoon ginger
zest of ½ lemon
2 tablespoons butter, diced

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
2. Roll out one pie crust and place in pie pan. Be sure to leave a little overhang. Set aside.
3. Combine sugar, flour, spices, zest, and a dash of salt, and mix with apples. Tumble apples into the waiting pie crust, and dot with butter.
4. Roll the second pie crust and lay it on top of the apples; press crusts together into a pretty pattern.
5. Bake 50 minutes. If crust gets too brown, put some tin foil over it while it’s still baking.

Cloud cupcakes

2009-03-21T14:42:00.005-04:00

I have to admit that I am a late convert to coconut. I think it all stems from the time in 3rd grade when I traded chips for a Kudos bar (which is something that my mom didn’t buy), and I broke out into hives on the way home in the car. After consulting the ingredient list, coconut was the only thing that I didn’t eat with any regularity. So we blamed it for making me itchy, and after that coconut was considered a taboo food.

Looking back on it, it probably wasn’t the coconut, but something else, some preservative or whatever. But from that point on, I avoided all coconut and coconut products like the plague, which is really too bad. It took me a long time to get over the fact that I am not, in fact, allergic to it. (It could also simply be one of those childhood allergies that I grew out of like strawberries and blueberries. Thank god those are over. Seriously.)

As an adult, though, I love coconut stuff—flaked into a toasty granola, baked into a chocolate chip cookie, coconut milk-based Thai curries (man, I could eat those every day), coconut milk dals, coconut macaroons (especially especially especially if they are dipped in chocolate)—you name it. If coconut is a main player, I’m there. So when I saw a recipe for luscious-looking coconut-vanilla cupcakes, I just couldn’t resist. Vanilla and I, particularly if the vanilla is true and comes in a bean, get along like two peas in a pod. So to add it to coconut, and to make a cupcake that would be darling and white, well… I just couldn’t resist.

And you know what? These totally hit the spot. Creamy, fragrant with coconut and flecked with sparkling grains of vanilla, these cupcakes are like a delicious, dreamy cloud. Yes, that’s it. They really should be named Cloud Cupcakes, because that’s what they really are. They are in my book, anyway.

Vanilla Bean-Coconut Cupcakes with Coconut Frosting, adapted from Bon Appétit

reduced coconut milk
1 13-14 ounce can unsweetened coconut milk

cupcakes
1 cup all purpose flour
1 1/8 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
½ + 3 tablespoons sugar
2 eggs
seeds scraped from ½ split vanilla bean, or 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
½ cup reduced coconut milk, room temperature

frosting
½ cup (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 ¼ cups powdered sugar
3 tablespoons reduced coconut milk, room temperature
seeds from ½ split vanilla bean, or ¾ teaspoon vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon salt
¾ cups sweetened flaked coconut, lightly toasted (for garnish)

1. reduced coconut milk Bring coconut milk to a boil in a large, deep saucepan over medium-high heat (coconut milk will boil up high in pan). Reduce heat to medium-low; boil until reduced to ¾ cup, stirring occasionally, about 25-30 minutes. (I had to pour it into a 2 cup measure to check at about 25 minutes, and still had a few minutes to go. I recommend doing this to be sure.) Remove from head and cool completely.
2. cupcakes Position rack in center of oven; preheat to 350 degrees F. Line 9 1/3-cup muffin tins with paper liners. Whisk flour baking powder, and salt in medium bowl. Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until smooth. Add sugar, bead on medium-high speed until well blended, about 2 minutes. Add 1 egg, beating well and occasionally scraping down sides of bowl. Beat in seeds from vanilla bean and remaining egg. Add half of flour mixture, mix on low speed just until blended. Divide batter among muffin cups.
3. Bake cupcakes until tops spring back when gently touched and tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 20 minutes. Transfer cupcakes from pan and cool on wire rack.
4. frosting Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until smooth. Add sugar, 3 tablespoons reduced coconut milk, seeds from vanilla bean, and salt. Beat on medium-low speed until blended, scraping down sides ob bowl. Increase to medium-high and beat until light and fluffy.
5. Using pastry bag fitted with large star tip, pipe frosting onto cooled cupcakes. (Alternatively, top each cupcake with 2 tablespoons frosting. Using small offset spatula, swirl frosting over top of cupcakes, leaving 1/2-inch plain border.) Sprinkle with coconut.

makes nine lovely cupcakes

Lookee!

2009-03-21T10:58:00.003-04:00

{UPDATE: I have also added the recipes from my other blog, which I started before this one became my main focus.}

Hi everyone.
I realized that if you ever wanted to find a recipe, the task may be a little daunting; so for your (and my) perusing convenience, I have made a little recipe list (see over to the left). If you have any thoughts on what I could do to make it better, let me know!

Things that are a problem

2009-03-18T15:25:00.003-04:00

1. When the store you usually get your main ingredient for your weekly fix of goodness says that they won't have any more until next month because they are waiting for a shipment from INDIA

2. When you are sick and tired and hungry, and you and feel like you want to fall over but you're not sure because you are a) sick, and b) hungry, and you're not sure which is the main culprit

3. When it's the first really drop-dead gorgeous day in MONTHS (I mean, MONTHS, here, people) and you are sick (see problem 2) and can't deal with being outside because of noise and sappy teenagers making out every which way you turn

4. When an article comes out in the morning's paper basically telling you that there are no jobs in your intended career and you start to panic on the train first thing in the morning, this of course right after seeing someone throw up all over himself in his sleep (seriously, he didn't even notice) and then to find it sent to you in your email when you get home, too

Roll me over in my grave

2009-03-15T18:50:00.005-04:00

I am normally the most picky person in the world about my mashed potatoes. Mashed potatoes, after all, fall into the category of UNTOUCHABLE, that is, we don't mess with a good thing. Jeff is always lobbying for garlic mashed potatoes, but in vain. (Let it be known that I have made them, twice, even, but you know... I just couldn't stay over on that side.) Also, mashed potatoes have to go with something hearty, like roast pork, or a roast chicken, or you know, lamb. Anything from which drippings you can have a good gravy (or even the pan drippings, who am I kidding?).

But then I saw that Mark Bittman wrote about mashed potatoes, mixed with bitter greens, and then baked into a goodness of potato loveliness. I picked up the article, then turned the page, thinking, "New mashed potatoes? Eh. No thanks." But then I kept turning back. More than a few times. I even saved the article from the recycling bin. So I went to the store, picked up some dandelion greens, made a roast chicken aaaaannnnnddd....

You know what? These are GOOD. I wouldn't take this lightly, if I were you--like I said, I am a complete and utter purist when it comes to mashed potatoes (warmed milk, butter, salt, roll me over in my grave I love mashed potatoes), and these are just good. It's like making a special green just to go with your chicken, but even better, because you don't even have to because your green vegetable is already in with the potatoes.

(Though next time, I'd skip the baking part, and just mash everything together on the stove... delish.)

Green Mashed Potatoes

2 large starchy or all-purpose potatoes (russet or yukon gold), about 1 pound, peeled and cut into quarters
salt
1 pound dandelion or other greens, washed and trimmed of their thick stems
1/4 to 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
ground black pepper
1 cup homemade bread crumbs

1. Put potatoes in a large, deep pot and cover them with cold water. Add a large pinch of salt and bring to a boil. Cook until soft but not falling apart; start checking with a fork at 15 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain; meanwhile, add greens to water and cook for about 1 minute. Rinse under cold water. Drain well, then chop.
2. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Rice potatoes, or mash with a fork or potato masher, adding enough olive oil to moisten them well. Mash in the greens, adding more olive oil as needed. Sprinkle with salt and lots of pepper.
3. Put mixture in an ovenproof dish and top with bread crumbs. Drizzle with more olive oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and bake until bread crumbs are golden brown, about 15 minutes. Serve hot or warm.

Close of the season

2009-03-08T23:37:00.011-04:00

My kitchen was kind of quiet this weekend. Friday I made a quick dinner out of polenta, chard, and fried eggs (which, though sounding kind of atrocious, is actually fantastic and is definitely in my lineup of favorite quick meals), and then we had a Midnight snack down at SUPER TACOS, because, well, who doesn't want a Midnight snack of perfect, spicy-wonderful tacos de chivo?

And then yesterday was a dream dinner in Flushing: bubble tea, soup dumplings, and oh-so many dreamy things at Spicy and Tasty--pork with bamboo shoots, preserved cucumbers, crispy fish dish, stir-fried beef with hot peppers, pea shoots--which certainly seems like a lot of things, but we were five people, and we handily finished it all. Some of us did a better job than others. But when we're talking Spicy and Tasty, well, what I can I say? Dee-lish.

And then today... with the time change and everything, let's just say that we had a late start to the day, and then had leftover lasagna for lunch, and then, well, it was already time for dinner, but not before heading to Fairway to pick up what is probably the end of the season's Meyer lemons.

I love love love Meyer lemons. They are wonderfully fragrant--more floral, and less harsh, than your standard Eureka's that are available year-round. (For a reasonable explanation, see this article.) If they are in season, I will buy them and use them for pretty much everything that involves lemons. But they shine especially brightly in deserts that are lemon-centric: think lemon bars or lemon cake or lemon curd cake or you know, whatever. I will also use them, rather selfishly, for decoration--their zest is somehow richer, and brighter, than that of regular lemons, and they certainly smell great.

So I used mine in a cake, a lemon (lemon) loaf cake, which I adapted from my cookbook of the year, substituting my gorgeous specimens for the regular, and then making only half of the recipe (since two cakes in one sitting certainly seems excessive, no?), and then doubling the zest and giving a little more juice than specified.

(Meyer) Lemon Lemon Loaf

for the (Meyer) lemon cake
3/4 cups cake flour
3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
pinch baking soda
1 cup sugar
4 large eggs, at room temperature
zest of 2 (Meyer) lemons
1/4 cup fresh (Meyer) lemon juice
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
4 tablespoons sour cream, at room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

for the (Meyer) lemon syrup
3 tablespoons cup fresh (Meyer) lemon juice
3 tablespoons sugar

Make a cake
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Heavily butter a standard-sized loaf pan, or line with parchment paper.
2. Sift both flours, baking powder, baking soda, and salt together in a medium bowl.
3. Put the sugar, eggs, lemon zest, and lemon juice in a food processor and pulse until combined. With the motor running, drizzle the butter in through the feed tube. Add the sour cream and vanilla and pulse until combined. Transfer the mixture to a large bowl.
4. Sprinkle in the flour mixture, one third at a time, folding gently after each addition until just combined. Do not overmix.
5. Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 20 minute, reduce the temperature to 325 degrees, and bake for another 30-35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the loaf comes out clean.
6. Let cool in the pans for 15 minutes.

~Meanwhile~ make the (Meyer) lemon syrup.
1. In a small saucepan over medium heat, heat the lemon juice and sugar until the sugar is completely dissolved. Once dissolved, continue to cook for 3 more minutes. Remove from heat and set aside.
2. Line a half sheet pan with parchment paper and invert the loaves onto the pan. Use a toothpick to poke holes in the tops and the sides of the loaves.
3. Brush the top and sides of the loaves with the (Meyer) lemon syrup. Let the syrup soak into the cake, and brush again. Let the cakes cool completely, at least 30 minutes.

**Note** These loaves, soaked with syrup, will keep, wrapped in two layers of plastic wrap and frozen, for up to 6 weeks.

Spicy and Tasty
39-07 Prince Street
Flushing, NY 11354

Super Tacos
96th St. & Broadway, Southwest corner
New York, NY 10025

Addendum: UNfortunately

2009-03-03T19:50:00.003-05:00

Jeff would like me to add the last, exemplary unfortunate moment of last night (which happened way, way after I wrote that post):

UNFORTUNATELY, while cleaning the pots and pans from the giant mess that I managed to make, a large, blue pyrex bowl fell and smashed (I mean, SMASHED) into only about a bajillion pieces and managed to slice two of Jeff's fingers open, thus causing us to be in the emergency room from approximately 10:30 to 2:00 AM last night getting them stitched back up.

(Fortunately, the hospital is only 10 blocks away from our apartment.)

(He is A-OK. I promise.)

Un/fortunately

2009-03-02T16:13:00.008-05:00

When I was little, one of my favorite books was Fortunately, a story about a boy who spends a day in which both fortunate and unfortunate things happen to him. Each page starts with "Fortunately..." or "unfortunately...". Here is my version, for 2 March 2009.

Fortunately, I got a call last night at about 9:45, telling me that school would be cancelled today! I did a happy dance.
Unfortunately, school was cancelled because a major snow storm rolled into the area, not only bringing a good five/six inches of snow, but also some WICKED wind and slush onto the streets.

Fortunately, I didn't have too many things to do today, and was able to sleep in a little. Also, Jeff made me coffee.
Unfortunately, I did have to run some errands, including one to the library, who claimed to have a book for me and then didn't, and then out to the UPS outpost which was FAR and COLD and there was much WIND in my face.

Fortunately, when I made it home, there was some delicious, restorative soup from last night to warm me up.
Unfortunately, soup only goes so far, and so I've been kind of hungry on and off all day, not wanting to make more soup.

Fortunately, I had a whole stack of recipes that I intended to make today. These included chocolate biscotti, oven roasted tomatoes, and fried chicken (that would be dinner).
Unfortunately, I forgot after I made them that I don't really like chocolate biscotti. I think the recipe comes from the Ghiridelli Chocolate Cookbook (or another one of those cookbooks that my mother has had forever--this is also the recipe that she loves, I think), but I made a batch on the fly a few years ago, and but since I am a disaster at writing down/remembering anything about my improvisational forays, all I remember was that there was chocolate and a hefty splash of Cointreau. And no cocoa powder. This was not the biscotti I made.

Fortunately, I also had another recipe that I've been longing to make: Molly Wizenberg's Pomodori al Forno, from Bon Appétit. I made them once this summer, and have been craving them ever since (along with anything fresh and green; ie anything that's out of season).
Unfortunately, tomatoes are dreadfully out of season, and after this article in Gourmet this month, I cannot bear to buy tomatoes at the supermarket out of season. Read the article. Please read it. You won't want to buy tomatoes, either.

Fortunately, the recipe calls for canned tomatoes, in a pinch. So I get those going, stick them in the oven, and start to shuffle around the house.
Unfortunately, while rummaging in the pantry, a brand-spanking-new jar of brown rice syrup full and broke all over the floor, my just-cleaned jeans, and the kitchen rug (sorry, Jeff). Glass shards also ended up suspended in the syrup. What a pain to clean. Seriously, it was gross.

Fortunately, we will be having fried chicken for dinner, which will make up for any and all mishaps* of the day. I LOVE fried chicken, and even more so when it's made at home. I've had the chicken resting in its salt bath all day, and I am SO PSYCHED.
There is nothing unfortunate about that.

Pomodori al Forno

1 cup olive oil, divided
2 28-oz cans whole peeled tomatoes
1 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme or oregano
3/4 teaspoons sugar
1/2 teaspoons salt
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 teaspoons minced fresh Italian parsley

1. Preheat oven to 250 degrees. Pour 1/2 cup oil into a 13 x 9 x 2-inch glass or ceramic baking dish. Arrange tomatoes in dish, cut side up. Drizzle with remaining 1/2 cup oil. Sprinkle with herbs, sugar, and salt. Bake 1 hour.
2. Using tongs, turn tomatoes over. Bake 1 hour more.
3. Turn tomatoes over again. Bake until deep red and very tender, transferring tomatoes to a plate when soft, anywhere from 15-45 minutes.
4. Layer tomatoes in a medium bowl, sprinkling garlic and parsley over each layer; reserve oil in a baking dish. Drizzle tomatoes with reserved oil, adding more if necessary to cover. Let stand at room temperature, 2 hours.

Serve with baguette and goat cheese. Imagine that it's summer.

*Do you know what I like? Words that have "sh" or "ph" in the middle but that don't make the sound of that specific syllable. Like "mishaps" or "straphanger."

To the kitchen

2009-03-01T19:18:00.010-05:00

It's been a blogarific week. I made this tasty bread, this tasty granola, and this tasty fruit salad.

Unfortunately, that didn't leave too much time for making tasty new things, though I did have some killer leftovers last night, which I had managed to stash away in the freezer for a day when cooking just wasn't an option. (I know you have those days too. Who doesn't? I mean... yesterday we spent most of the day tromping around Brooklyn, starting in Williamsburg and then ending up in Red Hook, which as the crow flies isn't terribly long. But to quote my Uncle P.H., "WE ARE NOT CROW! We must take a longer route.") We did manage to end our day at Baked, though, the namesake of the delicious book I've been telling you about, and we had the a killer Coffee Crisp bar: chocolate brownie bar, smeared with coffee buttercream, and then topped with a chocolate-caramel-coffee ganache layer. KILLER, I tell you.

It was a good walk, even if it was a little cold for my taste. We saw the new, enormous Fairway market in Red Hook (Jeff and I could stand next to each other, an arm-length apart, in an aisle and hold out both arms and not crush products on both sides). And then just missed the ferry from Brooklyn to Manhattan from the Ikea launching pad. Which was a sad, sorry moment, let me tell you. But it was ok after all, since it was fairly easy to boil water for our spaghetti and meatballs.

And then, today, to the kitchen, for a hefty soup. Rumor has it that we are in for winter's last hurrah, at least a foot of snow. SNOW! I mean, come on people, please. Hot soup to have with bread, loaded with vegetables and dimpled with pasta, something hearty to keep out the chill. I mean, there's no snow yet, but... I would like to imagine that putting an offering of hot soup outside would appease the snow furies and they would consequently pass over my spot of the world. Especially since it's a nice, restorative soup, one that is jam packed with vegetables and is tomatoey and nice, and it was *almost* vegetarian-friendly! (Just skip the bacon.) With a dash of hot pepper flakes to round it out, it is a lovely thing when facing a wintry blast. I know that I will enjoy it, and imagine that the furies would, too.

Winter Minestrone, adapted from Gourmet**

1/3 lb sliced bacon (or pancetta), chopped
3 medium red onions, chopped
4 celery ribs, chopped
2 medium carrots, chopped
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 bunch swiss chard
6 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 28-oz can whole tomatoes in juice
3 quarts water
1 head savoy cabbage, coarsely chopped
1 piece Parmigiano-Reggiano rind (about 3 x 1 1/2 inches)
1 19-oz can cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
1/3 box ditalini pasta, cooked separately and set aside

1. Cook bacon/pancetta, onions, celery, and carrots in oil in a very large pot, probably the largest that you have. (Unless, of course, you have an enormous stock pot. Even then, it might be a good choice.) Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, while preparing the chard, about 7 minutes.
2. Cut out stems from chard and chop stems, reserving leaves. Stir chard stems into bacon/pancetta mixture with garlic, 1 teaspoon salt, 3/4 teaspoon pepper and continue cooking, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are very tender and begin to stick to the bottom of the pot, about 45 minutes total. Hang on to the chard leaves, you'll need them.
3. Push vegetables to one side of the pot. Add tomato paste to cleared area and cook, stirring constantly, until it starts to caramelize, about 2 minutes. Stir paste into vegetables and cook, stirring, 2 minutes. (Paste may stick to pot, but don't let it burn.)
4. Stir in tomatoes with their juice, breaking them up with a spoon, then add water (all 3 quarts), scraping up any brown bits from the bottom of the pot.
5. Bring to a simmer. Stir in cabbage and parmesan rind. Simmer, covered, until greens are tender, about 40 minutes.
6. Coarsely chop chard leaves. (I find it is best to stack them one on top of the other and roll them into a fat cigar. Slice across into as many pieces as desired.) Stir into soup along with the beans. Simmer partially covered, about 10 minutes. Discard rind. Season soup with salt and pepper. If using pasta, stir in just before serving.
*Note: soup, without pasta, can be made 2 days ahead and chilled.

**PLEASE NOTE: This recipe makes a MASSIVE amount of soup. I would DEFINITELY go with a half recipe next time. You know how I ate some freezer leftovers yesterday? They have been replaced with a few tupperwaresful of soup.

Back at it

2009-02-25T17:14:00.007-05:00

Today was sunny! It's seemed like so long since New York has seen any sun... not like I can be the best of judges, as of late. And so far I've also managed not to take a nap, which is certainly a step up from the other days this week. Also, I managed to get back to the stove, and I'm making our latest favorite chickpea dish. (We seem to rotate which ones we like the best, and make it for months, and then switch the next season that it gets cold. More on that later.)

I know that chickpeas are not a sexy legume. They are lumpy. And wan. But they are kind of adorable, don't you think? They are pleasantly dimply. And so sweet! I usually pop more than a few in my mouth when they're sitting in the strainer over the sink. And when they're surrounded by a warm bath of tomatoes, onions, chile, and a touch of cream, they are absolutely irresistible. Add some warm pita or naan, and you have a match made in heaven. This may be the perfect way to welcome some sunny weather, even if it's still a little chilly.

Spicy Chickpeas with Paneer, adapted from How to Cook Everything Vegetarian

Spicy Indian Tomato Sauce

3 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 thumb-sized piece fresh ginger, minced (or 1 teaspoon powdered)
1 tablespoon fresh minced chile, to taste
2 teaspoons curry powder
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
large pinch sugar
1 28-oz can whole peeled tomatoes, drained and chopped
1/2 cup cream or coconut milk
3/4 cup chopped cilantro, optional

2 cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained
1 block paneer cheese

1. Place butter in a deep skillet over medium-high heat. When the butter is melted, add the onion, garlic, ginger (if fresh), and fresh chile. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is soft, about 5 minutes. Stir in the curry powder, chili powder (and ginger, if powdered), sugar, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cook and stir until the spices become fragrant, a minute or two more.
2. Add the tomato and cook, stirring frequently, until they start to release some liquid, about 3 minutes. Add the cream and cilantro and keep cooking and stirring until the mixture comes to a boil.
3. Turn the heat down so that the sauce bubbles gently and cook, stirring occasionally, until the tomato about 30 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning. (It should be well seasoned, and pretty spicy, since when you add the chickpeas and cheese the spices dissipate quite a bit.)
4. Rinse the chickpeas in cold water, and add to the sauce.
5. Cube the paneer into smallish cubes; they should be bite-sized. Add to the chickpea and tomato sauce mixture. Mix all together, cover, and simmer 30 minutes, stirring frequently. Serve with fresh pita or naan.

Paris, Paris

2009-02-23T18:00:00.006-05:00

Let me start out by telling you that Lufthansa is truly the way to fly. It wasn't the roomiest of airplanes, but there were rivers of free booze and real meals and those little neck savers that turn around your head so that you can sleep without your head totally falling onto your chest and jerking you awake every three minutes. There was even a soft blanket. And a smushy pillow.

All in all, getting to Paris was a snap. The only better flight I've had was one where we were totally late in D.C. and it turned out that they bumped me to business class, without any requests on my part! Nothing beats transatlantic business class. NOTHING.

After we got in, got to our friends' apartment, and had a quick snack, Natalie, Jeff and I went for a quick walk around the neighborhood, stopping for lunch. Jeff, having not managed to sleep at all on our flights over, barely made it though lunch sitting up. But our reward was a hot café with a white chocolate-covered marshmallow shaped like a bear. How could anyone resist it?

The best part about day one, though, was dinner; our friends and ever-so-fantastic hosts Johnny and Natalie and we went to one of their favorite haunts for dinner, Epicure 108. It was the real deal--kir royal, wine, entrée+plat+désert, the works. The star of the show, though, was certainly dessert--Natalie had recommended their croquillantes, thumb-sized melted chocolate surrounded with thin layers of puff pastry and sautéed in butter. They were absolutely divine. But nothing beat Johnny's chocolat au Saint Valentin. It was just gorgeous. Johnny seemed to think it tasted as good as it looked, too.

After that, we called it an early night. And then proceeded to sleep for about ten hours.

Epicure 108
108 rue Cardinet
75017 Paris

Annnnnd...we're off!

2009-02-12T15:33:00.003-05:00

Dear Everyone,

Reading over the last post, it would seem as though I had fully meant to tell you about all sorts of good things. And I was, really, I had the best of intentions. But you and I all know where good intentions lead. So I won't even pretend this time, because instead of frantically cleaning out the fridge and removing the grime from my bathtub and packing like a fiend, I am sitting here avoiding all of it.

See, Jeff and I are going to Paris, tomorrow! We'll be gone for a week. A WHOLE WEEK. We haven't taken a vacation in a long time. You know, a vacation vacation. One where we don't go see our parents. The last one was when we went to Seattle in 2006. It was a good trip. We've been looking to repeat it for a while.

I promise to take pictures. I promise to have stories. And they will be good. And delicious.

À la prochaine!
Mei

Annnnd.... we're back!

2009-02-08T21:58:00.006-05:00

Where did this last week go? I had meant to tell you all sorts of good things, like rolls that breach out like fans, and brownies that could melt your heart. But we were too busy cavorting in Washington DC, I guess--going to fabulous places like Etete, a cramped, spirited Ethiopian restaurant where we went for my friend Susan's birthday. We feasted on injera, a sponge-like bread that soaks up all sorts of sauce and goodness, and all sorts of small, feisty dishes. There was also a rancid honey wine, which we sent back, and all sorts of excellent conversation and companionship.

We also went to our friends Anna and Andrew's house, where there was so much to say, and too little time. Andrew and Anna are very accomplished cooks, and wonderful friends.

In the end, there was way to much to do. And way too little time. It's hard to maximize yourself while constantly shuttling between couches and the various ends of town. (To all of our friends, who were more than gracious, and had incredibly comfortable couches/futon mattresses, we are so thankful. So thankful. Let us reciprocate any time.)

And then we got back and we were just crazy. But we don't need to talk about that now. We do need to talk about, however, the best cookie dough that I have had in, um, ever. So that cookbook that Lorie and Bob sent me for my birthday/Christmas? Baked? Fantastic. I made their brownies. They were tasty (see above). But nothing like these chocolate chip cookies.

I know, I know. How many different recipes for a chocolate chip cookie can there be? Well, lots, really. For a long time I was a huge, unapologetic fan of the Tollhouse recipe, found on the back of the semi-sweet chocolate chip bag. We lovingly called them Crisco cookies. I made them at least once a week when I was a senior in high school. (Mom, thanks millions for the ingredients. You were a total trooper.) Last year I got hooked on the version from The King Arthur Flour Baker's Companion, which had a smidge of corn syrup (which I replaced with agave nectar, an excellent trade-off), and then I also tried that super annoying recipe from the New York Times, which was, admittedly, very, very good. But THIS IS MY NEW FAVORITE. They are buttery and warm and chocolate-melty. I didn't have chocolate chips in the house, but I did have the remains of quite a few chocolate bars, which I chopped to vaguely chocolate chip-sized pieces, which worked out perfectly. There were little shards of chocolate that melted into the batter, and larger chunks that were nice and gooey. And with a little milk, two were the perfect bed-night snack.

**PICTURES COMING**

Chocolate Chip Cookies, adapted from Baked

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs, at room temperature
2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups bittersweet/semi-sweet chocolate chips or pieces

1. In a large bowl, whisk the flour, salt, and baking soda togther and set aside.

2. In another large bowl, either in an electric mixer or by hand, beat the butter and the sugars together until smooth and creamy. Scrape down the bowl and add the eggs, one at a time, beating until each is incorporated. the mixture will look light and fluffy. Add the vanilla and beat for five seconds.

3. Add half of the flour mixtures and mix for 15 seconds. Add the remaining flour mixture and beat until just incorporate.

4. Using a spatula or a wooden spoon, fold in the chocolate chips. Cover the bowl tightly and refidgerate mixture for 4-6 hours.

5. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

6. Using two bigish spoons, form dough into approximately 2-tablespoon sized balles, and place them on prepared sheets, giving them at least an inch on all sides to breathe. Bake for 12-14 minutes, rotating pans once while baking, until the edges of the cooking sare golden brown and the tops just start to darken.

7. Remove the pans from oven and cool on a wire rack for 5 minutes, then transfer to cooling racks.

Etete
1942 9th St. NW
Washington, DC 20001

Out of Town

2009-01-29T09:33:00.004-05:00

Dearest all,
FYI, I have not abandoned you. Really. Despite the fact that things haven't been entirely hectic around these parts (hah!), I really just haven't been able to get to the computer much, which has actually been sort of refreshing. But I am going out of town this weekend, so I will be out of commission for a bit.
I promise to come back soon.
Really.
Love,
Mei

Elephant Ears

2009-01-21T14:10:00.006-05:00

Honestly, there's not too much happening around these parts. But I did want to tell you about these cookies, which also come from my latest lovely gift. I'd never made elephant ears before. When I was in the 6th grade, during the school's arts week, Mr. Onofrey ran the cooking module, and had made his own puff pastry at home, by himself. I was amazed--especially when he pulled out elephant ears, light and flaky and buttery and sugary and crisp and caramely and just. so. amazing. So amazing that I still have the recipe packet that he wrote out and photocopied for everyone who attended the module.

After that, I've been wrecked on puff pastry. I find the frozen kind never very good (or even very easy to work with, for that matter), but I really do love elephant ears. So when I saw a recipe for some, without actually having to make puff pastry, I was interested. Very interested, in fact. I was so interested that I even overlooked the fact that there is a whole tube of almond paste in the recipe. And then proceeded to make it, even though I wasn't convinced that almond paste in elephant ears would be the best route to go. And no spices.

But I was so so so wrong. They are delicious. And worth every ounce of almond paste.

If you choose to make these cookies (and you should), I have a very very important footnote. If you make the filling ahead of time, and do not let it sit to room temperature, which is hard to do, since the dough and the filling warm at different rates, you may have to pull out large-ish chunks of the filling and roll it out with a pin so it is nice and thin, and then kind of patchwork it onto the dough. A metal spatula is NOT going to cut it, especially if the dough is rolled out and rather malleable. But the patchworking seemed to work for me... so perhaps you can make it work for you?

Jumbo Almond Elephant Ears, adapted from bigfatcookies

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1/2 cup sour cream

7 ounces almond paste, broken or cut into 12 pieces
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup powdered sugar
2 teaspoons heavy (whipping) cream or milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon almond extract

approximately 1 cup granulated sugar, for rolling

prepare the dough
1. Sift the flour, baking soda, and salt into a large bowl. Use a pastry blender to combine the flour mixture and butter, until the butter pieces are the size of small lima beans or so the butter pieces will be different sizes, and there will be some loose flour.
2. Add the sour cream and mix in with a spoon for about 2 minutes, until a smooth dough forms. Form the dough into a smooth ball and flatten it into a rectangle about 8 by 5 inches. You will see small pieces of butter in the dough; that is good. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 to 60 minutes to rest and firm the dough. You can also refrigerate the dough overnight, but then be sure to let it sit at room temperature for up to an hour so it is soft enough to roll out easily.

prepare the filling
1. In a large bowl, using an electric mixer on medium speed, beat the almond paste and butter until smooth. Mix in the powdered sugar, cream, vanilla, and almond extract until blended to a smooth, soft mixture. Likewise, you could make the filling in a food processor, and beginning with a few on/off bursts, process until a smooth mixtures forms, about 1 minutes. Transfer to a small bowl, cover, and set aside at room temperature for up to 1 hour or refrigerate if leaving overnight.

2. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Line baking sheet(s) with parchment paper.

3. Unwrap the dough. Lightly sprinkle flour and sugar on the rolling pin and rolling surface. Roll dough to a 14 x 12 inch rectangle. Don't flip the dough over while rolling, but lift and turn several times as your roll it to prevent it from sticking to the rolling surface. Use a thin metal spatula to spread the filling in a thin layer over the dough. Turn the dough, if necessary, so a short side faces you.

4. Measuring along the 14-inch sides, mark the center of the dough. Rolling from the 12-inch edge that is closest to you, roll the dough like a jelly roll just the marked center. Then roll the far side towards the center until the two rolls meet. you will have a double log of filled dough that is smoothly attached on the bottom side; turn so that side is up, for easier cutting.

5. Press the ends of the log to smooth them, and use a large, sharp knife to cut the log into twelve 1-inch-thick slices. Dip both sides of each slice in sugar. Roll out each slice of dough to a large butterfly shape, about 4 x 5 inches, and about 3/16-inch thick, sprinkling the rolling pin as necessary with sugar. The cookies will not all be exactly the same size. Use a large spatula to place the cookies at least 1-inch apart on the prepared baking sheets. Sprinkle the top of each cookie with about 1/2 teaspoon sugar.

6. Bake the cookies one sheet at a time until the tops are evenly light brown, about 15 minutes. The cookies will spread about 1 inch and rise slightly. The filling may bubble up slightly on some of the cookies and have a few darker spots scattered on them. Cool the cookies for 5 minutes on the baking sheets, then use a large metal spatula to carefully transfer them to a wire rack to cool completely. They outsides of the sugar-coated cookies will become very crisp as they cool.

Cookies can be stored in a singer layer in a tightly covered container at room temperature for up to 3 days.

January

2009-01-17T17:20:00.010-05:00

Let us take a moment to think about Maurice Sendak and his timeless love song to the months of the year:

In January
it's so nice
While slip sliding on the ice
to sip hot chicken soup
with rice
Sipping once
sipping twice
sipping chicken soup with rice.

I have to admit that I had to look this up. (I wish I carried more poetry in my head, but there's a lot of other stuff taking up important space in there. Like how I ought to wear thicker socks and stuff.) The version that I remember in my head is more like "January is cold with ice, so I like chicken soup with rice." My version seems more appropriate for January 2009. I mean, January is one of the most brutal months around, don't you think? I mean, it's cold, it's snowing and icy, and it's dark. (Well, ok, New York for the past few days has been sunny, but by no means warm, and what is the point anyway of getting excited about the sun if you can't do anything in it? Just think of my February kite-flying fiasco. But that is for another time.) But do you know what I discovered? There is nothing, and I mean nothing, not even sipping chicken soup with rice, better than getting a few last holiday gifts after the holidays. Jeff's parents just sent me two brandspanking new baking books to play with (thanks, Lorie and Bob!), and they couldn't be more exciting, not at all.

And January definitely got a little better with the addition of Peanut Butter Crispy Bars--kind of like a cross between a peanut butter cup and puppy chow and really, really good rice krispy treats. And because they are so rich and delightful, and you and your boyfriend probably couldn't finish a whole pan even if you try your darndest, you can give some away and spread the post-holiday cheer around.

Which is something definitely to look forward to in January.

Peanut Butter Crispy Bars, adapted from Baked

1 3/4 cups crisped rice cereal
1/4 cup sugar
3 tablespoons light corn syrup
3 tablespoons melted butter

5 ounces good-quality milk chocolate, coarsely chopped
1 cup creamy peanut butter

3 ounces dark chocolate (60 to 72% cacao), coarsely chopped
1/2 teaspoon light corn syrup
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter

make the crispy crust
1. Lightly oil the bottom and sides of an 8-inch square baking pan. (I used a 9x10 pan, it seemed to work just fine.)
2. Put the cereal in a large bowl and set aside.
3. Pour 1/4 cup water into a small saucepan. Gently add the sugar and corn syrup into the center of the pan (do not let any sugar or syrup get on the sides of the pan) and use a small wooden spoon to stir the mixture until just combined. Put a candy thermometer in the saucepan. Cook over medium-high heat and bring to a boil; cook until the mixture reaches the soft ball stage, 235 degrees F.
4. Remove from the heat, stir into eh butter, and pour the mixture over the cereal. Working quickly, stir until the cereal is thoroughly coated, then pour it into the prepared ban. Using your hands, press the mixture into the bottom of the pan (do not press up the sides). Let the crust cool to room temperature while you make up the next layer.

make the milk chocolate peanut better layer
1. In a large nonreactive metal bowl*, stir together the chocolate and the peanut butter.
2. Set the bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and cook, stirring with a rubber spatula, until the mixture is smooth. Remove the bowl from the pan and stir for about 30 seconds to cool slightly. Pour the mixture over the cooled crust. Put the pan in the refrigerator for 1 hour, or until the top layer hardens.

make the chocolate icing
1. In a large nonreactive metal bowl, combine the dark chocolate, corn syrup, and butter.
2. Set the bowl over a saucepan of simmering wter and cook, stirring with a rubber spatula, until the mixture is completely smooth. Remove teh bowl from teh pan and stir for 30 seconds to cool slightly. Pour the mixture over the chilled milk chocolate peanut butter layer and spread into an even layer. Put the pan in the refrigerator for 1 hour or until the topping hardens.
3. Cut into 9 squares and serve. The bars can be stored in the refrigerator, covered tightly, for up to 4 days.

*Does anyone know what a reactive metal bowl is?

Breakfast Trials

2009-01-11T14:47:00.014-05:00

I don't know about you, but at my house, breakfast is the hardest meal to prepare for. I, having a ravenous appetite and freakish metabolism, need two breakfasts on weekdays: one before I leave the house (a little something to offset my morning coffee), and then something for about an hour into the school day. First breakfast, I have recently discovered, needs to be no bigger than a piece of fruit or some toast, but the second needs to be more sustaining. Since lunch, by that time, is almost a full 2 hours away?

The problem is, though, that I don't really like cereal, which is quick, and can be at least kind-of nutritious. Oh, don't get me wrong. Some cereals are fine. As is granola. But I'm picky. And I don't really like to drink milk.

So that leaves us with what? Something warm, or something that isn't cloying. (Please note that breakfast is really only a problem during the week. Weekends are a breeze.) Oatmeal is fine, as are bagels, as is yogurt. Or leftover chinese food on chi fan (hi, Dad!). But it makes planning kind of difficult. Usually there really just isn't too much around, or I'm in a hurry. But I think I've found a solution: this morning, as Jeff and Abby and I were leaving our warm brunch spot to head back out into the cold, I espied some cinnamon swirl toast, plated and steaming and ready to be delivered. I nearly swooned. I love cinnamon swirl bread, and I have since I was a little kid. It reminds me of our kitchen in Chicago and taking two pieces out of the Pepperidge Farm package and that stickly sweet cinnamony smell that came out of the bag and then would emanate out of the toaster a few seconds later. But please let it not have raisins! There is no better way to ruin a perfectly good cinnamon swirl loaf than to load the swirls down with raisins.

So my own version was in order. No raisins, but some pecans ground into the mix. No cinnamon sugar topping, as suggested. And a bitterly cold afternoon to scoot the process along. All three qualifications worked perfectly. Perfectly! Warm out of the oven, with a cup of lukewarm tea, it was just what the doctor ordered. Next time, though, I might add a few more spices--cardamom (as a nod to my beloved Swedish Bakery), maybe some nutmeg. Why not? After all, a chilly sky is the limit on baking day, right? Especially when it comes to making sure that breakfast isn't an afterthought.

Cinnamon Swirl Bread, adapted from The King Arthur Flour All-Purpose Baking Cookbook

dough
3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/4 cup nonfat dry milk
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
3 tablespoons sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast
4 tablespoons butter, cut into medium-sized chunks
1 cup water

filling
1/4 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/4 cup chopped pecans
2 teaspoons unbleached all-purpose flour
egg wash, made from 1 large egg beaten with 1 tablespoon water

1. In a large mixing bowl, combine all the dough ingredients, mixing until the dough begins to come away from teh sides of the bowl. Knead about 10 minutes, until the dough is smooth and satiny. (Note: the butter will start to work its way into the rest of the dough, and will kind of come out slimy all over the place. If it gets too oily, sprinkle a little flour on your work surface and everything will be fine--just work through it) Transfer the dough to a lightly oiled bowl with plastic wrap, and set it aside to rise for 1 to 1 1/2 hours; it will be puffy, if not doubled in bulk.
2. Pulse filling ingredients except the egg wash in the food processor.
3. Transfer the dough to a lightly oiled work surface and shape it into a long, narrow rectangle, about 16 x 8 inches. Brush the dough with some of the egg wash (set the remainder aside) and pat the filling gently onto the dough. Beginning with a short edge, roll the dough into a log. Pinch the seam side and ends closed (to keep the filling from bubbling out) and place the log in a lightly greased loaf pan. Cover the pan with lightly greased plastic wrap and let the bread rise for about 1 hour at room temperature, or until it's crowned about 1 inch over the rim of the pan.
4. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
5. Brush the top of the loaf with the remaining egg wash.
6. Bake the bread for about 45 minutes, tenting it lightly with aluminum foil for the final 15 minutes or so if it appears to be browning too quickly. Remove the loaf from the oven, and after about 5 minutes, gently remove it from the pan.

Chicago is Still My Kind of Town

2009-01-04T19:43:00.007-05:00

How is it already January and I have to go back to school tomorrow and I haven't even told you about the goodness that was visiting my parents in Chicago over the holidays? It was a really nice trip--both my parents seemed really well, and very happy, espeically with their now-functional fireplace! We watched TV and read a lot, and Jeff and I even went snowshoeing for a little bit on Christmas day. But the some of the best times were hanging out with my parents trying new places to eat--both of my parents had been raving about this bar, Hopleaf, for a while, and we had also been informed that we were all going to go to a noodle bar that my mom had read about: Urban Belly.

Only Jeff and I ended up going to Hopleaf, but I think that was alright. It was snowy, and slushy, and neither of my parents were too excited about heading out to go to a bar (albeit their favorite one--my parents have a favorite bar!). Jeff and I got there kind of early, about a quarter to four or so, but we unfortunately learned that the kitchen wouldn't open until five, so we just ordered beers. Luckily for us, Hopleaf specializes in quality Belgian beers on tap--there were so many to choose from! Unfortunately, though, one of us still had to drive home (um, yeah, that was me), so I could only have one. Little did I know that 8.5% alcohol hits you like a wave if you haven't eaten too much because you were expecting the kitchen of the bar you were going to to be open. Oops.

But then Jeff and I sat it out, drank our beers and waited. It was very pleasant to sit in the window table, read the Chicago Reader and Beer Advocate, and decompress for a little. And then when the kitchen did open--well, let's just say that the "bar food" was great. I had moules frites, and Jeff had a brisket sandwich. Both disappeared quickly. Jeff also had a second beer, and I got to drive home.

The other place we went on my parent's suggestion (and with my parents!) was the adorable noodle bar Urban Belly. We had been out driving around, and we had been kind of worried about parking, until we pulled into a little strip mall where the shop was located. An unexpected boon, since there was a neat little parking lot where we could not worry about getting stuck in the snow. And inside were delectable dumplings, and so many different kinds of soups and noodles--it was great. The perfect response to a chilly, windy night. The dumplings were savory and zippy and nice--we had both the pork/chive and chicken/mushroom--and the soups were pretty darn good. Dad had a kim chi laced ramen with bay scallops, mom had a pho broth with pork belly, and Jeff had spicy soba, also with scallops. I nibbled all of them. And was terribly happy. Eating a dumpling and noodle meal with my favorite people? Nothing better.

We also saw so many people that needed seeing--I miss you already!

Hopleaf Bar
5148 N. Clark St.
Chicago, IL 60640

Urban Belly
3053 N. California Ave.
Chicago, IL 60618

Eating In and Out and About

2009-01-02T18:17:00.007-05:00

It has been quite the weekend. Our friends Brice and Susan came up for concerts, chilling out, and a lot of eating. To start, I made Gourmet's newest rendition of spaghetti and meatballs; I figured that anyone coming off a nearly five hour bus ride would need something good to eat. And man did that ever come true. Brice and Susan were delayed, driven in circles, and then delayed some more, arriving safely in New York at about 8:30, about three hours after their original time due in. And what better than wine and comfort food, ready and waiting?

We then proceeded to have a weekend full of eats, including a stint at the new Shake Shack after a trip to the Natural History Museum, where we all happily chowed down on perfect french fries (they might be my favorite in the city), delicious burgers, a hot dog, and, of course, the all important milkshakes. Jeff and I have our order down pat for when we go--we share everything except hamburgers. It's a winning situation all around.

As for the spaghetti and meatballs, they were just about perfect (if I do say so myself). Not too heavy, not too oily, and with a touch of lemon zest to add lightness and finesse. Next time, though, I'll add a little spice to the tomato sauce while it simmers, and maybe some herbs, too--it really needed something to make the flavors pop. But I wouldn't change a thing about the meatballs. Or the spaghetti. Or the wine. Eat this meal with copious glasses of wine. You won't regret it.

Spaghetti and Meatballs, adapted from Gourmet

for tomato sauce
3 28-ounce cans whole tomatoes in juice
1 medium onion, chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 garlic cloves, finely chopped

for meatballs
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
5 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 1/2 cups torn day-old country bread
1 1/2 cups whole milk
3 large eggs
1 cup grated parmesan cheese
3 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano, crumbled
1 tablespoon grated lemon zest
3/4 pound ground veal
3/4 pound ground pork
3/4 pound ground beef (not lean)
1/2 cup olive oil

1. Drain tomatoes over a very large bowl, reserving juice. Crush tomatoes with your hands and add them to juice.
2. Cook onions in oil in a very large pot over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 10 minutes. Add garlic and cool, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 2 minutes. Stir in tomatoes with their juice, 2 teaspoons salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper. Simmer sauce, uncovered, stirring occastionally, until slightly thickened, about 45 minutes to an hour. Season with salt.
3. While the sauce simmers, cook onions in olive oil in a 12-inch heavy skillet over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 10 minutes. Add garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a very large bowl to cool.
4. Soak break in milk in another bowl until soft, about 5 minutes. Firmly squeeze bread to remove excess milk; discard milk.
5. Stir together cooled onion mixture, bread, eggs, parmesan, parsley, oregano, lemon zest, 2 1/2 teaspoons salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper until combined. Add meats to the bread mixture, gently mixing with hands until just combined. (Do your best to not overmix.)
6. Form meat mixture into about 35 (1 1/2-inch) balls with dampened hands (this helps the mixture not stick), arranging meatballs on 2 large baking sheet or in shallow baking pans lined with foil.
7. Heat olive or vegetable oil (1/2 cup) in skillet over medium-high heat until hot but not smoking, then brown meatballs in 5-6 batches; do not crowd the meatballs in the pan. Turn frequently, about 5 minutes per batch. Return to baking sheets.
8. Add meatballs to sauce and gently simmer, covered, stirring occasionally, until cooked through, 20-30 minutes.

Serve with spaghetti and extra parmesan cheese.

(Meatballs with sauce can be frozen in an airtight container or heavy-duty sealable bags up to 3 months.)

The Shake Shack (Uptown location)
366 Columbus Ave.
New York NY 10024

Small pleasures

2008-12-31T13:51:00.004-05:00

Looking out of my window, I can see feathery flakes of snow quietly shifting around in the air. Sometimes they fall straight down, sometimes not. Sometimes they like to swirl around: the arial version of tumbleweed. Sometimes they like to blow horizontally. (I can't see anything that would indicate the presence of wind--no treetops on my street reach as high as my window. So it's nice to think, at least, that the snow has a mind of its own, and goes where it pleases. The dance without a song.)

I'm glad not to be outside, I think--it got cold here, and it's so much more pleasant to be inside with the oven humming, and with the warm scent of pita bread in the oven. Yes. Pita bread! I've been making the same recipe for years now, and it works: billowing, steaming pockets of soft, pliant bread that goes so nicely with spiced chickpeas and tomato sauce, or you know, Nutella. (Is there anything that Nutella doesn't compliment? Seriously here.) But the pita--so nice! And almost effortless. If you've been relying on the tougher stuff from the grocery store, well, it's high time to make your own.

Khubz'aadi (Pita Bread), adapted from Saveur

1 packet of active dry yeast (2 1/4 teaspoons)
1/4 teaspoon sugar
6 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, or a mixture of wheat and white
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons salt

1. Put yeast, sugar and 1/2 cup lukewarm water into a large bowl. (If you're not sure about the temperature of the water, run it at medium and stick your fingers under the tap. You shouldn't feel a temperature change from the water. If the water feels warm, it is too warm. Go for a neutral temperature.) Stir to dissolve, and let mixture sit until frothy, about 10-20 minutes. Add two more cups warm water and 1 cup of the flour to combine. Add two more cups of flour, one cup at a time, stirring well after each addition. Set mixture aside to rest for 10 minutes.
2. Add two tablespoons of the oil and salt and stir well to combine. Gradually add remaining flour, mixing well with your hands, until dough holds together as a ball. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, about fifteen minutes. Grease a large bowl with the remaining oil Roll dough around bowl to coat, then cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set in a warm spot to let rise until doubled in bulk, about two hours.
3. Place pizza stone on middle rack of oven; preheat oven to 500 degrees F. Punch down dough, turn out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead for two to three minutes. Divide evenly into 16 balls and cover with plastic. Roll each ball into a seven inch disc, keeping remaining dough covered. Transfer disc onto a clean, lightly floured kitchen towel (NOT terry cloth), and cover with another clean towel. Repeat process with remaining balls, laying them one inch apart in a single layer. Let rest twenty minutes.
4. Bake breads, two or three at a time, on pizza stone, until lightly golden and puffed, about three minutes per batch. Wrap hot pitas in a clean kitchen towel to keep them soft and pliable. Serve immediately.

Of Latkes and Light

2008-12-21T19:51:00.006-05:00

Yesterday I was awakened to the exceptionally familiar sound of a car whirring it's tires in order to get out of it's snowy spot. Even though I was comfortably nestled in bed, I had the urge to lean out of the window and scream that you have to shovel out the back tires if you want to get anywhere. I refrained. (Most people here don't have car shovels, anyway, so it would have been a moot point.)

I have also refrained from pelting the storefronts that have declined to shovel their walkways with the ensuing slush/ice/snow mixture that they leave there so nonchalantly, forcing us pedestrians have to navigate with what I like to call the "Midwestern Waddle" heel-toe-heel-toe, lean a little one way, lean a little the other, do your best to imitate a penguin, since they are the animals that actually live on the ice and don't slip nearly as much as their human counterparts.

Fin bref: Snow has arrived! We are already leaps and bounds ahead of last year (a good 1/2 inch at most), and just in time for Hanukkah. A good time to celebrate the light, now that we've nearly arrived at the winter solstice (which, doesn't fall, ahem, ahem, until tomorrow). And tonight we did so with subdued gusto--the first night of Menorah and latkes. Latkes! Much like hash browns. But small. And compact. And tasty! But because they make my house smell like oil, they're a once-a-year treat. No more, no less.

Over the past couple of years, Jeff and I have tried a bunch of different recipes, and this one always comes out right. (Also, I usually make a half recipe for Jeff and me, since there's really no reason to make a very large batch unless you have a lot of people around.) Not too eggy (which I cannot even stand), not to heavy, these bridge the gap between hash browns and egg, onion and potato patties. And it doesn't have that funky matzo meal grainy texture/taste that seems to be prevalent in so many versions. I suggest incorporating these into your midwinter tradition, too. Because you won't regret it.

And may your days be filled with light.

Crispy Potato Latkes, adapted from Food and Wine

2 pounds Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled
2 medium onions
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 tablespoon kosher salt
vegetable oil, for frying

1. Using a food processor or a box grater, coarsely shred the potatoes and onions. Transfer them to a colander and squeeze dry. In a large bowl, mix the potatoes and onions with the eggs, flour, and salt.
2. In a large skillet, heat 1/4 inch of oil until shimmering, pressing lightly to flatten them. Cook over moderately high heat, turning once, until browned, about 5 minutes (the first batch takes a little longer). Reduce the heat if the latkes brown too quickly. Drain the latkes on paper towels and serve right away.

Jeff eats these with heated applesauce.

Antidote

2008-12-17T18:38:00.006-05:00

It's the last week of school before the holidays, and the girls are running amok, ants in their pants, concentration out the window. Me too, I have to admit; sometimes, walking to school in the morning, it seems like I would rather be anywhere else than heading into the drab doors of school, wandering its dark, unhappy hallways, or looking out my tinted window onto the street below.

It's the perfect time for something hot from the oven, preferably wrapped in puff pastry with silky, melded meats and vegetables. There really isn't anything quite like the feel of something hot in your hand to stave of the chill and the drab--and these glorified hot-pockets fit the bill. My mom sent me this recipe a while ago, since she knows that I have a weakness for lamb, and for pastry (she prefers not to eat too much of either), and it's just great.

Australian Meat Pies, adapted from The Chicago Tribune

1 small Yukon gold potato
1 small onion
2 cloves garlic
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon flour
1 tablespoon olive oil
3/4 pound ground lamb
1 small can crushed tomatoes
1/2 teaspoon whole cumin seeds
large pinch dried red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint leaves
1 packages all-butter puff pastry, defrosted
1 egg
1 teaspoon water

1. Finely chop potato, onion, and garlic. Set aside in seperate bowls. Mash together butter and flour.
2. Heat oil in a large skillet set over medium heat. Tumble in onion and cook until soft, about 10 minutes. Add garlic, cook 1 minute. Add lamb and cook, stirring, until browned, about 10 minutes.
3. Stir in potatoes and tomato. Season with cumin, red pepper, salt and black pepper. Cover, lower heat, and simmer about 30 minutes. Thicken my stirring in butter/flour mash. Add mint. Let cool.
4. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. On a lightly floured surface, roll out puff pastry to a rectangle, to about 14 x 16 inches. Use a pizza wheel and cut into eight rectangles, each 7 x 4 inches.
5. Scoop 1/3 cup meat mixture onto each dough rectangle. Fold dough in half to cover. (Be sure to leave a good margin around the meat, so that when you fold the dough, you have enough to seal the spaces. Do NOT over fill the rectangles, because you will regret it and you will have oozy pies.) Press edges to seal. Beat together egg and water. Brush tops of meat pies with egg wash. Cut slits into the top of the pies with a small, sharp knife, for steam. Set pies on a parchment-lined baking sheet.
6. Slide into oven and bake until golden and puffed, about 20 minutes. Cool, but not enough that you can't serve nice and toasty.

Best. Donut. Ever.*

2008-12-14T18:51:00.010-05:00

*pssssst: it's the second one from the top right.

Today, feeling as though it was too nice of a day not to step foot out of our neighborhood, Jeff and I ambled down down down to the Lower East Side, bastion of deliciousness. First stop was Prosperity Dumpling, where I enjoyed a delicious snack of dumpling goodness. I hadn't been for a while, and man are those dumplings good. So hot and juicy and spicy... the perfect antidote to a windy, chilly day.

And then we decided to go to...drumroll please... The Doughnut Plant. The Doughnut Plant is this teeny little storefront that sells fresh doughnuts, coffee, hot chocolate, and hot chai all day long. Doughnuts are made on the premises, heating the bakery deliciously, and providing tantalizing aromas of sugar and cake. If you take a look at their website, you can see that they are highly stylized, but who cares? Their doughnuts are simply divine, supple, yeasty, and really, really tasty. The last time we went, we got a cup of honeyed, deeply spiced chai and a vanilla bean glazed doughnut, but today we got not only one of those, but also a crème brûlée doughnut.

Think about that carefully. A crème. brûlé. doughnut.

It was a doughnut that was crispy caramely on the outside, having been slightly torched in order to give that sheen of a true crème brûlée, with a filling of vanilla bean crème anglaise--creamy, vanilla, full flavored, but not overly sweet. It was a brilliant doughnut, perfectly giving the illusion of everyone's favorite dessert, but in doughy form. And that doughnut part? Just like the vanilla-bean glazed one: yeasty, chewy, and impossibly light.

And perfectly delicious.

The Doughnut Plant
379 Grand St.
New York, NY 10002

Remedy

2008-12-10T20:49:00.004-05:00

Do you ever have those days when you realize way too late that your clothes are too tight and even though no one can tell except you, you start to feel more and more self conscious and more and more panicky?

Today was definitely one of those days. And the item in question was most definitely my tights, which, true to their name, are supposed to be tight, but not so much that you start to get indigestion at noon and that still hasn't gone away at a quarter to nine right? And then there's the weather; let's not put too fine a point on this, but it is December 10 and it is a whopping 60 degrees in New York. Global warming, anyone, anyone?

So what better than soup for cheer? I found this recipe a few weeks ago in an old issue of Gourmet, when I was looking for cookie frosting recipes, and it just kind of stuck in my head. All sorts of good things get thrown into the pot: pork, soy sauce, spices... add some noodles and voilà!

And it turned out just like I wanted. It's very homey, and comforting, and delicious. Just the thing when the weather's getting you down, as is a little indigestion. I have to warn you, though, that it's a little on the sweet side, though, so next time I think I'll add only two tablespoons of sugar instead of the four... and I'll also add a nice thumb of ginger. It would also be awesome with some cilantro to cut the richness of the broth.

Pork Noodle Soup with Cinnamon and Anise, adapted from Gourmet

2 pounds country-style pork ribs
5 cups water
2/3 cup soy sauce (I use the San-J Tamari Low-Sodium; it's my favorite for all my soy sauce needs)
2/3 cup medium-to-dry sherry
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 head garlic, halved crosswise
3 (3-inch) cinnamon sticks
1 whole star anise
1 package bean thread (cellophane) noodles

1. Gently simmer all ingredients except noodles in a large pot, covered, skimming as needed, until pork is very tender, 1 1/2-2 hours.
2. Transfer pork to a bowl. Discard bones, spices, and garlic. Coarsly shred meat. Skim fat from broth, then return meat and bring to a simmer. Rinse noodles, then stir into broth and simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until noodels are translucent and tender, about 6 minutes. Serve.

Hiatus. Oops.

2008-12-07T22:29:00.004-05:00

So I didn't make it all the way through NaBlaPoMo. Maybe next year. Thanksgiving turned out to be as hectic as usual, which in turns makes for some difficulties in the posting process. We had a good run, though, didn't we?

On the upside, though, I have so many good things to tell you about! I'll give you a few hints below...

See you soon! (Promise!)

November Eat-O-Rama

2008-11-28T18:27:00.005-05:00

And so we are mid-way through the annual November Eat-O-Rama, brought to you in part by Jeff's family, myself, and a host of other factors. Jeff and I love the NEOR. It's most definitely something we look forward to for eleven months out of the year. It spans from the night before Thanksgiving to the Sunday when we leave; the only issue is that my (more-or-less) regulated eating schedule goes out of wack, and then I have to go back to trying to "be good" until the December EOR rolls around. (However, unlike the NEOR, the DEOR is spread out over the weeks preceding Christmas to the week following the New Year.)

It's great: when we arrive in Denver, we go straight to Jeff's favorite restaurant ever, The Sushi Den. Despite it's location in by a rather large mountain range and not by an ocean, the Sushi Den has fabulous sushi--it's one of the only places where the fish sparkles and actually tastes fresh without fail, every time. Jeff always goes for the obscenely elaborate sushi platter (as does his brother and father), but I like a mixture of tempura, sushi, and tofu. It's such a treat to eat such high-quality fish; it may be the only time all year that we eat sushi (mainly because we would rather eat high-quality sushi and in New York it can get very expensive very, very quickly).

For breakfast this time we went to a newer place on the Denver scene: Snooze. I won't reiterate my obsession with hash browns, but I will say that I was determined to get some while NOT in New York. As soon as I made this intention known to Jeff's dad, he was right on board with that plan, hoo boy. I have never met anyone as gung-ho as I about the wonders of hash browns. Thank goodness I did, though, because we found some fantastic ones. I got a whole bowlfull of them, smothered with cheese, mixed with bacon, and topped with a fried egg and avocado slices. It was heavenly. And I ate it all up. Every. Last. Bite. I outdid Jeff's brother even. Other than its hashbrowns, Snooze was great. Funky atmosphere, free coffee while you wait, fantastic food. If I lived in Denver, I would go there all the time. If you ever get the chance to go, you definitely should.

The Sushi Den
1487 Pearl St.
Denver, CO 80210

Snooze
2262 Larimer St.
Denver, CO 80205

Happy and Thankful

2008-11-27T16:55:00.001-05:00

Have a good one! Eat plenty. Sleep more.

Updates on Denver, coming your way soon.

Outs!

2008-11-26T11:31:00.002-05:00

Hey everyone.
I just wanted to highlight the next few days--we're headed this afternoon to visit Jeff's family in the red land state for Thanksgiving. So think of me and hope for beautiful flying/running/eating weather! And be sure to stuff yourself, if at all possible, for the rest of the week!
See you from Mountain Time,
Mei

Mea culpa

2008-11-24T18:39:00.004-05:00

Sorry about that lapse, folks. I made a pie, and meant to tell you about it, but then took it to a friend's house for dinner and then that was the end of that. No picture, not too much excitement. But the pie? Delish. It's very mild, and not too sweet. It's like a nice, plain custard.

And that's that. I know, I know, it's not too exciting. But then, neither was the pie. It was tasty, for sure. But exciting? Not so much.

Nutmeg-Maple Cream Pie, adapted from The New York Times

3/4 cup maple syrup
2 1/4 cup heavy cream
4 egg yolks
1 egg
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly-grated nutmeg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 pre-baked 9-inch pie crust

1. Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F. In a medium saucepan over medium-high heat, reduce maple syrup by a quarter, about 5 minutes or so. Stir in cream and bring to a simmer. Remove from the heat.
2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs and yolk. In a very small stream, and whisking constantly, slowly pour the cream into the egg mixture. (See, if you clump it all together, the eggs will scramble. And you don't want scrambled egg pie. Strain mixture into a small bowl. Stir in salt, nutmeg, and vanilla.
3. Pour mixture into your pre-baked pie crust. Place everything on a cookie sheet (not nonstick), and place in oven and bake until firm to the touch but still a little wobbly, about an hour. Let cool.

Politically Incorrect Sandwiches

2008-11-23T17:28:00.006-05:00

I have a present for you! Today, Jeff will be our guest columnist. Yes, the Jeff that often appears here as the good-natured, unwitting guinea pig of my culinary exploits, as the never-tiring dining companion, as the always energetic eating adventurer, and, most importantly for our tiny kitchen, as the ever-wonderful washer of dishes. Thanks, Jeff! --Mei

There are times when living in New York City does not seem worth it, when the hassles and annoyances are simply too much. Good examples include waiting in a line at Trader Joe's that stretches 3/4 of the way around the store, fighting your way past the crush of humanity just to get orange juice at Fairway, and the smell of half-burnt food cart pretzels blanketing an already overcrowded intersection.

However, these moments are more than outweighed by the times when I taste something that makes my mouth inadvertently form a smile, where I lose my ability to converse and can only concentrate on the food. These occurrences are more frequent on a stretch of Houston Street, on the Lower East Side, where several Jewish eateries hang on despite the proliferation of slicker establishments and chic, modern hotels. One of my favorites, along with Yonah Schimmel's Knishes and Katz's deli, is Russ and Daughters, a small shop that specializes in smoked fish and small delicacies. The store is tiny, with a counter on either side, one selling candies and pastries, which spells troubled ordering because I get constantly distracted by things I would like to eat; the other half sells smoked fish, and it's here where I order my Super Heeb sandwich.

This completely politically incorrectly named sandwich consists of a bagel (I prefer poppy) with a thin layer of horseradish cream cheese, a generous portion of whitefish salad and a sprinkling of wasabi-flavored flying-fish roe. The result is slightly creamy, salty, and has the distinctive taste of smoked fish, a fresh, cool, slightly briny taste that is unexpectedly flavorful. There is nowhere to sit and eat at Russ and Daughters, so Mei and plunged out into the near freezing weather and I bit into the sandwich with relish. The first half was delicious, even on such a cold day. I decided to hang on to the second half, not being super hungry after having already eaten a knish. As we walked around, I thought maybe the sandwich wasn't so good, that it was something that was great at the time but was too rich to eat more than a little of. But, worried it would go bad, I ate the second half at home. It was better than earlier (turns out having feeling in your fingers allows you to pay more attention to flavor) and has cemented its place as one of my favorite things in NYC to eat. So if you're in New York, head over to Russ and Daughters and enjoy one for yourself.

Russ and Daughters
179 East Houston Street
New York, NY 10002

FlushingFlushingFlushing

2008-11-22T21:28:00.008-05:00

I get giddy at the thought of Flushing. Flushing is Chinese food at its finest--hot, authentic, and dirt cheap. I love it--just being out there is like stepping into a crack in the time/space continuum--Flushing, Queens, is an entirely different world than my neighborhood of New York.

The first time Jeff and I went to Flushing together, we had just been picked up by my Taiwanese aunt and uncle at the airport. The night before, they had requested, not very subtly, that we absolutely needed to be hungry for lunch. At 10:30. In the morning. The conversation kind of went like this:

My Aunt: "You have to be hungry when you get here. Tell Jeff!"
Me: "Sure. Don't worry. We'll be hungry."
My Aunt: "NO! You be hungry! You don't eat breakfast!"
Me: "OK! We'll be hungry! I promise!"
My Aunt: "NO BREAKFAST!!!"

I think she was expecting us to be hungry.

Which we were, having gotten up at 5:45 AM to catch a flight out of Madison to get to New York to check things out before taking the leap to actually move half-way across the country. When we got in, we were ravenous, and we were duly dragged around to three different restaurants in the space of an hour and a half. We barely made it through the third restaurant, pleading over-stuffing. That is, until my aunt started yelling, "YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE GOING TO BE HUNGRY!" She was kidding. Kind of.

The three (or more) restaurant pattern is now the one that Jeff and I follow when we go out, now that we live here. We make the rounds of the places that we like to go, which certainly include the places that we were taken to by my aunt and uncle, and we have been slowly expanding the radius that we are willing to trek away from the subway station. This, of course, was helped along by this article in the Times, which was published in anticipation of the Beijing Olympics.

So tonight we did the following, in the following order:

Corn shaped cream cakes and bubble tea from Quickly

Beef and hand-pulled noodle soup at the Golden Mall

Soup dumplings (and some utterly forgettable noodles) from the Nan Shiang Dumpling house

A trip to the Hong Kong Supermarket.

(If any one can tell me what this flavor is, please let me know.)

This was a trip utterly worthy of the 45 minute trek out, and the 45 minute trek back in. Of course, this is all framed by an unbeatable view of the Manhattan skyline from the train... come and visit, and we'll go. You have my word. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it.

Hash browns, redux

2008-11-21T23:40:00.006-05:00

Yesterday, I made a new recipe: oven baked hash browns. As I'm sure you remember, hash browns are one of my favorite things to eat.

But... not to put too fine a point on it, I discovered last night that I adore pan-fried hash browns. Part of the problem was that the oven baked ones came out gray, undercooked, and underdelicious. (I mean, seriously? Grey? Grey potatoes = gross.) This leads me to believe that either I did not properly follow directions (quite possible, who's kidding who around here?) or that only pan-frying can produce the sort of fluffy goodness and golden crust that hash browns necessitate.

So if you're in the market for a low-oil potato hash brown experience, I advise you to look elsewhere than in the most current issue of Bon Appétit. And do let me know if you find something.

Apple and Lemon Perfection

2008-11-20T17:05:00.007-05:00

Don't you love apple tart? Because I love apple tart. It is the perfect fall dessert--not to sweet, with melting, floral apples over a shattering, just so slightly sweet, buttery crust. Add a little lemon zest, and you may have a slice of heaven.

This tart goes especially well if you're eating seasonally. Since it's late fall, there's the bounty of apples, especially in the last few places I've lived*. Furthermore, we're starting to touch on the citrus season (clearly the best season, in my unobjective opinion). I saw Meyer Lemons in the store the other day, and I just couldn't resist them. I picked some up, smelled one and was immediately hit by it's seductive perfume. I put them down, because I wasn't really in the market for lemons, but then I kept circling around them, like a bee around some fragrant blooms. So into the basket they went. And then their zest went right into my tart.

If you're going to make this, you may want to adjust the sweetness to taste. I use both a tarter variety of apple (Winesaps--if you can find them, they are floral and tart and sweet and all-around divine) and less sugar than the original six tablespoons. Also, the glaze makes a more elegant tart, and is delicious to boot. Make sure also that you heat the preserves a little, so that they're spreadable and melty. But part of the joy of this is that you get to make what you like, since variety is always possible, and always a good thing.

Practically Perfect Apple Tart

1 pâté sablée, unbaked; see here

4 medium apples, preferably a tart variety--I like winesaps
4 tablespoons sugar
zest of one Meyer Lemon
3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons apricot preserves (optional)

1. Make the pâté sablée, and chill in the refigerator.
2. Preheat the oven to 375.
3. Peel the apples and thinly slice, as evenly as possible. Arrange the apples to cover the pan however you like. Mix the sugar and lemon zest, then sprinkle with apples with the mixtures. Cut the butter into small pieces and dot with the butter.
4. Bake for 50-55 minutes
5. Glaze the tart with the jam, if using.

*It must be said for both the Upper Midwest and for New York State that apples are indeed one of their more anticipated commodities.

Extra! Extra!

2008-11-19T22:52:00.003-05:00

This week's issue of the New Yorker magazine is all about food. If the New Yorker isn't normally your magazine of choice, this may be a good place to start--there are some really cool pieces. One is about the search for the perfect Adriatic fish stew. Another is about Prince in his new Los Angeles digs. Another is about the art and science of good knives. And a piece about Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid, of cookbook fame. (I have to admit that I've been really into their cookbooks--beautiful, intellectual, and very, very human.)

So what are you waiting for? Go get your copy!

The Joy of Boiling Water

2008-11-18T20:49:00.004-05:00

To say that the cold has started to creep into my bones would be an understatement. I know that I can't really complain, that my friends everywhere else are getting snow, and at most I'm suffering from the wintry, watery grey light that envelopes New York at this time of year, but I feel as though as though winter is here, and here to stay. The upside of cold wether, though, as we all know so well, means frothy hot chocolate and cookies and soups and stews, but unfortunately for me, tonight was leftover night.

It had to be. My refrigerator (and the freezer, too) was (is) packed with leftovers--the end of that chili, onion tart, two soups, a listing piece of chicken pot pie, some macaroni and cheese, pasta sauce, and some leftover broccoli, to boot. I just couldn't justify making something else, though I'm sure I will regret it once Friday rolls around and there is nothing to eat for lunch and I will actually have to break down and buy something.

For all my griping, though, leftover night can be kind of thrilling in it's own right. So many choices! And not once did I have to turn on the stove, chop vegetables, marinate, make a mess to be cleaned. The most strenuous work I did tonight was to boil some water for pasta, and Jeff turned on the oven. Otherwise, the usually cheery chop chop of the knife and the scrape of the whisk and the clunk of the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot are quiet. I kind of miss it, the rhythm of preparation, the conversation between myself and the raw ingredients, but a break is always good. Essential, even. No doubt, tomorrow I'll be back on track, spreading the warmth into everything again. Warding off the chill of winter is what we do best.

Fall. Thanksgiving. Winter.

2008-11-17T21:11:00.002-05:00

There is nothing that screams TURKEY TIME!! like the cranberry. The much maligned, pucker-inducing, vampish-red cranberry, fruit flavor of too many gelatinous ridgèd gels that embrace the main event come the fourth Thursday of November. No table is complete without it, even mine--we always, always have to have a can on hand for my father.

I vividly remember the first time I made cranberry sauce from fresh cranberries. Sugar, water, cranberries, a wooden spoon, a deep pot, heat. The POP! POP! POP! of the cranberries when they were sufficiently heated through, the spraying of the staining juice both into the pot and onto my shirt. The lushness of the sauce, sweet and sour, thickening and gelling over the heat, and then again in the cold of the fridge. I was hooked--both on the magic of the stove and on anything cranberry.

Which is why I present another quick bread, even though it seems like we just made one. Cranberry orange bread, possibly among the easiest and most accessible cranberry recipes, where there's plenty of sugar to temper the tart of the berries. I hadn't made this for a long time--not since college, when I was in the process of wooing Jeff--he came over to bake, and has been hooked on it (and me!) ever since. The orange provides a nice accent for the cranberries, though next time (I hadn't made this since college, actually) I would take out about 1/4-1/3 cup of the sugar, and maybe add some orang zest next time--lemon or lime would work equally well. In any case, be sure to have with a good cup of tea for an afternoon snack.

Cranberry Orange Bread

2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons butter, melted
3/4 cup orange juice
1 egg, well-beaten
1 1/2 cups chopped cranberries (use a food processor and make your life easy)

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Prepare a standard size loaf pan--either grease really well, or use a large rectangle of parchment paper, my preferred route.
2. Sift the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt together in a large-ish bowl. Make a well in the middle, and add wet ingredients, being sure not to over mix. Fold in the cranberries in at the end; pour batter into prepared pan.
3. Bake 55 minutes to 1 hour, or until a knife comes out clean.

Le Pain Quotidien: Snack Time

2008-11-16T19:20:00.004-05:00

Jeff and I had a big day of bumming around. Bumming around is Chin family lingo for shopping/errands/hanging out/getting a snack somewhere. It felt like we went all around the town: to Soho, then east, then west, then up again, and by the time we were done wandering around downtown, we were ready for a snack. But what to eat? Dumplings were a possibility. So was a SuperHeeb sandwich from Russ and Daughters, a venerable Lower East Side kind of deli. So was a sandwich from Despaña, with it's divine imported serrano ham.

In the end, though, we spotted a Pain Quotidien, and decided to go there.

Le Pain Quotidien, no matter where you might be, has long, communal tables and cheery service. It's the kind of place that has breakfast pastries all day long, as well as tartines (open faced sandwiches), a variety of different coffee drinks, soups, quiches, and salads. The space is large and light, and has a very convivial atmosphere.

Granted, their fare isn't the best. It's never exactly what you want, and is kind of overpriced. But today, Jeff and I shared the Tuscan Platter, which consisted of four slices of homemade bread, olive tapenade, pesto, divine fresh ricotta cheese, a few sun-dried tomatoes and salad, two slices of melon, and two generous slices of prosciutto. With two cafés au lait, it was just the perfect pick-me-up from walking around in the chilliness that is Lower Manhattan.

Le Pain Quotidien
100 Grand St.
New York, NY 10013
(also worldwide locations)

Comfort in a bowl

2008-11-15T19:19:00.004-05:00

I really like dinner in a bowl. There's something so wonderful about having a steaming bowl of something in front of you, the scent drifting up to your nose, warming and readying your taste buds for what's to come. Soup falls into this category. As does soy chicken, for sure, renamed "dinner in a bowl" by my college roomates. But pasta is it's own special category, especially if it's the sauce that you've been making, and that your mother has been making for what seems like, oh, the time you were five.

Italian Sausage sauce just seems to run in the family. We all loved it: bold flavors, spice, salt, pasta. Peppers softly melting and melding into a greater being, but with enough acidity to have their own personality, with the heat of the sausage and the tomato richness of the sauce. And what kid doesn't love pasta? I mean, please, people. I started making it for myself when I went to college. It's an easy sauce to make, and to love.

Mom no longer uses the Hunt's tomato sauce--she and my father are (rightly) trying to watch their salt intake, but I can't make myself let go. Mom now will use Muir Glen tomato sauce, or will used crushed tomatoes, but I think it alters the taste, consistency, and the memory of what we're eating.

Because surely, holding tight to a recipe is nostalgia, and comfort, at it's finest. It is around my house, at least.

Italian Sausage Sauce

2 hot Italian sausages, preferably from the butcher counter
2 bell peppers, red, green or other
1 large can Hunt's tomato sauce
a very generous pinch Italian seasoning, to taste
1 teaspoon (or more) chili flakes

1. Attractively slice your peppers into bite-sized pieces. Sauté in olive oil over medium heat until soft. Add your sausages, turn heat up a half notch. Break up sausages with a spoon into bite-sized pieces; cook until no longer pink at all.
2. Pour in your tomato sauce, and bring to a simmer. Add spices, as well as pepper (and salt, should you wish, but the Hunt's is very salty to begin with, so go easy; I don't use any extra at all). Simmer for an hour.
3. Serve over pasta of choice.

Saint Anthony, help me out!

2008-11-14T18:47:00.004-05:00

Has anyone seen my garlic? I used it two days ago to make something, I'm sure of it. There were at least four plump cloves left... and now it's gone! As though it walked off of its own accord. As though it were through with me and my kitchen. And no mice, I'm sure, since there were also some cookies on the counter, and everyone knows that cookies are far more enticing to mice than garlic.

If it turns up in your kitchen, won't you let me know? Send it back my way?

Wishes

2008-11-13T16:34:00.003-05:00

DSCF1667
Originally uploaded by meizilla

I have a few wishes for today.

Wish #1: That I had a very large glass of red wine in my hand.
Wish #2: That it were the weekend already. I know I can't really complain, but that's the breaks.
Wish #3: That there were a large bowl of pasta carbonara in front of me (to go with the wine, of course).

I LOVE pasta carbonara. How could I not? It has everything that I love in it: cream, bacon, and green vegetables. (Don't give me that undeserved groan! Look at those peas! They ARE green, and don't you think you can guilt me into discounting them. Because you can't.)
Pasta carbonara is definitely the sleeping bag of pastas: cozy, tasty, and comforting.

Especially if you have a big glass of wine to accompany it. I promise.

Pasta Carbonara, adapted from Food and Wine

1 tablespoon olive oil
2 large garlic cloves, smashed
about four slices bacon, sliced into 1/2-inch pieces
3/4 cups heavy cream or whole milk
3 large egg yolks
1/3 freshly grated Parmesean cheese, plus more for serving
salt
1 cup fresh or thawed frozen baby peas
3/4 pound spaghetti
freshly ground pepper

1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. In a large, deep skillet, heat the oil. Add the garlic and cook over moderate heat until golden, about 2 minutes. (Try not to let your garlic brown. It will turn bitter, and the oil will, too.) Discard the garlic. Add the bacon to the skillet and cook over moderately high heat, stirring occasionally, until golden and crisp and the fat has been rendered, about 5 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the bacon to a bowl.
2. Pour off all but 2 tablespoons of the fat from the skillet, and make sure your heat is off. Add the cream and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the skillet, then pour into a medium bowl. Whisk in the egg yolks and 1/3 cup cheese.
3. Add salt to the pot of boiling water. Add the peas and cook just until tender, about 1 minute. Using a slotted spoon; transfer the cooked peas to a bowl.
4. Add the spaghetti to the boiling water and cook until al dente; drain. Return the pasta to the pot and add the cream mixture, bacon, and peas. Season with salt and pepper and toss until the sauce coats the spaghetti. Transfer to bowls and serve immediately with the remaining Parmesean.

Caramel love

2008-11-12T16:56:00.007-05:00

Do you know what I love, aside from dumplings? I love making caramel. Not eating caramel, mind you, making it. I like it because it is finicky. You can't leave it, even for a minute, because the the sugar can go from blank to burnt in no time flat. Caramel needs attention, but it doesn't like too much handling. No spoons allowed! Watching the transition from clear sugar to bitter amber is almost magical, especially because there is the massive shift from no scent to fragrant blooming in the air.

Caramel is also intensely personal; I like mine bitter and dark. I think it has more flavor that way. It's more complex. I also like mine with a bit of salt added: it brings out the sweetness without being overpowering.

So I was thrilled when I came across a recipe for salted chocolate caramels in an old issue of Gourmet. I love to make caramel, I love chocolate, I love salt, what could be better? I'm also starting to root around in my recipe files for the annual Christmas extravaganza, which, I might add, will have a whole new face this year. Get ready.

I'd never made candy, though, not like this. But... it wasn't hard! And aside from my own stupidity burning myself on the tongue (please please please do not, I repeat, do not, attempt to taste the fruits of your labors during any part of the process because seriously, that sugar is hot, in case you forgot, and it is only folly to want to try it while it is boiling), it wasn't hard, not at all! Easy enough to perhaps make it a holiday standby. I'll let you know.

Salted Chocolate Caramels, adapted from Gourmet

1 cup heavy cream*
1/3 pound fine-quality bittersweet chocolate (no more than 60% cacao if marked), finely chopped
3/4 cup + 2 tablespoons sugar
1/4 cup light corn syrup
2 tablespoons water
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into smallish bits
1 teaspoon flaky sea salt, like fleur de sel or Maladon

1. Line the bottom and the sides of a standard-size bread pan with parchment paper.
2. Bring cream just to a boil in a 1-1 1/2 quart heavy saucepan over moderately high heat, then reduce heat to low and add chocolate. Let stand 1 minute, then stir until chocolate is completely melted. Remove from heat.
3. Bring sugar, corn syrup, water, and salt to a boil in a medium-sized saucepan, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Boil, uncovered, without stirring, but gently swirling pan occasionally, until sugar is deep golden, about 10 minutes. (If you need a caramel primer, see here.) Tilt pan away from you and carefully pour in chocolate mixture (give it a good stir before doing this). Mixture will bubble and steam vigorously, try to avoid getting splattered because it really, really hurts if you do. Continue to boil over moderate heat, stirring frequently, until mixture registers 255 degrees F on a candy thermometer, about 15 minutes. (This time is a very vague estimate. Watch your mixture carefully.) Add teh butter, stirring until completely melted, then immediately pour into lined baking pan (do not scrape any caramel clinging to bottom of side of saucepan). Let caramel stand 10 minutes, then sprinkle evenly with sea salt. Cool completely in a pan on a rack, about 2 hours.
4. Carefully invert caramel onto a clean, dry cutting board, then peel off parchment. Turn caramel salt side up. Lightly oil blade of a large heavy knife and cut into 1-inch squares. Savor.

*This is only a half recipe. Easily doubles.

No snacks! (But chili on the stove.)

2008-11-11T16:13:00.004-05:00

Fall is slowly descending into winter. It's not cold enough to snow yet (though that can't really be said for the Upper Midwest... sorry, guys), but it's holding a brisk 40s and 50s due to the wind. New York is not the Windy City, by any stretch (though you wouldn't know it by listening to the politicians here), but Manhattan is a relatively small, skinny island surrounded by rivers. And our neighborhood is right on the Hudson.

I won't really complain about the weather. I prefer the cold, really. But man does it make me hungry. (Well, that added to running again.) Unfortunately, I generally keep a no-snack household. No snacks! It's terrible. Usually it's not so bad, but yesterday I took a day off to go to jury duty (that I couldn't fulfill anyway... but that's another story), and today is Veteran's Day, so I've been out of school, sitting in my apartment. And while there is plenty of food for breakfast, lunch and dinner, there aren't really snacks per se. Oh, don't get me wrong, I like snacking, I do, but I generally don't buy "snack foods": chips, salsa, cookies, fruit roll-ups, you name it. I don't buy them because one) they are expensive, two) they always, always have shady-sounding ingredients, and three) I don't really think about it until I'm actually hungry and moping around the house looking for something to snack on.

So to stop me from walking from fridge to pantry and pantry to fridge and back again, I decided to make my mom's extra tasty chili (the recipe involves ingredients from both places, so at least I can feel like I'm taking out food to eat... just... not now). It's the perfect thing to eat when it's cold out: warming, spicy, nourishing. I highly recommend it, especially when the wind whips around the corner and you pull your coat a little closer.

Tina's Tasty Chicken Chili

1/2 chicken, bone-in, skin on
water

2 cans kidney or black beans, or a mixture of both
1 small can tomato paste
2 bell peppers, any color, diced
2-3 carrots, peeled and diced
4 celery stalks, diced
1 large onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
cumin (about a teaspoon, maybe a little less)
chili powder (follow the directions on your favorite kind. I usually use 2 1/2 tablespoons per pot of chili)
salt and pepper
vegetable oil, to sauté

1. Poach the chicken in water, until you have a very simple stock. (If you've never done this, don't worry--just rinse your chicken really well, plop it in some cold water to cover by about an inch (NOT TOO MUCH MORE), and simmer at least 40 minutes. Salt and taste. If you think it needs to be stronger, let it go longer. For a more nuanced stock, add a leek, rinsed and halved, peeled carrots, celery, or whatever good you have lying around. Ta da! Very simple stock. When you skim the fat from the top, be sure to leave at least a little--that's what makes it taste good. I promise.) Let the chicken cool, then remove from the bone, discard skin, and chop into smaller pieces. Reserve broth.
2. Sauté the vegetables in oil, about 5-10 minutes. Add the beans. Add most of the tomato paste (about 2/3 of the can). Stir in 1/2 cup of the broth. Stir to incorporate. Add more broth in 1/2 cup increments until mixture is desired consistency; add more paste if needed. Stir in spices. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper. (You may also add a little sugar, if you wish, but I usually choose to avoid it). Cover and simmer 10 minutes, stirring.
3. Adjust the thickness again, and spices. Add chicken, cover, simmering as low as possible, at least an hour. Two hours is better. (This is also fantastic the next day.)

Apple harvest

2008-11-10T13:43:00.005-05:00

Apples seem to be everywhere these days: at the market, in hands, sold on the street. Normally, I love apples, especially the heirlooms that come in a the market. I especially love apples that I pick myself at the orchard, but last time Jeff and I went apple picking there was a ten pound minimum. Apple picking is not to be taken lightly. Go with friends, I guess, is the answer to that. Crispy, sweet, flowery, and tart, apples are what make fall something to look forward to. (This is especially important when the last of the tomatoes are gone, *sob*.) I like apples pretty much in every capacity, too--apple pie, apple tart, apple butter, raw with some peanut butter for embellishment, plain, what have you. I just like apples.

But when the chill of fall rolls around, what I really think about is my Aunt Kathy's apple sauce. When I was little, she used to make jars and jars and jars of pink-hued, sweet and spicy applesauce that she would store in the basement and eat all year round. I loved her applesauce. (I think I loved it also because it had that most kitchy of ingredients, cinnamon red-hots, cooked into it, and man did I love red-hots back then.)

As an adult, I have learned that making my own applesauce is a snap, and so much better than the store-bought kind. I don't know if Kathy makes her version anymore, and I haven't had any for years, so I've had to resort to recreating the taste from memory. So far, what I have is different, but no less tasty. For the spicing, I add a cinnamon stick and a knob of ginger, and I usually add some grated nutmeg about half-way through the cooking process. Spicy-warm-delish. Promise.

Applesauce*, adapted from The Joy of Cooking

2 1/2 pounds various apples (I like ones that have a tart edge to them--that way, I can sweeten to my own taste. If you start with sweet ones, add about 1/2 a lemon's worth of juice to temper them out.)
1/2 cup water (or apple juice or cider, if you have any lying around
1 small cinnamon stick
1 1-inch knob of fresh ginger, peeled
sugar, to taste

Peel and core apples and throw into a large, heavy pot. Add water, cinnamon, and ginger. Simmer, partially covered, stirring occasionally, until desired consistency. Taste and add sugar as desired. I like mine a little chunkier, so I don't cook it for as long.

* Please forgive the lack of photo! Mushy apples aren't terrible photogenic.