Today is World AIDS Day. What does that have to do with a food blog?
When I was in middle school, ages ago, there were major stories in the news about a boy named Ryan to whom AIDS was transmitted via blood transfusion. I met a young man named Grant, who also had received tainted blood.
Grant's Mom was wonderful, fighting for her son any way she could. Not just keeping the teenager out of trouble and doing homework, she researched all the aspects of her son's condition and did whatever she could to combat symptom after symptom. Grant told me later that he was always mortified every time his mom talked about him having to use Monestat to get rid of the thrush in his mouth.
He was a sweet guy, and a good pen pal.
It always seemed like I heard from Grant right around the times I needed a break from the self-centered world of the average teenage girl. He kept perspective for me in a way I still am grateful for, helping shape me into what I hope is a more thoughtful person.
For Grant, today, I wanted to share a classic, favorite snack from my Writing With Grant days. Miss you, Sweet Heart, and I promise I try every day: Don't apologize, fix it. Find a way.
Hot Chocolate Jess Style
8 oz skim milk
1 package of hot chocolate mix
4 peppermints, crushed
1. Microwave milk in appropriate cup for 1:30-1:45 minutes.
2. Stir hot chocolate mix in, making sure to stir out all the lumps. Please avoid marshmallows here. Firstly, they add sugar that's just not necessary in this particular treat. Second of all, they will disintegrate into semigrossness with all the stirring involved here. Seriously. I've seen it.
3. Add the peppermint powder. Stir slowly. You can re-microwave if you need to, so the heat helps shorten the time it takes to melt any larger pieces that didn't quite get crushed.
4. I would usually couple this with a handful of pretzel sticks. Crunchy contrast, with the salt helping to cut through the silky sweetness of the hot chocolate.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
Eating Like Alice AND A CHALLENGE
I'm not going to go Oprah and say, "I'm addicted to food."
From what I know of the human brain, I feel confident in saying there is no way to organically prove addiction to food. The brain causes endorphin-rushes when eating because if you don't eat you die.
Therefore, if you remove the addiction... you die.
I want to talk about understanding food, and your own personal relationship to food.
Why don't we think about food like Alice in Wonderland?
I'm serious. Alice eats food that causes her to grow. Alice drinks things that make her shrink.
This is something very specific and important to consider. No matter our ages, these are interesting ways to think. Every time you eat food, it makes you grow. When you are young, as best you can you eat enough calories to help in normal growth. When you become an adult, food takes on an intellectual quality. It becomes less about what you need and more about gratification. But, what if you held on to that memory, that understanding that Every time Alice ate too much, she grew beyond the size she should be?
I'm not suggesting that everything you drink will make you shrink. There are positives to consider here. Health benefits from drinking water have been cited often, including water's unique roll in assisting the colon in absorbing less fat and salt. This does not mean drinking a six-pack of beer will magically turn all of us into Twiggy, even though we may feel like we look rather more like her after such a 'meal.'
How often do you mistake thirst for hunger? Are you certain your body is asking for that snack, rather than a glass of ice water?
I love writing about food. I adore cooking, and feeding the people I love. I also weigh less now than I did when I graduated high school 10 years ago. My weight has been stable within 5 pounds, with the exception of the 2 weeks before/ after my wedding, for a year. I like taking care of myself, as well as indulging in ice cream, sugary snacks and the occasional soda.
I figured out in college that there were many times I mistook thirst for hunger. I would reach for a snack, consider carefully what my body was really telling me, then look at my food journal.
I've introduced a new phrase into the conversation. Did you spot it?
Food Journal: I define these two words as the most disappointing and important thing I've done for myself. I started making notes of what I eat throughout the day, as well as any interesting signals I got from my body and what eased those signals.
I learned that I am extremely sensitive to caffeine. If I drink a regularly caffeinated soda like Pepsi or Coke, I have an alarming amount of energy for 4-6 hours. My appetite is diminished. I also experience excrutiating headaches for about 3 days after, as well as stomach cramping.
I also learned that when I need water, I start experiencing very specific, temple-centric pain. My toes cramp.
Over the past weeks, I've begun doing crunches before bed. Not because I want to lose weight; I do them because I feel better when I do. I like my muscles. I like the way I move, and the agility I have. To maintain these things, I do crunches that increase in number by 5 every week. I'm up to 50 a night, and I love it. I also do yoga as much as I can, which helps me relax and stay limber.
Food is still a great love of my life. I invest emotion and effort into the food I create, because I feel as though I make it well. I want the people who eat my food to feel satisfied, surprised, delighted and taken care of when they eat whatever I offer.
Food does not equal love. Sharing means more to me than the food itself. I may not always take the offered fare, but I am never ungrateful for the effort you put into trying to include me.
I think it's important for more people to seriously consider their relationship to food, moreso than their relationships with food. I mean to say that food is our fuel. Food for us, just like Alice, will make us grow. Perhaps we won't grow taller as Alice did, but we will widen. This has everything to do with food as a fuel, and nothing to do with the cake you eat to ignore the cruel things someone said, or the annoying feeling that the promotion you slaved for all year will be handed to Barry McGingle, because he's marrying The Boss's Daughter. In that case, just like sleeping with the semi-toothless guy at the end of the bar, the comfort you seek is at best a bandage and at worst a very serious health risk for rewards that are dubious at best.
Being careful how much we take in creates so many positives! More sustainability. More opportunity to recognize how wonderous variety can be, as we make room for more unfamiliar food in our menus! More to share with the people we love, especially when holidays come and money becomes a balancing act. More chances for others to try the foods we love so dearly, as well.
I challenge you to Eat Like Alice for one week. Keep reminding yourself: "If I eat too much, I'll grow." Tell me what happens. Did it make a difference? Would writing down all you eat change how you perceive your food?
I want you to be happy. I want you to be healthful. I want you to find that wonderful place between extremes where all the possibilities exist!
From what I know of the human brain, I feel confident in saying there is no way to organically prove addiction to food. The brain causes endorphin-rushes when eating because if you don't eat you die.
Therefore, if you remove the addiction... you die.
I want to talk about understanding food, and your own personal relationship to food.
Why don't we think about food like Alice in Wonderland?
I'm serious. Alice eats food that causes her to grow. Alice drinks things that make her shrink.
This is something very specific and important to consider. No matter our ages, these are interesting ways to think. Every time you eat food, it makes you grow. When you are young, as best you can you eat enough calories to help in normal growth. When you become an adult, food takes on an intellectual quality. It becomes less about what you need and more about gratification. But, what if you held on to that memory, that understanding that Every time Alice ate too much, she grew beyond the size she should be?
I'm not suggesting that everything you drink will make you shrink. There are positives to consider here. Health benefits from drinking water have been cited often, including water's unique roll in assisting the colon in absorbing less fat and salt. This does not mean drinking a six-pack of beer will magically turn all of us into Twiggy, even though we may feel like we look rather more like her after such a 'meal.'
How often do you mistake thirst for hunger? Are you certain your body is asking for that snack, rather than a glass of ice water?
I love writing about food. I adore cooking, and feeding the people I love. I also weigh less now than I did when I graduated high school 10 years ago. My weight has been stable within 5 pounds, with the exception of the 2 weeks before/ after my wedding, for a year. I like taking care of myself, as well as indulging in ice cream, sugary snacks and the occasional soda.
I figured out in college that there were many times I mistook thirst for hunger. I would reach for a snack, consider carefully what my body was really telling me, then look at my food journal.
I've introduced a new phrase into the conversation. Did you spot it?
Food Journal: I define these two words as the most disappointing and important thing I've done for myself. I started making notes of what I eat throughout the day, as well as any interesting signals I got from my body and what eased those signals.
I learned that I am extremely sensitive to caffeine. If I drink a regularly caffeinated soda like Pepsi or Coke, I have an alarming amount of energy for 4-6 hours. My appetite is diminished. I also experience excrutiating headaches for about 3 days after, as well as stomach cramping.
I also learned that when I need water, I start experiencing very specific, temple-centric pain. My toes cramp.
Over the past weeks, I've begun doing crunches before bed. Not because I want to lose weight; I do them because I feel better when I do. I like my muscles. I like the way I move, and the agility I have. To maintain these things, I do crunches that increase in number by 5 every week. I'm up to 50 a night, and I love it. I also do yoga as much as I can, which helps me relax and stay limber.
Food is still a great love of my life. I invest emotion and effort into the food I create, because I feel as though I make it well. I want the people who eat my food to feel satisfied, surprised, delighted and taken care of when they eat whatever I offer.
Food does not equal love. Sharing means more to me than the food itself. I may not always take the offered fare, but I am never ungrateful for the effort you put into trying to include me.
I think it's important for more people to seriously consider their relationship to food, moreso than their relationships with food. I mean to say that food is our fuel. Food for us, just like Alice, will make us grow. Perhaps we won't grow taller as Alice did, but we will widen. This has everything to do with food as a fuel, and nothing to do with the cake you eat to ignore the cruel things someone said, or the annoying feeling that the promotion you slaved for all year will be handed to Barry McGingle, because he's marrying The Boss's Daughter. In that case, just like sleeping with the semi-toothless guy at the end of the bar, the comfort you seek is at best a bandage and at worst a very serious health risk for rewards that are dubious at best.
Being careful how much we take in creates so many positives! More sustainability. More opportunity to recognize how wonderous variety can be, as we make room for more unfamiliar food in our menus! More to share with the people we love, especially when holidays come and money becomes a balancing act. More chances for others to try the foods we love so dearly, as well.
I challenge you to Eat Like Alice for one week. Keep reminding yourself: "If I eat too much, I'll grow." Tell me what happens. Did it make a difference? Would writing down all you eat change how you perceive your food?
I want you to be happy. I want you to be healthful. I want you to find that wonderful place between extremes where all the possibilities exist!
Friday, November 18, 2011
Let Us Go Forth And Be Productive!
Today I was determined to be productive. I started at 9 am.
It is now 9 pm. I have made 27 brownie cookie sandwiches, filled with chocolate chip cream cheese dip. There were 16 red velvet cheesecake brownies, but I ate one. I made tuna noodle casserole. I also made Puppy Chow.
I wanted to make sure I could enjoy the weekend. I wanted to have things to snack on, and enjoy. I also wanted time later to tinker with breakfast ideas for Husband.
Sometimes, it's about unleashing your Inner Julia Child. Sometimes, it's about being prepared for an upcoming holiday. I sincerely hope, for all of you, that it has nothing to do with these things.
I hope at the end of your day, you feel as though you've accomplished creation. You've transformed ingredients from their original states into something altogether wonderful. I hope with all my heart and love that what nourishes the bodies of those for whom you care also nourishes your soul.
It is now 9 pm. I have made 27 brownie cookie sandwiches, filled with chocolate chip cream cheese dip. There were 16 red velvet cheesecake brownies, but I ate one. I made tuna noodle casserole. I also made Puppy Chow.
I wanted to make sure I could enjoy the weekend. I wanted to have things to snack on, and enjoy. I also wanted time later to tinker with breakfast ideas for Husband.
Sometimes, it's about unleashing your Inner Julia Child. Sometimes, it's about being prepared for an upcoming holiday. I sincerely hope, for all of you, that it has nothing to do with these things.
I hope at the end of your day, you feel as though you've accomplished creation. You've transformed ingredients from their original states into something altogether wonderful. I hope with all my heart and love that what nourishes the bodies of those for whom you care also nourishes your soul.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Breakfast Revisited
I made breakfast baskets for my husband 2 weeks ago. Biscuit on bottom, shredded cheese, egg, wrapped in bacon. Baked in a muffin tin. Yummy. A week ago, my husband picked out the bacon.
Oh wow.
There is a very big difference between Oscar Meyer bacon and the cheapest bacon you can buy. I'm not saying always buy the expensive stuff, but WOW is there a difference in something you don't pay a lot for, especially regarding the care and cut of meat.
Speaking of that, WHY IS HAM SO EXPENSIVE? Sorry, had to let that out.
Anyway, The Husband and I put our massive brain power together and came up with this idea.
Seamless crescent roll dough, cooked bacon (or sausage, I'm going to try both), cooked scrambled eggs, shredded cheese.
1. Spread eggs, pork product of choice, cheese across most of the interior of the dough.
2. Re-roll.
3. Bake per directions, adding a couple minutes if interior of roll seems to need more time.
4. Slice off pinwheel style breakfast sandwiches.
No execution yet - I'll include info on what happens when I'm done trying. I'm excited to give it a shot! I really want to find a solution to a fast, delicious, healthful breakfast for my husband so he eats well and doesn't miss Mickey D's breakfast.
Oh wow.
There is a very big difference between Oscar Meyer bacon and the cheapest bacon you can buy. I'm not saying always buy the expensive stuff, but WOW is there a difference in something you don't pay a lot for, especially regarding the care and cut of meat.
Speaking of that, WHY IS HAM SO EXPENSIVE? Sorry, had to let that out.
Anyway, The Husband and I put our massive brain power together and came up with this idea.
Seamless crescent roll dough, cooked bacon (or sausage, I'm going to try both), cooked scrambled eggs, shredded cheese.
1. Spread eggs, pork product of choice, cheese across most of the interior of the dough.
2. Re-roll.
3. Bake per directions, adding a couple minutes if interior of roll seems to need more time.
4. Slice off pinwheel style breakfast sandwiches.
No execution yet - I'll include info on what happens when I'm done trying. I'm excited to give it a shot! I really want to find a solution to a fast, delicious, healthful breakfast for my husband so he eats well and doesn't miss Mickey D's breakfast.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Pairing
It isn't about beer.
Really, it's not.
It isn't even about knowing why a thick red wine, slightly below room temp, enhances rather than detracts from that delicious medium-well steak lovingly prepared and sitting before you.
I don't even care what you drink, or even if you drink.
I want you to know, on some level, what you're doing to your tongue when you slam any-old-beverage up against correctly-seasoned-and-prepared food.
When was the last time you took a gargantuan swig of a sticky-sweet soda, then went to have a bite of dessert and thought, Really? This isn't nearly as sweet as I expected it to be. Perhaps, and I mean simply perhaps, the fact that you've overloaded the sweet-sensing aspect of your palette mere seconds before engulfing yet another sweet-tingling taste has rendered your ability to taste the balance of flavors.... oh, how does one say it.... a bit void?
Is that to say the bananas foster you ordered wasn't just a bit over-the-top? By all means, enjoy your petit fours and hazelnut-cherry fudge with delight. I am not telling you to stop. Nor am I suggesting that what you've chosen to wash down your meal with is in some way unsatisfactory.
What I'm trying to convey is that meals should have harmony. Your tongue is probably more analytical at any given moment than the rest of you. It is an entire system reset when you're told what you're about to eat will be salty, and when it gets into your mouth it's nothing but super-sweet. The soda you're chugging changes the way your dinner will taste. I promise you.
Don't believe me?
Experiment time!
Take a drink of whatever you usually have with dinner. Now eat a tiny bit of sugar. Got how that tasted? Good deal. Now, put a couple drops of lemon juice on your tongue. Did you make a face? It's okay, don't worry about it. Put the same amount of sugar on your tongue. I'll be impressed if you're brave enough to then follow that last sugar-taste with the same amount in salt.
Your body adjusts. You don't even realize that your palette normalizes itself. One of the silliest things I've ever heard in my life: "I had dinner at elBulli. Didn't make any sense at all. Just when I got into the groove, and was really understanding the flavors, out comes this bizarre thing that didn't taste right at all."
My instantaneous reaction? "Did the next course taste amazing?"
Response: "Well, yeah, but he seemed to be back on track."
Why is this? Why would a restaurant renowned for its culinary excellence (currently on a hiatus while its owners revamp/ retool/ reset the model from which their art descends) serve you something that, in the logic of a meal, seem absolutely out of sync?
To reset your palette.
That thing you didn't like, that taste that made no sense whatsoever in the larger scale of the meal was meant to throw you off. You should be a bit off balance for the next course, because the over-arching reality of the meal is taking you to entirely new territory from the course before the offending taste to the course after.
How does a 32-34 course meal that will cost you approx. $400 compare to making dinner at home for your family? Why am I even bringing this up?
You should still realize what you're doing.
A meal that tends to the sweet, like teriyaki chicken, for example, will be overpowering if everything you serve with it is sweet. A cured meat may be overwhelmingly salty, when salt is the primary seasoning in everything on the plate.
*gripe from childhood warning* Mom, don't make pork chops breaded in Italian breadcrumbs, match it up with "chinese-flavored" rice out of the box and steamed broccoli and expect me to go, "Wow, this makes sense to my mouth." There's no crunch anywhere on that plate. Trust me. Theoretically, the broccoli would still have some bite to it, but not if you're my Mother. Rubber greenery, something in the rice that looks like slivered cardboard, and not necessarily greasy but definitely heavy-in-the-stomach pork chops? No thanks, I'll make myself a salad.
Well, Miss Smarty Pants, what would you do instead?
If I had "chinese-flavored" rice in a box, pork chops, a relatively normally stocked pantry and broccoli, what would I do?
1 TBS brown sugar
4 TBS soy sauce
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp balsamic vinegar
Marinate room-temp pork chops (at *least* 20 minutes). Prepare boxed rice per instructions. Medium-high heat on oven-safe pan, little olive oil in the pan, get a nice brown on the outside of the meat. Add a couple more dashes of soy/balsamic vinegar, throw in the oven at 350 for 10 minutes to finish it off. Broccoli in a rack over boiling water for 3 minutes. Toss in ice bath. Remove, place on warm plate next to rice. Drizzle with balsamic, little fresh-cracked pepper. Pork chops out of oven, straight to plate. Wait 7-10 minutes for meat to rest. Serve.
Done and done.
By the way, when I was 14, this was pretty much the meal I served when my Mother (I would imagine she was tired of hearing "this meal doesn't make sense" and decided then let the little snot figure it out for herself, I've got a 10-hour workday ahead of me) left me pork chops, "chinese-flavored" rice in a box and broccoli with a note. "Make dinner tonight. Don't ask me how to fix pork chops. You're smart, you figure it out. Love you. Mom." I wasn't so fancy I figured out how to finish meat off in the oven, but the rest is pretty much the same.
For the record, I learned a lot from Julia Child. Thanks, PBS. Martha Stewart can kiss my ass.
Really, it's not.
It isn't even about knowing why a thick red wine, slightly below room temp, enhances rather than detracts from that delicious medium-well steak lovingly prepared and sitting before you.
I don't even care what you drink, or even if you drink.
I want you to know, on some level, what you're doing to your tongue when you slam any-old-beverage up against correctly-seasoned-and-prepared food.
When was the last time you took a gargantuan swig of a sticky-sweet soda, then went to have a bite of dessert and thought, Really? This isn't nearly as sweet as I expected it to be. Perhaps, and I mean simply perhaps, the fact that you've overloaded the sweet-sensing aspect of your palette mere seconds before engulfing yet another sweet-tingling taste has rendered your ability to taste the balance of flavors.... oh, how does one say it.... a bit void?
Is that to say the bananas foster you ordered wasn't just a bit over-the-top? By all means, enjoy your petit fours and hazelnut-cherry fudge with delight. I am not telling you to stop. Nor am I suggesting that what you've chosen to wash down your meal with is in some way unsatisfactory.
What I'm trying to convey is that meals should have harmony. Your tongue is probably more analytical at any given moment than the rest of you. It is an entire system reset when you're told what you're about to eat will be salty, and when it gets into your mouth it's nothing but super-sweet. The soda you're chugging changes the way your dinner will taste. I promise you.
Don't believe me?
Experiment time!
Take a drink of whatever you usually have with dinner. Now eat a tiny bit of sugar. Got how that tasted? Good deal. Now, put a couple drops of lemon juice on your tongue. Did you make a face? It's okay, don't worry about it. Put the same amount of sugar on your tongue. I'll be impressed if you're brave enough to then follow that last sugar-taste with the same amount in salt.
Your body adjusts. You don't even realize that your palette normalizes itself. One of the silliest things I've ever heard in my life: "I had dinner at elBulli. Didn't make any sense at all. Just when I got into the groove, and was really understanding the flavors, out comes this bizarre thing that didn't taste right at all."
My instantaneous reaction? "Did the next course taste amazing?"
Response: "Well, yeah, but he seemed to be back on track."
Why is this? Why would a restaurant renowned for its culinary excellence (currently on a hiatus while its owners revamp/ retool/ reset the model from which their art descends) serve you something that, in the logic of a meal, seem absolutely out of sync?
To reset your palette.
That thing you didn't like, that taste that made no sense whatsoever in the larger scale of the meal was meant to throw you off. You should be a bit off balance for the next course, because the over-arching reality of the meal is taking you to entirely new territory from the course before the offending taste to the course after.
How does a 32-34 course meal that will cost you approx. $400 compare to making dinner at home for your family? Why am I even bringing this up?
You should still realize what you're doing.
A meal that tends to the sweet, like teriyaki chicken, for example, will be overpowering if everything you serve with it is sweet. A cured meat may be overwhelmingly salty, when salt is the primary seasoning in everything on the plate.
*gripe from childhood warning* Mom, don't make pork chops breaded in Italian breadcrumbs, match it up with "chinese-flavored" rice out of the box and steamed broccoli and expect me to go, "Wow, this makes sense to my mouth." There's no crunch anywhere on that plate. Trust me. Theoretically, the broccoli would still have some bite to it, but not if you're my Mother. Rubber greenery, something in the rice that looks like slivered cardboard, and not necessarily greasy but definitely heavy-in-the-stomach pork chops? No thanks, I'll make myself a salad.
Well, Miss Smarty Pants, what would you do instead?
If I had "chinese-flavored" rice in a box, pork chops, a relatively normally stocked pantry and broccoli, what would I do?
1 TBS brown sugar
4 TBS soy sauce
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp balsamic vinegar
Marinate room-temp pork chops (at *least* 20 minutes). Prepare boxed rice per instructions. Medium-high heat on oven-safe pan, little olive oil in the pan, get a nice brown on the outside of the meat. Add a couple more dashes of soy/balsamic vinegar, throw in the oven at 350 for 10 minutes to finish it off. Broccoli in a rack over boiling water for 3 minutes. Toss in ice bath. Remove, place on warm plate next to rice. Drizzle with balsamic, little fresh-cracked pepper. Pork chops out of oven, straight to plate. Wait 7-10 minutes for meat to rest. Serve.
Done and done.
By the way, when I was 14, this was pretty much the meal I served when my Mother (I would imagine she was tired of hearing "this meal doesn't make sense" and decided then let the little snot figure it out for herself, I've got a 10-hour workday ahead of me) left me pork chops, "chinese-flavored" rice in a box and broccoli with a note. "Make dinner tonight. Don't ask me how to fix pork chops. You're smart, you figure it out. Love you. Mom." I wasn't so fancy I figured out how to finish meat off in the oven, but the rest is pretty much the same.
For the record, I learned a lot from Julia Child. Thanks, PBS. Martha Stewart can kiss my ass.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Martha Stewart, For Example
Martha Stewart annoys me.
Any perspective that removes hope from possibility annoys me. Martha Stewart seems to enjoy the perspective that she is, in fact, the last of the dying vestiges of American Royalty, and as such, must vouchsafe to those bunkers where her kin are ensconced the fleeting solutions to so many agonizing problems good housekeepers everywhere have nearly died (DIED I TELL YOU) perfecting.
Did I mention that Martha Stewart annoys me?
Now, it's not that she's a brand. I can get past her speech patterns and phrasing. I can even be patient with the 28 steps she insists were necessary to make that darling ornament for her red-and-ravishing Christmas tree, to turn it from a drab eyesore into a trade-marked "good thing." I don't mind labor-intensive tasks (ask people, they know).
When and where did Martha Stewart give up her passion? This is the fundamental, underlying and overarching reason the woman makes my skin crawl.
Martha Stewart has an empire, vast and powerful. Ana Gastyer made much of her fame from her spoofs of Martha Stewart (loved the topless one, and Joan Allen as her Mother). Martha Stewart's own daughter enjoys saying "Whatever Martha" at any given chance.
I am passionate (again, ask people). My desire to make this world a better place, in addition to making myself a better me, drives much of what I do. How can someone who was driven to share "homespun techniques and ideas that bring elegance and charm from [her] Martha's Vineyard home of lore to the humble homes of the Midwest and beyond" become so self-involved she actually chides guest-cooks, explaining patiently how they're cooking their signature dish incorrectly? How is that reflective of an intelligent, inquisitive and knowledge-hungry host?
I'll answer for you: It isn't.
Do you see what I did, just there? I took your place. You aren't here to have this conversation with me, so I became your voice as well. This is what I'm talking about, specifically. Martha Stewart is supposed to be our ambassador, our conduit of questions and knowledge from people we have few opportunities to study in daily life. Rather than recalling her personal responsibility to the audience she cultivated in the 80's, 90's and through numerous cookbooks, Martha Stewart has become a Mogul.
Do you care how much time Wolfgang Puck spends tinkering with his menus? No. But you want to know how he gets that fish out of a pan so flaky and delicious every damn time, don't you. I know you do. You know you do. Martha Stewart knows this too, but it no longer applies to her station in life. She could care less how long it takes to perfect that wrist bend which means the difference between expertly tossed caramelized onions and a horrific mess your family is staring at while you scrub up, asking, "What made you think you could do that?" She already did that, 20 seasons ago.
Martha Stewart has, on the cover of her 2011 Halloween magazine, a picture of herself (of course; she's the Brand, kiddo) in make-up. I don't mean she has blush on and looks like she gets sun occasionally. She has butterfly wings attached to her eyelids. I'm not kidding.
Tell me, Mother of 3 from Des Moines, when was the last time your 3, 6, and 9 year old looked up at you with the time and patience of 86 year old men, saying, "You would look exquisite with dead aglossa wings glued expertly next to your bloodshot eyes?"
Even those younger women, whose lifestyles afford them more time and space to play with such frivolities as Halloween The Adult Holiday, I sincerely doubt will have the means to create the entire visage of Martha Stewart's cover. Because it takes more than just 1 or 2 things. This look requires: Money. Skill. Time. Patience. An audience unlikely to touch your face at any point. A wearer who will not freak out, get annoyed or at any point for any reason (including drinking) rip the dead butterfly off her face. Did I mention that the idea you'll get kissed in this outfit is about as realistic as the idea that you will, with $10 and a little elbow grease, look precisely like Darling Martha Stewart?
I hope, the next time you find yourself listening to what someone else has to say (whomever that person may be), you take into account the ways their narrative concerns vary from yours. Does this person ask the questions I actually want answered? Does the way this person reacts reflect the way I would? What could I have gained if I would have asked the questions myself, instead of the person asking them for me?
I may not always give you the information you wanted. I may give you more, or less, than you need. I do, however, strive to give you food I eat myself. I want to share a part of my world with you. Hopefully, this is a perspective you can use.
Any perspective that removes hope from possibility annoys me. Martha Stewart seems to enjoy the perspective that she is, in fact, the last of the dying vestiges of American Royalty, and as such, must vouchsafe to those bunkers where her kin are ensconced the fleeting solutions to so many agonizing problems good housekeepers everywhere have nearly died (DIED I TELL YOU) perfecting.
Did I mention that Martha Stewart annoys me?
Now, it's not that she's a brand. I can get past her speech patterns and phrasing. I can even be patient with the 28 steps she insists were necessary to make that darling ornament for her red-and-ravishing Christmas tree, to turn it from a drab eyesore into a trade-marked "good thing." I don't mind labor-intensive tasks (ask people, they know).
When and where did Martha Stewart give up her passion? This is the fundamental, underlying and overarching reason the woman makes my skin crawl.
Martha Stewart has an empire, vast and powerful. Ana Gastyer made much of her fame from her spoofs of Martha Stewart (loved the topless one, and Joan Allen as her Mother). Martha Stewart's own daughter enjoys saying "Whatever Martha" at any given chance.
I am passionate (again, ask people). My desire to make this world a better place, in addition to making myself a better me, drives much of what I do. How can someone who was driven to share "homespun techniques and ideas that bring elegance and charm from [her] Martha's Vineyard home of lore to the humble homes of the Midwest and beyond" become so self-involved she actually chides guest-cooks, explaining patiently how they're cooking their signature dish incorrectly? How is that reflective of an intelligent, inquisitive and knowledge-hungry host?
I'll answer for you: It isn't.
Do you see what I did, just there? I took your place. You aren't here to have this conversation with me, so I became your voice as well. This is what I'm talking about, specifically. Martha Stewart is supposed to be our ambassador, our conduit of questions and knowledge from people we have few opportunities to study in daily life. Rather than recalling her personal responsibility to the audience she cultivated in the 80's, 90's and through numerous cookbooks, Martha Stewart has become a Mogul.
Do you care how much time Wolfgang Puck spends tinkering with his menus? No. But you want to know how he gets that fish out of a pan so flaky and delicious every damn time, don't you. I know you do. You know you do. Martha Stewart knows this too, but it no longer applies to her station in life. She could care less how long it takes to perfect that wrist bend which means the difference between expertly tossed caramelized onions and a horrific mess your family is staring at while you scrub up, asking, "What made you think you could do that?" She already did that, 20 seasons ago.
Martha Stewart has, on the cover of her 2011 Halloween magazine, a picture of herself (of course; she's the Brand, kiddo) in make-up. I don't mean she has blush on and looks like she gets sun occasionally. She has butterfly wings attached to her eyelids. I'm not kidding.
Tell me, Mother of 3 from Des Moines, when was the last time your 3, 6, and 9 year old looked up at you with the time and patience of 86 year old men, saying, "You would look exquisite with dead aglossa wings glued expertly next to your bloodshot eyes?"
Even those younger women, whose lifestyles afford them more time and space to play with such frivolities as Halloween The Adult Holiday, I sincerely doubt will have the means to create the entire visage of Martha Stewart's cover. Because it takes more than just 1 or 2 things. This look requires: Money. Skill. Time. Patience. An audience unlikely to touch your face at any point. A wearer who will not freak out, get annoyed or at any point for any reason (including drinking) rip the dead butterfly off her face. Did I mention that the idea you'll get kissed in this outfit is about as realistic as the idea that you will, with $10 and a little elbow grease, look precisely like Darling Martha Stewart?
I hope, the next time you find yourself listening to what someone else has to say (whomever that person may be), you take into account the ways their narrative concerns vary from yours. Does this person ask the questions I actually want answered? Does the way this person reacts reflect the way I would? What could I have gained if I would have asked the questions myself, instead of the person asking them for me?
I may not always give you the information you wanted. I may give you more, or less, than you need. I do, however, strive to give you food I eat myself. I want to share a part of my world with you. Hopefully, this is a perspective you can use.
bon appetit And Slapping People, and A Snack
I like bon appetit, usually. A tidy, concise, well-written article is often a cure for all my ills, and when it comes to food, I can find it in the pages of BA.
I am, currently, annoyed and disappointed. "Always use non-boil noodles" for lasagna? Seriously? First of all, gross. Secondly, and probably more to the point, why are the revolting things non-boil in the first place? Doesn't that bother you? That is some seriously repugnant advice. Third, and finally on this point before I move on to something of actual value, I really see no value in this advice because I'm smart enough to figure out the following progression:
1. Lasagna was conceived and eventually made, for many many many years, using boiled lasagna noodles.
2. These boiled noodles added to the flavor and water-content of the dish, thereby directly contributing to flavor and texture.
3. Recipes were adjusted, better noodles were developed, and boiling continued.
4. (this is the key step) Someone thought it was tasty.
5. Survival of a recipe a majority of Americans (to say nothing of our Italian audience - Ciao) associate with family.
Nowhere in that progression does a non-boil revolution necessitate itself. I find absolutely no value in the idea that "noodles that aren't boiled will absorb more" of anything. If you can't make a delicious, boiled noodle lasagna, perhaps you have no business cooking it, and should leave your lasagna nights to the talents of Marie Calendar, or the fine people in Stouffer's kitchen. I have to say, after writing all that out, the idea makes its way across my cortex: "Do the writers/ editors at bon appetit think we don't read anymore?"
***
I need a snack. Don't you?
Puppy Chow
9 cups Chex cereal (doesn't matter what kind)
1 cup chocolate chips (mini ones work too)
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 cup butter
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
Non-Food Items You'll Probably Need For This
1 Large Bowl
1 Gallon ziplock Bag
1 Large Spoon
1. Measure Chex cereal. Set aside in large bowl.
2. Into a microwave-safe bowl: chocolate chips, butter, peanut butter. Microwave on high 1 minute. Stir. Microwave again for 30 seconds. Mixture should blend together smoothly when removed from microwave.
3. Add vanilla.
4. Mix with Chex cereal. Stir until all cereal is coated.
5. Place confectioner's sugar in gallon-size ziplock bag.
6. Add coated cereal.
7. Shake, shimmy and just generally agitate bag until all the yummy pieces of cereal are finely coated in sugar.
8. Eat.
Yes, it takes less than 10 minutes to make. Yes, it's delicious, and named a million other things depending on region and intent. Now, I'm going to take my yummy snack and enjoy this beautiful fall day. Try not to get addicted; this particular snack made many appearances during my college days. Now my husband can't stop eating it. I'm just saying - sometimes the best possible thing is the simple, delightful, full-of-memory taste that speaks to soul as well as stomach.
I am, currently, annoyed and disappointed. "Always use non-boil noodles" for lasagna? Seriously? First of all, gross. Secondly, and probably more to the point, why are the revolting things non-boil in the first place? Doesn't that bother you? That is some seriously repugnant advice. Third, and finally on this point before I move on to something of actual value, I really see no value in this advice because I'm smart enough to figure out the following progression:
1. Lasagna was conceived and eventually made, for many many many years, using boiled lasagna noodles.
2. These boiled noodles added to the flavor and water-content of the dish, thereby directly contributing to flavor and texture.
3. Recipes were adjusted, better noodles were developed, and boiling continued.
4. (this is the key step) Someone thought it was tasty.
5. Survival of a recipe a majority of Americans (to say nothing of our Italian audience - Ciao) associate with family.
Nowhere in that progression does a non-boil revolution necessitate itself. I find absolutely no value in the idea that "noodles that aren't boiled will absorb more" of anything. If you can't make a delicious, boiled noodle lasagna, perhaps you have no business cooking it, and should leave your lasagna nights to the talents of Marie Calendar, or the fine people in Stouffer's kitchen. I have to say, after writing all that out, the idea makes its way across my cortex: "Do the writers/ editors at bon appetit think we don't read anymore?"
***
I need a snack. Don't you?
Puppy Chow
9 cups Chex cereal (doesn't matter what kind)
1 cup chocolate chips (mini ones work too)
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 cup butter
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
Non-Food Items You'll Probably Need For This
1 Large Bowl
1 Gallon ziplock Bag
1 Large Spoon
1. Measure Chex cereal. Set aside in large bowl.
2. Into a microwave-safe bowl: chocolate chips, butter, peanut butter. Microwave on high 1 minute. Stir. Microwave again for 30 seconds. Mixture should blend together smoothly when removed from microwave.
3. Add vanilla.
4. Mix with Chex cereal. Stir until all cereal is coated.
5. Place confectioner's sugar in gallon-size ziplock bag.
6. Add coated cereal.
7. Shake, shimmy and just generally agitate bag until all the yummy pieces of cereal are finely coated in sugar.
8. Eat.
Yes, it takes less than 10 minutes to make. Yes, it's delicious, and named a million other things depending on region and intent. Now, I'm going to take my yummy snack and enjoy this beautiful fall day. Try not to get addicted; this particular snack made many appearances during my college days. Now my husband can't stop eating it. I'm just saying - sometimes the best possible thing is the simple, delightful, full-of-memory taste that speaks to soul as well as stomach.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Fear of Cooking
Food has become intimidating.
When did that happen?
Don't get me wrong; I love my classics. A simple homemade marinara over angel hair is as culinarily exciting to me as crackling hot ortolan. What can I say? Food should be something that speaks to every inch of your experience. Sight, touch, sound, taste, memory, laughter, encouragement.
And now, achieving the new has become something altogether difficult. So much has been done, it's no longer easy to say, "Why don't we try this?" and have the dish be alien to everyone.
I suppose much can be said for a digital age where sharing any old recipe is easy. I've placed several up here. But why would I do that? The recipes are not new, the ideas nothing wildly inventive. I didn't take a peasant stew, deconstruct it and create an entirely different interpretation of the flavors.
Cooking isn't just about being the coolest kid in the kitchen. It's about lifestyle. (Oooooo!!! Blog Name Tye-In and it's not even NOON! I am *SO* getting Fantasy Food Fight points for this!)
Your food reflects your lifestyle. It truly does. If you choose to make time in your life for specific tasks and not others, you have made a choice that reflects some part of who you are and what you value. I love being busy. I am generally a very busy person. One of the things I will always make time for is a somewhat complicated and time consuming preparation for beef stroganoff. Why? Because this dish is my husband's favorite, and he likes it this way. I chose to make this difficult task a part of my life because I love my husband, and I love the way it turns out.
My food usually reflects my love of the intricate and complex. "What's Jess bringing to the party?" "She said brownies." And I unevitably turn up 20 minutes late with extremely fresh Bailey's brownies with Bailey's icing. Couldn't just make plain old brownies. That would, quite literally, be too easy.
Why am I telling you all this? What on Earth does this have to do with you, now that my rant has ended up here? It's all quite simple, really.
Stop. Being. Afraid. Of. Food.
Yes. I said to stop fearing your food. I mean that it's okay to love simple dishes. It's wonderful to strive for delicious, no matter how humble the ingredients or your skills. Start small. Remember: Sometimes, the most important food you'll ever have was the easiest in the world to make, and the hardest to forget.
Marinara
4 6-oz cans of tomato sauce
1 4-oz can of tomato paste
4 bay leaves
1/4 tsp oregano
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1/4 tsp sugar (I know it's weird, I will explain)
1/4 tsp rosemary
1. Open your tomato sauces. I prefer to use a skillet to get all this going, mostly because if I put meat in my marinara, I like to get the drippings in the pan into the sauce for that infusion of flavor. This technique cuts down on the actually amount of meat you need to use, and also increases the feeling thta there's meat in every bite. I learned to fake my father out at a very young age. Pots also work well. Since that's the more common preparation method, we'll go with the pot today.
2. Into a sauce pot (with lid) on the low side of medium heat, add your cans of tomato sauce. Stir as you add your tomato paste. The paste thickens the sauce, and adds enough texture to avoid the dreaded "This tastes like tomato water" critique. NOTE: You can make your own "paste" by blending fresh tomatoes and reducing the resulting yumminess until the tomato puree has become thick. This takes quite a while, some determination, and frankly, is not the kind of work in which I invest myself. I prefer to focus on other, less tomato-y projects. Like eating pasta.
3. Let the sauce begin to simmer. The lid comes in handy here, to avoid turning your cooking surface a bright red. Just to get the contents jiving together, about 2 minutes.
4. Add your bay leaves and other spices. Yes, including the sugar. No, I'm not kidding.
Now, you're looking at me with the sugar in your hand asking why on Earth I would suggest such a thing. Why add sugar to a tomato dish? Because tomatoes are acidic. In order to cut the natural acidity of a fresh, ripe, ready-to-be-rubbed-in-sea-salt-and-eaten-like-an-apple tomato, some kind of sweet is needed to balance it out. I've seen cinnamon used, even lavendar. I prefer just plain old sugar. Yes, I do this all the time, and yes, if you see my husband and I out at a mexican restaurant, there's a 75% chance you'll see me adding packaged sugar to the salsa. I like balance, and if you don't pay attention to what you're making, you'll create tasty salsa that leaves acid burns inside my mouth (aka canker sores). No way am I walking around in discomfort because someone in the kitchen couldn't be bothered to check their salsa verde balance.
5. Lower the temperature to "low", or if you prefer the clock method of setting as my mother did, it would be 5 minutes 'til. Let the sauce reduce.
Kind of a useless statement, isn't it? When I say reduce here, I mean that there is an over-abundance of water still in the ingredients we've combined. The flavors we've chosen to encorporate in this dish (particularly if you used the dried variety) need a chance to get frisky in the entire pot. Dropping dried oregano into tomato sauce with tomato paste does not a marinara make; the spices are suddenly experiencing the hydration for which they've been waiting in your cabinet. They're returning to their hydrated state. This takes time. Some cooks/ chefs call this "developing the flavors." I call it "time I usually make mistakes." You can't rush good food. I don't care who you are. Food takes time. This suace is simple, and scrumptious, but you have to be willing to stop touching it. You, hovering over it with a wooden spoon and a look of bizarre/ intense determination will only frighten your guests. You cannot intimidate food into deliciousness. Believe me, I've tried.
Okay, so how do you know when it's reduced enough? The smartass answer here is "When it's thick enough." A more reliable and reproducable way of telling when enough water is gone is to taste the sauce occasionally. I usually let my sauce simmer on low for about 2-4 hours. Yes, that's a long time. You could probably keep the heat on low-medium and get similar results in about 35 minutes. I like to do other things, though... and I know it'll be okay for 2 hours in a covered pot if I stir it at least 2 times in that 2-4 hour period.
6. Elaborate if so desired. Meaning: if you want to add bell peppers, mushrooms, any other kind of vegetable you enjoy in pasta sauce, now would be the time. Trust me: now is when you add the veggies you want to stay tasty and vibrant. A floppy mushroom you could swallow without chewing because it's so mushy? I have no idea why you'd want to do that to a mushroom, but it's your thing. I prefer my produce flavored, not killed. Stir occasionally, letting simmer for another 10 minutes.
7. Remove bay leaves. It is gross to bite into a whole bay leaf (thanks, Mom, but the aftertaste is still getting to me). To avoid watching a guest crunch through the woody unpleasantness of an otherwise delightful spice, fish them out of the sauce. Shouldn't be difficult if you left them whole. Please believe me when I say, it's better for everyone if you don't leave them in.
8. Add to pasta. Your choice. I like a good angel hair, but penne can be exquisite with a simple sauce and some parmesan cheese.
Why was today's recipe so incredibly simple? Because that's the point. Start with something very basic. Once you get comfortable, get more elaborate. Add some parmesan to the sauce before you reduce it. Add red pepper flakes and hot italian sausage if that's what makes your palate sing. You can customize this sauce in so many ways! It's about starting small, and walking your way into a delicious dish. That way, when you get a call at 7:30 on a Tuesday morning from a friend stuck in meetings until 10 pm who says, "Jess, I have no food. I have no options. Can you please bring me something tasty for dinner?" you have a recipe in your back pocket you know will be delicious, easy to make, and travels to hungry tummies very well.
Food is about your lifestyle. ;)
When did that happen?
Don't get me wrong; I love my classics. A simple homemade marinara over angel hair is as culinarily exciting to me as crackling hot ortolan. What can I say? Food should be something that speaks to every inch of your experience. Sight, touch, sound, taste, memory, laughter, encouragement.
And now, achieving the new has become something altogether difficult. So much has been done, it's no longer easy to say, "Why don't we try this?" and have the dish be alien to everyone.
I suppose much can be said for a digital age where sharing any old recipe is easy. I've placed several up here. But why would I do that? The recipes are not new, the ideas nothing wildly inventive. I didn't take a peasant stew, deconstruct it and create an entirely different interpretation of the flavors.
Cooking isn't just about being the coolest kid in the kitchen. It's about lifestyle. (Oooooo!!! Blog Name Tye-In and it's not even NOON! I am *SO* getting Fantasy Food Fight points for this!)
Your food reflects your lifestyle. It truly does. If you choose to make time in your life for specific tasks and not others, you have made a choice that reflects some part of who you are and what you value. I love being busy. I am generally a very busy person. One of the things I will always make time for is a somewhat complicated and time consuming preparation for beef stroganoff. Why? Because this dish is my husband's favorite, and he likes it this way. I chose to make this difficult task a part of my life because I love my husband, and I love the way it turns out.
My food usually reflects my love of the intricate and complex. "What's Jess bringing to the party?" "She said brownies." And I unevitably turn up 20 minutes late with extremely fresh Bailey's brownies with Bailey's icing. Couldn't just make plain old brownies. That would, quite literally, be too easy.
Why am I telling you all this? What on Earth does this have to do with you, now that my rant has ended up here? It's all quite simple, really.
Stop. Being. Afraid. Of. Food.
Yes. I said to stop fearing your food. I mean that it's okay to love simple dishes. It's wonderful to strive for delicious, no matter how humble the ingredients or your skills. Start small. Remember: Sometimes, the most important food you'll ever have was the easiest in the world to make, and the hardest to forget.
Marinara
4 6-oz cans of tomato sauce
1 4-oz can of tomato paste
4 bay leaves
1/4 tsp oregano
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1/4 tsp sugar (I know it's weird, I will explain)
1/4 tsp rosemary
1. Open your tomato sauces. I prefer to use a skillet to get all this going, mostly because if I put meat in my marinara, I like to get the drippings in the pan into the sauce for that infusion of flavor. This technique cuts down on the actually amount of meat you need to use, and also increases the feeling thta there's meat in every bite. I learned to fake my father out at a very young age. Pots also work well. Since that's the more common preparation method, we'll go with the pot today.
2. Into a sauce pot (with lid) on the low side of medium heat, add your cans of tomato sauce. Stir as you add your tomato paste. The paste thickens the sauce, and adds enough texture to avoid the dreaded "This tastes like tomato water" critique. NOTE: You can make your own "paste" by blending fresh tomatoes and reducing the resulting yumminess until the tomato puree has become thick. This takes quite a while, some determination, and frankly, is not the kind of work in which I invest myself. I prefer to focus on other, less tomato-y projects. Like eating pasta.
3. Let the sauce begin to simmer. The lid comes in handy here, to avoid turning your cooking surface a bright red. Just to get the contents jiving together, about 2 minutes.
4. Add your bay leaves and other spices. Yes, including the sugar. No, I'm not kidding.
Now, you're looking at me with the sugar in your hand asking why on Earth I would suggest such a thing. Why add sugar to a tomato dish? Because tomatoes are acidic. In order to cut the natural acidity of a fresh, ripe, ready-to-be-rubbed-in-sea-salt-and-eaten-like-an-apple tomato, some kind of sweet is needed to balance it out. I've seen cinnamon used, even lavendar. I prefer just plain old sugar. Yes, I do this all the time, and yes, if you see my husband and I out at a mexican restaurant, there's a 75% chance you'll see me adding packaged sugar to the salsa. I like balance, and if you don't pay attention to what you're making, you'll create tasty salsa that leaves acid burns inside my mouth (aka canker sores). No way am I walking around in discomfort because someone in the kitchen couldn't be bothered to check their salsa verde balance.
5. Lower the temperature to "low", or if you prefer the clock method of setting as my mother did, it would be 5 minutes 'til. Let the sauce reduce.
Kind of a useless statement, isn't it? When I say reduce here, I mean that there is an over-abundance of water still in the ingredients we've combined. The flavors we've chosen to encorporate in this dish (particularly if you used the dried variety) need a chance to get frisky in the entire pot. Dropping dried oregano into tomato sauce with tomato paste does not a marinara make; the spices are suddenly experiencing the hydration for which they've been waiting in your cabinet. They're returning to their hydrated state. This takes time. Some cooks/ chefs call this "developing the flavors." I call it "time I usually make mistakes." You can't rush good food. I don't care who you are. Food takes time. This suace is simple, and scrumptious, but you have to be willing to stop touching it. You, hovering over it with a wooden spoon and a look of bizarre/ intense determination will only frighten your guests. You cannot intimidate food into deliciousness. Believe me, I've tried.
Okay, so how do you know when it's reduced enough? The smartass answer here is "When it's thick enough." A more reliable and reproducable way of telling when enough water is gone is to taste the sauce occasionally. I usually let my sauce simmer on low for about 2-4 hours. Yes, that's a long time. You could probably keep the heat on low-medium and get similar results in about 35 minutes. I like to do other things, though... and I know it'll be okay for 2 hours in a covered pot if I stir it at least 2 times in that 2-4 hour period.
6. Elaborate if so desired. Meaning: if you want to add bell peppers, mushrooms, any other kind of vegetable you enjoy in pasta sauce, now would be the time. Trust me: now is when you add the veggies you want to stay tasty and vibrant. A floppy mushroom you could swallow without chewing because it's so mushy? I have no idea why you'd want to do that to a mushroom, but it's your thing. I prefer my produce flavored, not killed. Stir occasionally, letting simmer for another 10 minutes.
7. Remove bay leaves. It is gross to bite into a whole bay leaf (thanks, Mom, but the aftertaste is still getting to me). To avoid watching a guest crunch through the woody unpleasantness of an otherwise delightful spice, fish them out of the sauce. Shouldn't be difficult if you left them whole. Please believe me when I say, it's better for everyone if you don't leave them in.
8. Add to pasta. Your choice. I like a good angel hair, but penne can be exquisite with a simple sauce and some parmesan cheese.
Why was today's recipe so incredibly simple? Because that's the point. Start with something very basic. Once you get comfortable, get more elaborate. Add some parmesan to the sauce before you reduce it. Add red pepper flakes and hot italian sausage if that's what makes your palate sing. You can customize this sauce in so many ways! It's about starting small, and walking your way into a delicious dish. That way, when you get a call at 7:30 on a Tuesday morning from a friend stuck in meetings until 10 pm who says, "Jess, I have no food. I have no options. Can you please bring me something tasty for dinner?" you have a recipe in your back pocket you know will be delicious, easy to make, and travels to hungry tummies very well.
Food is about your lifestyle. ;)
Friday, September 23, 2011
Thomas Keller
I'm an intellectual, in everything that I do. I can be complex and annoying. I know this.
I also know that when I got Ad Hoc At Home by Thomas Keller, I fell in love. Thomas Keller, the amazing chef behind The French Laundry, Per Se, and the man who invented the deconstruction of Ratatouille seen in the movie of the same name, is an inspiration. In a profession defined by selfishness, by self-serving hubris, Keller stands as a man who believes cooking is a collaboration.
Isn't that exactly the essence of so much in the world of food? A collaboration of flavors, textures, moisture and dryness, cold and heat. The depth of human experience may never find expression in food. There may never be before you a meal that both speaks to your soul, and helps redefine a part of it.
To this I can only say that the experiences with which we end this life are the experiences we allow ourselves to have. If you are not brave enough to allow one person an avenue to your heart through the tastes, the palate he or she has worked so hard to put before you, can you imagine the depth you will miss your entire life?
What is your cooking perspective? How will you express yourself in your food? The next time you make a sandwich, take a moment to think about exactly you want to put in your mouth. And imagine how much love, how much thought must go into a chef like Thomas Keller preparing 15-32 courses that are all designed for you personally.
I'm going to go make chicken casserole for my husband, with his tastes and experiences in mind. Have a wonderful weekend!
I also know that when I got Ad Hoc At Home by Thomas Keller, I fell in love. Thomas Keller, the amazing chef behind The French Laundry, Per Se, and the man who invented the deconstruction of Ratatouille seen in the movie of the same name, is an inspiration. In a profession defined by selfishness, by self-serving hubris, Keller stands as a man who believes cooking is a collaboration.
Isn't that exactly the essence of so much in the world of food? A collaboration of flavors, textures, moisture and dryness, cold and heat. The depth of human experience may never find expression in food. There may never be before you a meal that both speaks to your soul, and helps redefine a part of it.
To this I can only say that the experiences with which we end this life are the experiences we allow ourselves to have. If you are not brave enough to allow one person an avenue to your heart through the tastes, the palate he or she has worked so hard to put before you, can you imagine the depth you will miss your entire life?
What is your cooking perspective? How will you express yourself in your food? The next time you make a sandwich, take a moment to think about exactly you want to put in your mouth. And imagine how much love, how much thought must go into a chef like Thomas Keller preparing 15-32 courses that are all designed for you personally.
I'm going to go make chicken casserole for my husband, with his tastes and experiences in mind. Have a wonderful weekend!
Friday, August 26, 2011
David Chang, Momofuku Milk Bar and A Break-down
David Chang is a jerk. I didn't say; people he's friends with have said it. From what I've read, he is unstable, self-evisceration at every opportunity, and brilliant food. His Milk Bar stores (2 of them) have funky, strange menus that fly in their surroundings.
I dare you to try to sell cereal-infused milk in the MidWest. Seriously. You'd have to market it specifically to young ones. 35+ is going to laugh at you and say, "I can drink that after I eat my cereal. Thanks." And then you get 3 hours of sharing cholesterol scores.
David Chang has employed a rockstar at pastry. Christina Tosi came up with Crack Pie, and it is evil. And I love her.
Let me explain.
I made Crack Pie. Top to bottom, specifically using exactly the ingredients I was told to use. No substitutions, no switchouts. I did what I was told. I started at 10 pm the night before, getting ingredients. It took 4 trips and 6 hours just to make the crust.
Was that my fault? Probably. Does that make me hate this pie any less? Not so much. I had to wait a day for it. Seriously, it had to chill for at least 12 hours, and I wasn't going to serve it unless I could relish the damn taste of it. Turning it half-way through both phases of the cooking process was a tiny pain in the ass, but at least the thing baked evenly.
More than once I screamed. I really would have liked to strangle the pie, were it strangleable. I think I very nearly threw the whole thing away when I realized I'd run out of salt. I was an hour away from the chilling phase, and I would have detroyed it. Then I remembered - it's salt. It'll be okay. End of story.
It's amazing. I would describe it as "pecan pie without pecans," maybe a bit creme brulee on top of a gooey butter cake/ oatmeal cookie crust. Be careful, you can overdose. There are ingredients involved that are similar to chess pie, but this is NOT chess pie. Having had both, I can safely say the textural and ingredient differences are enough to put a bit of a wall between these pies. I love the soft deliciousness, the way the cold crust still reminds you of a warm, welcoming cookie. You MUST serve it cold.
The recipe is complicated and huge. I'll post the recipe if needed, but it's large. The time constraint is impressive - 12 hours to set. But the taste is so very worth it.
I dare you to try to sell cereal-infused milk in the MidWest. Seriously. You'd have to market it specifically to young ones. 35+ is going to laugh at you and say, "I can drink that after I eat my cereal. Thanks." And then you get 3 hours of sharing cholesterol scores.
David Chang has employed a rockstar at pastry. Christina Tosi came up with Crack Pie, and it is evil. And I love her.
Let me explain.
I made Crack Pie. Top to bottom, specifically using exactly the ingredients I was told to use. No substitutions, no switchouts. I did what I was told. I started at 10 pm the night before, getting ingredients. It took 4 trips and 6 hours just to make the crust.
Was that my fault? Probably. Does that make me hate this pie any less? Not so much. I had to wait a day for it. Seriously, it had to chill for at least 12 hours, and I wasn't going to serve it unless I could relish the damn taste of it. Turning it half-way through both phases of the cooking process was a tiny pain in the ass, but at least the thing baked evenly.
More than once I screamed. I really would have liked to strangle the pie, were it strangleable. I think I very nearly threw the whole thing away when I realized I'd run out of salt. I was an hour away from the chilling phase, and I would have detroyed it. Then I remembered - it's salt. It'll be okay. End of story.
It's amazing. I would describe it as "pecan pie without pecans," maybe a bit creme brulee on top of a gooey butter cake/ oatmeal cookie crust. Be careful, you can overdose. There are ingredients involved that are similar to chess pie, but this is NOT chess pie. Having had both, I can safely say the textural and ingredient differences are enough to put a bit of a wall between these pies. I love the soft deliciousness, the way the cold crust still reminds you of a warm, welcoming cookie. You MUST serve it cold.
The recipe is complicated and huge. I'll post the recipe if needed, but it's large. The time constraint is impressive - 12 hours to set. But the taste is so very worth it.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
A Menu of Favorites
While looking over my new web toy, wherethelocalseat.com, I realized that a menu of my all-time favorite meals I've had would look a tiny bit befuddling. Check it out! It really reads weirdly. I included some things that probably shouldn't be there, but when I talk about food I find amazing, I get carried away.
Appetizers
Mozzarella sticks - How unoriginal, right? Hush. When done right, the crisp and herbed (yeah, herbed) outside married with a complimenting marinara..... Oh, my mouth waters with the mention! So there. My comfort food is nothing I'm about to apologize for, and I'd never ask you to compromise on food you love. Besides, what's a "Nice" list without the occasional "Naughty" to really set up the perimeters?
Bison Nachos - Okay, this title is sad. Let me make up for it: adobo-spiced ground bison with black olives, black beans, yummy salsa, couple different (and unambitious) shredded cheeses, sour cream, well-made tortilla chips, a touch of cilantro for brightness. I routinely ordered this as an entree.
Breaded Calamarie w/ Sauce - Bricco (listed on my links) has the description of this dish. What they don't tell you is that the balance is amazing, delicate and complex as soon as it hits your tongue. The buttery ease of the sauce hugging each piece of calamarie. Delicious, haunting, the stuff of which dreams are made. Did I mention the portion size is perfect for 2?
Hummus - Nothing better than a traditional, full fat, left alone hummus. The flavor, the texture and the exquisite taste of balanced ingredients always makes my heart sing. If all you order is the hummus, and you're happy with just hummus for the rest of the night, I'd call it a success.
Egg Rolls - What is the point of knowing the hole-in-the-wall places if they don't drive you crazy? There's a tiny little Chinese place I know, with bright red paint and absolutely no parking, that has egg rolls of gigantic proportions. The things are served, halved, on little white appetizer plates. Given the option, I would have a rather expensive meal of 6-8 plates of these delicious, hot, well-made delights.
Not-Your-Local-Pub's-Scotch-Eggs - There is a Scottish marvel in this world I would eat at once a month given the opportunity. At this delicious restaurant, hidden in the exotictly Scotch menu, is a gem of an appetizer sampler. Scotch Eggs, Baby Bridies, Sausage Rolls and (stay with me) Haggis Fritters.
Main Course
Bo Luc Lac - Ever had one of those menus where you just point and nod, praying your waiter/waitress understands that you want what you're pointing at, not the thing underneath it? Honestly, I usually attempt the name. This was a delicious accident I stumbled upon in the midst of an impressive and somewhat intimidating menu of Vietnamese cuisine. Delicately spiced beef (usually cubed sirloin) is "shaken" in the wok as it bounces from side to side, getting seared. The sour, salty, sweet marinade of the meat, coming through in the cooking, makes the combination with fluffy rice one that I melt for every single time.
Ropa Vieja - Let's talk about Cuban food. I don't trust any other cuisine to shred a skirt steak, cook it low and slow in a tomato sauce, put it over yellow rice with black beans and pull sweet, smoky, and finally heat from the mixing flavors, textures, tastes. Sounds easy? Trust me, it's not.
Paella - If you are invited into the home of a Puerto Rican family who wants to make you paella, you say yes. Just shut up that nagging "what if I don't like it" voice and say yes. It was saffron rice, and smoky oysters, and rounds of carmelized andouille sausage, and clams, and stupidly delicious and I didn't have the lobster tails but I heard they were good. Oh, the taste of that delicious meal!
Coconut Chicken Curry - Just to clarify, we're talking Thai curry. Different from Indian curry. Yes, they're related, but not quite the same. Especially the addition of that exquisite coconut milk that thickens, coats, sweetens, harbours the flavors of the curry and the chicken, the veggies along for the ride. I lick my fingers if I get this sauce on them. In public.
Seafood a la Moi - I know this isn't on a menu, but it would be if I had the choice. Raw oysters at room temperature (one shot of tobasco and we're good), clams Rockafeller, 1 1/2 lbs of steamed King crab legs, shrimp scampi (easy on the white wine). A little salad comes before the meal. That's all you need. *passes out from protein overdose*
New York Strip - Had one of the best steaks of my life on my honeymoon. A beautiful 10 oz New York strip (which is a steak cut from the tenderloin, no bone; if bone was left in, the New York strip becomes a T-bone or Porterhouse depending on bone placement, etc) grilled until it was ready for me. Perfect score marks, delicious aroma, light and tender texture. Paired with colcannon potatoes and a small salad, I was a happy woman.
Steak with Linguini Alfredo - Yes, occasionally the Italian nature that creeps nowhere in my historical lineage, but demands the attention of my stomach, gets the better of me. A 6 oz offering of expertly grilled sirloin, resting neatly atop a bed of linguini (think thick fettucini) in a slightly peppery alfredo sauce? You had me at "A". And, just because I'm in a nit-picky mood, alfredo is the sauce. Fettucini is the noodles. You literally cannot have "fettucini alfredo" on penne. Unless you put one pasta dish on top of a bed of entirely different pasta.
La Favorita - Another completely baffling discovery on a seemingly-common place menu from a local "Mexican" restaurant. You know what I'm talking about: the place that would horrify people expecting the same thing they ate in a tiny town outside Cancun on vacation, but still tastes delicious and keeps getting better with every beer? That's the place, and let me tell you about the dish! This tantalizing plate begins (for me) with a tostada. Top that corn tortilla that's been deep fried with refried beans, some seasoned ground beef, shredded lettuce, fresh tomato and maybe some sour cream or rice if you're feeling frisky. Next, the burrito. Classic beef burrito, lying quietly next to the shredded chicken enchilada. Both of the tortilla wrapped yums are covered in a queso blanco. Whenever I'm starving and want "Mexican", my stomach leads my mouth here before my brain knows what's going on.
Salads
Caesar - I love it. Raw egg, sardines, whatever. Give it to me. Put hard boiled egg crumbles or bleu cheese crumbles on it? I'll plead not guilty and the judge will understand.
Naked - I don't like dressing. Americans by and large drown our food. I happen to enjoy the taste of lettuce, and most of the ingredients I would normally put in a salad. Sometimes, the addition of a small bit of dressing enhances the opportunity. For me, however, I've learned to ignore the odd looks when the waitress asks what dressing I'd like and I say, "None, thank you."
Desserts
Cheesecake - It's simple. It's heavy. It's delicious. Leave it alone. I don't need berries in gross syrup, powdered sugar all over the plate or a drizzle. I don't like chocolate for the most part, and I'll ask for a drizzle when I want it, I promise. Put the squeeze bottle back where you found it, and quit adulterating my dessert so egregiously.
Stout Ice Cream - When you hang out with a lot of people who love beer, this happens. I don't mean they are alcoholics, I mean I spend a lot of time with awesome, amazing, intelligent people who care very passionately about quality beer. Some of them are even in the beer industry. Coming across a stout ice cream made from craft brewed oatmeal stout (yum), I couldn't resist. I'm glad I didn't. Fun, tasty, a go-to item.
Strawberry Shortcake - I take my strawberries very seriously. I know this. I should probably apologize for some of the resulting behavior, but usually I don't. Strawberries are my thing. I am an idiot for strawberries. Having said that, there is a dessert out there called Strawberry Shortcake that is not what you're thinking. Or maybe it is, I don't know. I don't think it is, though. It wasn't what I was expecting. Imagine a gigantic, buttery biscuit-like cake. Now put fresh vanilla ice cream on it, as smooth as Haagen Daaz and twice as awesome. Pile on fresh strawberries, slightly mascerated (meaning they've steeped in sugar so long they've made their own light-and-in-no-way-syrupy sauce). Top that with whipped cream. I've elbowed people out of the way for this. I would eat it every day, rotating what meal I replaced with it so I didn't get bored.
Ben & Jerry's Black and Tan Ice Cream - Once in a while you meet a taste that speaks to you on a cellular level. I love Guinness beer. One of the classic Guinness drinks is called a black and tan - a stout and a lager hanging out together in a glass without mixing. Hence the top is tan and the bottom looks black (yay names that make sense). Now, take deep chocolately ice cream and mix in stout ice cream. That's it. No gimmicks, no chunks of anything. Just two astoundingly delicious ice creams that come together in a baffling taste few could conspire to create. Phish Food is good, but this is just great.
Drinks
Mudslide - Hey, sometimes a girl just wants her damn ice cream spiked with chocolate syrup and booze. Yes, sometimes it's just about having a better day.
Hey, what's that blue thing? - I have a tendency to point, ask questions, and from time to time I'll make friends with my bartender, smile and say, "This is the mood I'm in. I would really appreciate a drink to match, and to be honest, I know you're a pro." This is how I ended up with a bright blue drink that everybody kept asking "Hey, what's that blue thing?" It wasn't a Blue Hawaii, so don't ask. I still have no idea what was in it, or what it was called. It was a $7 drink. I tipped $10 on that one. Worth every penny.
White Russian - Classic. I trust your intelligence.
Naughty and Yummy - Sometimes I like to corrupt the Great Loves of my youth. Nothing could get my attention faster than a drink of my own evilness: French Vanilla cappucino (I love using the international coffee house one, made with milk instead of water), and a healthy dose of Bailey's. Sometimes white hot chocolate substitutes, but either way I know the cool weather I adore and the peace-giving snow-gazing I live for are going to be that much more awesome with a treat for my lips that helps my insides stay warm.
Appetizers
Mozzarella sticks - How unoriginal, right? Hush. When done right, the crisp and herbed (yeah, herbed) outside married with a complimenting marinara..... Oh, my mouth waters with the mention! So there. My comfort food is nothing I'm about to apologize for, and I'd never ask you to compromise on food you love. Besides, what's a "Nice" list without the occasional "Naughty" to really set up the perimeters?
Bison Nachos - Okay, this title is sad. Let me make up for it: adobo-spiced ground bison with black olives, black beans, yummy salsa, couple different (and unambitious) shredded cheeses, sour cream, well-made tortilla chips, a touch of cilantro for brightness. I routinely ordered this as an entree.
Breaded Calamarie w/ Sauce - Bricco (listed on my links) has the description of this dish. What they don't tell you is that the balance is amazing, delicate and complex as soon as it hits your tongue. The buttery ease of the sauce hugging each piece of calamarie. Delicious, haunting, the stuff of which dreams are made. Did I mention the portion size is perfect for 2?
Hummus - Nothing better than a traditional, full fat, left alone hummus. The flavor, the texture and the exquisite taste of balanced ingredients always makes my heart sing. If all you order is the hummus, and you're happy with just hummus for the rest of the night, I'd call it a success.
Egg Rolls - What is the point of knowing the hole-in-the-wall places if they don't drive you crazy? There's a tiny little Chinese place I know, with bright red paint and absolutely no parking, that has egg rolls of gigantic proportions. The things are served, halved, on little white appetizer plates. Given the option, I would have a rather expensive meal of 6-8 plates of these delicious, hot, well-made delights.
Not-Your-Local-Pub's-Scotch-Eggs - There is a Scottish marvel in this world I would eat at once a month given the opportunity. At this delicious restaurant, hidden in the exotictly Scotch menu, is a gem of an appetizer sampler. Scotch Eggs, Baby Bridies, Sausage Rolls and (stay with me) Haggis Fritters.
- Scotch Eggs are hard-boiled eggs, wrapped lovingly in pork sausage and fried, accompanied by an exquisite honey mustard sause.
- Baby Bridies are little triangles of magic: sirloin that's ground and browned, seasoned delightfully and cooked inside a puff pastry.
- Sausage Rolls are the Scotch cousin of spring rolls. Pork sausage rolled in puff pastry that takes on a crisp wrap quality. Tasty little morsels.
- Haggis Fritters sound gross. I agree. They are not. Haggis = sausage. That's what it tastes like. You don't eat the stomach it was cooked in, and you'd never know what it was if I handed you this astounding "sausage in a biscuit situation" you just HAVE to try.
Main Course
Bo Luc Lac - Ever had one of those menus where you just point and nod, praying your waiter/waitress understands that you want what you're pointing at, not the thing underneath it? Honestly, I usually attempt the name. This was a delicious accident I stumbled upon in the midst of an impressive and somewhat intimidating menu of Vietnamese cuisine. Delicately spiced beef (usually cubed sirloin) is "shaken" in the wok as it bounces from side to side, getting seared. The sour, salty, sweet marinade of the meat, coming through in the cooking, makes the combination with fluffy rice one that I melt for every single time.
Ropa Vieja - Let's talk about Cuban food. I don't trust any other cuisine to shred a skirt steak, cook it low and slow in a tomato sauce, put it over yellow rice with black beans and pull sweet, smoky, and finally heat from the mixing flavors, textures, tastes. Sounds easy? Trust me, it's not.
Paella - If you are invited into the home of a Puerto Rican family who wants to make you paella, you say yes. Just shut up that nagging "what if I don't like it" voice and say yes. It was saffron rice, and smoky oysters, and rounds of carmelized andouille sausage, and clams, and stupidly delicious and I didn't have the lobster tails but I heard they were good. Oh, the taste of that delicious meal!
Coconut Chicken Curry - Just to clarify, we're talking Thai curry. Different from Indian curry. Yes, they're related, but not quite the same. Especially the addition of that exquisite coconut milk that thickens, coats, sweetens, harbours the flavors of the curry and the chicken, the veggies along for the ride. I lick my fingers if I get this sauce on them. In public.
Seafood a la Moi - I know this isn't on a menu, but it would be if I had the choice. Raw oysters at room temperature (one shot of tobasco and we're good), clams Rockafeller, 1 1/2 lbs of steamed King crab legs, shrimp scampi (easy on the white wine). A little salad comes before the meal. That's all you need. *passes out from protein overdose*
New York Strip - Had one of the best steaks of my life on my honeymoon. A beautiful 10 oz New York strip (which is a steak cut from the tenderloin, no bone; if bone was left in, the New York strip becomes a T-bone or Porterhouse depending on bone placement, etc) grilled until it was ready for me. Perfect score marks, delicious aroma, light and tender texture. Paired with colcannon potatoes and a small salad, I was a happy woman.
Steak with Linguini Alfredo - Yes, occasionally the Italian nature that creeps nowhere in my historical lineage, but demands the attention of my stomach, gets the better of me. A 6 oz offering of expertly grilled sirloin, resting neatly atop a bed of linguini (think thick fettucini) in a slightly peppery alfredo sauce? You had me at "A". And, just because I'm in a nit-picky mood, alfredo is the sauce. Fettucini is the noodles. You literally cannot have "fettucini alfredo" on penne. Unless you put one pasta dish on top of a bed of entirely different pasta.
La Favorita - Another completely baffling discovery on a seemingly-common place menu from a local "Mexican" restaurant. You know what I'm talking about: the place that would horrify people expecting the same thing they ate in a tiny town outside Cancun on vacation, but still tastes delicious and keeps getting better with every beer? That's the place, and let me tell you about the dish! This tantalizing plate begins (for me) with a tostada. Top that corn tortilla that's been deep fried with refried beans, some seasoned ground beef, shredded lettuce, fresh tomato and maybe some sour cream or rice if you're feeling frisky. Next, the burrito. Classic beef burrito, lying quietly next to the shredded chicken enchilada. Both of the tortilla wrapped yums are covered in a queso blanco. Whenever I'm starving and want "Mexican", my stomach leads my mouth here before my brain knows what's going on.
Salads
Caesar - I love it. Raw egg, sardines, whatever. Give it to me. Put hard boiled egg crumbles or bleu cheese crumbles on it? I'll plead not guilty and the judge will understand.
Naked - I don't like dressing. Americans by and large drown our food. I happen to enjoy the taste of lettuce, and most of the ingredients I would normally put in a salad. Sometimes, the addition of a small bit of dressing enhances the opportunity. For me, however, I've learned to ignore the odd looks when the waitress asks what dressing I'd like and I say, "None, thank you."
Desserts
Cheesecake - It's simple. It's heavy. It's delicious. Leave it alone. I don't need berries in gross syrup, powdered sugar all over the plate or a drizzle. I don't like chocolate for the most part, and I'll ask for a drizzle when I want it, I promise. Put the squeeze bottle back where you found it, and quit adulterating my dessert so egregiously.
Stout Ice Cream - When you hang out with a lot of people who love beer, this happens. I don't mean they are alcoholics, I mean I spend a lot of time with awesome, amazing, intelligent people who care very passionately about quality beer. Some of them are even in the beer industry. Coming across a stout ice cream made from craft brewed oatmeal stout (yum), I couldn't resist. I'm glad I didn't. Fun, tasty, a go-to item.
Strawberry Shortcake - I take my strawberries very seriously. I know this. I should probably apologize for some of the resulting behavior, but usually I don't. Strawberries are my thing. I am an idiot for strawberries. Having said that, there is a dessert out there called Strawberry Shortcake that is not what you're thinking. Or maybe it is, I don't know. I don't think it is, though. It wasn't what I was expecting. Imagine a gigantic, buttery biscuit-like cake. Now put fresh vanilla ice cream on it, as smooth as Haagen Daaz and twice as awesome. Pile on fresh strawberries, slightly mascerated (meaning they've steeped in sugar so long they've made their own light-and-in-no-way-syrupy sauce). Top that with whipped cream. I've elbowed people out of the way for this. I would eat it every day, rotating what meal I replaced with it so I didn't get bored.
Ben & Jerry's Black and Tan Ice Cream - Once in a while you meet a taste that speaks to you on a cellular level. I love Guinness beer. One of the classic Guinness drinks is called a black and tan - a stout and a lager hanging out together in a glass without mixing. Hence the top is tan and the bottom looks black (yay names that make sense). Now, take deep chocolately ice cream and mix in stout ice cream. That's it. No gimmicks, no chunks of anything. Just two astoundingly delicious ice creams that come together in a baffling taste few could conspire to create. Phish Food is good, but this is just great.
Drinks
Mudslide - Hey, sometimes a girl just wants her damn ice cream spiked with chocolate syrup and booze. Yes, sometimes it's just about having a better day.
Hey, what's that blue thing? - I have a tendency to point, ask questions, and from time to time I'll make friends with my bartender, smile and say, "This is the mood I'm in. I would really appreciate a drink to match, and to be honest, I know you're a pro." This is how I ended up with a bright blue drink that everybody kept asking "Hey, what's that blue thing?" It wasn't a Blue Hawaii, so don't ask. I still have no idea what was in it, or what it was called. It was a $7 drink. I tipped $10 on that one. Worth every penny.
White Russian - Classic. I trust your intelligence.
Naughty and Yummy - Sometimes I like to corrupt the Great Loves of my youth. Nothing could get my attention faster than a drink of my own evilness: French Vanilla cappucino (I love using the international coffee house one, made with milk instead of water), and a healthy dose of Bailey's. Sometimes white hot chocolate substitutes, but either way I know the cool weather I adore and the peace-giving snow-gazing I live for are going to be that much more awesome with a treat for my lips that helps my insides stay warm.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Thinking About One's Own Culinary Perspective
My favorite question on any Food Network show is: What is your culinary point of view?
My food perspective is simple. If I had a Food Network show, it would be called "The Language of Food." I love words, I love food, I love the way food and words interact.
What would an episode of my show look like? I would have one theme per episode, no overwhelming the audience for this girl! Let's say the theme is something simple and obvious like... salad!
Why would I do an entire episode on something a lot of people don't even eat? Because I believe that once my audience saw the words that could be associated with SALAD, the leafy stuff could be an amazing new dimension in culinary experiments!
I would start with the beginning of the word, which is routed in salt. Just like, for example, salsa. Many culinary food names come from this root, and speaking of roots! Let's travel around the world and explore the idea of salad.
Sometimes the best way to start with the familiar is to make it unfamiliar. A salad made entirely of ripe tomatoes, cucumbers and fresh onion, in chunky but not awkwardly sized pieces, marinated in vinegar and spices. Refreshing, light, crisp, delicious and lettuce-naked.
And here is where the fun begins in earnest. It wasn't enough to tease your idea of salad. Let's talk about where exactly this dish is from.
In India, this dish is offered as a break, a palate cleanser before that exquisite tandoori chicken. Perhaps most interestingly, this is served without having been refridgerated.
In Italy, after a marinade in the fridge, this is a traditional salad.
With these three ingredients, adding roasted peppers, a white brine cheese called sirene, and parsley. Once it's cool, this Bulgarian dish is called a shopska salad.
Leave out the onion, dice your cucumber and tomato, add parsley, olive oil, lemon juice and black pepper: welcome to Israel.
Tabbouleh adds bulgar, mint, often onion and garlic, seasoned with olive oil, lemon juice and salt to the Israeli choice, minus the black pepper.
It's about execution. It's about taste, and what the food culture developed with/ without. It's about the regions, and what they call each dish. It's about teaching each other that no matter how different it may look, under the wrapping the flavors are familiar sometimes. It's about believing adventures are worth the price of travel, every single time without hesitation or doubt.
It's about the language.
My food perspective is simple. If I had a Food Network show, it would be called "The Language of Food." I love words, I love food, I love the way food and words interact.
What would an episode of my show look like? I would have one theme per episode, no overwhelming the audience for this girl! Let's say the theme is something simple and obvious like... salad!
Why would I do an entire episode on something a lot of people don't even eat? Because I believe that once my audience saw the words that could be associated with SALAD, the leafy stuff could be an amazing new dimension in culinary experiments!
I would start with the beginning of the word, which is routed in salt. Just like, for example, salsa. Many culinary food names come from this root, and speaking of roots! Let's travel around the world and explore the idea of salad.
Sometimes the best way to start with the familiar is to make it unfamiliar. A salad made entirely of ripe tomatoes, cucumbers and fresh onion, in chunky but not awkwardly sized pieces, marinated in vinegar and spices. Refreshing, light, crisp, delicious and lettuce-naked.
And here is where the fun begins in earnest. It wasn't enough to tease your idea of salad. Let's talk about where exactly this dish is from.
In India, this dish is offered as a break, a palate cleanser before that exquisite tandoori chicken. Perhaps most interestingly, this is served without having been refridgerated.
In Italy, after a marinade in the fridge, this is a traditional salad.
With these three ingredients, adding roasted peppers, a white brine cheese called sirene, and parsley. Once it's cool, this Bulgarian dish is called a shopska salad.
Leave out the onion, dice your cucumber and tomato, add parsley, olive oil, lemon juice and black pepper: welcome to Israel.
Tabbouleh adds bulgar, mint, often onion and garlic, seasoned with olive oil, lemon juice and salt to the Israeli choice, minus the black pepper.
It's about execution. It's about taste, and what the food culture developed with/ without. It's about the regions, and what they call each dish. It's about teaching each other that no matter how different it may look, under the wrapping the flavors are familiar sometimes. It's about believing adventures are worth the price of travel, every single time without hesitation or doubt.
It's about the language.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Fish
I hate fish.
Nice confessional there, isn't it?
No, really. My body rejects the idea that the things with the fins are things I should digest. Whenever attempted, fish at its mildest leaves me with a metallic after-taste. At its worst, violent evacuation is all I'm going to say. I will say that I can enjoy (enjoy!) tuna salad. I'm picky about it, and specific about it, but my persnickity tuna salad is what works with my body.
So what could I possibly have to say about fish?
I married a man who adores finned protein. My husband loves fish. Passionately. So tonight for dinner, I made salmon and rice au gratin, with steamed snow peas on the side. I'm having macaroni and cheese. I could demand a pat on the back for preparing a meal I wanted to banish for all eternity, but I'd rather mention something important.
SALMON BONES: Salmon, especially when you purchase canned salmon as the recipe below suggests, occasionally is packaged with skin and bones intact. For those of us who are unfamiliar, bones and skin are edible on the salmon. Had I known this prior to deboning the monsterous little fillets I purchased, life would have been easier. Please, I beg you: learn from my mistakes. Also,
Salmon and Rice Au Gratin
1 lbs canned Salmon (usually more than 1 can)
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1/2 cup evaporated milk
1/2 teaspoon pepper
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
2 cups cooked rice (leftover rice is fine, see step 2 note)
Topping
1 generous handful of oyster crackers
2 tablespoons butter
1. Preheat oven to 350.
2. Mix soup, milk, worcestershire sauce, liquid from 1 can of salmon and pepper together. Whisking works well to smooth out the sauce, though the same results are achievable with a spoon.
NOTE: If you find, as I did, that a pound of salmon is not an amount readily available in a can, there is a solution. Should you find yourself with extra salmon fluid from an unanticipated 2nd can of salmon, may I suggest using just a splash more liquid in the "sauce" mixture. It can sit while you make fresh rice for the dish. Use the remaining liquid from the can to boil the rice. You'll have to add water, but you should get at least half a cup of liquid out of your second can. This will infuse the rice with that salmon flavor, which adds depth to the final dish.
3. Flake salmon. To flake the fish, I used 2 forks and a paper plate. Put the forks back to backand draw away from each other. You'll see the salmon quickly break down into morsels, or flakes. The salmon will look a lot like tuna at this point.
4. Mix rice (it's okay if it's still warm, just make sure all the liquid has been absorbed) and salmon into saucy mixture.
5. Grease 2 quart casserole dish. Cooking sprays are okay, just be wary of using flavored ones likes garlic (bad bad bad things happen: trust the voice of experience). The "greasing" helps you clean up later: no residual salmon clinging to innocent cookware, making it murder to clean. Even the machine has issues when it comes to baked on salmon.
6. Pour mixture into casserole, topping with crushed oyster crackers and butter. I want to mention that I used oyster crackers because I wasn't satisfied with "unsalted crackers" here. The original recipe I saw called for 1 tblspn of butter.... wasn't enough. I ended up with an uneven butter/browning effect that was annoying. Take your 2 tablespoons of butter, chunk it up, drop the chunks evenly across your plain of crushed crackers.
7. Insert casserole into preheated oven for 20 minutes. Let cool 3-5 minutes before serving.
Nice confessional there, isn't it?
No, really. My body rejects the idea that the things with the fins are things I should digest. Whenever attempted, fish at its mildest leaves me with a metallic after-taste. At its worst, violent evacuation is all I'm going to say. I will say that I can enjoy (enjoy!) tuna salad. I'm picky about it, and specific about it, but my persnickity tuna salad is what works with my body.
So what could I possibly have to say about fish?
I married a man who adores finned protein. My husband loves fish. Passionately. So tonight for dinner, I made salmon and rice au gratin, with steamed snow peas on the side. I'm having macaroni and cheese. I could demand a pat on the back for preparing a meal I wanted to banish for all eternity, but I'd rather mention something important.
SALMON BONES: Salmon, especially when you purchase canned salmon as the recipe below suggests, occasionally is packaged with skin and bones intact. For those of us who are unfamiliar, bones and skin are edible on the salmon. Had I known this prior to deboning the monsterous little fillets I purchased, life would have been easier. Please, I beg you: learn from my mistakes. Also,
Salmon and Rice Au Gratin
1 lbs canned Salmon (usually more than 1 can)
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1/2 cup evaporated milk
1/2 teaspoon pepper
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
2 cups cooked rice (leftover rice is fine, see step 2 note)
Topping
1 generous handful of oyster crackers
2 tablespoons butter
1. Preheat oven to 350.
2. Mix soup, milk, worcestershire sauce, liquid from 1 can of salmon and pepper together. Whisking works well to smooth out the sauce, though the same results are achievable with a spoon.
NOTE: If you find, as I did, that a pound of salmon is not an amount readily available in a can, there is a solution. Should you find yourself with extra salmon fluid from an unanticipated 2nd can of salmon, may I suggest using just a splash more liquid in the "sauce" mixture. It can sit while you make fresh rice for the dish. Use the remaining liquid from the can to boil the rice. You'll have to add water, but you should get at least half a cup of liquid out of your second can. This will infuse the rice with that salmon flavor, which adds depth to the final dish.
3. Flake salmon. To flake the fish, I used 2 forks and a paper plate. Put the forks back to backand draw away from each other. You'll see the salmon quickly break down into morsels, or flakes. The salmon will look a lot like tuna at this point.
4. Mix rice (it's okay if it's still warm, just make sure all the liquid has been absorbed) and salmon into saucy mixture.
5. Grease 2 quart casserole dish. Cooking sprays are okay, just be wary of using flavored ones likes garlic (bad bad bad things happen: trust the voice of experience). The "greasing" helps you clean up later: no residual salmon clinging to innocent cookware, making it murder to clean. Even the machine has issues when it comes to baked on salmon.
6. Pour mixture into casserole, topping with crushed oyster crackers and butter. I want to mention that I used oyster crackers because I wasn't satisfied with "unsalted crackers" here. The original recipe I saw called for 1 tblspn of butter.... wasn't enough. I ended up with an uneven butter/browning effect that was annoying. Take your 2 tablespoons of butter, chunk it up, drop the chunks evenly across your plain of crushed crackers.
7. Insert casserole into preheated oven for 20 minutes. Let cool 3-5 minutes before serving.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Atmosphere
Let's talk about food in context.
Having lasagna with a deep, rich beschamel sauce and salad is delicious. The minute you have that meal with warm salt breezes rushing over freshly sun-warmed shoulders, just before a slow stroll on the beach, and you're not going to feel like having a walk.
Notice what you're eating. Realizing where you are and what you're doing, and how your food will effect you. Instead of a heavy meal that will weigh you down and carbs that increase a feeling of "I want a nap" right after consumption, go for that lighter grilled chicken dish, or some fresh fish. Tons of protein, paired with lightly grilled or sauteed veggies will keep the stomach happy and fuel those gorgeous legs for the run through the surf you have been waiting for your entire romantic life.
Leave the heavier stuff for the winter. Go lighter this summer; you'll notice the difference!
Having lasagna with a deep, rich beschamel sauce and salad is delicious. The minute you have that meal with warm salt breezes rushing over freshly sun-warmed shoulders, just before a slow stroll on the beach, and you're not going to feel like having a walk.
Notice what you're eating. Realizing where you are and what you're doing, and how your food will effect you. Instead of a heavy meal that will weigh you down and carbs that increase a feeling of "I want a nap" right after consumption, go for that lighter grilled chicken dish, or some fresh fish. Tons of protein, paired with lightly grilled or sauteed veggies will keep the stomach happy and fuel those gorgeous legs for the run through the surf you have been waiting for your entire romantic life.
Leave the heavier stuff for the winter. Go lighter this summer; you'll notice the difference!
Friday, June 10, 2011
Breakfast Anytime - And Beer Matches
Tonight, I'm thinking Breakfast Burrito (recipe to follow) paired with a Kriek (Cherry) Lambic Beer.
Why on Earth would I suggest a beer to go with this dinner? Beer, like wine, whiskey, scotch and all the other liquers out there, have history that spans whole regions of the world. Finding one you like is a matter of trial and error. Maybe lambic is more your thing than Budweiser. I assure you, Lambic is no ordinary beer.
Lambic, for you purists, is a sour spontaneous-fermenting beer that in its unblended state is cloudy and uncarbonated. If you buy Belgium Lambic (the only place the 'real' stuff comes from), you'll be drinking beer aged 3 years that is characteristically dry and has a bit of sour to the finish.
Subgenres of lambic include
Gueuze - blend of 1 yr and 3 yr old beer, traditionally dry and sour
Faro - blend of lambic and freshly brewed beer, often with the addition of brown sugar or syrups
Kriek - lambic made with sour cherries which create initial and secondary fermentation, traditionally dry and sour
Fruit - Using names such as kriek, framboise or frambozen, cassis, etc. doesn't mean what you have is made from lambic. Syrup is the key here: adding syrup to a subpar beer creates an entirely different experience for your taste buds, and has been practiced widely in several Lambic products put out in recent years.
Having said that, it's up to your palate. I enjoy the syrupy lambics, unwholesome though that may be. I really like the sweet-sour notes of the Kriek lambic (which is tart but refreshing), it helps brighten the meal in my opinion. The reason I suggest the lambic with this meal is taste as well as lifestyle. Sometimes you have to let yourself relax. There is an amazing feeling about pairing the food you made with your own hands, with a complex and challenging beverage someone else worked to create. Be adventurous.
Breakfast Burrito
6 large eggs
1/4 cup milk
8 oz breakfast sausage, uncooked
8 oz salsa, prepared
8 oz lettuce
6 oz Monterrey jack cheese
1 pkg burrito shells
Suggestions: Using 1 pan is possible with this dish, but it should be a non-stick pan. Life is just easier with non-stick when it comes to eggs. The type of sausage you get is part of your over-all flavor. If you like spicier dishes, you can use hot sausage and use mild salsa to refresh the flavor in your burritos.
1.) Brown sausage over medium low heat.
HINTS: If you're using pork sausage, it's important to remember that pork smokes at a lower temperature than other meats. Don't panic! It's okay, you're not burning your sausage. Low and slow, steady as you go: that's you're rule when it comes to pork. Don't turn it too much; less is more when it comes to meat.
2.) While the sausage is cooking, whisk eggs with milk. Make sure the yolks break, encorporating all of the egg into the light mixture.
3.) Remove sausage from pan. Using the drippings from the sausage ensures a tasty meld of flavor in the eggs. Not required, especially if you're concerned about fat or salt content.
4.) Begin pouring the egg mixture into a warm pan over medium-low heat.
HINTS: Leave the eggs alone! The longer you can wait to flip and stir, the fluffier the eggs will be. Just like meat, the less you mess with it, the better the final product.
5.) While eggs cook, wash lettuce leaves lightly and slice or tear into strips. The added crisp, light flavor will keep the meal from feeling greasy. The crunch is also a nice change from the other textures in the burrito, which keeps your mouth interested.
6.) When the eggs reach a done-ness you prefer, remove them from heat. Build your own burrito.
HINTS: Some people prefer runnier eggs. I'm a "make sure it's done" kind of lady when it comes to eggs. I wait until the texture looks light, but nothing looks wet. Also, when building your burrito, remember that cheese and salsa should enhance the eggs you worked so hard on, not hide them. Show off what you achieved!
Why on Earth would I suggest a beer to go with this dinner? Beer, like wine, whiskey, scotch and all the other liquers out there, have history that spans whole regions of the world. Finding one you like is a matter of trial and error. Maybe lambic is more your thing than Budweiser. I assure you, Lambic is no ordinary beer.
Lambic, for you purists, is a sour spontaneous-fermenting beer that in its unblended state is cloudy and uncarbonated. If you buy Belgium Lambic (the only place the 'real' stuff comes from), you'll be drinking beer aged 3 years that is characteristically dry and has a bit of sour to the finish.
Subgenres of lambic include
Gueuze - blend of 1 yr and 3 yr old beer, traditionally dry and sour
Faro - blend of lambic and freshly brewed beer, often with the addition of brown sugar or syrups
Kriek - lambic made with sour cherries which create initial and secondary fermentation, traditionally dry and sour
Fruit - Using names such as kriek, framboise or frambozen, cassis, etc. doesn't mean what you have is made from lambic. Syrup is the key here: adding syrup to a subpar beer creates an entirely different experience for your taste buds, and has been practiced widely in several Lambic products put out in recent years.
Having said that, it's up to your palate. I enjoy the syrupy lambics, unwholesome though that may be. I really like the sweet-sour notes of the Kriek lambic (which is tart but refreshing), it helps brighten the meal in my opinion. The reason I suggest the lambic with this meal is taste as well as lifestyle. Sometimes you have to let yourself relax. There is an amazing feeling about pairing the food you made with your own hands, with a complex and challenging beverage someone else worked to create. Be adventurous.
Breakfast Burrito
6 large eggs
1/4 cup milk
8 oz breakfast sausage, uncooked
8 oz salsa, prepared
8 oz lettuce
6 oz Monterrey jack cheese
1 pkg burrito shells
Suggestions: Using 1 pan is possible with this dish, but it should be a non-stick pan. Life is just easier with non-stick when it comes to eggs. The type of sausage you get is part of your over-all flavor. If you like spicier dishes, you can use hot sausage and use mild salsa to refresh the flavor in your burritos.
1.) Brown sausage over medium low heat.
HINTS: If you're using pork sausage, it's important to remember that pork smokes at a lower temperature than other meats. Don't panic! It's okay, you're not burning your sausage. Low and slow, steady as you go: that's you're rule when it comes to pork. Don't turn it too much; less is more when it comes to meat.
2.) While the sausage is cooking, whisk eggs with milk. Make sure the yolks break, encorporating all of the egg into the light mixture.
3.) Remove sausage from pan. Using the drippings from the sausage ensures a tasty meld of flavor in the eggs. Not required, especially if you're concerned about fat or salt content.
4.) Begin pouring the egg mixture into a warm pan over medium-low heat.
HINTS: Leave the eggs alone! The longer you can wait to flip and stir, the fluffier the eggs will be. Just like meat, the less you mess with it, the better the final product.
5.) While eggs cook, wash lettuce leaves lightly and slice or tear into strips. The added crisp, light flavor will keep the meal from feeling greasy. The crunch is also a nice change from the other textures in the burrito, which keeps your mouth interested.
6.) When the eggs reach a done-ness you prefer, remove them from heat. Build your own burrito.
HINTS: Some people prefer runnier eggs. I'm a "make sure it's done" kind of lady when it comes to eggs. I wait until the texture looks light, but nothing looks wet. Also, when building your burrito, remember that cheese and salsa should enhance the eggs you worked so hard on, not hide them. Show off what you achieved!
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