tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13335510209968555512024-03-13T22:46:21.480-07:00The Importance of Being Sentientmeghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.comBlogger236125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-26088695045932672962011-07-02T09:07:00.000-07:002011-07-02T09:10:59.763-07:00New BlogAs you might have guessed, I've decided to end this blog. But no worries--I will simply be at a new location: thejoykitchen.com/blog. Keeping up with two blogs is a little discombobulating, so I'm concentrating my efforts on the one. I've started a series of blogs on cold dishes for hot days, and there should be some ingredient-focused posts in the near future. Come visit!meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-19660224784119889942011-05-25T11:20:00.000-07:002011-05-25T13:10:36.038-07:00Top of the Town: PortlandFor some reason or other, I have always been drawn to the Pacific Northwest. I had never visited the area before last October, but I think I just knew that it would be incredible. A mystical land of fog and forests where the coffee and craft beers flow freely. That was my vague notion of it anyway. Of course, according to J., there's no sugarcoating the intense rainy season, but I think I could put up with it because the town itself is so incredible. It's a well-known paradise for those of us who have a penchant for counter cultures, and even though Portland is a large city, it feels much, much smaller, and every neighborhood has a distinct personality. <div>I've only made the pilgrimage to Portland twice, so I'm no expert, but J. grew up there and has taken me to his tried and true favorite spots, so I feel confident in this list. I highly recommend visiting the city. Watch out for cyclists--most of them play by the rules, but there are those who don't.</div><div>This little guide is BY NO MEANS comprehensive. There's so much to see, do, and eat in Portland that there's no way I can cover it all, and neither can you in one visit. I recommend you pace yourself and plan on visiting more than once to really enjoy the city.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Portland Eats</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><a href="http://www.broderpdx.com/">broder</a>--a Swedish-inspired restaurant with an amazing brunch and the absolute best bloody mary I've ever had.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.bunksandwiches.com/">bunk sandwiches</a>--very creative sandwiches and a selection of local brews.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.montageportland.com/">Le Bistro Montage</a>--a really awesome spot for late-night dining. They have an incredible collection of murals on the inside, and their mac and cheese selection is impressive. The oyster shooters are memorable--so memorable, in fact, that they're a must-try. They also wrap your leftovers in foil which they turn into little pieces of "doggie-bag" art--I think they gave me a swan the last time I was there.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/24/283636/restaurant/Portland/Syun-Izakaya-Japanese-Restaurant-Sake-Club-Hillsboro">Syun Izakaya</a>--the best sushi I've ever had, hands down. As with all sushi restaurants, the menu is overwhelming, but I've never had anything bad here. The okanomiyaki pancake is unbelievable, and the dried tuna flakes on top make the whole thing look like it's moving. A visual and gustatory wonder. They also have a superb sake selection--in fact, I was told that if you happen to be a sake connoisseur, they will store your sake at the restaurant for you and unearth it when you eat there. It's a bit of a drive to get there as it's in a suburb of Portland, but it's absolutely worth it. Make reservations, though. It's a small place and always packed.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.kensartisan.com/">Ken's Artisan Bakery</a>--if you like French-style pastries, this is the place to go. The <a href="http://www.sainthonorebakery.com/">Saint Honore Boulangerie</a> is very good, but Ken's is even better. Every time we go there, we get at least three pastries to share because it's so hard to choose just one apiece. The Oregonian is a particularly nice one (blackberries, hazelnut paste), but I don't think you can go wrong. Their desserts and breads look stunning, too. I haven't tried them, but as pastries are very tricky to make, and Ken's are so incredible, I can't imagine that their bread and desserts would fall short. They also make delicious macarons--slightly larger and heartier than their French counterparts, but fabulous.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.castagnarestaurant.com/index.php?section=castagna">La castagna</a>--ok, so I'm going to give you a disclaimer first. I have a love-hate relationship with the idea of molecular cuisine. On the one hand, I have always felt that, as Americans tend to overdo it on the processed foods, we should steer ourselves toward whole foods prepared in an understated way. Not that we shouldn't enjoy the fruits of culinary technology, but I think that being able to decipher what's in your food is a good thing. Having said that, this place is incredible. They focus on superb local ingredients and prepare them meticulously. They lean toward molecular cuisine without succumbing to the gimmickiness that can often accompany it. I found myself utterly charmed and even thrilled by the creativity of the chefs and the immaculate presentation of the dishes. To give you a little taste--the "snacks" that were served as part of the meal included a purple carrot leather that had been folded and filled with lotus gel, fennel pollen, and hibiscus powder; another was a buttermilk "puff" (think cheese puff, but with an intense buttermilk flavor) that had been hollowed out and filled with vegetable aioli and cod roe. Truly remarkable and probably the most entertaining and fun meal I've ever had. Expect to drop at least $75-100 per person, but as a food experience it's worth the money.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.pixpatisserie.com/">Pix Patisserie</a>--Fabulous and gorgeous French-style desserts in a bar setting. Not frou frou or boutiquey. Open late. They also make their own chocolates and ice creams, which I did not have, but that I have heard wonderful things about. One of the managers there made J's best friend's wedding cake. There's some true talent here.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://voodoodoughnut.com/">Voodoo Doughnut</a>--Okay, so the doughnuts are okay. I mean, how good can fried dough get, right? But you should go just for the spectacle of it, and the bacon maple bar is probably one of the better ideas there.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.pokpokpdx.com/">Pok Pok</a>--Recent James Beard Award winner for best regional restaurant. When we went, the staff were very disorganized, but we went for the food, which was great. The fish sauce wings are an absolute must, and they make a great appetizer. The lemongrass game hens are also spectacular, which is no small feat, since I usually find restaurant chicken to be dry and lacking in flavor. The premise of the place is also a lot of fun--you're supposed to order dishes to share with the table, so you can taste several different things. The pork shoulder and belly is another good one, but be prepared to straight up eat fat--the most delicious fat I've ever eaten, but fat nonetheless.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.pho-hung.com/">Pho Hung</a>--If you haven't had pho--Vietnamese beef noodle soup--I suggest you rectify that immediately. The stuff is magic, and it cures everything from the blues to the flu (this is not scientifically proven, but I find it to be about right). There's something about the broth that eludes me completely. J. and I tried to make it at home once. We got close, but there was something crucial missing. This is the place to go for it, though, and Portland has an astonishing variety of pho restaurants. This is one that J. and his friends prefer.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.kennyandzukes.com/">Kenny and Zuke's</a>--A Jewish-style deli. I'm sure there are lots of New Yorkers who would take issue with the place, but we can't all live in New York, can we? It's a bit pricey, but enjoyable nonetheless. The pastrami is a must-try, the latkes are lovely, and their bagels and bialys are fabulous. I won't recommend the pickle plate, as I found the pickles were not "pickly" enough, but everything else I've had there is good. They also have a great soda selection, which is nice to have with such salty food. </div><div><br /></div><div>Food carts!-- Two of my favorites are <a href="http://www.potatochampion.com/">Potato Champion</a> (poutine, really great French fried with lots of house-made dressings, ketchups, aiolis, etc.) and <a href="http://www.foodcartsportland.com/2009/05/10/perierra-creperie/">Creperie Perierra</a> (sweet and savory crepes and the best and most creative milkshakes I've ever had). But really, there are so many food carts here that you should just walk around and sample from lots of them. I absolutely love this part of food culture, and in Portland it really shines.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/24/281555/restaurant/Southwest/Hands-on-Cafe-Portland">Hands On Cafe</a>--Located in the Portland School of Arts and Crafts, this is a really great place to grab Sunday brunch (which is a must-do in Portland--I think it's against the law not to have brunch on Sunday in Portland). Always crowded, you can look at the gallery while you wait for a table.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Drinks</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><a href="http://www.stumptowncoffee.com/">Stumptown Coffee</a>--A great cup of brew. On the pretentious side of things, but worth a sip.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.horsebrass.com/">Horse Brass Pub</a>--An English-style pub. Very cozy and dark, and the walls are stained brown from years of cigarette smoke. Sounds disgusting, but I thought it added a distinct charm to the place, and since smoking is no longer allowed indoors, you can just think of it as a relic from a bygone era. We spent a few easy hours there, nursing our drinks and just enjoying the place. The Scotch eggs are pretty decent--I mean, it's a fried, sausage-wrapped hard-boiled egg, for heaven's sake. It's not supposed to be stellar. They also have other British staples, which I've heard are just fine as well.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.d2m.com/Tugwebsite/">Tugboat Brewing Company</a>--Portland's oldest micro-brewery. A very welcoming place with some lip-licking beers (try the Chernobyl Stout for a real wake-up call). J. tells me that the bartender sometimes plays Planet Earth, which he creates his own soundtrack to, on the small flat-screen above the bar. Amazing.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.hubers.com/">Huber's</a>--A very old-school cafe/bar with a stained-glass ceiling. They make a Thanksgiving meal every day, but J. says it's not very good. We went there for the Spanish coffee, which the bartender prepares spectacularly. Quite a show. Kahlua, Bacardi 151, Bols triple sec and coffee, topped with fresh whipped cream and nutmeg, flamed tableside. Stunning to watch and really delicious if you're a hedonist.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>To See</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><a href="http://japanesegarden.com/">Portland Japanese Garden</a>--Peaceful, beautiful, and extremely well done. This is a great way to spend a few hours. And I actually think the garden is more beautiful when it's overcast.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.episcopaldioceseoregon.org/node/6">The Bishop's Close</a>--Another beautiful garden destination. Great for a leisurely walk.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://oregonhotsprings.immunenet.com/bagby.htm">Bagby Hot Springs</a>--A fair drive outside of Portland, but absolutely worth it. The drive itself is gorgeous, and the hike-in to the hot springs is a little like walking through a fairy tale world. The springs themselves are diverted into cedar tubs of all sizes. A perfect day-trip. Take a picnic.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.cannonbeach.org/">Cannon Beach</a>--Located about an hour from Portland proper, this is a tremendously glorious place on earth. Not very commercialized, quiet, and one of the most dramatic coastlines I've seen, this is a perfect place to get away from the bustle. Hunt for mussels, build a fire on the beach, and check out the sea caves. There are also some good hikes around this area, and Highway 101 is a field trip in and of itself.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.oregon.com/attractions/multnomah_falls">Multnomah Falls</a> and the <a href="http://www.crgva.org/">Columbia River Gorge</a>--Yet again, another breathtaking place. Oregon has a wealth of natural beauty, and while Multnomah Falls is a little touristy, it's still an amazing waterfall. The hike to the top isn't for quitters either--the view will reward your burning thighs.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.portlandsaturdaymarket.com/">Portland Saturday Market</a>--There's some good craftsy stuff to be found here. You'll have to weed through the kitsch and junk, but hang in there because there really is some quality handiwork. The market also gives you an excuse to walk along the waterfront.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.portlandonline.com/parks/finder/index.cfm?PropertyID=1113&action=ViewPark">The International Rose Test Garden</a>--If you're of the botanical persuasion, this is a really cool thing to see. Hundreds of varieties of roses.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.powells.com">Powell's City of Books</a>--I've only been here three times, and I've already spent way too much on books. It's hard not to. A great way to spend a rainy afternoon.</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, I'm going to stop now. If I think of anything else I'll let you know.</div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-7683959975333845082011-05-21T08:55:00.001-07:002011-05-21T08:58:34.002-07:00PortlandI'm in Portland, OR, and in typical fashion I'm not taking any photos. I hate being the tourist with the camera. I guess that means I'm not destined for photographic greatness, but that's okay. We can't all be hipsters.<div>However, I will be prepared to deliver some information regarding Portland dining and recreation--we've hit some really fine destinations already. In any case, if you're wondering where you should vacation next, Portland is it. The city is incredible, the wilderness around here is incredible, and the people are really genuinely friendly. </div><div>Talk soon.</div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-88627644981077253192011-05-15T11:22:00.001-07:002011-05-15T11:30:17.867-07:00More Vegetable LoveI know I just did a salad post, but I have another one for you, and it's really simple (just like the other salads--can a salad be complicated?). It's also the best and most satisfying thing I've eaten in a long time. Hit the spot.<div><br /></div><div>Cook up a pot of lentils. French ones--they're green and also called "le puy" lentils. They cook, at a simmer, in about 20-30 minutes. All the better if you add aromatics to flavor them--carrot, celery, onion, bay leaf, garlic.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, roast some beets. Red or gold, either one. Or both. Cut them into cubes--not tiny cubes--about the size of dice. Roast at 400 with salt and oil until they get soft and a little crispy on the outside.</div><div><br /></div><div>Make a balsamic vinaigrette. Don't think too hard about it because you've got lots of flavors going on here to begin with. Toss spinach in the vinaigrette.</div><div><br /></div><div>Pile the spinach on your plate. Top with lentils. Scatter beets over the top of the lentils. Scatter goat cheese over top of the beets. Or have the goat cheese on toasts on the side.</div><div><br /></div><div>Perfection.</div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-83429490575366094472011-05-12T12:49:00.000-07:002011-05-14T13:11:30.815-07:00Salad Season<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Salads. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Love 'em. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">You know how kids are notorious salad-haters? When I was a kid, a special treat was when I got to drink the juice at the bottom of a bowl of sauteed spinach. Of course, I had to eat the spinach to get to the bottom of the bowl. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A whole bowl of spinach. I think my blood might run green.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And it hasn't slacked off in recent years. For all my talk of baked goods and fine French cheeses (and let's not forget those), I could not do without salads. And I mean all kinds. Everything from a simple spinach salad with balsamic vinegar and olive oil to a wilted swiss chard salad with garlicky croutons and dried cherries. If it's cold, involves veggies, and has a dressing, I'm in.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Which is why summer is so great, culinarily speaking, for someone like me. I mean, who doesn't at least </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">like</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> summer? I don't think you have to like the humidity or the mosquitoes, but what's not to like about long days, cold drinks on the front porch, swimming holes, red (and green and yellow and orange...) ripe tomatoes, crisp cucumbers, and more crookneck squash than you could possibly eat? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Not to mention the all-important summer vacation. Even if you just get to spend a couple days at home, revel in that. Wake up late, eat pancakes for breakfast (with whipped cream), read frivolous novels, watch silly movies, go on long walks, light lots of candles and turn off all the lights, never heat up the stove during the hot part of the day, stick your bare toes in every body of water you come to. Be alive. Be a human being, for heaven's sake. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And eat salad. Lots.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">There's really no need to turn on your stove for most of the summer. Of course, you'll have to when you want fruit cobblers, crumbles, crisps and pandowdies...or pancakes with blueberries...or galettes. But all those other times? Cold food. You can do a lot with cold food.</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Before I head into full-on salad season, I like to stock up on a few things. Pouring processed, mass-produced olive oil on a fresh green salad is downright insulting. I always have a bottle of really fine olive oil around. You use it sparingly and only as a garnish, never heated. Drizzled on a salad or on a finished soup, over cooked pasta served simply with some ricotta and fresh herbs, or on the quintessential tomato-mozzarella salad. A bottle of high-quality olive oil is a fine thing. Look for olive oil that has a slightly green tint. If you have the opportunity to taste before you buy, I highly encourage that. Olive oils have a wide range of flavors, from fruity to spicy. I happen to know that Whole Foods is very good about letting customers try things before they buy them. Don’t be afraid to ask.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; "> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I also love having a good balsamic vinegar on the shelf. Between the olive oil and the vinegar, you have the potential to make a very simple but strikingly delicious salad on very short notice.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The first salad I made is a grated carrot salad, or </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">carottes rapées</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">. I ate it often and in large quantities when I was in France. It was readily available in every supermarket and at these little shops, sort of like delis but without the focus on cured meats, where you could buy everything from salads to quiche and coq au vin. Fast food the French way.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; "> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Usually the French make it with lemon juice, salad oil (the French seem to favor flavorless oils for salads), and maybe some chives. Very simple and refreshing. But I love to make a thing my own, and so I made some alterations, but the essence is the same.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">If you have a food processor, making this salad is like magic. If not, a little elbow grease will get you to the same result, if a bit slower.</span></span></p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gRCP9Acld5I/Tcw6CCzs7RI/AAAAAAAAEtE/YCmlny_h1io/s400/garbanzo_carrot_salads.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605919442957298962" /> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">Grated Carrot Salad with Pumpkin Seeds</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Serves 4<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Grate with a food processor or using the large holes of a box grater:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">8 medium carrots<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Place in a serving bowl. Add:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "> </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">½ cup toasted pumpkin seeds<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Juice of 2 small lemons<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> 2 teaspoons agave nectar<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Handful of dill, chopped<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> 1 scallion, thinly sliced<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">(1 tablespoon whole-grain mustard—Maille is </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:36.0pt;text-indent:36.0pt"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">good)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Salt and pepper to taste<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Stir to combine. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to allow the flavors to meld.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">The next salad is slightly more exotic. It’s inspired by a Molly Wizenberg (author of the Orangette blog) recipe, but I’ve made some serious alterations. Her version is great too—chickpeas, lemon juice, garlic, parsley, parmesan. Very easy and satisfying. I happen to love Middle Eastern spices though. I think I could put cumin on everything. If the pomegranate molasses stumps you, no need to fret. It can be found at any Indian, Middle Eastern, or large Asian grocery store, and in more hippie-dippy towns it might show up at your run of the mill grocery store. It’s sweet and sour and really gives this salad the kick in the pants it needs to be incredible. If you can’t find it, use a little lemon juice and a squirt of agave nectar or honey. It won’t be the same flavor, but it’ll work.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Garbanzo Bean Salad<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">Serves 2 hungry people, or 4 less-hungry people</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Drain and rinse well:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">1 can garbanzo beans<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In a small skillet, heat over medium heat:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">1 tablespoon safflower oil<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">Add and toast until fragrant:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">¼ teaspoon cumin seeds<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> ¼ teaspoon mustard seeds<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> 2 tablespoons sesame seeds<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">Remove from the heat and cool slightly. Combine the beans and toasted seeds in a bowl and add:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">¼ cup loosely-packed cilantro, finely chopped<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> ½ a large English-style cucumber, chopped<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> 1 clove garlic, minced<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">A knob (1/2 the size of your thumb) fresh </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:36.0pt;text-indent:36.0pt"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ginger, minced<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> 1 tablespoon pomegranate molasses<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Salt and pepper to taste</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-53851402754885199242011-05-10T12:52:00.001-07:002011-05-10T13:12:13.263-07:00Individual Raspberry Clafoutis<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You'll have to bear with me on the photos, people. I'm trying to play around with diffused light, and this one turned out to be a little precious-looking. The tiny espresso cups don't help.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Let's hear it for miniature desserts. And I'm not talking about cupcakes. I guess I don't hate cupcakes. I mean, who can hate a heavily-frosted single-serving cake? But I do hate their trendiness when there are so many tast(y)ier sweets out there. And then, when I altered this clafoutis recipe, they turned out to look suspiciously like cupcakes or muffins. BUT THEY'RE NOT. Don't forget that.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>There are different kinds of clafoutis out there. Some are more like a custard, and others are more cake-like. This one is cakey, but with a wholesomeness that cake lacks. I'm really starting to dig flour blends--they offer more flavor and more texture to baked goods that might lack it otherwise. Here, I used a blend of all-purpose flour, spelt flour, and cornmeal. You could probably get away with using all spelt or whole wheat pastry flour, but I'm not familiar enough with how they work to feel confident doing that yet. One day...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ruRdvZryyws/TcmXm4eu0sI/AAAAAAAAEs8/SriCqFLMRpg/s1600/raspberry_clafoutis.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ruRdvZryyws/TcmXm4eu0sI/AAAAAAAAEs8/SriCqFLMRpg/s400/raspberry_clafoutis.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605177905491399362" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Salt-Kissed Individual Raspberry Clafoutis</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Makes about 18</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Grease two standard-sized muffin tins.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Combine in a large bowl:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>1 cup all-purpose flour</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 cup whole spelt flour</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1/2 cup yellow cornmeal</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 teaspoon baking powder</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 teaspoon baking soda</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1/2 teaspoon salt</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">In a separate bowl, whisk together:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>2 eggs</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 cup buttermilk</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Whisk in:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>1/4 cup butter, melted, browned, and cooled slightly</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Zest of 2 lemons</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Pour the wet ingredients over the dry ingredients and stir until just combined. Divide the batter among the muffin tins, filling each no more than 3/4 full. Drop on top of the batter:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>4 raspberries per clafoutis</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sprinkle over the top of each clafoutis:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>Small pinch turbinado sugar</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Small pinch coarse salt</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bake until golden and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about 12-15 minutes.</div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-68187119254065550042011-05-09T07:48:00.000-07:002011-05-09T09:07:41.222-07:00The Scape<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Springtime is awash with all sorts of mysterious and strange vegetables. Not to dethrone summer, which is obviously the queen of produce, but spring is a fine court jester. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>One of the things I find most satisfying in my cooking experiences is the ability to play with food. I like to find humor in what I cook and eat. Food humor isn't usually of the laugh-out-loud variety, but of the smug, coy, you'll-never-guess-what-my-secret-ingredient-is sort of humor. This is the one redeeming thing about molecular gastronomy in my mind. I have issues with the whole Food That Isn't Food movement--you know, pickle-flavored air and truffle foam on top of a sweet pea emulsion. I like to be able to chew my food, thanks. But I will hand it to those rogue chefs--they know how to play, and for that I salute them.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That's why springtime is so great for cooking. First, you have the utterly baffling rhubarb with its electric pink stalks and tongue-curdling sourness. Is it a fruit or a vegetable? What do I do with it? Then comes asparagus, poking wierdly from the soil and offering up the first fresh chlorophyll of the season. Then you have ramps and morels, both inhabitants of the woods and highly prized by foragers and gourmets alike. I try to take advantage of all these, but I have a soft spot for the garlic scape.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FnoQj4112gM/Tcf--1NfSEI/AAAAAAAAEs0/HKM10WLwdvA/s400/scapes_and_mint.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604728616674871362" /><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>As a garlic bulb grows beneath the soil, it will eventually send up a little green shoot. This is the scape. The growth of the bulb will be hampered if the scape is left on the plant, so most farmers cut it off. Lucky is he who finds the scape at his farmer's market. If you eat a garlic scape raw, you'll notice that it has all the flavor of the garlic clove but without the sting. When scapes are in season, I use them raw and cooked. A raw scape is a nugget of flavor and has a lovely, tender crunch. A cooked scape is savory and slightly sweet with a tender bite. You really can't lose either way.</div><div>To accompany a stuffed leg of lamb that my darlin' cooked last night, I made a rough approximation of tabbouleh with garlic scapes. Instead of parsley, I used mustard greens for roughage. Blanching the mustard briefly before chopping it up removes any bitterness or fuzziness. And for those of you who aren't familiar with the grain, bulgur is a really fabulous addition to salads, soups, and yeast breads. It has a very slight crunch to it and a lovely nutty flavor. My favorite brand is Bob's Red Mill. It's slightly more rustic than the stuff you usually get in bulk bins.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Tabbouleh with Mustard Greens and Garlic Scapes</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>serves 6</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Measure out:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 cup bulgur</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">into a large bowl. Boil 2 cups water and pour over the bulgur. Allow this to sit for about 30 minutes until the water has been absorbed and the bulgur is softened and slightly fluffy-looking. If there is any water that has not been absorbed, simply strain the bulgur.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Bring a large pot of water to a boil and add:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>1 large bunch mustard greens, roughly torn and tough stalks removed</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Blanch briefly, about 1 minute. Drain and try to remove as much water as possible. I used a salad spinner, but a dish towel and a good arm will work, too. Chop the mustard finely and add to the bulgur. Stir in:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>1/2 a large, English cucumber, roughly chopped</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>3-5 garlic scapes, chopped</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>2 garlic cloves, minced</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 handful mint leaves, chopped</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 handful dill fronds, chopped</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>3 tablespoons good-quality olive oil</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Juice of 2 lemons</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 teaspoon kosher salt</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Refrigerate until well-chilled.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-50068253644806335242011-05-05T12:32:00.000-07:002011-05-05T13:07:50.382-07:00Florentine FrittataMost mornings my breakfast staple is granola. And, not to be haughty, I have a pretty damn good granola recipe. The secret is mine. Granola is easy, filling, and crunchy. But then, every once in a while I make something different, and I'm surprised once again at how there's a world of simple breakfast recipes apart from granola. Honestly, if you have 30 minutes, you can make almost any breakfasty treat you like except for maybe danishes and similar pastries, but those things are really best left to the pros anyway.<div><div>Maybe it was baking thousands of scones, biscuits, coffeecakes, and muffins at the bakery, but breakfast seems a very accessible meal to me. Once you get over dirtying a bowl and a wooden spoon (doing dishes is really not that bad, people), you can whip up a batch of cream scones in 15 minutes or less. Usually, it takes me longer to decide what to make than it does to actually make it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div>But now I want to talk about eggs. Insular, whole, protected, holistic. Eggs are beautiful and a little mysterious. Humorous and bizarre. Unctuous and fluffy. I can't imagine life without them. As a baker, they enable me to make almost everything I make--cakes lighter than the fuzz on a butterfly, meringues piled high on cream pies, custards that coat your tongue, and the most tender pie crusts you'll ever have the honor of eating.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>But they also do magical things at breakfast. Huevos rancheros is the perennial favorite, but let's not limit ourselves. This morning, for instance, I did a little fridge-clearing jig, and came up with this frittata. Leeks, mushrooms, spinach. No crust (because there isn't enough coffee in Kenya to make most people want to prepare a pie crust in the morning). A lot of recipes tell you to finish frittatas in a 350 degree oven, but that's crazy talk. To get a browned top, run the thing under the broiler for a few minutes. You'll thank me.</div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_SxRj0AeGzg/TcL8ZRFGhJI/AAAAAAAAEss/Rl7KiOgZG1U/s400/sicilian_frittata.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603318397414048914" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Florentine Frittata</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Serves 4 very hungry people or 6 sort of hungry people</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">In a large skillet, melt over medium heat:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>2 tablespoons butter</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Meanwhile, trim the tough green parts and the root-ends from:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>2 large leeks</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Slice the leeks in half lengthwise, then slice into 1/2-inch pieces. Fill a bowl with cold water, and place the leeks in the bowl, swishing them to remove any grit. Thoroughly dry the leeks and saute them in the butter until they start to soften and become aromatic, about 5 minutes.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Add:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>1/2 pound portobello mushrooms, sliced</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Cover the skillet for a few minutes until the mushrooms begin to release their juices. Add:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>4 ounces fresh spinach</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Again, cover the skillet until the spinach is wilted. Add salt and pepper to taste. At the last minute, throw in:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>A handful of basil leaves, chopped</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Remove the skillet from the heat and set a cast-iron skillet on the same burner. If your skillet is very well seasoned (and I mean very well because eggs are incredibly hard to clean off your cookware, as I'm sure you've noticed), there's no need to use any fat. I melted a tablespoon of butter in my skillet to make sure the eggs didn't stick too badly. Allow the skillet to preheat for about 5 minutes. Meanwhile, whisk together in a small bowl:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>6 large eggs</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>About 4 ounces fresh or soft-ripened goat cheese, crumbled</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Combine the egg mixture and the sauteed vegetables. Preheat the broiler. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Pour into the preheated cast iron skillet. Stir the eggs gently, making sure you scrape the bottom of the skillet. The goal is to scrape up the cooked egg, allowing the runny, uncooked egg to cook. When the frittata is firm on the bottom but still soft and runny on top, place it under the broiler until it begins to bubble and brown, about 3-4 minutes. Serve with hearty toast and fresh OJ.</div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-75143909605544725122011-04-30T06:23:00.000-07:002011-04-30T06:38:55.717-07:001001 Nights Cookies<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">There have been some serious technical difficulties around the house lately. The storm that flattened parts of Alabama came right through the Tennessee Valley, snapping trees and knocking out our electricity, which has not been restored up to this point. I like to have photos of the recipes I post, but this time I won't bother. These are fantastic cookies, and should you decide to make them, photo or no photo, you will not be disappointed.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">I used to really have a thing for cacao nibs. I don’t remember when I first ate them, but I think it was at the recommendation of my co-farm intern/roommate Bremen. He was a slightly odd bird, wearing sarongs around the house, adamant that drinking water from a glass jar was healthier than metal or plastic, trying to get his hands on deer velvet, which was supposed to cure cancer and anything else you might find yourself afflicted with. But he was good people nonetheless.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">I mostly used nibs in my granola, and why I haven’t done that lately is a mystery even to me, because they were truly marvelously good. Cacao nibs (also called cocoa nibs) are essentially crushed toasted cocoa beans. They taste like chocolate but are bitter and not sweet at all. I have eaten them on their own as part of a snack, but usually they end up in other things. At the bakery, we made a cacao nib snickerdoodle that was rolled in cinnamon sugar. Dynamite. As a side note, you can also grind up nibs and treat them like coffee grounds. You get a coffee-like, slightly bitter beverage that tastes great with heavy cream and sugar.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">The recipe below is based on one in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Grand Central Baking Book</i>. Icebox cookies are a fine thing. There’s a little lapse between when you make the dough and when you can bake the cookies—at least 2 hours. You want the dough to get really cold and firm, which makes slicing it easier. But the real magic of this waiting game is that letting the dough sit gives the flavors time to meld. Recently it has come to be known that chilling cookie dough, particularly the greatly-disputed chocolate chip cookie, for up to two or three days gives you superior cookies. Apparently, resting cookie dough works the same magic as resting bread dough—the flour particles have plenty of time to absorb the liquid in the dough, and the whole mass of dough can relax. For bread-making this makes the dough a lot easier to work with. For cookies, you end up with a better-textured end result. If you’re really jonesing for cookies, this knowledge does you no good because time is of the essence, but if you can wait, you will be rewarded with extra delicious cookies.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>I don’t like to make recipes exactly as they’re printed, but here the question was how to improve upon such a sublime cookie? I mean, changing something just for the sake of changing it is silly. This cookie is dark and sweet and bitter, thanks to the nibs and dark cocoa powder, but it was missing something: a floral element. I like adding aromatic things to baked goods. Sometimes, it’s just a little extract. Other times, it’s a liqueur or herbs or citrus zest. These “floral” elements (that’s how I think of them) add the je ne sais quoi that I look for in my baked goods. My inspiration here was a birthday cake one of my best friends made for me—a chocolate rosewater cake.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>A full tablespoon of rosewater (you can find it at any natural foods store, probably in the body care section) in this recipe adds a very faint whisper of flower to this cookie. Not enough to knock you down with English rose garden tea time overdose, but enough to let you know that something else, something classy and mysterious, is going on. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b>1001 Nights Cookies</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Whisk together in a small bowl:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>1 1/4 cup flour</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1/2 cup Dutch-process cocoa powder</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1/2 teaspoon salt</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1/2 teaspoon baking soda</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">In a large bowl, beat until light and fluffy:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) butter, softened</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1/4 cup sugar</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>3/4 cup brown sugar, packed</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Add and beat to combine:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>1 tablespoon rosewater</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Add the flour mixture and mix until just combined. Fold in:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>1/3 cup cacao nibs</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1/2 cup dark chocolate chips</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Divide the dough in half. Roll each half into a log that is two inches in diameter and wrap in plastic wrap. Chill for at least 2 hours or up to 3 days.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Grease or line two baking sheets with parchment. Slice the logs of dough into 1/4-inch thick rounds, and place the cookies at least 1 inch apart on the prepared baking sheets. Bake until firm to the touch, about 15 to 20 minutes. Let cool 5 minutes on the baking sheets, then remove the cookies to a wire rack to cool.</p> <!--EndFragment-->meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-83322734206481398922011-04-28T10:27:00.000-07:002011-04-28T10:30:33.831-07:00Tornado WarningStill morning after<div>whipping wind so strong</div><div>it wrapped the trees around each other and unwrapped them</div><div>faster than the flick of a mockingbird's tail.</div><div>A white pine</div><div>snapped in two, another</div><div>leaning like a dancer on stilts.</div><div>Wind so strong it sucked the fog</div><div>up the mountain,</div><div>plastered leaves on road signs,</div><div>drove robin-sized hail</div><div>into the sides of cars. And this morning</div><div>the birds poh-tee-wheated,</div><div>the trees</div><div>set out to grow bigger</div><div>and greener,</div><div>the cat climbed onto my chest in the semi-</div><div>dark, crying for breakfast.</div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-49722851885345618872011-04-28T09:44:00.000-07:002011-04-28T09:49:20.395-07:00Tweet!Maybe it's because I wanted to add one more thing to my to-do list.<div>Maybe it's because I've been a twitter-hater for too long.</div><div>Maybe it's because I want to motivate myself to do this blog like it deserves to be done.</div><div>Maybe it's because of Egypt--if it works for them, it might work for me, too.</div><div>Maybe it was a whim.</div><div>Now I finally have to say those dreaded words that I never thought I'd say: follow me on twitter! There's a cute little button on the right sidebar that you can click and see my one twitter post. Or you can not follow me. Do as you will.</div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-40737435401566795352011-04-20T14:21:00.001-07:002011-04-20T14:30:57.576-07:00The New Ambrosia<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6-UHtl9noeM/Ta9QG5coaTI/AAAAAAAAErw/2X18s3h8FLo/s1600/ambrosia_overhead_view.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6-UHtl9noeM/Ta9QG5coaTI/AAAAAAAAErw/2X18s3h8FLo/s400/ambrosia_overhead_view.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597780941275162930" /></a><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The food world seems to have gotten incredibly meta lately. Don’t worry, I had to have that term defined for me, too. Meta basically means above and beyond, an additional level superimposed on whatever is normally there. I’ll use an illustration. When you read a novel where the protagonist (or any character, really) is aware that his or her story is being recorded in book form and speaks directly to the reader. When characters in a film look directly at the camera and address whoever may be watching. When one is aware of the absurdity of a situation one is participating in and goes so far as to address that absurdity and speak to it without interfering with it.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">When <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Bon Appetit</i> talks smugly about how pretentious foodies are even though their principal audience is composed almost entirely of foodies. So, I guess the new thing is to be really cool and hip while acknowledging that being really cool and hip is uncool. It’s a complicated world.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>I usually try to stay on Earth with the rest of us, but I’ve been going a little meta lately as well. It might be the weather, which has been particularly frightening this year. It might be politics, which seem to be getting more and more asinine as time goes on (That’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">my </i>budget cut! No! It’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">mine</i>!). It could also be all the pasta recipes we’ve been testing lately. Carbs can do funny things to you. But I’ve gone a little meta on kitschy recipes.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I love the kitsch. I mean, in theory, what’s not to love about Jell-O salad and crazy recipes using ground beef? But in reality, Jell-O really stopped being tasty to me after the age of 10, and now I cast a scornful eye upon the substance. No, it’s much more fun to just read the recipes and chuckle softly to oneself rather than attempt or try to explain them.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">But I have a soft spot for ambrosia. It’s one of those dishes that my great-grandmother made many times, and that I always thought had a heart of gold. Ultimately, every recipe has a heart of gold, and the job of the recipe developer is to find it. There are no bad recipes, just misguided ones. So, I came up with my own ambrosia. I fully acknowledge the kitsch value in the recipe, and I’m going to do it anyway, but to my own tastes. It’s very grown-up and can be served at all sorts of occasions—brunch, a nice dinner, a picnic, a potluck…it has that kind of classiness to it. The sort where it manages to look and taste classy without being fussy. You don’t need a whole afternoon to make it, you don’t need to know any crazy techniques, and you don’t have to serve it with anything although you could if you wanted to. It’s an easy-going, light recipe that isn’t light on flavor. I suspect I’ll be making this all summer long.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I can imagine substituting the tangerines with blood oranges, which are my favorite citrus fruit, but really any orange-esque fruit would work here. I can also see the logic in using almonds or cashews as a topping instead of pistachios. If you feel like it, this goes well with very lightly sweetened whipped cream and amaretti or biscotti cookies.</p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DpyUtdw0ddc/Ta9QGSuZK0I/AAAAAAAAEro/aQEncDfIeCw/s400/ambrosia_low_profile.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597780930880678722" /> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><u>The New Ambrosia<o:p></o:p></u></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Serves 8<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Peel and segment, removing the white pith:<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">8 tangerines or clementines<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Combine the fruit in a medium bowl with:<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">¼ cup honey<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>½ cup dry white wine or vermouth<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>¼ cup unsweetened flaked coconut<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>¼ cup chopped dried dates<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>¼ teaspoon orange flower water<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Refrigerate for at least an hour to allow the flavors to meld. Serve with:<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">Chopped pistachios<o:p></o:p></b></p> <!--EndFragment-->meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-54658896689009193502011-04-14T10:28:00.000-07:002011-04-14T10:43:59.069-07:00Why I haven't been posting...Because it's spring in Appalachia. The trillium and May apples are blooming. It isn't muggy yet, the insects don't have the run of the place yet, and it isn't too hot to enjoy being outdoors yet.<div><br /></div><div>I'm working on being okay with where I am, which is a beautiful place, but it's somewhere I don't belong, and I feel that most every day. I'm working on being here, being happy here, finding fulfillment in what I'm doing now. Not focusing on what I want to do, what I could be doing, the places I could be.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm reading books that have been sitting on the shelf. I'm writing letters to people who are important to me. I'm making art for pleasure alone. I'm eating simple meals of salads, bread, cheese, and wine. I'm working hard, sleeping hard, catching sunsets, building bonfires. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm soaking in life's inherent sweetness. Building up the happiness reserves. Taking the time to feel elated. Taking the time to feel steady on my fast feet.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-10263925470074965462011-03-17T07:29:00.001-07:002011-03-17T07:43:14.779-07:00Seasoning A Skillet With Clarified Butter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yM33SrePY6Q/TYIa7Ey_HSI/AAAAAAAAErg/4li2JbcDrcY/s1600/clarified_butter.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yM33SrePY6Q/TYIa7Ey_HSI/AAAAAAAAErg/4li2JbcDrcY/s400/clarified_butter.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585056090095033634" /></a><br />I've been infatuated with my new cast iron combo cooker lately. It does so many things so well that I'm starting to question the wisdom of using anything else to cook with. I suppose it would be difficult to make salted caramel in it, though, and since there are no Puritans around here, I guess I'd better hold onto the other cookware.<div><br /><div>The cast iron is also teaching me a degree of responsibility. Every time I use it, I clean it immediately, dry it, and rub it with canola oil. But yesterday J and I decided to make a big batch of clarified butter for all the Indian cooking we hope to do in the near future (just got the gigantic new Phaidon Press cookbook--India the Cookbook), and we immediately thought of the cast iron. Not only is cast iron heavy and thick enough to promote even melting and rendering of the butter, but we would be seasoning it simultaneously.</div><div><br /></div><div>Clarifying butter gives it a toasty, nutty flavor, and if you do any amount of Indian cooking (and don't just limit it to Indian cooking--clarified butter can be used in any cuisine), doing a big batch at once is the way to go. It also preserves the butter indefinitely, which is the original reason for clarifying butter at all--just think: the heat of India combined with dairy products? A conundrum indeed. Thus, clarified butter was born, and a propitious birth it was.</div><div><br /></div><div>The process is easy. Take a pound (you can do less than this, but it just makes sense to do a lot at once) of butter and melt it slowly over low heat in a heavy bottomed pan. The pan can be cast iron or enameled cast iron or something like All-Clad, just as long as it is thick and heavy so you don't burn the milk solids in the butter. Let the butter heat over low (never raise the temperature), and it will begin to foam. When the foam subsides, you can start skimming the white milk solids that precipitate out of the butter. Feel free to leave it alone for half an hour at a time, coming back every now and then to skim it. Keep skimming until all the milk solids are gone. This may take one hour or three hours, but be patient. This is definitely a Sunday afternoon sort of project. After skimming, strain the butter through a fine sieve or cheesecloth or a single layer of paper towel. Allow to come to room temperature and refrigerate. You may also wish to freeze the clarified butter in ice cube trays so that you have individual portions already prepared for use. Keeps indefinitely.</div></div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-10142452373149111782011-03-14T15:04:00.001-07:002011-03-15T12:34:09.199-07:00Pre-Garden<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5odfzbglcLo/TX6Rp0MfoLI/AAAAAAAAErY/l7TWTc9f3P0/s1600/leeks.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5odfzbglcLo/TX6Rp0MfoLI/AAAAAAAAErY/l7TWTc9f3P0/s400/leeks.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584060735557705906" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I've been wanting a garden for years. There was always some reason that I couldn't have one (most notably the year we had a late cold snap, and all my tomato seedlings were destroyed), and so I've made it my mission this year to have a garden, and though the deer and groundhogs and rabbits may eat it all, I will try to make it work.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Above are my little leek babies. Most of you may not be enamored of leeks, but I have a habit to support. And has anyone noticed the ungodly price of leeks in your average grocery store? In France, these things (and shallots) are used more than onions. We'll see how hardy they are, though. The summers here are brutal.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IB0N7kNP0Fo/TX6RpkEEsVI/AAAAAAAAErQ/CfD9qVcjEkA/s1600/kale.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IB0N7kNP0Fo/TX6RpkEEsVI/AAAAAAAAErQ/CfD9qVcjEkA/s400/kale.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584060731227418962" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And these are the kale babies. They already seem to be thriving marvelously. This is such a hopeful time for the garden, before the plants actually have to cope with the outdoors. Unless you're growing, ahem, the plant that shall not be named, or if you have hoop houses, having to unleash your little plants outside is a necessity for gardening, or so I'm told anyway.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I made a really simple grow-light system for my seedlings. It's basically just a frame made of PVC pipe that you can hang shop lights on. As the plants grow, you raise the lights. At first, you'll want to hang the lights very low so your plants don't become leggy and spindly. I'll do a post soon about building one of these contraptions.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zxS-z1FHusU/TX6RpUxjyKI/AAAAAAAAErI/HGrZN6JP2_Y/s1600/garden.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zxS-z1FHusU/TX6RpUxjyKI/AAAAAAAAErI/HGrZN6JP2_Y/s400/garden.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584060727123232930" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And behold! The garden! As this is a first year garden, we've had to undergo all the tasks, trials, and tribulations of plowing new ground, adding lots of soil amendments, and waitingwaitingwaiting for the soil to dry out. It turns out that keeping track of farm equipment is more difficult than you might think. We had to find the tiller, which turned out to be at a neighbors house, and haul it back home. This was probably the hardest part of the whole process, which is a little sad if you ask me. I was personally hoping to be out here all day shoveling and hoeing, but everyone around here seems to have tractors and dump trucks and backhoes. I guess I should be grateful for that.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-9212039671541307772011-03-11T14:22:00.000-08:002011-03-14T13:11:58.145-07:00Hippie Food<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9SnQOjF7y-g/TX51SPabe5I/AAAAAAAAErA/biq_5JrG_-A/s1600/quinoa_salad.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9SnQOjF7y-g/TX51SPabe5I/AAAAAAAAErA/biq_5JrG_-A/s400/quinoa_salad.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584029544221473682" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My favorite kind of cooking is baking, but when I'm not doing that I like to make hippie food. For me, this consists of a lot of one-pot meals accompanied by crusty bread and good cheese. Usually, there's some sort of grain (quinoa, wild rice, bulgur, amaranth), some veggies, nuts, and dried fruit tossed in a dressing. I really can't say enough for simplicity in cooking. Simple flavors can be stunning in their own, humble way, and there's nothing wrong with humble.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This salad is one incarnation of a common refrain on my kitchen table: red quinoa, whatever fresh veggies I have on hand, and a garlicky dressing. This is so easy to make, and so hard to mess up, that you may become dependent. I usually add feta to the mix, but you could just as easily use parmesan, a well-aged gouda, clothbound cheddar, ricotta salata, or something like comte (any cheese that will retain its shape and have a pronounced flavor). I've also been known to just omit the cheese altogether when I'm having vegan friends over.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> For this particular version, I used a Middle Eastern inspired ingredient palette--mint,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">cilantro, chopped apricots, and pistachios. You should feel free to follow your pantry on this </span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">one. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; ">I can imagine a nice, refined vinaigrette being really charming on this salad with radishes</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; ">and celery and maybe some toasted hazelnuts. Or even a balsamic dressing with chopped </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; ">strawberries and ricotta (this version </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; ">wouldn't keep as well, though).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And no, I'm not going to give you a recipe because this is too easy.</span></div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-83147241214872952142011-03-06T11:59:00.001-08:002011-03-10T10:30:22.847-08:00Breakfast Cornbread<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BxBcYOzg2cU/TXPoCVbswXI/AAAAAAAAEq4/rUVKG2RSmqg/s1600/IMG_0014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BxBcYOzg2cU/TXPoCVbswXI/AAAAAAAAEq4/rUVKG2RSmqg/s400/IMG_0014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581059490052882802" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"> This recipe began its life as a corn muffin, but was transformed for several reasons. One, I do not have a muffin tin, which may be shocking as I present myself as a “baker.” The thing is, I do not have a dishwasher, and I feel sure that cleaning a muffin tin is something done in the fourth circle of hell. Besides, the “muffin” as a measurement is inconvenient. Sure, they're cute and pretty and puffy, but sometimes a muffin is too much, and sometimes, if I'm feeling gluttonous, it's not enough. And what do you do then? Cut the muffin in half and have to do something with half a muffin. Not that having an extra muffin half around is a huge bother, but I'm trying to make a case for non-muffin breakfast foods. Also, I'm constantly prowling for new and exciting ways to use my cast iron combo cooker, which is changing my life one dish at a time.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"> So, in my mind, as I read the recipe for Honey Corn Muffins, I almost immediately pictured it as a skillet cake. Then, because honey and corn seemed too one-dimensional to me (they would have only been slightly sweet, but sweet would have been the only flavor, and I'm not big on that kind of baking), I decided it couldn't hurt to throw in some blueberries and lemon zest. The tart zing from the berries and zest (and buttermilk) would be perfectly complimented by the mild, floral sweetness of the honey and the distinct flavor of the cornmeal. This is how a new recipe is born, kids.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"> I haven't had my cast iron combo cooker for long, but even so, it was seasoned well enough so the cornbread didn't stick. However, I have a Lodge combo cooker, and they supposedly come pre-seasoned, so this may factor into the seasoning equation. For those of you new to the cast iron scene, a few pointers.</p><ol> <ol> <ol> <li><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Don't believe anyone who says that you can't wash cast iron. You can. You may use soap as well. The important things to remember, though, are that you should not leave your cast iron sitting in water for extended periods of time. However, if you start soaking it and then forget until the next morning and the pan is rusted, don't worry. You can save it. Use steel wool to scrape the rust off, coat the pan with vegetable oil—inside and out--, and place it in a 350 degree oven until the oil burns off. This will smell bad, you will have to open your windows and turn on fans, and there will be smoke, but saving your cast iron is worth it. If you have a charcoal grill, you can re-season your skillet on the grill, adding charcoal as necessary. This will solve the problem of turning your lovely home into a sweat lodge. I also heard one old-timer say that if you have a bonfire, you can just coat the skillet with “grease” (Crisco) and throw the skillet into the hot ashes. The method is up to you, really.</p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Every time you use your cast iron, wash it as soon as possible, and immediately dry it with a clean towel and coat it with oil. Not so much oil that it drips, but as much as the cast iron can soak in. I find that a teaspoon or two does just fine.</p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Apparently there's a myth that you should never use cast iron for eggs. Bull puckey. You can use cast iron for any old thing (and this is according to an 18th century reenactor friend of ours who does most of his cooking on cast iron in a hearth). Cobbler, quiche, stew, bread, baked apples...The important thing is to keep it seasoned and dry. Granted, cast iron may not be ideal for eggs, which seem to be the reason teflon was invented, but should you find yourself with a craving for eggs and nothing but cast iron to cook them in, don't hesitate.</p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">I know this is common knowledge, but in the name of kitchen safety I'm going to restate it anyway. When cast iron gets hot, it gets hot all over, and it stays hot. Even though we all know this, I don't think I've met any cast iron user who has not burned him or herself badly because they forgot this rule. I think Lodge makes little sleeves to cover the handle of their cast iron pans, so if you're particularly forgetful, this may be the way to go.</p></li></ol></ol></ol> <p style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0in; "><b>Blueberry-Lemon Breakfast Cornbread</b></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0in; "><i>Makes one 9-inch corncake</i></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. If your skillet is well-seasoned, there's no need to grease it. Otherwise, spray or grease a 9-inch cast iron skillet. Place the skillet in the oven while it is preheating. In a medium bowl, whick lightly:</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>2 large eggs</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Add and whisk to combine:</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 cup buttermilk</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>¼ cup honey</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>¼ cup (½ stick) salted butter, melted and cooled</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>zest from one lemon</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">In a large bowl, combine:</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 ¼ cups yellow cornmeal</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>¾ cup all-purpose flour</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 teaspoon baking soda</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 teaspoon baking powder</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>¼ cup firmly packed dark brown sugar</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>2 tablespoons granulated sugar</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 teaspoon salt</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix just to combine. Fold in:</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 cup frozen blueberries</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Pour batter into hot skillet. Bake for 16 to 20 minutes, or until the top of the cornbread is a deep golden brown color and a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean. Serve warm with butter and warmed maple syrup. There's no need to cool this on a rack. I left mine in the skillet to cool, and the crust did not burn. Any leftovers are delicious sliced and toasted.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><br /></p><p></p> </span></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0wz8fmH-SO8/TXPoCNskSRI/AAAAAAAAEqw/QtYgYdGzWEU/s1600/IMG_0006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0wz8fmH-SO8/TXPoCNskSRI/AAAAAAAAEqw/QtYgYdGzWEU/s400/IMG_0006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581059487976147218" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-42974394603542052502011-03-04T06:59:00.000-08:002011-03-04T07:09:52.972-08:00A Musty Recipe<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Growing up, my grandfather often called delicious food "musty food," as in, "must have" some more of it. So here's a musty recipe for you, which your thighs will regret as soon as you take a bite, but your heart will rejoice and you will keep going back to the pan for seconds. This is the reason I have no photos--I ate it all.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Take three red (new) potatoes, and cube them very finely (as in, 1/8 inch cubes). Combine with half an onion, grated, four garlic cloves, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. I also like this with cayenne or chipotle, but that's your call. Heat 3 tablespoons oil (or bacon drippings if you're feeling frisky) in a 12-inch skillet over medium heat. Spread the potato mixture in the skillet in one layer and cook until the potatoes are browned. Shake the skillet occasionally to make sure the potatoes don't stick too badly.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>When browned on one side, flip the potatoes. They will not stay in one piece, so don't expect a potato pancake. Just flip them to the best of your ability. Then, pour 1/4 cup heavy cream over the potatoes and finish cooking them, until they are browned. This is best served when there are about three people around, or else you'll eat them all. Not necessarily a bad thing, but that's your call.</div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-47366992690490136542011-03-02T13:55:00.001-08:002011-03-02T14:01:57.656-08:00Mexican Hot Chocolate<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Been really into Mexican hot chocolate the past couple days. I read about it somewhere, years ago, and quickly forgot about it (don't you hate that?). At least until John pointed out the Mexican chocolate at the grocery store. The price was right, and I decided that it had been far too long since I'd had any hot chocolate. Wow, it really has been a bad winter.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The recipe is not perfected yet, but I've made some headway. It involves coffee and a cinnamon stick. I also plan on trying some with cayenne pepper, and I want to get my hands on some <a href="http://tazachocolate.com">Taza</a> chocolate. Not that <a href="http://www.nestleusa.com/PubOurBrands/BrandDetails.aspx?lbid=DC4A204C-9ED2-4529-860C-C8FC879967D9">Abuelita</a> isn't good, it's just got some other stuff in there that I don't usually like to consume--you know, stabilizers, emulsifiers, etc. Will get back to you.</div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-42900129735987950842011-02-28T10:57:00.001-08:002011-02-28T11:01:11.377-08:00When in Rome...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MTIp3XW6XC0/TWvwuFZfqiI/AAAAAAAAEqY/fy8pzS_lJ5A/s1600/meg_and_john_shooting.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MTIp3XW6XC0/TWvwuFZfqiI/AAAAAAAAEqY/fy8pzS_lJ5A/s400/meg_and_john_shooting.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578817237942250018" /></a>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-41859933038500388432011-02-28T10:32:00.000-08:002011-02-28T10:56:54.015-08:00Fun With Rhubarb<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XLpGKi4mZEY/TWvqj8EnxqI/AAAAAAAAEqQ/DqgP30k9paQ/s1600/scones_on_stone.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XLpGKi4mZEY/TWvqj8EnxqI/AAAAAAAAEqQ/DqgP30k9paQ/s400/scones_on_stone.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578810466570323618" /></a> Before I begin, I should apologize for holding out on you for so long. I've had this recipe in my back pocket for ages it seems, but out here in the country, if the wind blows the wrong way you lose your internet connection. The wind has been blowing a lot lately.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Winter is never easy for me. I suppose most people would say the same. It's hard to get out of bed in the morning when the sky is still dark and the floor is cold. It just feels a little <i>unnatural</i><span style="font-style: normal">. But winter also has an uncanny way of deamplifying everything else going on in your life, much the same way that snow absorbs sound. Things have a way of seeming surreal and distant during the winter months. At least until they finally creep up on you, and by then it's too late. This is a very mystical way of looking at things, to be sure, but I've always felt that emotions are slower to come out in the winter, hibernating perhaps. But when they do come out, they're stronger and more bitter. Harder to combat than on those golden summer days when the sun doesn't set until nine. Vitamin D is a powerful little vitamin. No mistake.</span></div><div><span style="font-style: normal"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Is it any wonder, then, that we search for comfort in food? Winter is the perfect time for breaking out the bread pans, muffin tins, and that extra butter you keep in the freezer (come on, I know you do). Sometimes I feel that the only way I can function on winter mornings is to heat the oven and mix up a bowl of something sticky, preferably with the butter I thawed out previously. On most weekday mornings, I'm a steel-cut oats sort of girl. As much as I would love pancakes and muffins and coffee cake every morning, let's not kid ourselves. You aren't the only person with a figure to maintain. Besides, things taste better when you have lots of time to enjoy them. Thus, weekends are my baking days.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>As it turns out, this practice is also a great way to make friends. There's a really wonderful saying that eternity is two people and a roast turkey. Eternity can also be two people and lots of scones. As much as I love those little triangular beauties, they can cause me no end of stress. They look perfectly innocent sitting blithely on the cutting board, but to me they are the sirens of the breakfast world, capable of calling to my stomach at all hours when I didn't know I was hungry. This is why they make great gifts. Let your neighbors or coworkers wrestle with the scone angel.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I can never stick with the same scone flavor. Blueberry is the little black dress of scones. You really can't go wrong there. If I'm trying to make a good impression and want to be sure of my success, blueberry is the go-to scone. But cranberry orange is pretty classic, too. A little tart, a little sweet, a little bright citrus flavor. But then, there are just endless things to be done with scones. On my death bed I'll probably be thinking about that one scone flavor I never got around to making. Ginger-apricot, raspberry-lemon, cherry-almond, chocolate-orange, golden raisin-cardamom, apple-garam masala... And I won't even start in on savory scones. But most of the time I just follow my pantry.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The other day at the abysmal produce department, I found some really lovely rhubarb. It's not really a fruit, but it masquerades as one, and towards the end of winter, who couldn't use more fruit? I had no plans for the rhubarb, but sometimes you just have to go for it and make plans later. One thing, though. I'm really tired of the strawberry rhubarb combination. It's not bad, but it's just so hackneyed. I've had one too many strawberry rhubarb pies. So I wondered to myself, “Self, what would be wrong with just using rhubarb?” At the worst, the scones would be a little tart. Nothing that a little jam can't fix.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So these scones aren't anything special. It's my go-to scone recipe (and everyone needs a go-to scone recipe) using rhubarb. These are not super sweet scones, so if you like them on the sweeter side, add a couple tablespoons sugar. I also like making my scones with buttermilk for extra tang, but half-and-half or cream can be used, to delicious effect. I call cream scones “company scones.” Also, I'm sure strawberries would be great in these, but make sure they're frozen. Otherwise, your scones will look and feel like mud. Not good, but it would probably taste okay. <p align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in"><b>Rhubarb Buttermilk Scones</b></p><p align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in"><i>Makes 8 scones</i></p><p align="CENTER" style="text-align: left;margin-bottom: 0in; "><i></i>Preheat oven to 425°. Combine in a medium bowl: </p></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>1 cup all-purpose flour </b></span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>1 cup whole spelt flour </b></span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>4 tablespoons sugar </b></span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>1 teaspoon baking powder </b></span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>½ teaspoon baking soda </b></span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>½ teaspoon salt </b></span></span></div><div><span><span>Cut in until mixture resembles “coarse meal.” (One of these days I'm going to come up with a better term for this.): </span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>4 tablespoons (½ stick) chilled salted butter </b></span></span></div><div><span><span>Stir in until dough has not quite come together: </span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>½ cup whole milk buttermilk </b></span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>1 large egg </b></span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b> </b></span><b>1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste </b></span></span></div><div><span><span>Knead in briefly without over-kneading:</span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>1 ½ long rhubarb stalks, chopped </b></span></span></div><div><span><span>Form dough into a round and flatten to form a 7-8 inch round. Cut into eight wedges. Place wedges on a baking sheet or stone, brush with melted butter, and sprinkle with turbinado sugar. Bake until golden, about 12-15 minutes. Serve warm.</span></span><p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-weight: normal"></p> </div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I used the rest of my rhubarb for this really tasty conserve (I don't know if "conserve" is the right thing to call it--not really a jam or preserve because it contains butter) that happens to be perfect on buttermilk biscuits. It's quick to whip up if you're having people over for brunch, and the recipe makes a small amount (a little less than a pint), so you aren't committing to a day standing over a hot stove with a wooden spoon glued to your hand. I used a skillet instead of a saucepan for this recipe because the greater surface area of the skillet allows the conserve to thicken faster.</span></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><span><b>Rhubarb Port Conserve</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span>In a medium skillet over medium high heat, combine:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><b>3 tablespoons salted butter</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1/2 cup sugar</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>4 long rhubarb stalks, chopped</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>3/4 cup port wine</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>3 whole cloves</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 two-inch cinnamon stick</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>4 allspice berries</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1 bay leaf</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span>Simmer until the conserve is thick and the rhubarb has turned into mush. Remove the bay leaf. Spoon into a sterilized glass jar and cool completely before refrigerating.</span></span></div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-16291534401505382472011-02-23T14:04:00.001-08:002011-02-23T14:33:32.361-08:00Head In A BookOut in the country, you really have to choose what your spare time will be spent doing. At least, it seems to be true in this part of the world. Most people around here have serious hobbies that usually border on careers. For many, this hobby is hunting with dogs. I don't really get it, especially since a lot of the dogs seem sadly malnourished as they run around the woods with radio collars on. For some, the hobby is antiquing, which involves mostly overpriced kitsch with a few great finds every now and then. That's how they get you.<div><br /><div>I've always been a little bit more of a busybody, and I have to divide my time between lots of things. I'm like this with cooking. I can't just pick a ginger cooky (am I the only one who thinks we should bring this spelling of "cookie" back?) recipe that I like, and I've made a good many amazing ginger cooky recipes. I'm always looking for the NEXT ginger cooky recipe. I bookmark the ones that are good and then compare, and then...I still look for others.</div><div><br /></div><div>With hobbies, the idea is the same. I'm antsy. I need lots of room to move around, lots of hobbies to choose from. But recently I've been absolutely buried in a good book, and it feels really nice to have no greater ambition at the moment than to finish this really great book. I wish most books weren't disappointing, but they are, so when a good one arrives on your doorstep in its demure brown box, it's a special treat. Sort of like a second slice of flourless chocolate cake for the brain.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, this may come as a shock to you, but Julia Child is one of my heroes. I love the woman, and I feel pretty confident that we would have gotten along famously if only I hadn't been born eighty years too late. I like her style--in cooking, in talking, in writing. No fiddle faddle, no pussyfooting, no flim flam. She was utterly herself, which is more than can be said of the vast majority of people. John met her once, so I guess I sort of met her by extension. But regardless, <i>As Always, Julia</i> is probably the best book I've read in a long time. It's just a collection of letters between her and her friend Avis DeVoto, but how marvelously written! As an avid letter writer, it's a truly inspiring book. It really makes you think about how friendships are cultivated and how letters are just so powerful. I mean, I don't have too much against emails. It's how we are able to communicate most efficiently. But there's no charm to an email in my romantic brain. I find that as soon as I type in someone's email address, I want to speak in monosyllables and abbreviations, and I become scarily less concerned with tone and diction. Not healthy. I try to temper all the emails I have to send (since it <i>is</i> the currency of words these days) by writing letters. And if you think writing letters is a simple thing, try writing a really charming, thoughtful one that spans more than a couple paragraphs. It's yoga for the brain.</div><div><br /></div><div>Rabbit trail. But, great book. It's a lovely thing, too. Great dust jacket with a photo of the gigantic Julia stirring something in a tiny pot on a tiny stove in a tiny kitchen. High-quality paper, gilt writing on the spine, silvery end papers. And aesthetics matter to book whores. This is a book for book whores. Or those of us just looking for a really good read to go with our good eats.</div></div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-76536213418573583052011-02-18T09:29:00.001-08:002011-02-18T09:32:33.897-08:00I've learned the secret to getting a good night's sleep. It involves heavy cream, bacon, and cheese. Oh well.meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-1212654491682994472011-02-15T13:33:00.000-08:002011-02-15T15:59:35.596-08:00The Holy Grail of Bread<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vkz-Hx_nl2g/TVsTOkwxUTI/AAAAAAAAEqI/jbKsVOuf1M4/s1600/IMG_0024.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vkz-Hx_nl2g/TVsTOkwxUTI/AAAAAAAAEqI/jbKsVOuf1M4/s400/IMG_0024.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574070104908452146" /></a><br />Once again, I must apologize for being a lazy blogger and not posting as often as I should. But usually when that happens, you should know that it means I have been kicking butt in my real life, getting things done and being busy otherwise. I've got a crock of sauerkraut fermenting and smelling downright stinky, which is how I like it. I've got a "ginger bug" going for a future batch of ginger beer--more on that later. I have seeds sprouting on the kitchen counter, and a sourdough starter bubbling away happily on the butcher block.<div>Which brings me to the good news, brothers and sisters. I have cracked the code of bread. You probably remember my bellyaching about how sourdough starters are a waste of time and result in only slightly better bread than a poolish or leaven. Well, it turns out that I just hadn't found the right recipe yet.</div><div>I've been baking yeast bread since I was fourteen, or something like that. My beginnings were humble--for a long time I used the whole wheat bread recipe on the back of the King Arthur Flour bag. It was a good place to start, but anyone who is passionate about good bread rarely stays put. I've done white bread--the only kind of bread that plain old tomato sandwiches should be made with (don't doubt, just believe). I've made ciabatta--the long, wrinkled loaf that immediately calls for the good olive oil that you hoard in the back of your cupboard. Then there was the occasional challah for special occasions--burnished and golden with egg yolks and butter. I can also think of a delicious cracked wheat loaf, struan bread (the best toast you'll ever eat), cinnamon raisin swirl bread, and these little Norwegian raisin buns that are so redolant of cardamom that the whole house smells like Christmas. There have also been occasional forays into pastry, but too few to really talk about.</div><div>So I've baked a lot of bread. The only problem was that none of these breads was my ideal bread. I wanted sour, but not overly sour. I wanted a deep brown crust as thick as a half-dollar coin. I wanted big, beautiful air pockets in the dough--perfect for forming pools of butter and catching runaway honey. In short, I wanted the effect that a wood-fired oven gives, but without the wood-fired oven.</div><div>I pored over baking books, searching for the answer. In most of them, the sourdough chapter is presented in such a way as to make it seem daunting. The smoke was fanned and the mirrors were polished to make sure the home baker felt intimidated. At least, that's how it seemed to me. But I tried anyway, feeding the starter religiously, keeping it warm, judiciously measuring everything by weight and not deviating one iota from the recipe. When it came time to bake the bread, however, the loaf that resulted was unimpressive at best. To have spent so much time and effort (and the better part of a bag of flour) on something so lackluster was pretty depressing. Let's not paint any rosy pictures about that.</div><div>But I'm a naturally inquisitive person, and so I continued to read about bread, biding my time until I felt up to the sourdough task again. My theory was that there had to be a reasonable method out there somewhere. After all, sourdough is the essence of rustic. I don't see paintings of pioneers carrying around heating pads and scales for baking their weekly sourdough bread, but I know they sure as hell made sourdough. As a baker, I despise the scientific baking method. The meticulous measuring by weight (in a commercial kitchen this actually makes sense, but unless you're making something really finicky at home, there's a good chance that using a scale will make you nuts), checking temperatures (of water, of flour, of the starter...), and generally making recipes more difficult than they need to be really riles me. In my opinion, those of us in the cookbook world should make baking more accessible and reasonable, not talk about another piece of equipment that you MUST buy to achieve success. Ok, the soapbox is safely stored away now.</div><div>Then John bought me a bread book. I had heard good things about it, but as with all cookbooks that double as eye-candy, I was skeptical. Then I started reading it. Beautifully written and photographed, <i>Tartine Bread</i> will inspire in you the immediate desire to bake bread. Every day. In fact, I seriously considered writing a letter to the author of the book and asking for an apprenticeship. No joke.</div><div>But the proof is always in the proverbial pudding (or <i>pain</i>, if you will), and so I tried to stave off enthusiasm while I worked on cultivating a starter. The book encouraged me to be patient. There was no time frame--feed your starter once a day (if your kitchen is very warm, twice a day) until it rises and falls predictably. The starter will rise after you feed it, climax, and start to fall slowly. By the time of the next feeding, it will smell vinegary. I gave my starter lots of time to develop. For several days nothing seemed to be happening, but I would pour off the brownish liquid that covered the starter and feed it again. Ultimately, my starter took.</div><div>I gave it a few days to strengthen and develop even further before using it. The day finally arrived. By 3:00 in the afternoon, I had two absolutely perfect loaves of bread. No, really. Perfect. Crusty, deep brown, heavily air-pocketed, gently sour loaves that rose like phoenixes in the oven. Magic, I swear.</div><div>The trick is the cast iron combo cooker. A combo cooker is a Dutch oven with a lid that doubles as a frying pan. You get the pan hot in the oven (both parts of the pan), turn the dough into the frying pan part of the cooker, cover it with the Dutch oven part, and bake it for 20 minutes. Then, you remove the Dutch oven part and let the bread brown for another 20 minutes. The Dutch oven captures the steam from the bread and results in a dramatic oven spring. The bread essentially steams itself. Taking off the cover gives the bread its crust. I am utterly stunned. I have found the Holy Grail of Bread.</div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1333551020996855551.post-42626579466101882162011-02-03T10:12:00.000-08:002011-02-03T10:54:32.259-08:00Artichoke Clafoutis<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6cm6sNDYjsM/TUrwZxBHSVI/AAAAAAAAEqA/6A43b--OF9s/s1600/clafoutis.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6cm6sNDYjsM/TUrwZxBHSVI/AAAAAAAAEqA/6A43b--OF9s/s400/clafoutis.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569528214642444626" /></a><br /><div>Any avid cookbook reader or collector will know that even poor cookbooks can serve you well in the kitchen (emphasis on the <i>can</i>). Even cookbooks with serious problems are often, if nothing else, inspiration for the cook who has seen it all, done it all, and has a jaded palate (I'm not talking about myself here--I still get the shivers when I eat a good BLT). Let me introduce you to such a cookbook. <i>The Silver Spoon</i> is a cookbook that I don't recommend unless you're really into Italian cooking, and I would also caution you against it if you don't have much experience in the kitchen because it offers little in the way of instruction. However, there are pages upon pages of food porn--really beautiful stuff. You'll want to make everything in it based on the photos, but that's made difficult by the fact that the recipes are so poorly written. But if you're only fishing for ideas, it's a great book to flip through.</div><div><br /></div><div>We got in a shipment of artichokes from California this past week and have been scrambling to use them all. We've done Braised Baby Artichokes and Peas, Fried Artichokes, Stuffed Artichokes, and Marinated Artichokes. Before I get too much further along, I'd like to ask who in the world was the first person to eat an artichoke? I mean, it's a relative of the thistle, it has thorns, most of the leaves are too tough to eat, and when you get to the middle of one, a place where you might imagine there to be something tasty, there's a hairy, prickly little thing to choke on (appropriately called a "choke"). I imagine the first person to eat one only did so successfully after several attempts. I've seen goats try to eat thistle, and I imagine this resembles what the first person to eat an artichoke looked like--hollering and moaning while trying to choke it down.</div><div><br /></div><div>But if you know how to properly trim an artichoke, they can be quite good, and the baby ones are especially succulent. We had some in our box that didn't even have a choke yet. But here's what you have to do to enjoy them properly: Have a bowl ready with water and the juice from half a lemon in it. Artichokes are like apples or avocados--if you cut them open and don't coat them with lemon juice, they will turn a truly hideous shade of brown. Cut the stem end and the prickly top off the artichokes. If you have large ones, you'll need to cut off more than if you have small ones. You will also need to pull away the tough outer leaves until you reach the inner, more tender ones. </div><div><br /></div><div>When you cut away the top of the artichoke, you will expose a little purple "cap" of leaves. Pull that out to expose the choke. With a spoon (grapefruit spoons work particularly well for this) dig out the choke, and rinse the artichoke to make sure all the little hairs are gone from inside. At this point, you're ready to go with whatever method you choose to cook them. For the purposes of this recipe, you'll need to cut your artichokes in half. I wouldn't recommend using large artichokes for this recipe--they're just too tough. You want artichokes small enough to eat whole once you've peeled away the tough outer leaves (ours were about tennis ball size before we trimmed them).</div><div><br /></div><div>The following recipe is adapted from the <i>Silver Spoon </i>cookbook. I adapted it because it would have had a really boring flavor profile if I hadn't. A recipe that calls for one sprig (it seriously called for one and only one sprig) of parsley as the only seasoning besides salt and pepper is not going to tantalize those tastebuds. Feel free to play around with seasonings here, but you'll probably want to keep it fresh--think green herbs. The flavor of an artichoke is fairly delicate, so you don't want to go too crazy. Also, I've been told that Pinot Noir is the only wine to serve with artichokes because they make everything you eat taste sweet. It's a strange phenomenon, but try it out. Eat an artichoke, then take a sip of water--sweet water. Fascinating.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Artichoke Clafoutis</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>serves 4-6</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Preheat the oven to 350. Grease a ten-inch ovenproof dish with butter or cooking spray.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Half-fill a bowl with water, and add:</div><div style="text-align: left;"> <b>Juice of 1/2 lemon, strained</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Trim, halve, and place in the water for ten minutes:</div><div style="text-align: left;"> <b>8 small artichokes</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sift into a large bowl:</div><div style="text-align: left;"> <b>2/3 cup all-purpose flour</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Stir in, one at a time:</div><div style="text-align: left;"> <b>3 eggs</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Whisk in gradually:</div><div style="text-align: left;"> <b>1 3/4 cups milk</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Stir in:</div><div style="text-align: left;"> <b>1/2 cup grated parmesan</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> 1/4 cup finely chopped parsley</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> 1/4 cup finely chopped fennel fronds</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> 1 teaspoon salt</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> 1/2 teaspoon pepper or white pepper</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Drain the artichokes, pat dry, and place, cut side down, in the prepared baking dish. Pour the batter over them and bake for 30 minutes, or until the clafoutis batter is fairly firm and slightly puffed.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6cm6sNDYjsM/TUrwZgbHMpI/AAAAAAAAEp4/Fr8ZzKM6ChU/s1600/close_up.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6cm6sNDYjsM/TUrwZgbHMpI/AAAAAAAAEp4/Fr8ZzKM6ChU/s400/close_up.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569528210188087954" /></a><br /></div>meghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15311805680215556239noreply@blogger.com0