Two Kitchens

You can't beet this (!)

2010-11-16T17:58:00.000-08:00

ADM*, can you believe I made a pun in the title? I couldn't get it out of my head and it was like when I'm dancing: the beet grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go, but then I a girl came by and pulled my hair—totally ruining my groove, right?—and I looked at my crew and said, "Let's go beet her up." And now maybe you're reading this, thinking: Mariana, if you were surprised that you made one pun, why go and make three? But things come in threes, Katie! It's out of my hands!

Now that that's out of my system, let's go back and remember how much I like beets: a lot. Remember I once made you a chocolate cake that had beets in it? And that was even before I knew how much I like them by themselves. Since then, I've posted a few times about beets and my love for them. We are now in prime beet season and I am all over it.

Want to know what else inspired me? This new city of mine, Pittsburgh, you know what it's full of? Chock full of? White people!—all different kinds, many of which have cuisines that also love beets. I'm not quite to the point where I want to eat borscht (mostly because I've never had it and kind of want to try some extremely good borscht before going down that path myself—so if anyone out there has borscht recommendations in the Iron City, let me know) but I'm tired of eating roasted beets. I had some goat cheese in my fridge, but didn't feel like making a salad. Then I thought that what I really wanted to do was eat some beets in a mushy form, but not really a pure beet puree (seems a lot like baby food) so I decided: why not make some mashed potatoes that are mostly beets and then put in some goat cheese?

And then it turned out the idea was good. So good, in fact, that I think I'm going to make this for Thanksgiving. Really, if the end product weren't so ridiculously and beautifully red, you might be hard-pressed to realize it's made with beets at all: it's rich and chunky like mashed potatoes, a little creamy, but with that nice earthy sweetness that beets provide, but not in an assertive way.

Mashed beets

10-12 small beets, or the equivalent of that with larger beets

2 medium baking potatoes

1/4-1/2 c. goat cheese

1/2 c. sour cream

salt & pepper

Steam or pressure cook the beets until they are very soft, maybe 30 minutes (longer if you're not pressure cooking). While that happens, boil the potatoes until they, too, are soft.

Once cool enough to handle, peel the beets. Cut the potatoes into chunks. Mash these things up together.

Stir in the goat cheese and sour cream until it's the sort of texture and taste you want. Also add the salt and pepper.

*¡Ay dios mio!

Bolillos

2010-11-08T18:32:00.000-08:00

Hey, my friend, it has been a long time! I have missed you and things have changed! #1: I no longer live in Tucson! #2: You should address all things to me as Mariana, Esquire! #3: I live in Pittsburgh, PA! This is all a lot to get used to.

First, here are my new cooking digs:

I haven't been cooking very much...but your zombie post reminded me that this is something I like to do. So let me set this post up for you: before I left Tucson I spent a lot of time worrying about how much I was going to miss it—or, really, how much I would miss my life there. It turns out that I spent so much time worrying about how much I was going to miss it that I wore myself out and haven't missed it too bad at all. But, I still had enough worry in me to worry about missing arguably the best and most Tucson day of the year: the All Souls' Procession. People painted like skeletons, walking down the street, remembering people who have passed away, enjoying being alive, and in nice weather. This is generally what Pittsburgh looks like:

Luckily, through mutual friends, I've found some Tucson people here and, to stave off our sadness, nostalgia, and impending winter, we had ourselves a nice dinner of green chile stew and bolillo rolls. It kind of worked at making me feel better. You know what's more helpful than stew and rolls, though? The fact that Pittsburgh's rad!

Bolillo rolls

2 c. water

1 1/2 tbsp. sugar

1 tbsp. salt

2 tbsp. butter, melted

1 package yeast

5 1/2-6 c. white flour

Make those 2 cups of water warm, then dissolve in the sugar, salt, and butter. Let the water cool to under 110º, then dissolve in the yeast. Let it sit a minute or two, sniff it and make sure it smells yeasty so that you know your yeast is alive.

Stir the yeasty water into 5 cups of flour until the dough is stiff. On a floured surface, knead the dough 5-8 minutes, until it stops being sticky and, when you poke it with your finger, the hole doesn't immediately disappear. Put the kneaded dough into a bowl, coat it with a little bit of oil on top, cover with a cloth or plastic wrap in a warmish place, and let it rise 1 1/2-2 hours.

At the end of the first rise, punch it! Now form as many rolls as you want/can, in a sort of oblong shape.

Let the rolls rise until doubled in size, about 35 minutes.

Heat your oven to 375º. Cut a slit in those rolls and maybe brush them with some melted butter.

Bake 25-40 minutes, depending on the size of the roll. Eat some spicy soup and think of home!

Zombie Blog + Happy Halloween

2010-10-31T12:49:00.000-07:00

Mariana, unfortunately we totally have a zombie blog on our hands. A lifeless shell of what it once was, our blog haunts me with regret, feelings of guilt and obligations unfulfilled. I loved our blog, I loved keeping in touch with you, and I loved the food we made. But somehow I just haven't posted. But I don't want to kill it completely.

Fall is officially in full swing and I feel renewed excitement about cooking, making me hopeful (but skeptical) that returning to the blog will happen naturally. I'm home in Tucson for the weekend and this morning I made my mom and Oliver some pear cardamom coffee cake (pictured at left). Sadly, while edible, it was nothing to write home (let alone a blog entry) about. So instead of including a recipe I decided to post a list of recipes that I want to try adapting to the awesome combo of pear and cardamom:

Mariana -- have you been making anything lately?

P.S. I loved your Halloween pictures on facebook.

Fish Cake

2010-05-03T13:45:00.000-07:00

It turns out: writing a thesis and preparing to leave a city and friends you love for a job that could be most accurately be described as "dream job" is a really great way to neglect a blog.

But, this past weekend, blogging and partying collided in a very good way. Guess what this is:

A fish cake. I made it. No lie. With a nod to BonAppetempt, here's the Martha Stewart version (left) and mine (right):

Eat it, Martha—my cake totally looks better than yours.

To make it, I used Smitten Kitchen's Best Birthday Cake recipe. I made a recipe and a half, and this made three thin layers of cake, baked in a cookie sheet with a rim. Then I cut them into a fish shape (the fins are made out of parts that were left over), put vanilla pudding on the bottom layer and cut-up strawberries in between the middle and top layers.

Then I made a recipe and a half of the 9"-layer cake version of the Swiss Buttercream, tinted it sea foam green, frosted on the crumb coat, waited a bit, re-frosted and put on the scales. Six rolls of Necco wafers worth of scales.

Here's the cake on fire, because it was a birthday cake:

And it was delicious!

Just so you don't think that cake was the highlight of the party, let me show you what else we did:

That's my thumb wrestling cage. For the 4th Annual Mexican Cage Thumb Wrestling Tournament.

And here's our Communist Party FunAppetempt:

And, after all that: the best guitarty* ever. Behold:

*Friends with guitars + friends with voices + party = guitarty.

New Kitchen

2010-04-12T14:26:00.000-07:00

Though I don't have time for a full-fledged post, I thought I would quickly share some (unadorned) photos of the kitchen in my new apartment as well as my latest cooking adventure.

This photo is before I moved all my stuff in -- now there are just boxes of unpacked kitchen utensils. I don't know if it's obvious from this picture, but this is almost the size of a full, adult kitchen! I am thrilled and eagerly anticipating breaking the kitchen in.

Today I decided to prepare a quick lunch consisting of a delicious quesadilla. However, instead of the gooey cheese I was anticipating when I opened the oven door I was greeted by flames.

Yes, I almost burned my new kitchen down. At least in the moment it felt like my new, spacious kitchen was in grave danger. Luckily, I had a box baking soda nearby and though I'm not sure my technique was the correct way to handle the 16-inch flames bursting out of my oven like a scene from Backdraft, it did the trick. Now I just have to deal with the clean up.

Baking Soda Quesadilla? Any Takers?

A sad goodbye...

2010-03-30T10:41:00.000-07:00

...to my portland kitchen. You're small, poorly laid out, and prone to moth infestations, but you and your cute checkerboard floor have served me well. I'll miss you and hope your next tenent treats you well.

Salted butter caramel tart

2010-03-26T10:09:00.000-07:00

True fact: with only FOUR ingredients, you can make this tart which, when I put a bite in my mouth, knowing full well that it was going to be delicious, made me say out loud that it was delicious. Expectations = met.

It's also easy to make ahead, in stages. But, look, it's also easy to completely mess up a blind-baked crust:

That was my exciting disaster, using the Smitten Kitchen Unshrinkable Sweet Tart Shell—it did exactly the opposite of shrinking. See how there's no room in there for fantastic caramel? I don't really know what happened because I've made that shell before and it worked. This time, I just got a big sugar cookie in a pie pan. I ended up using a Martha Stewart tart shell recipe and it worked out fine.

Making this recipe made me a bit nervous because I'm way chicken when it comes to making caramel. But did you know that in college I had a volleyball coach who gave us audio tapes that guided us through a visualization exercise? It sounds hokey and the background music was corny, but it kind of worked. We had to lay down and relax and then visualize ourselves doing whatever we wanted—generally something that we were struggling with. And then, sometimes, we were better at what we visualized.

So, because I know that I am sometimes afraid to take caramel far enough to get a nice brown into it, I prepped myself by visualizing myself not being a chicken and letting the caramel turn browner than I was comfortable with. I think it worked—maybe a little too well. My caramel had a slight hint of burnt at the end, but I decided that I kind of liked it. Mind, you are so freaking powerful!

Salted Butter Tart
Adapted from Leite's Culinaria

Crust: you need to have an already-baked crust at the ready. Go ahead and try the SK one linked to above, because I think my disaster was caused by me, not the recipe.

Filling:
1 1/4 c. sugar
1 stick salted butter, diced
1 c. whipping cream

Put the sugar and butter in large pot and start heating over medium.

The above mixture will eventually turn into caramel. During that process, you should stir it occasionally and not get afraid when it looks like the butter is separating from the sugar—press onward!

In the meantime, bring the cream to a boil over medium heat. Once it hits the boil, turn off the heat.

Imagine the shade of brown of your favorite caramel. When your butter-sugar-caramel reaches a shade lighter than that caramel, turn off the heat—the mixture will continue to cook a bit once you turn off the flame.

Now, slowly stir in the warmed-up cream. Spatter, spatter, bubbling caramel, oh no things aren't quite mixing together, but do! not! worry! because once the cream has been added you can turn the burner on again, but to low. Stir a bit, everything will come together, it might take about 5 minutes. Remove the mixture from heat and let cool 10 minutes.

Once 10-minutes-cooled, pour the caramel into your prepared tart crust. Chill for 2 hours to set but serve at room temperature, probably with a dollop of whipped cream and, if you don't get too distracted (which I totally did), maybe with some fancy salt sprinkled on top.

Kale chips

2010-03-19T09:35:00.001-07:00

I am thoroughly enjoying the last spring break of my life, even though the plan of getting actual schoolwork done during it has gone out the window. I always forget how fantastic spring in Tucson is—Katie, in case you're forgotten, it's fantastic. Windows are open and clothes are necessary only for decency, not warmth. I know some people think that you may need an actual dreary winter in order to truly enjoy spring and that is the most false fact ever.

Also, I have a new favorite food: kale chips. My relationship to kale has now come full circle: when I first came across it it was in an unfortunate soup with mushrooms and tofu made at my co-op in college; this soup was repeated on a weekly basis until I, as food buyer, stopped buying kale. Then, I found a delicious sort of stewed kale recipe. Then, I had kale sauteed in butter with garlic and topped off with lemon juice at my friend Natasha's house—that was amazing. And now, the kale chips.

I made these chips as a light lunch for some friends who came to Tucson before we went out on a rad trip to Northern Arizona: Flagstaff, Grand Canyon (so much snow!!), Sedona and its energy vortexes. I knew that we'd be eating delicious and unhealthy food on the trip, so I thought it'd be good to start off with some tomato soup, kale chips, and fresh bread. These chips are so amazing that they flipped both my friends' opinions about kale and now they are firmly in the pro-kale camp, at least in chip form.

Plus: super easy!

Kale chips

1 bunch of kale
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp apple cider vinegar
salt and pepper

Put your oven to 400º. Line a cookie sheet with aluminum foil to make clean up easier.

Wash your kale and tear it into smaller pieces. They'll shrink a lot in the transformation to kale chip but it's kind of hard to eat a big kale chip, so keep that in mind.

Whisk the oil and vinegar together. Pour it over kale, toss to make it even. Season with salt and pepper.

Bake 15 minutes.

Happy Birthday...

2010-03-18T13:16:00.000-07:00

...to my wonderful brother Oliver.

I ate a cupcake for breakfast this morning to celebrate your birth.

Teff Hot Cereal

2010-03-17T11:20:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been really excited about cooking with the Ethiopian grain Teff. Maybe it's all the kind of amazing looking recipes using Teff that have been popping up lately or maybe it's the prospect of making injera (the spongy flat bread served with Ethiopian food) at home. I picked up a bag of Teff at my local grocery store and started dreaming about everything I was going to create with it.

So, imagine how sad I was when I realized instead of purchasing the Teff flour necessary for these recipes, I bought the whole grain Teff. A grain so small that, according to the Bob's Red Mill website, it is nearly impossible to grind in the home kitchen. Not that I usually grind my own flours or anything. I also don't usually take ingredient photographs, but here's a shot of Teff (the grain):

Instead of injera or the chocolate banana Teff cupcakes of my dreams, I ended up making the Hot Cereal recipe on the back of the package. Exciting, but not nearly as tasty.

I ate mine with bananas, pecans and some sweetened milk. The flavor was decent, though I have to say it seems like the kind of thing that, at least in cereal form, you would eat more for health purposes than sheer deliciousness. And while I can't attest to the specific nutritional content (Bob's Mill does describe it as a "nutritional powerhouse"), I did feel like it gave me extra energy and focus powers while working on my thesis today. In short, this isn't the kind of breakfast you would serve when wanted to dazzle yourself or someone else, rather the type of thing you prepare before participating in some sort of sporting event or perhaps a marathon thesis writing session.

Teff Hot Cereal
From Bob's Red Mill

Ingredients

2 cups slightly salted water
1/2 cup Teff
Any other nuts, fruit/ dried fruit, milk or sweetener (honey would be really delightful) you'd like to serve with your Teff.

Boil water and then stir in the Teff. Cover and cook, over medium heat, until the Teff has absorbed all the water. Make sure to check on it throughout the process -- stirring as necessary and making sure the Teff doesn't burn on the bottom. This should take about 15-20 minutes. Serve the hot Teff in a bowl and garnish as you please.

Spring Cleaning

2010-03-13T17:13:00.000-08:00

Despite a disappointingly cold week, the first signs of spring are peeking out in Portland and I couldn't be happier. Not that I have a lot of complain about -- it was a mild winter around here, a large chunk of which I spent enjoying the Arizona sunshine. Still, I'm a warm-weather fan and am basically just super excited about the summer.

Plus, (not to be too cliche) in general spring can be such a time of renewal and this spring in particular I need to get reorganized and back on top of things (especially fun things, like blogging). And man, am I behind on blogging -- I have an entire surprise party for my mom I threw almost two months ago to write about (a fact that you, Mariana, are well aware of especially since you helped me prepare for it!) This current post has been has been started, but not finished for about the same about of time. This long overdue post isn't what will one day be the comprehensive post about the party, but it is about two of Mariana's recipes that I made for the party. Two recipes which were basically awesome. First (and my personal favorite) were the crackers you made for your own mom's birthday:

I made these for my mom's celebration and totally loved the tastiness and versatility of these crackers. For her party I used gouda as the cheese (I skipped the anchovies). I also prepared them for the Super Bowl (using manchego) and my visit to my dad's (using feta) but can imagine a million different flavor combinations and a million different situations in which to serve them. They could make an appearance at my thesis defense (assuming such a thing ever happens). If I can get my act together, I might even make an Irish cheddar flavored version for St. Patrick's day (a holiday which I admittedly haven't celebrated in years). But I may celebrate this year, especially if it means I get to eat these crackers.

I also made your angel food cake, which turned out well. So well that some rascal got his hands on the last piece before I could photograph it:

I'm definitely not an angel food cake master yet, but this recipe was very easy to follow. I think that the moral of this quite wordy post (sorry to my mom, who doesn't like my wordy posts) is that I should make your recipes more often.

Parsnip Pie

2010-03-10T18:34:00.000-08:00

Were you at all fooled by the picture of this ~~pumpkin~~ parsnip pie? I was tricked when I first saw the picture in the magazine Fine Cooking, way back in December. I'll admit, the resemblance to pumpkin pie certainly played a role in my decision to make this dessert (when I first saw it I thought, "I haven't eaten nearly enough pumpkin pie this winter"). Flavored with buttermilk, Fine Cooking 's description of it as "sweet and tangy, with a delicate mousse-like texture" also helped convince me to prepare it.

The pumpkin pie doppelganger nature of the recipe was not the only tricky part of this dish -- parsnips (which I've never cooked with before) are pretty tricky themselves. Similar to the fact that this pie has something of a twin, parsnips look a lot like carrots, except carrots that the vampire rabbit Bunnicula has sunk his fangs into. AND they taste something like carrots too, only with kind of a sharper flavor (sorry for my limited culinary description). Unlike carrots, however, they have a tricky wood-like core that is a bit of a pain to remove.

It's hard to improve on pumpkin pie and, sadly, this fails in that respect. But, if you're in the mood to mix things up (or play a mean trick on someone) and are fairly confident you'll be able to judge this dessert on its own merits (instead of comparing it to the pumpkin version, a comparison in which it will inevitably fall short) I suggest you try it. The recipe can be found here. Or, if you are a strict pumpkin pie loyalist, you could just try adding buttermilk to your favorite recipe to add some tangy-ness! On second thought, I actually don't know if that would be a good idea or not, but I'll keep you updated if I try it.

Green beans with lemon-parsley-garlic gremolata

2010-03-09T06:30:00.000-08:00

Living in a desert can sometimes feel disconnected from the popular culture of the U.S.A. because our culture is somewhat wrapped up in the idea of seasons. Long ago, before I met a thing called winter, I thought there were seasons in Arizona and, you know, there are seasons, in the way that it's not the same weather all year. But it's definitely not the stereotypical spring-summer-fall-winter that happens in the Northeast and Midwest. Personally, I feel like those seasons are overrated because why wouldn't you want to have a mild and glorious winter? And doesn't fall in those places just feel like an inevitable march towards death and horribleness and gray, endless winter—glorified by describing it as "crisp"?

I also feel like the Northeast and Midwest wield too much power over how this nation defines itself and maybe we can talk about this later because my point here is really that I buy into this definition and, when spring comes, even though spring in Arizona starts in February and is, depending on how you measure it, longish and delightful, although generally lacking in spring things like flowering trees and sprouting flowers from bulbs—sometimes in spring I feel like eating things that are bright and cheerful, even though winter here is bright and cheerful.

Such as: these green beans. The beans are cooked but remain crisp, the gremolata stings your tongue ever so slightly because of some raw garlic and, in my version, capers, but the overall effect is a healthy sort of bracing, making you feel like you should do other spring things, like clean your house or go watch a spring training baseball game. Both of which are things I'll do in the next week.

Green beans with lemon-parsley-garlic gremolata
Adapted from The Splendid Table's How to Eat Supper

1 1/2 pounds green beans, ends trimmed off
1/2 c. water
zest from 1 lemon
1/2 c. fresh parsley leaves
3 large garlic cloves
3 tbsp. capers
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
1/2 c. cheese, either parmesan (grated) or mozzarella (shredded)

To cook the beans, get a pot/pan with tall sides over medium-high heat with a bit of olive oil. When the oil is hot, saute the beans for about 2 minutes. Then, add that 1/2 cup of water, cover the pan, turn heat to medium low, and cook for. 15-20 minutes. Add some more water if needed.

While the beans cook, get out your food processor and make this:

Put the parsley, lemon zest, garlic, capers, salt and pepper together and mince until it looks like this. Once this is done, throw in half of this mixture with the cooking beans. Add the cheese to the other half of the mixture. The Splendid Table used parmesan and I used a cheese blend that is more melty than parmesan—I kind of like how it made the beans clump together but if that sounds unappealing, use the less-melty parmesan.

Once the beans are done cooking (with half of the gremolata), toss them with the cheesy half of the gremolata and start looking forward to your meal in a serious way.

2K1R: Lemon Pull-Apart Bread part II

2010-03-04T13:41:00.000-08:00

Mariana -- you and I are on the same page about a lot of things lately, I think. Correct me if I'm wrong, but one of those things may be how hard it is to blog when you're also working on a thesis. For me, it's not as much a question of time, rather how unappealing writing for pleasure has become when I have so much of it to do for school. It's not unlike how I stopped reading for pleasure around, oh, the 7th grade. This bread is another example of our mind-meld. You didn't mention it in your post, but we both, independently, decided to make this bread -- a fact we discovered while chatting one day (quite some time ago) when I was in Tucson. This is how it came to be featured in Two Kitchens, One Recipe, albeit a couple of months later. I think we are also on them same page in regards to the deliciousness of the bread -- I totally love it. As you pointed out, the original recipe is from Leite's Culinaria.

This bread is the kind of thing I would happily take to a brunch and be really confident that it would be enjoyed, at least by those who love lemon. The pull-apart nature is so complicated, even professional in nature, that I might even secretly (though not so secretly now I guess since I am broadcasting it over the internet) hope that someone might ask me which bakery I purchased it at and I would get to tell them that I made it myself.

Here's my lemon version:

Your questions:
Did you like the bread? How about the people who ate it, did they like it?

I think I probably already covered this, but yeah, I liked it A LOT. I served it first at a Super Bowl party, where it probably was upstaged by a fancy tart from a bakery. I also served a second version to my dad, Melinda and Oliver and they all (at least claimed) to like it.

Did you think it was fun to make or a too-involved process? Or both?

Definitely fun in my mind. Also, this is surprisingly durable dough in the since that both times I made it I made mistakes that didn't ruin the recipe. The first time around, I forgot to add water to the dough (whoops) but it still turned out fine. The second time, I tried to make the dough the night before and let it rise overnight in the fridge. Not a great idea -- it didn't really rise in the fridge, but after about an hour on the counter the next morning it was good to go.

If this bread were a person, would you be friends with it? What kind of a person would it be?

Huh...I picture this bread more like a cute, friendly guy with a sunny but slightly mischievous personality who I would be friends with, but maybe never really be close to.

If this bread were a movie, what would the sequel be?

Here's another example of our shared thinking -- I already made a second version of this bread -- with cinnamon sugar and orange zest. It was good, maybe not as tasty as the lemon version, but I think I am swayed by my deep love of lemon. Oliver (who tasted both) said he liked the second version better. The other thing about the second version is I got lazy with the frosting -- I had trouble getting a nice consistency, but I just poured it onto the hot bread thinking it would melt away the lumps. This did not happen:

For my third version, I'd likely blend fresh blackberries with the lemon zest. Or maybe slip in fresh slices of peach. That's one of the great things about this bread -- so many options!

2K1R: Lemon Pull-Apart Bread

2010-03-01T20:38:00.001-08:00

The ridiculous thing about not posting for so long is that I've been making delicious things and don't tell anyone about them. Because while one of the best things about cooking is eating, the other best thing is having other people eat your food and tell you it's delicious. But, you know, maybe I'm so mature and self-assured now that I don't need that sort of validation anymore, maybe it's enough to just eat my own good food...

Except: not really at all! I was pretty excited about not only making this recipe (found here) but about taking it to my friend Mamta's birthday brunch. I envisioned a murmur to go through the room after the first person had taken a bite then, suddenly, a swarm at a table and THEN, also suddenly, disappointment to reverberate around as those that were too slow realized they had missed out on pull-apart lemon bread—a bread so magical and delicious that it does not even require a knife. And that's totally not what happened and I am silly for being even a little disappointed by it because it was eaten and enjoyed and, more importantly, Mamta had a really nice birthday brunch.

But, man oh man, is this bread a process! You have to let it rise, then roll it out, then measure it, then cut it into strips, then cover it in lemony-sugary spread, then cut that into rectangles, and then make stacks, place the stacks in a loaf pan, let that rise, and then, finally, after all these trials and tribulations, bake it, then let it cool and then pour icing over it.

Questions!

Did you like the bread? How about the people who ate it, did they like it?

I liked the bread a lot. I thought it kept well for a few days, it was sweet without being too sweet, it was lemony without being puckery. I think the others who ate it also enjoyed it.

Did you think it was fun to make or a too-involved process? Or both?

I thought it was fun. The dough is so smooth and pliable, really nice to roll out and cut. Plus, I really liked the organization of the process: the methodical way of putting everything together and then, after baking, the way the organization is kept but also not as perfect as when it was put in the pan: some edges rise up and brown more than others. It's lovely.

If this bread were a person, would you be friends with it? What kind of a person would it be?

Maybe, but not at first. The bread would be a girl, possibly named Mandy, and she would just seem so fussy and unapproachable. But then maybe I'd hear her make a funny comment or, better, laugh at one of my jokes that she overheard. And then I'd think: maybe that Mandy is ok. And then we'd be stuck in some situation together, possibly a situation that lasts only seconds, and I would completely change my conception of her. Then maybe I'd start a personal campaign to have a friendship with her and this friendship would be satisfying and comforting because she would let me talk about my insane workouts without letting on that it really bored her.

If this bread were a movie, what would the sequel be?

Cinnamon sugar, even though that would make it monkeybread or maybe just a vertical cinnamon roll.

Or, you know what, I'd make some garlic bread with this method. Using not-sweet dough and, instead of lemony-sugary spread, a mix of butter, garlic, parsley, and salt.

Leek tarragon soup

2010-01-25T14:43:00.001-08:00

Sooooo, it's been a little while since my last post. Time=flying. I've been cooking and eating, just not terribly inventive things. But, this week there was the perfect combination of cold outside and ingredients in my refrigerator to make this fantastic soup. It came together easily (you don't even need to have BROTH around!) and it's thick and delicious—and I only wish I had taken the time to make some croutons for it.

Leeks and tarragon! They're so good for each other!

And lest you think that I haven't been thinking about cooking for a good portion of every day, check out these photo essays of Mast Brothers Chocolate and Il Buco at The Selby. I love the questionnaire at the end. Why don't you ever send me handwritten questionnaires with strange questions, Katie?

Leek tarragon soup

6 small leeks, sliced, using only the white and light green parts
herby bouillon—I use the Maggi brand, but I get it from Belgium.
water
1-2 tsp. fresh tarragon, chopped
splash of vinegar, tarragon-infused, if you have it. Or: white.
salt and pepper to taste

In a large pot, on medium-high heat, melt about a tablespoon of butter with a splash of olive oil. The olive oil helps keep the butter from burning. Add the leeks. Cover, reduce heat to medium, stir every once in a while, until leeks are tender, about 10 minutes.

Add water with bouillon to cover. Or, just add broth to cover. Simmer 10-15 minutes.

Puree about half of the soup and leave the other half full of leek chunks. Or, if you are chunk-adverse, puree it all.

Add the fresh tarragon, a splash of the vinegar, salt, and pepper. I used white pepper so that flecks wouldn't show up—but I've only been this picky about white v. black pepper since I actually owned a bottle of white pepper.

Beet Chips

2010-01-16T12:43:00.000-08:00

If I'm being honest, I can't in say that I was particularly distraught at the news of the demise of Gourmet magazine. I think I am usually somewhat nostalgic or saddened by at the news of an end of an era or institution (except, of course, evil empires) and such was the case with the ceasing of publication of Gourmet, but other than that it didn't hit me hard in a personal way. I just didn't use the magazine that much -- I found it to be overly fancy. The list of ingredients seemed excessive (in terms of caloric count and upscale quality) not to mention wayyyy out of my price range. I've said it before -- I'm all about attention to detail, but finickyness without purpose sometimes annoys me.

But I was excited to receive the Gourmet cookbook -- in part because I'm always excited to receive cookbooks, but also because it seemed important to have a memento of the magazine. It turns out, surprise surprise, that there is some really fantastic stuff in there. This recipe for beet chips with curry dip is an example of sheer awesomeness -- easy to make, reasonably healthy, and so so good. The chips and dip are lovely together -- possibly the perfect snack food. Only made more perfect by enjoying them during an Arizona basketball game.

Still, they couldn't resist the urge to be fancy, suggesting that the chips be served with a dollop of the dip placed in the center and I tried this out for the sake of experimentation. Gourmet-style:

It's pretty -- but extra time and effort was not really worth it in my opinion. They are just as good Katie-style (i.e. dumped into a bowl):

One other great thing about Gourmet is the availability of recipes online through epicurious.com. Here's the link to there beet chips with dip. The only change I made was to sub lowfat greek yogurt for the sour cream, a change that I strongly suggest.

2K1R: Puebla Chicken Stew

2010-01-14T19:26:00.001-08:00

Two Kitchens, One Recipe! Sorry it's taken me so long to post my response, but this week has been busy! The most momentous event: my last first day of school ever. Don't quote me on that but, if I mention going to school again in my life, remind me that I said it. Unless it's culinary school.

Sooooo, this stew. I loved it. Big time. Mine was soupier than yours because I used all the broth the chicken made, and also a big 28-ounce can of tomatoes, rather than the 15-ounce one the recipe calls for. And you probably just liked mine better because you didn't have to make it, kind of like when you could make yourself an excellent sandwich or have someone else make you a more mediocre one and they would end up being at the same level of goodness. Your quesadilla made me jealous, though. I believe you when you say it was the best ever.

I kind of forgot to take pictures of the finished soup. I'm going to blame it on the fabulous company I had with me, rather than the fabulous cocktails we were drinking (props to your orange vodka, LFW! Mixed with simple syrup and lemon Perrier, a complete success). So this is what you get because I also really liked this browning of the onions on a dry griddle and the garlic cloves with the skin still on.

On to your questions:

Did this live up to your expectations?
Yes and yes. But I don't expect to come up with Cafe Poca Cosa or Mexican street food when I gear up to cook Mexican and this is perhaps what saved me. I guess I didn't really have many expectations since I was just making the recipe you told me to, without coming up with any aspirations. This may mean that I should make my cooking more mindful, or at least when making recipes that I don't choose for myself.

Would you make this recipe again?
Yes. I really liked it. I also think it would freeze well. And I like having soup around because it gives me a really good excuse to eat some buttered, toasted bolillos. It was, though, rather fussy with all the pots and pans the recipe thought it needed. And then I managed to make it a little fussier by browning the chicken skin before adding the water.

Also, I mostly avoided the layer of fat on top by skimming the fat off the chicken broth before adding it to the chipotle puree and, then, by letting the soup sit in the refrigerator overnight. The fat congealed on top and I was able to take some of it off.

How would you change this if you were going to make it again?
I would just use chicken stock rather than making it—maybe I'd have some homemade stock sitting in my freezer? So then I'd make that chipotle puree first, add it to the chorizo, but I would do it in a big pot. Then I'd add my stock and use chicken breast, skinless, cooking it in the broth and shredding it when it was cooked. This would cut down on the fussiness and the amount of dishes used.

What was your favorite part of making this recipe?
Feeding it to these knuckleheads:

Least favorite?
Definitely the pots and pans. I don't understand why you like cutting chipotles so much. I always end up coming close to touching my eyes after I've cut them and then having my eyes sting and burn for a little while.

Did you mess up any part of this recipe?
No! Also surprising. Maybe we're better at cooking than desserting?

If you were going to serve this to one of your friends, who would you choose?
Well, you, clearly, and these proud members of the clean plate club:

Two Kitchens, One Recipe: Puebla Chicken and Potato Stew

2010-01-10T12:36:00.001-08:00

First of all -- congratulations to us on surpassing the 100 post mark. Mariana -- it's been so much fun for me to do this with you and I'm impressed with the creativity, skill and humor you've brought to this blog.

Anyway, it's time for another (long overdue) round of Two Kitchens, One Recipe. While Mariana is well aware of my culpability in the tardiness of this project, I'm sure it's not a surprise to anyone else that it is entirely my fault that this version is not only one, but two months past our monthly goal. Not that anyone has been waiting with anticipation, I just want to accept full responsibility and use that background to explain that I tried to pick out something fantastic to somewhat compensate for the delay.

With my desire to find a dazzling recipe and knowing that we both like Mexican food I chose Puebla Chicken and Potato Stew. This recipe stood out because of it's spiciness and use of potatoes, chicken and...chorizo! Needless to say, I had high expectations.

There is a bit of a twist to this version of 2K1R. I'm spending some time in Tucson working on my thesis which means, awesomely, that I had the opportunity to sample Mariana's version of this dish (as well as the tasty blue cheese ice cream -- yay!). Since I was able to sample both of our versions, I can say this-- they were very similar. The one difference being consistency -- mine was thicker and Mariana's was more soup-like. Eating Mariana's dish was such a treat for me and I liked the soupy-ness a lot -- I think the broth was one of the better aspects of this recipe so it makes sense to have more of it to enjoy. Here's my stew:

There was one benefit to the thicker consistency. The day after preparing the stew, I scooped out the potatoes and heated the chicken and chorizo in a bit of the sauce on a tortilla with cheese. This turned into the greatest quesadilla I have ever created:

A-mazing.

Though I found the recipe for the stew in the Gourmet cookbook I received for Christmas (thanks Helen!), it's also conveniently online, so I just included the link here. Check it out. Here's the thing -- while I'd say this was a solid recipe, I'm not sure it was exactly what I had hoped for -- Mariana, I'm curious to hear your opinion. Here are some questions that I would have asked you if we had the opportunity to have a more hardcore, blogger-nerdy discussion about the recipe:

Did this live up to your expectations?

For me, not so much. I'm starting to realize that anytime I make Mexican food, I secretly hope it will live up to meals I've had at Cafe Poca Cosa (a restaurant in Tucson) or perhaps good street food. Sadly, this never happens. This might mean that my expectations are too high.

Would you make this recipe again?

I'm on the fence about this, but probably not. Though the quesadilla was awesome and I LOVE Mexican food, it turns out I might not love (or even really like) making Mexican food. I'm not sure if I'm discouraged by the fact that my versions are never as tasty or complex as those made by a seasoned Mexican food cook or if I'm just put off by the labor intensive aspect involved in preparing a good deal of Mexican food. I wouldn't put this dish in the super labor intensive category (I was able to throw it together in a couple of hours), but I did use what seemed like overkill in terms of pots and pans. Also, though our versions were quite similar, I enjoyed eating yours more.

How would you change this if you were going to make it again?

I hesitate to say this because chorizo is so delicious and an undeniable crowd-pleaser, but I think I'd omit the chorizo -- perhaps using a couple of beef bouillon cubes instead. As delicious and crowd-pleasing as it is, the chorizo also left an unappetizing layer of fat over the stew.

What was your favorite part of making this recipe?
Chopping up the chipotle peppers. I love the brick red color and smell of these peppers!

Least favorite?

Cleaning up all the pots and pans.

Did you mess up any parts of this recipe?

Surprisingly, no -- at least not that I'm aware of. I did use regular oregano instead of Mexican oregano.

If you were going to serve this to one of your friends, who would you choose?

Obviously you -- and then we could really compare notes! But mostly I would just want to make you one of those quesadillas.

Blue cheese & honey ice cream

2010-01-08T08:00:00.000-08:00

OMG PROPS TO US: THIS IS POST #100!

Katie: it's a pleasure being your co-blogger, in addition to your friend. I love seeing the things you cook, and learning about the way you think about food and cooking. I'm so glad we do this together.

For Christmas, which seems like long ago, I gave my friend Tim a list—what a gift! On the list were four choices of ice cream flavors that Tim could choose from: wonderful, magical choices like roasted cinnamon, salted caramel, pineapple ginger sorbet. The fourth choice, roquefort and honey ice cream, was interpreted by Tim as a dare and, not being one to back down from a challenge, especially a challenge to his eating skills, that is what he chose. So here I am, with an admittedly weird ice cream combination of blue cheese and honey that looks like a regular ice cream.

I thought it would be nice to share my utter defeat in the first round of making the ice cream when, while stirring the milk and egg yolks over medium heat, the custard completely curdled, leaving me with this:

If that happens to you, it means: start over. (Full disclosure: I was feeling like a custard-making hotshot and was over mostly-high heat instead of medium. Lesson = learned.)

What does this thing taste like? Well, it's creamy, for one. And it made me want to think about the idea of savory ice creams and custards more—like a mustard ice cream I had over a salad this summer. I think the trick is to not think of the ice cream as a dish in itself and, instead, to think of it as more of an accompaniment. This specific combo may be a bit much because it is, after all, blue cheese, and that's not a subtle thing, but I'm going to make some of those poached pears from last week and hope that, together, they will be a success. Otherwise, it might be great on top of a cracker that has a nice piece of salami or other cured meat on it.

Blue cheese and honey ice cream
Adapted from the Fantastic Mr. Lebovitz

2 c. whole milk
4 egg yolks, whisked together
4 oz. blue cheese
6 tbsp honey, warmed
fresh ground pepper

In a pot, warm the milk up—not to boiling. Add 1/4 cup of the warm milk to the egg yolks. Then, pour the egg yolks into the pot full of milk, while stirring.

Over medium heat, stir yolks and milk constantly until it coats the back of a spoon.

Put the blue cheese, crumbled, into a bowl. Pour warm milk/yolk through a sieve into this bowl. Stir the cheese-milk mixture until the cheese is mostly melted. Stir in honey, add a few grinds of fresh pepper. Chill in the refrigerator overnight.

Ice cream make it!

Oven-roasted Tomatoes

2010-01-05T09:12:00.001-08:00

Some people are pretty enchanted by sun-dried tomatoes, and I'm not one of those people. They're just so insistent, drowning out everything around them. So it surprised me that I liked these oven-roasted tomatoes because they taste like...sun-dried tomatoes, lite.

You know what I really like about them, though? First, winter tomatoes are generally pretty suspicious—they look so much like a regular tomato on the outside and are nothing but mealy grossness on the inside. This sucks all the moisture out of them, leaving only distilled tomato goodness. Second, I really like the seasoning that gets sprinkled on top. I kind of want to put it on popcorn and, if I do end up doing that, which is very likely given my semi-secret popcorn addiction, I'll tell you how it went.

Oven-roasted tomatoes
Adapted from the Joy of Cooking

10-12 cherry tomatoes—or whatever kind you have
1 tsp. each of salt, ground pepper, and powdered sugar
a fresh herb, like thyme, basil, oregano, parsley
olive oil for drizzling

Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. Aluminum foil, greased, might work too.

Put your oven to 250º. Clear your schedule for 2 hours, unless you scheduled being at home.

Slice your tomatoes and lay them out on the lined baking sheet.

Combine the salt, pepper, and powdered sugar. Sprinkle over tomatoes. Then sprinkle the herb over it. Then drizzle with olive oil.

Bake 2 hours.

Macarons with Coffee Buttercream

2010-01-03T08:48:00.001-08:00

Let me start off by saying that I made a ridiculous cake for Christmas—a three-layer genoise cake, brushed with homemade Kahlua syrup, layered with coffee buttercream, covered in chocolate ganache, decorated with silver sprinkles and a winter scene—but that there will never be any proof of this cake because I got a new camera (thanks, Mom!), didn't take the time to learn about the photo program that came with the camera, and successfully deleted all the evidence from both my computer and camera.

But I had a lot of leftover coffee buttercream and egg whites and have the macarons to prove it:

I'm starting to feel pretty confident with macarons by now and may even invest in some bona fide almond flour rather than the almond meal I've been using that puts all those flecks in the cookies. Or I might just leave well-enough alone, because I don't really care about the flecks, but I do kind of care about the $10 difference between almond meal and almond flour—and I'm not going to go around trying to make my own almond flour again.

The buttercream was the best part of the cake anyway, from the fabulous BakeWise cookbook by Shirley O. Corriher, that tells you not only how to make recipes work, but why they work as well, and does it all in a very non-annoying, not-condescending or boring way. The book could stand to have tons more photos, though.

Coffee Buttercream
Adapted from BakeWise
Makes: a ton of buttercream, enough to frost a cake and probably a bit more

1/2 c. coffee, very roughly ground
1 3/4 c. whole milk
1/4 c. and 1 3/4 c. white sugar
8 large egg yolks
3 c. unsalted butter, softened

In a medium pot, bring the milk and coffee to a boil over medium-high heat. Cover, turn off heat, let steep 10 minutes. Strain and return to pot.

Add 1/4 c. sugar to coffee-infused milk. Heat on medium until sugar is dissolved.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and 1 3/4 c. sugar. Whisk in 1/4 c. of the coffee-milk-sugar mixture, which is still hot.

Pour the egg yolk mixture—that is now a bit warm from the hot milk mixture you just added—slowly into the pot full of the hot milk mixture—SLOWLY, stirring CONSTANTLY because you don't want to curdle your egg yolks. Once it has all been added, turn heat to low, stirring constantly, and eventually the mixture will begin to thicken. If you get impatient, turn heat to medium and stir even more constantly, getting the edges and center of the pot.

Once the mixture can thickly coat the back of a spoon and be called a custard, strain it into a cold bowl, stainless steel if you have it. If you're in a hurry, you can put this bowl in a bigger bowl full of ice cubes and water to cool it down faster.

Once the custard is cool, you can confront those 6 sticks of butter that you have out. Put them in a large bowl and beat it until it's light and fluffy. Add the cooled custard slowly, beating it until it's light and creamy.

Use the buttercream immediately or put it in the fridge. Before using, whip it again and it will regain all fluffiness. This also freezes well.

Poached Pears

2010-01-02T12:01:00.000-08:00

Did you know I'd never poached a pear before? I'm also not entirely sure I'd ever eaten a poached pear, but it turns out I love them. Flavorful, fancy-seeming (I love easy, fancy-seeming desserts!), and light -- they are the perfect alternative to heavier holiday desserts. And versatile -- you can serve them with whipped cream and pomegranate seeds like I did or chocolate or cake or gingerbread. Mariana -- you and my father might enjoy them with a splash of tequila. Or by just themselves. It's not exactly that I'm trying to convince you to make these, it's just I think your life might be a little happier if you did. Just in case you do make these delicious morsels, I've included the recipe -- with wine, lemon, and vanilla -- that I used below.

Poached Pears

Adapted from Chez Panisse Fruit

Ingredients

1 bottle (or 3 cups) Riesling
1 1/2 cups water
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla (or, if you have vanilla beans 2 (I'd guess) beans, split lengthwise
Zest and juice of 1 large lemon
6 firm pears, peeled pears (the original recipe called for "not quite ripe Bosc pears" -- I used ripe d' Anjou pears which worked well, but I'd say use at your own risk)

Pour the liquids (water and wine) and sugar into a saucepan. The trick is getting a saucepan in which you nestle the pears into so they won't float around too much during the poaching (mine was a little large however and it worked out ok). Dissolve the sugar over medium heat and add the lemon zest and juice as well as the vanilla.

Snuggle the already peeled pears into the pan. One of the best tips in the original recipe is to cover the pears with a plate and circle of parchment to keep them covered with the poaching liquid. Bring the liquid to a rolling boil (I like to peak under the parchment paper to make sure) then reduce the heat to low, trying to maintain the liquid at a simmer. After about 45 minutes or so, the pears should be done. Again, the original recipe suggested testing their doneness with a paring knife that easily slides easily in and out of the pear flesh.

Cool the pears in the poaching liquid then scoop them out and set aside (they can be served warm or chilled). Return the saucepan (with the liquid still in it) to the stove top and reduce over medium heat (the sauce should be thick, but not quite as thick as real maple syrup -- at least I couldn't get mine any thicker). To serve, drizzle this syrup over the pears or just dip the whole pears in the sauce. Add any other accompaniments, like whipped cream at your discretion.

P.S. Has anyone ever noticed how pomegranate seeds resemble kernels of corn?

Butternut Squash Lasagne

2009-12-31T20:42:00.000-08:00

Mariana -- when you say we could be better bloggers, I'm assuming you're mostly talking about me as I've been a terrible, horrible blogger -- even though I checked and this isn't actually my ONLY post in December, despite your claim. But I know I'm in no position to be defending my blogging -- I should be aspiring to higher things or rather higher number of posts. I'm hoping this will change in the upcoming weeks and am optimistic about this for a couple of reasons -- I've not only finished my classes AND internship, but am excited about my new camera (!) and even more excited about putting it to use with all the recipes I've been storing up in the past couple of months.

It's not exactly that I haven't been cooking, but most of the stuff I've made has either been non-blog worthy or a pure mistake. Like the first time I made this lasagne (for a potluck, of course. Whoops). I guess that's what I get when I try to improvise a recipe. The second time I corrected most of the initial mistakes -- mostly an overwhelming and unprecedented, at least in my lasagne making experience, dryness. This version, however, is rich and delicious though it's the kind of thing I only make for a special occasion, blog post or potluck when I knew I wouldn't have leftovers enticing me in the fridge. But even my mostly meat-eating, guest post writing, non-butternut squash liking brother claimed to it enjoy it, which as far as I'm concerned is a pretty big endorsement.

Butternut Squash Lasagne

This recipe is tasty as-is, but it's also worth experimenting with to tweak it just to your liking. For example, I'll probably lighten the bechamel sauce the next time around.

Ingredients

Caramelized Onions

1 tablespoon butter
3 large white or yellow onions, sliced in 1/4 inch rings
Salt and Pepper to taste
A circle of parchment paper cut to fit over the skillet you use for cooking the onions.

Butternut Squash Filling

2 pounds butternut squash
5 ounces goat cheese
Salt and pepper to taste

Bechamel Sauce

1/4 cup unsalted butter
2 shallots, minced
1/4 cup flour
1 1/2 cups non-fat milk
1 1/2 cups cream
1/8 tsp or more freshly grated nutmeg
The zest of 1 lemon
Salt and pepper to taste (you can use white pepper if you are fussy about the color of your bechamel sauce).

1 package lasagne noodles (1 pound)

Preparation

Caramelized Onions

Over medium heat, melt the butter for the onions in a large skillet. Once the butter is melted, add the sliced onions and stir to make sure they are coated in the butter. Add salt and pepper. Place the circle of parchment paper over the onions, reduce the heat to low (or medium-low if your oven doesn't run as hot as my mom's). Cook, stirring occasionally till they are caramelized and delicious -- this takes about an hour. I suggest getting started on the other components while the onions are cooking.

Butternut Squash Filling

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Slice the butternut squash(s) in half, remove seeds, and brush with olive oil. Place the squash halves on a baking sheet and bake until a butter knife is easily inserted into the flesh. This took me about 30 minutes, but cooking time varies depending on the size of the squashes -- check frequently to avoid overcooking. Remove from oven and let cool until you are able to handle them without burning yourself. Scoop out the squash and place in a medium bowl. Once you have removed all the squash, add the goat cheese and mash (with a fork or potato masher) until there are no lumps. Season with salt and pepper to taste and set aside.

Bechamel Sauce

Melt the butter in a medium sauce pan over medium-low heat, being careful not to burn it. Toss in the finely chopped shallots and cook, stirring frequently, until soft and translucent -- depending on the heat of your stove top this should take between 5-7 minutes (again, if you are concerned about maintaining a pure white color of the bechamel sauce take care not to brown the shallots. I'm not fussy about this sort of thing). Add the flour and cook for 3 minutes, stirring continuously -- I've heard this step is important to get rid of any flour-y flavor. Carefully add the milk and cream, whisking to combine with the flour mixture. Keep your eye on the temperature at this point -- the goal is to maintain the mixture at a simmer -- adjust between medium and low as necessary. Whisk very frequently until the sauce thickens, about 10 minutes. Set aside.

Put on a large pot filled with salted water for the pasta and bring to a boil. Cook the pasta according to the directions on the package.

Once the pasta has been cooked and drained, you can start assembling the dish. Lightly oil the bottom of a 9 x 13 lasagne dish. Place a layer of noodles, followed by an even layer of about about 1/3 of the bechamel sauce, 1/2 of the squash mixture and 1/2 of the onion mixture. Add another layer of noodles -- again topped with 1/3 of the bechamel sauce and the remaining squash and onions. Add one final noodle layer and top with the remaining bechamel sauce. If you'd like, sprinkle with a touch of remaining goat cheese or mozzarella you have lying around. Bake for 45 minutes at 350 degrees, removing the foil in the last 15 minutes. Let cool slightly (about 10 minutes or more) before serving.

Halfway Cookies

2009-12-14T12:18:00.000-08:00

We could be better at the blogging, but it was the end of the semester and then recovering from the end of the semester, right? I've mainly been eating a lot of apples, raw, and squash, roasted. It doesn't make for the most interesting posts. But wait, just you wait, until I post what I'm making for Christmas dinner—one of the things we're waiting for me is to decide.

One of the things that forced me to make something that wasn't a cut-up apple or roasted squash was a cookie exchange that I went to in the beginning of December. There were a lot of things to consider: I wanted a cookie that was special in the face of tons of other cookies, but didn't want to spend a lot of time on it. And the speculaas recipe I made didn't make quite as many cookies as I thought it would. And I had seen this thing around:

You like that? It's a pretty indecisive cookie, wanting all the classicness of a chocolate chip cookie but with the flash and bling of a layered something. You separate the eggs and the yolks go in the bottom while the whites go on top and the end result is a kind of a deconstructed chocolate chip cookie: all the butteryness of a cookie, then a chocolate chip layer (which could stand to melt a touch more), and then the fluffy goo of sugary egg whites. Or, it might just be twice as much work to make a cookie that tastes like a chocolate chip cookie but feels different in your mouth.

Halfway Cookies
adapted from various interweb sites

2 c. white flour
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 c. butter, at room temperature
1/2 c. white sugar
1/2 c. + 3/4 c. brown sugar (one part goes to the yolks, the other to the whites)
2 eggs, separated, at room temperature
1 tbsp. water
1 tsp vanilla
12 oz. chocolate chips

Set your oven to 350º. Grease one of those 9" x 11" baking pans.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, salt, baking soda, and baking powder.

In a large bowl, beat together the butter, sugar, and 1/2 c. brown sugar until it's fluffy. Then add the yolks, water, and vanilla and mix until smooth. Now add the flour and mix until it's fully incorporated.

Spread this bottom mixture into the pan, make it flat. Then sprinkle the chocolate chips on top, pressing them slightly into the dough.

Now for the whites: in a clean, dry bowl, beat then with the 3/4 c. brown sugar until soft peaks form. Spread this on top of the dough/chocolate mixture.

Some recipes will tell you to spread WAX paper on top. What they mean to say, however, is use wax paper if you would like your house to smell like burned wax paper. If that's what you like, I'm not going to judge, but I suggest using parchment paper. Just lay a piece on top of the whole deal and this will sort of flatten out the whites and, more importantly, keep them from burning.

Bake 20-25 minutes. Remove from oven, peel off the paper, and you'll get this:

So unassuming from the outside. At first, I thought this was too sweet from me—which, maybe it was, and I've reduced the sugar slightly here. But I was a little sad that I gave away my own cookie from my own cookie exchange bag, especially since I gave it to my friend Chloe who had the exact same cookie in her bag. And a little sad that I promised the leftovers to my sick friend Tim, who could not make it to the cookie exchange. It turns out, though, that Tim's illness survived longer in his body than his cookies did in my house...sorry, Tim! I don't think you read my blog anyway and hopefully your handsome partner won't tell you this story!

Speculaas

2009-12-12T17:09:00.000-08:00

Katie, I apologize if it's tiring how much I reference being Belgian. But, what can I do? I'm on pretty good terms with my Belgianness. I think this is mostly because I like my family, but you know what doesn't hurt? All the fantastic food I get to eat in Belgium. And, happily, some food can leave Belgium and end up in my very own kitchen, on a shelf, in a cardboard box labeled "Belgian Loot."

I am not very good at sharing things from this box but, sometimes, I am good at sharing my speculaas. (pronounced: spek-you-lahs) Speculaas is a fantastic, gingerbreadesque spice cookie that is always around, but especially around on December 6 because that is Saint Nicholas Day and kids get presents and there are big cookies shaped like Saint Nick. Saint Nick comes around with his sidekick, Black Peter (for reals), and maybe puts stuff in your shoes? Or are those the Three Kings on January 6? I'm not entirely clear on the details because I'm not that Belgian. Or Catholic. What I do know: those Saint Nick cookies get BIG. Like, one yard big. Maybe even bigger. No lie.

Here is my favorite brand of speculaas which, as you can see, can also be spelled speculoos. This brand, Lotus, also makes a spread that is speculaas-flavored. It is astonishingly good. If you go to Belgium, eat it. Bakeries also make their own versions of speculaas.

Anyway, enough with the cultural education. You're no dummy, you know it was December 6 just last week, and I bet you can guess what I did.

Speculaas
Based on Martha Stewart's recipe

3 c. white flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp white pepper
12 tbsp butter, at room temperature
1 c. brown sugar
1/3 c. milk or water

In a medium bowl, combine flour, baking soda, salt, and all the spices. This will smell spectacular. Smell it!

In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar together on medium speed, about 2 minutes.

On low speed, add 1/2 of the dry ingredients to the butter/sugar mixture. Mix until combined, then add the milk/water. Mix until combined, add the rest of the dry ingredients.

Form the dough into 2 disks, wrap them in plastic, chill for a few hours, or overnight.

Put your oven to 350º and line your cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Get out your speculaas forms:

What? You don't have any? No problem. Just roll out the dough to 1/4" and use cookie cutters or a knife. Honestly, I was pretty excited about the forms because I hadn't used mine yet. I was unimpressed by my ability to get a good cookie out of them, especially with the slightly enormous Saint Nick form.

Bake 15-20 minutes.

I was kind of disappointed with this dough because it smelled so spicy when it was raw, yet tasted much less spicy when cooked. I'm also disappointed that they got so puffy during baking. You can hardly tell that those cookies are windmill and ship-shaped! I think it's the baking soda's fault.

Bacon Balsamic Braised Brussels Sprouts

2009-12-10T11:30:00.000-08:00

As my favorite at-home personal fitness guru* Tony Horton would say, man oh Manischewitz. These sprouts will be the end of you wanting to eat anything else. Really. I've made them twice this week already—and I'm in the middle of finals, I don't really have the time to make anything, especially a braise.

You know how there are some things that you enjoy now, as a grown up, that you couldn't imagine enjoying when you were a kid? Like: long conversations and long drives—simultaneously, or not. Or: documentaries. Museums with old things in them. Concerts where the musicians are sitting down and the audience doesn't dance. Yet, now, as bona fide adults, these things are enjoyable, maybe even so enjoyable that they are some of our favorite things. Unthinkable, yet entirely true.

Had I encountered these brussels sprouts in my youth,** I most likely wouldn't have touched them. But now I can't get enough. Want to know why? Because they have everything: the slightly bitter taste of the sprouts, the crusty texture of the breadcrumbs, bacon, the vinegariness of the vinegar. I used smoked bacon and, combined with the balsamic, there is a definite resemblance to barbecue sauce—but even if you're one of those people that doesn't like barbecue sauce, you're going to like this. It makes your house smell good, it satisfies the winter need to eat something hearty, it makes you feel good about eating a vegetable, it makes you feel good about eating bacon.

I link back to Smitten Kitchen so much here that it feels ridiculous, but guess where the recipe came from? Yes.

My changes to the recipe were these:

Panko instead of regular breadcrumbs. I think it gives more exciting texture.
Bacon instead of pancetta, for budgetary reasons. Tucsonans: 17th Street Market sells ends of uncured, applewood smoked bacon for cheap. Since it's not in slices, it keeps you from just eating a lot of bacon straight, but since you have it in your kitchen you end up cooking a lot with bacon.
The second time I made it I added a few tablespoons of...anchovies! The result was subtle, but more saltiness.

Look at how excited my polar bear potholder is about these sprouts! Also surprised about their deliciousness! You should be too!

*Not kidding.
**I actually encountered no brussels sprouts in my youth despite the, you know, Belgianness. Also unthinkable, yet entirely true.

White Bean and Chicken Soup with Salsa Verde

2009-12-05T19:43:00.000-08:00

Mariana -- you and I have recently had some chats about complaining. In order to recap for those who haven't been privy to our conversations, complaining isn't good. But we do it anyway, even (perhaps especially) when we are trying to restrain ourselves. And we might even enjoy it -- correct me if I'm inadvertently misrepresenting our conversations. My personal, possibly all-time favorite, subject to complain about is the weather, specifically the cold weather. Having grown up in Arizona that means anything below 60 degrees. Truthfully, weather is one of the worst topics to complain about though, it is cliched and most of all boring -- if you are going to complain, I suppose it should be about something fun and gossipy.

What does any of this have to do with food? Not a lot, except this soup with chicken and white beans makes the cold weather just a little bit better and makes me want to complain just a little less. It's easy, spicy, and delicious. AND despite using pre-made ingredients (i.e. salsa verde and chicken broth) it tastes fresh. In my opinion what elevates this to delicious as opposed to plain tasty are the toppings -- jalapeno, cilantro, avocado slices, a splash of lime juice and some plain yogurt -- all contribute to the "freshness" and complexity of the soup. Though this soup is more "southwestern-style" than Mexican, it reminds me of a friend I had while living in Mexico. This friend claimed that Mexican cooking is all about the "accessories" -- the sauces, toppings, and other little additions. And while I'm not prepared to stand behind this statement 100%, it is certainly true for this soup that the accessories make it awesome.

White Bean and Chicken Soup with Salsa Verde

I adapted this recipe from one of my mom's and I encourage you to fiddle around with it as well -- for example, onions and radishes would also make lovely toppings.

Ingredients

Soup

1 medium onion, chopped
1 12-oz jar of salsa verde
3 cups cooked chicken pieces
1, 15-0z can of cannellini beans, drained
3 cups chicken broth
1 tsp ground cumin
1/4 cup cilantro

Garnish

sliced avocado
plain yogurt
jalapeno, finely chopped
cilantro, finely chopped
1 lime

Saute the chopped onion in a large sauce pan until translucent. Add the salsa verde and cook 2 minutes over medium heat. Next add the broth, chicken, beans and cumin. Bring to boil, then simmer for ten minutes, stirring occasionally. About 2 minutes before removing the soup from the heat, add the cilantro. Remove from heat and serve, garnishing each bowl individually to your personal taste.

Cranberry vanilla sorbet

2009-12-04T10:23:00.000-08:00

I think everybody loves to eat pie, but not everybody can eat pie, and that's a tragedy, especially on Thanksgiving. Somebody like that came to our Thanksgiving—no wheat, no dairy—and I wasn't even considering making some sort of no-butter, rice flour pie crust (is such a thing possible?), and so I made this beautiful cranberry vanilla sorbet, which I found here.

But! It gets better! Not only was the dessert food allergy-friendly, it was also chemist-friendly! Yes! As you know, as do others, my mother is a chemist and, of the total of 12 people that came to Thanksgiving, she invited not one, but two, chemists. Yes! One quarter of our Thanksgiving crowd were chemists! Nerd alert! And most of the rest of the crowd was under 32 and not-chemists. How to bridge the gap? I know!: Let the chemists show off a bit and marvel at something that seems magical to a regular person. Enter: invert sugar.

That's what it looks like and you make it. It's like having your very own personal Mr. Wizard show in your kitchen. What does it do? It makes your sorbet smooth and creamy and it will never freeze super-hard and will always be scoopable—it makes your sorbet blow its own mind.

But what is it, really? We had several explanations about it over the course of our dinner, one read verbatim from a textbook, and this is what my mother neatly summarizes for our blogging pleasure:

Table sugar is sucrose, which is a disaccharide composed of glucose and fructose. When sucrose is heated in water in slightly acidic conditions (tartaric acid), it splits into the glucose and fructose molecules. The mixture does not crystallize as easily. The name "invert" comes from the fact that sucrose rotates polarized light at a positive angle (α = 66º), while the mixture of glucose and fructose rotates it at a negative angle (α = -22º).

Got it? Ready for a test about that? The part I understand is "The mixture does not crystallize as easily." Truest fact ever.

Invert sugar —so scientific, so super-easy

1 1/2 c. water
1 1/2 c. white sugar
1/4 tsp. cream of tartar (this is the acid that will rock the sugar molecule's world)

Simmer all these things together for 30 minutes, then let cool.

Cranberry vanilla sorbet with invert sugar

12 oz. fresh cranberries
1 batch invert sugar
1 c. water
1/2 tsp. salt
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise with seeds scraped out
1/4 c. lemon juice

In a heavy pot over medium heat, bring the berries, water, invert sugar, salt, vanilla bean seeds, and vanilla bean to a boil.

Reduce to low heat, simmer until all the berries pop, about 10 minutes. Stir occasionally.

Remove the vanilla bean. Puree the mixture. Strain and stir in lemon juice. Chill for a few hours, or overnight.

Put it in your ice cream maker! Ice cream make it!

The sorbet is nice because it's tart like cranberries, but very mellowed out by the vanilla and not too sweet. And the invert sugar—I don't think I need to say anything more about it.

Sweet potato gnocchi

2009-11-28T10:23:00.000-08:00

So, one of the secrets that I accidentally end up telling more people than I'd like (case in point) is that I subscribe to, and read, Gwyneth Paltrow's newsletter, GOOP. The thing about GOOP is that the title always seems to be yelling at you: GOOP. DO. GET. BE. (I am!) MAKE. Most of the time it makes me wish Gwyneth Paltrow would stop yelling at me.

I don't always read GOOP closely and I hardly ever take GOOP seriously, but this year's Thanksgiving newsletter was full of things that regular humans can do. For example, I sent the slow-roasted turkey recipe to my mother who wanted a spatchcocked turkey but has, in the past, spatchcocked a turkey herself, didn't want to do it again, but then the grocery store where she bought this year's turkey didn't want to do it either. For myself, I found the Sweet Potato Gnocchi recipe and this coincided with a desire to make gnocchi that I've been having for a few months. And so began my adventure.

The original recipe is available here. You would think I would think that I was being silly enough by just following a GOOP recipe, but I made myself even sillier and didn't quite follow the quantities. So my version makes a ridiculous amount of gnocchi, as you will see.

I'd recommend taking some breaks in between stages. Otherwise you might go crazy. I also recommend being in a mood to spend a LOT of time doing this.

Sweet potato gnocchi
Adapted from GOOP MAKE

4 large sweet potatoes—not yams
2-4 tbsp olive oil
2 tsp red pepper flakes
2 tsp oregano
2 large baking potatoes
2 eggs, beaten
3-4 c. white flour, and then more
2-4 tsp. salt

Stage 1: Potato-cooking

Put your oven at 375º. Peel the sweet potatoes and then cut into 1-inch chunks. Toss with olive oil, pepper flakes, and oregano. Put in a baking dish, cover with aluminum foil, and roast for 20-30 minutes, until they're soft.

Boil the baking potatoes in a large pot until soft, 30-40 minutes.

Stage 2: Dough-making

Peel the baking potatoes and cut into chunks.

Puree the potatoes together. This can be done with a food mill, which I don't have, or a food processor, which I do. Be serious about not having chunks and really pureeing to smoothness because chunks ruin the shape of the gnocchi and make the shaping process more difficult. Trust me, I made this mistake already.

Transfer puree to a very, very big bowl. This bowl cannot be too big. Stir in the beaten eggs.

Then, gradually add flour by the cupful. You'll start with a wooden spoon and this will get difficult, so you'll switch to your hands and here begins a giant mess.

I added flour until the dough became very thick and wouldn't let clumps of itself go easily. Such as, I would lift a wooden spoonful of the dough from the bowl and had to lift it rather high for the spoonful to disengage from the bowlful. It looked like this:

Step three: Gnocchi-making

Clear a large space on your counter and have a cookie sheet covered in flour next to you, ready for the shaped gnocchi. Have a dishtowel near too, to cover the gnocchi.

Put lots of flour on your counter and drop a spoonful of dough onto it. Roll into a log about 3/4" in diameter. Cut into 1" sections. It should look like this:

Adorable, right? The dough should be sticky, but then it gets covered by the flour and becomes surprisingly easy to roll into a log. If this isn't happening, you probably don't have the right amount of flour in your dough. It shouldn't be falling apart, and it should be dense when you cut it into the individual gnocchi. If you've made pasta before, it should seem more like the texture of that pasta than of a bunch of pureed potatoes.

Step four: Gnocchi-cooking

Bring a big pot of salted water to a boil. Drop gnocchi in, cook 4-5 minutes. They should float and not fall apart:

I was surprised when my gnocchi didn't disintegrate in the boiling water. If you're afraid of this happening to you—which maybe you should be? it seems like a reasonable fear—boil some gnocchi before you've finished making them all so that you can fix the dough if it needs some fixing.

Here's the set-up I had: two pots of water going, lots of gnocchi to boil:

And here's how much gnocchi it made:

And here's what happens when you boil gnocchi too long (i.e., longer than 5 minutes)—they start falling apart and then clump together:

But here are successful gnocchi!

The other thing about these, besides being gorgeous dumplings of goodness, is that they are, in fact, quite delicious. Because they're made with sweet potatoes and have seasonings in them, they're pretty flavorful. I would make them again, maybe in three years.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T17:54:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure about everyone else, but three hours post dinner I'm totally stuffed and borderline incapable of forming coherent sentences. It's possible I'm a bit delirious. AND I'm trying to convince myself to wake up for an early morning jog/walk (this might be the delirium). Ah, Thanksgiving.

I'm super curious about your Thanksgiving dinner -- what did you make? Do you have any special traditions? I usually try new things each year and this time around was no exception. I prepared tiny little stuffed pumpkins:

Yum. I got the recipe from here and basically followed the guidelines which call for blue cheese and bread and fresh nutmeg, though I added caramelized onions. I also made, per my mom's request, an apple cranberry pie from Cook's Illustrated:

The recipe for this pie, which involves distinct layers of apple and cranberry can be found here. Finally, I made some salt and vinegar mashed potatoes, this time around using goat cheese as the main dairy component.

I hope everyone had an awesome and delicious day. My brother also says Happy Thanksgiving:

(as he hones his autopsy skills)

Roasted garlic

2009-11-25T09:07:00.000-08:00

I love garlic big time, and roasted garlic a little bit more. It's great for so many reasons: it's easy! It makes you feel fancy! It makes your house smell delicious! You can make a lot all at once! It's so easy that there's not really anything to write about it—and yet it feels like there should be a lot because it's so fantastic. So, just make it. You'll be happy.

Roasted garlic

6-10 heads of garlic olive oil
fresh thyme—optional. Rosemary would be great too.
salt, pepper

Put your oven to 325º.

Cut off the tops of the heads of garlic and peel away any extra skin(s). Put them in a baking dish, drizzle each one with a little olive oil, sprinkle thyme, salt, and pepper over them.

Fill baking dish with water until it goes halfway up the dish. Cover with aluminum foil. Bake 1 hour, or more, until garlic is soft and squishy. Done and done.

Cinnamon sugar cookies

2009-11-23T10:11:00.000-08:00

I found this recipe in Cooking Light, back when I used to live with my parents. I tell you this to let you know that my love for this recipe is strong and incredibly true and has been going on for a looooong time. I love cinnamon sugar maybe more than any other flavor combination that is associated with dessert and I love the texture of these because they're crackly and crispy around the edges and chewy in the middle. And when I make them, I eat them all in a surprisingly short amount of time compared to how many cookies the recipe makes (it makes many). Sometimes I try to trick myself by putting some in the freezer—but they are also delicious straight out of the freezer, or quickly warmed up in the microwave. They are delicious dipped in coffee, they are fantastic by themselves, and especially right out of the oven.

The other thing is that if, by some crazy circumstance, you find yourself not wanting to eat cinnamon and sugar, these are also delicious, and slightly more sophisticated, slightly less Cinnamon Toast Crunch, with cardamom. Keep it in mind.

Are these snickerdoodles? Excellent question. I think snickerdoodle dough generally has cream of tartar in it and the finished cookie has a more uniform texture. But you could call them snickerdoodles and nobody would correct you, not even me.

Cinnamon sugar cookies

1 c. sugar
6 tbsp. butter, at room temperature
1 tbsp. light corn syrup
1 tsp. vanilla
1 egg
1 3/4 c. flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. cinnamon or cardamom
1/4 tsp. salt
cinnamon-sugar or cardamom-sugar mixture to coat the cookies

In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar together. Once that's fluffy and light in color, add the corn syrup, vanilla, and egg. Beat 3 minutes.

In a separate bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon/cardamom, and salt.

Add dry ingredients to butter ingredients. Mix until combined. Let chill 1 hour, or more.

After the hour, set oven to 375º.

Make small balls of cookie dough (small as if a quarter were a sphere instead of a disc), roll it in the cinnamon-sugar mixture, and put on greased baking sheet, like so:

Bake 10 minutes for chewy cookies, 12 minutes for less chewy.

Black bean soup

2009-11-20T08:48:00.001-08:00

I feel like you don't see bean soup very often around Tucson because all the beans are refried. And this is fine, I would never ever complain about refried beans, but sometimes soup is good too. The thing about making black bean soup, though, is that you toe the line of making refried beans so there's a point in the process where you could go either way: add some broth and make it more soupy or cook the beans down to something thicker. But maybe it's nice to have some built-in choices, right? Why should we be shackled to the idea we started with?

You might be able to tell from the recipe instructions, but I kind of made this up. Do what you feel with it.

Black bean soup

3-5 slices bacon
2 lbs. dried black beans, or slightly more
1-2 onions
2-3 carrots
1-3 chipotle peppers
cloves of garlic, as many as you want
2 bay leaves
1-2 tbsp. coriander seeds
some stock, any kind, if you have it
1-3 tsp. white vinegar
salt

First, in a large pot, cook the bacon. Now your soup is guaranteed to be delicious.

Add everything but the stock. Add other things if you want. Then put enough water in the pot to cover everything, and then a bit more. Bring to a boil, cover, simmer until the beans are cooked—maybe an hour.

Once the beans are cooked, look at how much liquid is left in that pot. Take out the bay leaves. Did you change your mind and just want to make beans and forget the soup? Do it! Just mash the beans up and cook the liquid away.

But if you really want to make soup, add some stock, maybe a cup or two. Puree with immersion or regular blender. Reconsider how liquid your soup is and add stock—or water—as you think is necessary. Salt to taste.

Now, here's a handy trick: taste your soup, add a little vinegar, and taste it again. Acid makes a difference! The soup will taste more. I find that if I ever taste something and I think that it's good but needs something else, but I don't really know what else, that a little vinegar is probably the right choice.

My soup looked like this:

And was served like this, with sweet potatoes in the middle and a drizzle of plain yogurt, with a cornbread muffin on the side:

And, the next day, because, really, the soup bore an amazing resemblance to just regular beans, I soaked some toast in the soup and ended up with molletes (melted cheese on top, not yogurt):

Apple pancakes

2009-11-13T11:32:00.000-08:00

In keeping with our spontaneous yet seasonal apple theme: apple pancakes. The recipe is here at Smitten Kitchen—what would I cook without you, Smitten Kitchen?

I followed the recipe pretty exactly. Not wanting to choose between milk or yogurt, I did 3/4 c. milk and 3/4 c. yogurt, and this worked well. And Pink Lady apples, because they're the best ever, for everything, especially eating.

The thing about these pancakes is that they get rather thick and this makes it hard to cook them all the way through without burning the outsides. Maybe this is just because I'm not experienced in latke-making or, possibly, because I'm not a good pancake-maker in general. So, with these, I encourage spreading the pancake around—which isn't easy—and cooking at a slightly lower temperature than regular pancakes so that you can keep them on the griddle for longer.

I tried to get all New England in the middle of the pancake-cooking and added some shredded cheddar cheese to the batter. Result: nothing mind-blowing but worth a try. Next time I might try some cinnamon, but I kind of like making something with apples and without cinnamon every once in a while.

I topped mine with plain yogurt, microwave-toasted walnuts, and maple syrup.

Added bonus: these pancakes freeze really well. So you can make some for dinner one night (which is what I did), freeze the leftovers, and have a fantastic breakfast some day in the future.

Boozy Cough Syrup

2009-11-11T08:49:00.001-08:00

I'm a little bit sick right now—so annoying. There are some things that I generally do when I get sick that work in my head, and sometimes working in your head is all you need to feel better, right? These things include eating cloves of raw garlic, making sure to chew them (unless I'm too chicken). I suggest this to other sick people, and they look at me like I'm crazy, but it really does make you feel better, if only because chewing raw garlic gives you something of an adrenaline rush. But you can kind of feel it disinfecting your entire throat as it works its way down to your stomach—where it will give you some garlicky burps for a few hours after. I found a new alternative to raw garlic though: microwaving the cloves for 15 seconds. It tastes better, but I think it's less effective. Also: I used to take oil of oregano and don't know why I stopped. Same effect as the garlic, but you have to buy the actual oil and it isn't cheap.

Yesterday I was feeling slightly sorry for my sore throat and cough while simultaneously looking on my computer for a pickled carrot recipe I made a while ago. I didn't find the carrot recipe, but I did find something I had saved from thekitchn.com last year: Grown-Up Cough Syrup. This stopped me feeling sorry for myself for too long because it gave me something to look forward to: a party for being sick!

Boozy Cough Syrup
Adapted from thekitchn

1/4 c. bourbon
juice from 1 lemon (or more)
1/4 c. water
5 sprigs fresh thyme
1-2 tbsp. honey

Mix bourbon, lemon juice, water, and thyme in a mug. Microwave for 45 seconds. Stir in honey, mixing until it's incorporated, and microwave another 30-45 seconds.

I added the thyme because it's good for sore throats. It also made the drink a little more medicinal-tasting than it would have been—but I thought this was good for making me think that I was taking a medicine rather than a cocktail. Please note: the drink, although the recipe may make it seem otherwise, is not for a cocktail. You won't drink it if you're not sick unless you like those weird digestifs like Fernet.

Maybe you want to know if it worked on the cough? Well, it didn't not work. And it helped me sleep rather soundly. But I did have to supplement with some of that mucinex stuff (is this too much information for a blog? possibly.).

Belgian (?) Apple Pudding (?) Cake

2009-11-08T11:48:00.000-08:00

As is probably evident from the title of this post, I have some questions regarding the name of this recipe. The first was the "Belgian" aspect of the name -- while I have no reason to doubt the author of the recipe, I am sensitive to the fact that often times the names of countries/regions/cultures get erroneously attached to recipes. It would have been particularly embarrassing to get called out on this by you Mariana, with your strong ties to Belgium and all. So, I'm hoping you can confirm the accuracy of this for me. Also, the pudding aspect of this name was troublesome, primarily because when I made this cake, there was really no pudding involved. I attribute this to a likely mistake on my part, I'm just not sure what I did wrong.

Probable mistake(s) aside, this cake was tasty and satisfied my recent apple craving. I got the recipe off of the food52 site and altered it, adding cardamom (those mava cakes are still on my mind) and browning the butter as well as some other minor changes. The cake itself is not too sweet and the apples make it a little bit special -- overall, it's my style of dessert. I had planned a trip to an orchard today. Sadly, my plans were thwarted due to recent rain, but another version of this cake, along with the Julia Child's applesauce, were going to be the result of that trip that was not meant to be.

Belgian Apple Pudding Cake
adapted from Marcella's Belgian Apple Pudding Cake on Food52

Check out the original recipe on Food52 and maybe you'll have more luck with the pudding aspect than I did.

Ingredients

The Cake:

1 cup flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 tsp cardamom
1 pinch salt
2 large eggs
1/4 cup canola oil
1/2 cup sugar
6 tablespoons whole milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

The Topping:

2-3 Granny Smith apples (depending on size), peeled, cored and sliced thinly (a mandoline comes in really handy)
1 large egg
1/2 stick sweet butter
5 tablespoons brown sugar

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Put the butter in an oven proof dish and let it hang out in the oven while it is preheating in order to brown. Remember to check on this frequently, until it is brown and smells nutty, but not burned. Also, prepare a 9" springform pan either use baking spray (my lazy strategy) or butter and line the bottom with a round of parchment paper.

Sift the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, cardamom and salt and set aside (actually, I might have skipped this step. This could account for the lack of pudding-y texture in my cake).

In a large bowl whisk the eggs, oil, milk, sugar, and vanilla extract until well combined.

Now, very delicately add the flour mixture into the egg mixture, stirring until combined, but taking care not to over stir.

Remember to check on the butter browning in the oven! If it is done -- take it out and set aside to cool.

Pour the batter into the cake pan. The fun part is arranging the apples on top of the batter -- I arranged them in the common circle pattern, but anything goes. There are sort of two rounds of baking for this cake -- first bake for 20 minutes (the batter should be slightly set).

While the cake is the oven for the first round of baking, whisk together the egg, (cooled) butter, and brown sugar. Pour this over the cake after the first 20 minutes in the oven. Return to the oven the second round of baking -- an additional 20 minutes. Let the cake cool before removing from the springform pan.

Salt and Vinegar Mashed/Smashed Potatoes

2009-11-08T08:38:00.000-08:00

Hey Mariana. You're right, I am busy...my last semester (sort of) of grad school is way harder than I anticipated. I remember thinking how nice it would be when I didn't have any classes, when I could "just" focus on internship and thesis. This was an overly optimistic point of view. This thesis is killing me and I'm super way behind -- at this point I'm not going to graduate until next September. Just kidding, Mom.

That isn't the only part of this post my mom isn't going to like. Actually, I don't think she is going to like any of it. First of all, I don't think she will particularly care for the salt and vinegar potatoes themselves -- my aunt certainly wasn't crazy about them. But what is really going to annoy her is the lack of a concrete recipe. She really appreciates specific recipes in these posts. I can understand that too, so I'll try to make it up to you in the future.

Anyway, sometime over the summer, I developed a strange obsession with potatoes. I mean, potatoes are comforting and delicious, but usually not a staple of my diet -- especially during the summer. But, they became a farmer's market favorite this year and I loved them. I "invented" salt and vinegar mashed or smashed (the method varies with my mood) potatoes one day when I decided to improvise dinner from ingredients I had on hand. Since that magical day, I can't get enough of them. It's 8 am and I'm thinking boiling some water to prepare some.

My mom might not be the only one who doesn't find these potatoes appealing. I really love them, though I think they are the kind of food you secretly make for yourself, but never for others. They are my comfort food version of a shameful secret...mostly because I anticipate that others are going to think they sound gross. Do you have any foods like that? Here they are with my aunt's Beef Bourguignon (from Julia Child):

Salt and Vinegar Mashed/Smashed Potatoes

Like I said, I don't include a specific recipe -- when I make them, it is all about improvisation. I usually make them with lots of vinegar and salt and some olive oil and Greek yogurt, but I've included other ideas. I try to use both olive oil and some dairy component and I think that adds some deliciousness. This is a lackadaisical recipe in many ways, particularly because of the lack of specific quantities -- I never measure when I'm making this and just taste along the way. Also, I'm not anticipating that anyone is actually going to prepare these, so I'm not too worried about the details.

Ideas for Ingredients

Small potatoes (i.e. Fingerlings, New, and my favorites from Trader Joe's which have disappeared, Kalmath Pearls)
Vinegar (I've been using rice vinegar, but I think many varieties would work. Balsamic might be too sweet and have too distinct of a flavor)
Salt (I hate to seem fancy by naming a particular type of salt, but I really love Murray River Pink Salt. And I think that I got the name slightly wrong which will make me seem less fancy. Mariana, are salts super popular in Tucson right now? They are all over the grocery in Portland -- and many of them are quite inexpensive.)
A mix of fats (i.e. butter, sour cream, milk or, my personal favorites, olive oil and reduced fat Greek yogurt)
Other ideas: herbs, roasted garlic or caramelized onions

Place the potatoes (I vary my quantity all the time) in a saucepan and cover with water. Over high heat, boil until a fork is easily inserted and removed from the potatoes. Quickly drain the water and place the potatoes into a large bowl. While still hot, smash the potatoes with a fork and pour some (again sorry for the lack of specific quantities, but I'd say start with a half a cup and adjust later) vinegar over them. Let the potatoes and vinegar sit for a minute or two to absorb the vinegar and then smash or mash in the rest of the ingredients you are using. Taste and add more ingredients as necessary -- I like them to taste very salty and very vinegary a la the potato chips of the same name.

Kalamata Olive No-Knead Bread

2009-11-07T18:01:00.000-08:00

I like how we're leaving ourselves lots of room for improvement on becoming bloggers who post regularly. I know you, Katie, are busy, and I'm kind of busy myself. I had to take a test today! On a Saturday! About ethics and professional rules! While homecoming was going on and drums were pounding!

Anyway, getting to the point of my post, do you remember when the NY Times no-knead bread recipe was all the rage? I don't quite understand why it's not all the rage anymore...are people not wanting fresh bread anymore? Has kneading become the new fitness?

A smart lady named Nancy Baggett took the recipe and made an entire book with different kinds of no-knead breads. It's basically variations on the same theme as the NY Times recipe: mix together a wettish dough, let rise for hours and hours, punch it down or stir it up a little, let it rise again but for fewer hours, bake in a hot dutch oven in a very hot oven. Nancy Baggett gives lots of explanation for why it works and different amounts of time for the rises and I do recommend the book to people who would want tens of recipes for no-knead bread. I'm a person like that, but I understand that not everyone has the same obsessions.

I made this bread long ago, for my mother's 60th birthday party. It was maybe the thing I got the most compliments on—which is slightly annoying, because it is the thing that took the least amount of work. Still, a compliment is a compliment.

Kalamata Olive No-Knead Bread
Adapted from Kneadlessly Simple

4 c. white flour or white bread flour
1 tsp. sugar
3/4 to 1 tsp. yeast
2 c. ice water
1 c. kalamata olive halves
also good with: 3 tbsp. fresh rosemary, chopped
A DUTCH OVEN
LOADS OF TIME BEFORE YOU WANT TO EAT THE BREAD
cornmeal

The day before you want to eat bread, stir all the ingredients together in a bowl. The dough will be stiff, but not as moist as the NY Times version, if that's a helpful barometer.

Brush the top of dough with oil, or spray with oil, cover with plastic.

Now, a choice: if you want lots of flavor, let it sit in the refrigerator for 3-10 hours. This step isn't mandatory.

If you refrigerate the dough or not, you must let the first rise happen at room temperature for 18-24 hours.

After the first rise, stir the dough—gently—until it's mostly deflated. Spray the top with oil again, cover with plastic again.

Now, another choice, it may sound familiar: if you want lots of flavor, refrigerate for 4-24 hours.

Second rise: room temperature until the dough doubles in size. This is what it'll look like:

Look at all those air bubbles! That means the yeast has been working! Look how stringy and gluten-y the dough is! Waiting works! Imagine how long I'd have to knead the dough to get so much gluten!

Now: turn on your oven to 450º with the dutch oven inside. When it gets to the desired temperature, take the dutch oven out, put a few teaspoons of cornmeal on the bottom of it, and throw the dough in there. Here you could brush the top with some water and sprinkle with salt, if desired.

Bake with the cover on for 55 minutes. Then remove cover and bake another 15-20 minutes. THe center of the dough is supposed to register 209º—or you could stick a skewer in it and see if only a few crumbs come on. Now, just to make sure, bake a little longer.

Because I realize it might be a touch confusing, here are the steps, with optional steps in parentheses:

mix dough
(refrigerate, 3-10 hours)
first rise: 18-24 hours
stir, gently
(refrigerate, 4-24 hours)
second rise: until doubled in size, about 2 1/2 hours at room temp
bake

Result:

Wow, right? Insides:

Even though the rising times seem fussy, they don't have to be. If you think about it, it just makes your breadmaking more flexible, and this is great if you're looking for flexibiliy. If you're just looking for fresh bread within a day, you might just want to get some flour on your hands and some muscle on your arms and knead.

Apple Cake

2009-10-30T09:33:00.000-07:00

I realize that my post about the apple snow might make it seem that I detest peeling a bunch of apples—it was an exaggeration. It's not my favorite thing but given the right listening material and the right goal, I am perfectly fine with a 3-pound bag of apples that needs to turn into a pile of peeled apple slices. And, my friend, this cake is motivation.

I'm one of those people who don't really like cakes. Or, rather, I like to make cakes and I think they look spectacular, but I generally think there are better things to eat, like pie. This cake is the exception, but it's also different from other cakes because it's not much to look at, it's full of apples, and there are some fantastic textures: it's crunchy on top and gooey in the middle and a different kind of crunchy on the bottom and! I just realized this morning that if I toasted a single slice of cake (are you judging me for eating cake for breakfast? It has fruit in it.) then there was even more tension between the crunch and goo.

Teddie's Apple Cake
Adapted from The New York Times
Picture with explanation!

Note: You need a tube pan for this cake, although I think a bundt pan would work too.

3 c. peeled, thickly sliced tart apples, like Granny Smith or Honeycrisp
1 1/2 c. vegetable oil
2 c. sugar
3 eggs
3 c. white flour OR 2 c. white flour and 1 c. almond flour (available at Trader Joe's, economically priced!)
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 c. toasted walnuts
1/2 - 1 c. raisins

Grease and flour your pan, set oven to 350º.

Beat the oil and sugar together on medium speed, beat them for 5 minutes! Beat in the eggs one at a time until creamy.

Hey! Don't skimp on this step because beating the eggs and sugar together creates a meringue-like substance, which results in a delightful crusty top layer of the cake. The rest of the cake is dense underneath this top layer and it makes slicing the cake a sort of adventure, as well as making presentation kind of a pile of brown cake, but whatever. You'll want that crusty top.

While you're beating that oil-sugar-egg mixture to creaminess, sift together the dry ingredients. At the appropriate moment (creaminess), add to batter.

Now add the vanilla, apples, walnuts, raisins. You will have to abandon your beater for a spoon and you may have a moment of despair when you think: "This batter is so thick! The fruit and nuts will never mix in!" But just keep stirring, and it'll probably happen. (Also, check out this interesting column about the difference between despair and depression and how Kierkegaard would be completely angry at society for trying to get rid of despair; it's interesting.)

After wrestling the batter into the pan, bake for at least 75 minutes. I've made this cake a bunch and almost always take it out of the oven before it's done and then the center is too gooey. Do the whole toothpick-inserted-in-center-comes-out-clean thing, and accept the fact that you may have to bake it for 90 minutes.

If you undercook it, I've found that slicing the cake and then baking the slices individually produces fantastic results, and even more crustiness. Also, this makes it easy to freeze slices individually so that one morning when you wake up and think about having a fantastic breakfast, but all you have is Grape Nuts and that's not going to cut it, you can pop one into the microwave and then toaster and pat yourself on the back for being such an excellent planner.

Also, about toasting the walnuts: I did it in the microwave. Yes! Turned out fine! I started out with 2 minutes on high, then stirred, another minute on high, another stir, one more minute, and then they were just barely overtoasted.

Apple Snow, Part Two

2009-10-25T18:05:00.000-07:00

Mariana -- I do remember what it was like to miss out on fall in Arizona. Actually, I don't think I really knew what fall felt like until I went to college. And while it's totally nice to be able to enjoy orange-colored leaves, butternut squash, and soup, I'm unable to be more than a little sympathetic. Mostly I'm just jealous. Winter is approaching way too fast -- the days are surprisingly short (I look at the clock expecting it to be 9 o'clock and find out it's 6:30 pm), I can see my breath outside, and all the fresh berries, peaches and plums are gone from the supermarket.

Anyway, sorry for the complaining.

I was pretty excited when you sent the recipe. Primarily because while I've been meaning to try a Julia Child recipe, I never have. I feel weird admitting that, like I'm a bad food blogger (that part might be true though. Especially considering how long it has been since my last post). But also because, unlike you, I was really into the name. It was fun, like a name I would have given a recipe as a child, except I obviously would have called this "Apple Cloud" because everyone knows (even children from Arizona) that snow is very cold. Actually, clouds are too, but this is a piece of knowledge I was lacking as a child. And while this dessert was chilled, it was not as cold as snow, i.e. frozen.

I followed the same recipe as you, though I used two special ingredients. The first was fresh eggs from my friend Elizabeth's mom's chickens (thanks Leslie!). Also, I've been intrigued by all these red wine caramels popping up recently, so I decided to add 5 tablespoons of red wine that my aunt was otherwise just going to throw out. The red wine was very...subtle, though the caramel was also very tasty. Perhaps next time, I'll add a bit more wine.

What's your favorite part of this recipe?
Mariana -- I was really into the applesauce as well. My aunt also liked it, though she said that color was "putrid." She said it very nicely so it didn't sound mean. Also, every time I make it I am reminded of how great that caramel sauce recipe is -- I really manhandled it this time and it still turned out super delicious.

Did you have any problems making this recipe?
No problems, except I realized I didn't have cream of tarter right before I was going to beat the eggs. A pinch of salt did the trick. It was surprising how much "snow" the recipe made -- there was no way I would be able to finish it off quickly, even with the help of my aunt.

Did you like the finished product?
I did. But it took some time to grow on me -- not usually a huge fan of meringue and this recipe was definitely meringue-y. This afternoon when I had it for dessert, however, I decided I liked it.

Will you make this again?
I don't know. It isn't my usual dessert style, but it's also fun, seems kind of old-fashioned, and tasty. My aunt liked it, too.

2 Kitchens, 1 Recipe: Apple Snow

2009-10-23T15:59:00.000-07:00

For our second 2 Kitchens, 1 Recipe, I noticed it was October and chose this recipe with apples. Katie, do you remember how hard it is to feel like fall in Arizona? It was 100º here last Saturday! I am wearing ridiculously few clothes as I write this! But I won't let Arizona beat me down! I spit in your face, Arizona, and I cook things like squash and apple snow because it is seasonal! You won't beat me!

I found this recipe in my mom's copy of Julia Child's The Way We Cook (not finding it on Amazon, otherwise I'd provide a link). Three components: applesauce, the mousse part, and caramel sauce. It's not something I would normally be attracted to making without this 2K1R thing we have going on and I kind of envision that, now that I've made it, I'll think about it for a while and think of a way to make it newer and hipper—not unlike, or...actually...exactly like the Recipe Redux column in The New York Times Sunday Magazine, which is one of the main reasons I subscribe to the Sunday paper at all.

Applesauce

3 lbs Granny Smith apples
1 lemon, all we want are the peel and the juice
1/2 c. sugar OR, what I used, 3/4 c. agave nectar
pinch of salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

Core and quarter the apples, leaving the skin on. Put in a large pot over medium heat, with the lemon peel and lemon juice and cinnamon. Cook, covered, about 30 minutes, stirring and mashing occasionally.

Puree apples and return to pot. Add sugar or agave nectar to taste and salt, while stirring over medium heat. Cook until the mixture coats the back of a spoon.

Apple snow

3 c. homemade applesauce
1/2 c. to 2/3 c. egg whites (4 large eggs-ish), at room temperature*
1/2 tsp. cream of tartar

Ms. Child suggests that you just beat the room temperature egg whites with the cream of tartar until stiff peaks form, then add the applesauce in 1/2 cup increments, beating on high, until it's all incorporated.

I, on the other hand, suggest boiling a bit of water in a pot and beating the eggs over it so that they get a bit cooked. Also, they beat really quickly. Then add applesauce and beat until it's all mixed together. This may lead to a few chunks of egg white—but your mind's at ease and, for me, that was worth it.

*Hey! I used egg whites that I had frozen and: good news! Frozen egg whites, once defrosted, work just as well as fresh ones.

Caramel sauce

I used the Smitten Kitchen caramel sauce that I also used on the blood orange tart.

Then, because I had some applewood smoked bacon around (thanks to my mom, who brought it from the White Mountains), I made some caramelized bacon for garnish and miscellaneous snacking. By the way, I think this caramelized bacon recipe is one of the most pleasant-to-read recipes ever. Recipe-writers aren't often so wittily conversational.

Finished product:

And, now, the questions:

What's your favorite part of this recipe?

This is, hands down, the best applesauce I've ever had. It's so appley and lemony and EASY. Because, you know, it sounds so picturesque to buy a bunch of apples and make something with them but, about four apples into the ordeal, peeling apples is kind of a pain in the butt. Here you don't have to peel any of them and, I feel, it makes the applesauce taste even better.

Did you have any problems making this recipe?

Did I. First, the apples were taking a long time and I got fidgety and put the heat down and went to go watch a new 30 Rock episode, thinking I would stir during commercials. This worked, but I overcooked the apples and didn't have to do any mashing at all. I think it ended up fine.

But, THEN, I bought half and half instead of cream for the caramel sauce! And used that azucar moreno instead of white sugar and so my caramel sauce, while less bad-for-you?, wasn't quite as thick and creamy as if I had used the ingredients that Smitten Kitchen told me to. Still, it tasted caramel-y and I'm not really complaining about it.

Did you like the finished product?

I like how it's not the normal sort of flavor to be made into a mousse but, at the same time, I wish the apple snow tasted a bit more like the applesauce, which I'm clearly in love with. I do like, though, how it's a bit of a sophisticated dessert and I love the texture of mousse in my mouth and the way it smooshes about.

A word about the applesauce: because it uses the peels of the apples it comes out a weird color that isn't strictly appetizing. If one were inclined to describe the color of things through bodily fluid, mucous would be a contender in describing the applesauce. Still, delicious.

Also, I'm not crazy about the name "apple snow." It's so New England and, not to overuse the word in one post, picturesque. A bit like a Norman Rockwell painting, if that helps to see what I'm saying. (But, I just read in Vanity Fair that Norman Rockwell is being looked at anew so that maybe his schmaltzyness isn't quite so schmaltzy. If that's what Vanity Fair says...you won't find me arguing with VF.)

Will you make this again?

The applesauce, almost certainly. The apple snow—so precious, I can hardly write it without quotes—maybe...I wonder what it would be like frozen or as the filling of something else. Also with more cinnamon.

Eat it, Mava

2009-10-07T15:10:00.000-07:00

I couldn't stop thinking about all that leftover mava from the mava cakes.

First, cakes. I tried and tried to think of something better to do than put pears on it—because you, Katie, had done the pears and I didn't really want to be a copycat—but nothing better occurred to me. And I like pears. And I trust your judgment. So I made the same recipe, doubled the cardamom, sauteed some peeled pears in butter with cardamom, and made the cakes.

Nothing special, right? Just making cakes that had already been made. Then, genius kicked in.

How do you keep the recipes that you see and mean to make but haven't yet made? When I see a recipe that interests me, I'll whip out my handy Mac command+shift+4 function and take a screen shot of the recipe. Then I name the picture after the recipe and file it away in a desktop folder called, uncreatively, "food." And there it sits until I decide to go through the folder, which maybe happened during class last week. What did I find? Cardamom saffron ice cream.

Take some whole green cardamom pods.

Infuse some milk with the pods and saffron.

Do all other ice cream make-y things, following the basic custard recipe.

From the cakes, I also had even more leftover mava and leftover sauteed pears. But, you know, that mava is thick. So I heated it up with some milk (between 1/4 and 1/2 cup), added some sugar (less than 1/4 cup), then the mava melted. I cooked it so that it got thicker, but that sugar made it different in a borderline caramel sort of way, and I kind of lost my guts about 15 minutes into it because caramel will do that to a girl. The mava-milk-sugar mixture was kind of thick and then I did my favorite thing of adding about 1/2 tsp of baking soda to it, which makes the caramel-like mixture get really fluffy and bubbly, in a delightful way. Then I remembered to add the pears, and that ruined the fluff.

My idea was to have the mava as a strip of something running through the ice cream, but this plan was thwarted because (1) I lost my guts and it didn't get thick enough and (2) it wasn't cold when I added it to the almost-ready ice cream and, instead, made the ice cream melt a little bit, so that everything mixed together in a fantastically delicious way.

The result:

Tropical Breakfast Couscous: A Five Minute Post

2009-10-04T17:43:00.000-07:00

I have a busy week ahead of me and mountain of school work and chores I should be doing at the moment. Since I really want to keep posting over the next week, I decided to limit myself to 5 minutes per post (not including time spent making the recipes) -- not overly time consuming, but I get to procrastinate and satisfy my desire to do some work on the blog. So, I'm counting the minutes as of now. We'll see how this goes -- please ignore any spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, etc.

I had class this morning -- it's pretty sad to get up on a grey Sunday morning and head into campus. So I decided to cheer myself up and give myself some extra energy by making breakfast instead of just cereal. In an effort to make something tasty and use up some of the ingredients I have hanging around my kitchen, I prepared breakfast couscous. Very easy to make and a fun way to use up random ingredients accumulating in the cupboard.

Tropical Breakfast Couscous
Adapted from Food Matters by Mark Bittman

Ingredients

1 1/4 cup water
1 cup whole wheat couscous
1/3 cup shredded coconut (unsweetened)
1 sliced banana (plus more for garnish if desired)
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
Honey
Milk (I wanted to use coconut milk here, but realized my can was dented to had to go with the cow milk variety. I bet coconut milk would be even better, but haven't personally confirmed this).

Bring the water to a boil in a medium-sized saucepan. Add the couscous and coconut and remove from heat. Cover the pan and set aside for 10-20 minutes. Remove the cover, fluff the couscous, and add the banana and nuts. Put the couscous in serving bowls (makes about 5 servings) and garnish with honey and milk, if desired.

Well, it took me ten minutes to write this post...I guess I have a goal for next time.

Fried tomatoes

2009-09-30T21:54:00.000-07:00

Friend, first I want to give us a nice pat on the back for an excellent September of posting. Two Kitchens, One Recipe! Kind of rad! Wait until you see what I pick for October!

I'm off to New England this weekend for a wedding and am pretty excited about being somewhere where it did not hit 100º this week. I don't know if I'll have a lot of time to do wonderful fall things like eat cider donuts and bask in crispness, but it'll be nice anyway. The only thing I'm sad about is that I won't be eating these:

Do you ever discover that you can make something deliciously and then go through a phase where you don't want to eat anything else? Generally, I do this with music: if I get an album that I like I will listen to it incessantly, so non-stoppingly that it annoys even myself, but I just can't help it—if it were a haystack, I would roll around in it; if it were a perfume, I'd spray it all over until people crinkle their noses when I walk by; if it were a person, I'd want to take it behind the middle school and get it, or myself, pregnant (metaphorically). Do you see what I'm saying? When I find something new that I love, I want to envelop myself in it.

When my buddy Tim and I were eating our way through my last weekend in LA this summer, we found the S&W Country Diner in Culver City. And, because we're eating geniuses, we ordered the fried tomatoes as a side—and it was a revelation. Fantastic crispiness on the outside but not so much cooking that the tomatoes get mealy.

And this week I figured out how to do it myself. Now this is what I want to eat for every meal but, since I'm going to Vermont, I can't, so I'll post it, and now you can be my proxy.

Fried tomatoes

*Use good tomatoes. I made some this evening with mediocre ones and they came out mediocre—don't pity me, because something that's mediocre and fried is still pretty ok.

tomatoes, sliced

1/2 c. cornmeal

1/2 tsp. salt

1 tsp herbs—your choice, I used some Italian blend

canola oil (olive oil will probably burn because of the high heat)

Take your sliced tomatoes and get rid of their insides: the seeds and mucousy parts. Too wet!

Combine the cornmeal, salt, and herbs in a dish. Bread the tomatoes in this.

Get out your frying pan and put it on medium-high/high heat. Let the oil get hot enough and then fry your tomatoes. Put on papertowels when you're done to do a little soaking of oil.

The fried tomatoes on Night Number One of fried tomatoes, on top of a pretty great mixture of Israeli cous cous, zucchini, eggplant, wilted arugula, feta, and capers.

Two Kitchens, One Recipe : The Mava Cake Throwdown

2009-09-28T15:11:00.000-07:00

Mariana and I are starting a new (hopefully regular) posting project called "Two Kitchens, One Recipe." The name pretty much says it all -- we prepare one recipe and then compare notes on the process, the different ways in which we've adapted the recipe (if we adapt the recipe -- that's not mandatory), and the end product. My mom came up with the idea -- thanks Mom. And despite what the title of this post might imply, it's not a competition. Unless Mariana starts trash talking, then....watch out.

I'd never heard of Indian Mava Cakes, let alone tried one, until I read about them on Tartlette. Wow, did they look good and I love cardamom (a featured ingredient in these cakes). It's especially nice in the autumn which is sadly fast approaching (at least in Portland -- I realize it is still summertime at the Tucson branch of Two Kitchens). From my Internet research, I've learned Mava (also called Mawa and Khoya) is a dairy-based pudding or paste-like substance that is often the base of Indian Desserts. If anyone out there is a mava expert, I'd be interesting in learning more about it.

The recipe we used had two main parts, making the mava and then making the cake. While the cake part was simple, the mava was not. First, as I'm sure Mariana will mention (we conferred via text messages on this) the mava took forever -- about an hour and 20 minutes! The recipe said it would resemble thick butterscotch pudding, but I was still unsure when my mava was finished. Mariana -- is this what your mava looked like?

As a side note, while it may look like pudding, I don't recommend tasting it -- pretty gross before it gets mixed into the cake batter.

The cake part was straightforward and easy -- I baked mine in a large muffin tin. I changed the original recipe by adding a teaspoon of vanilla and topped the cakes with thin slices of pear brushed with brown butter and sugar (I also left some naked as I was curious about the more traditional version).

I thought the finished product was super enjoyable -- a sweet dense cake with pear. This was especially tasty as an afternoon snack with some fruit and a cup of tea, but it might also be eaten for breakfast tomorrow.

Questions!

Would you make this recipe again?
Yes, especially because the mava recipe made three times the amount needed for the cake, so I have extra mava waiting for the next cake. But, I'd do the mava again, too. It's just a lot of stirring I wasn't totally prepared for.

What else would you serve in the meal?
When I started this recipe, I thought it would be fun to pair it with Indian food, but the next time I would probably serve it with a roast chicken and green salad -- nice and simple and autumn -like.

How would you change this if you were going to make it again?
More pears! I would probably use a spring form pan and make 9-inch round cake, instead of using a cupcake pan. I'd shape the pears in a starburst pattern.

What was your favorite part of making this recipe?
Tasting the cake batter. And using my mandoline to slice the pears -- I love it!

Least favorite?The mava. In addition to taking forever, I used too small of a saucepan and it boiled over multiple times.

Did you mess up any parts of this recipe?
Not that I can remember -- besides the mava boiling over.

If you were going to serve this to one of your friends, who would you choose?
Hmmm, besides you? Probably my mom. I think she would find the cardamom interesting and love the pears.

2K1R: The Mava Response

2009-09-28T14:15:00.000-07:00

Katie: I feel like you're daring me to talk trash because you really want to but you don't want to be the one who starts it. I'm not saying that this plan of yours won't end up working eventually, I'm just saying that I see through your plan and won't be tricked by it right this moment.

So, how about this freaking mava? I was prepared for it to take a long time, but MY GOODNESS. I was so bored that I made a list of the things I did to occupy my mava time:

I listened to the new Avett Brothers album on nprmusic.org—it's great. You can listen for free until the 29th.
I went through old food magazines and cut out recipes, but this was a little too distracting because a skin kept forming on the mava and then I'd have to stir it and feel like I was ignoring it too much.
I got restless and texted you, but you didn't really respond quickly, so that wasn't a good plan.
I realized that in order to know when a liquid becomes thick it's really helpful to know how thin it started out.
I listened to Science Friday on the radio and realized that, in my head, with certain things, I am a scientist. (!) For instance, I read a cookbook and was happy to learn that creaming butter and sugar together to make a cake is not a step to take lightly because that is where all the air bubbles are going to get into the batter. The baking powder in a cake recipe (like this one) doesn't make bubbles, but only makes existing bubbles bigger. So now I don't skimp on beating until light and fluffy.
I despaired and turned the heat up to medium and promised myself to not stop stirring.
Science Friday ended and I listened to a sad story: "When We Were Nearly Young."

And then, finally, I was done. I went until mine was really thick, like pudding. The next day, I baked those cakes and they're pretty good. They remind me of Salvadoran quesadilla, which isn't like a Mexican quesadilla at all because it's a CAKE with some cheese in it. Salvadoran quesadilla and mava cakes are good in the same way in that they're just barely into sweet territory and they are, like you say, dense and moist.

The biggest surprise about mava cakes: they are excellent drunk food. The density gives a good soaking-up feeling and the not-sweetness is handy after a few margaritas. So, an excellent offering at my 3rd Annual Mexican Cage Thumb Wrestling Tournament. (I placed 2nd in the all-around, but am both the female and left-handed champion.)

And now, your questions, my answers:

Would you make this recipe again?

You make a good point about having a bunch of leftover mava. And, knowing now that mava cakes are excellent drunk food, I might.

But would I make mava again? Unlikely. It is the most disappointing dulce de leche in the world—and that's not really mava's fault, because it's not dulce de leche, but it's just so close to be being dulce de leche that it seems a shame that it's not. In my head I have this scenario where I'm the mother and dulce and mava are my kids, and I'm totally unreasonable to mava and ridiculously supportive of dulce de leche—I'm totally picking favorites because, you know what? Mava and dulce de leche aren't kids, they're condiments. And dulce de leche is better.

What else would you serve in the meal?

I'm going to slightly change the question I'm going to answer to: what kind of meal would you serve this at? Answer: a boozy one that's a little light on food. Like, a mimosa brunch that starts around 11 a.m. and ends around dusk. Or a wine/cocktail and cheese/appetizer sort of thing that starts at happy hour and ends the next day. You get the picture: marathons of the eating and drinking variety.

How would you change this if you were going to make it again?

More cardamom. 1/4 teaspoon isn't doing enough. I'd also put in some vanilla, maybe some pistachios...and maybe a frosting that's just slightly sweetened whipped cream with rosewater because even though I'm not a big fan of roses or rose flavor, the whipped cream with rosewater is fantastic—it somehow makes the whipped cream taste rounder and light and fresh and planty without being weird.

What was your favorite part of making this recipe?

Writing about it to you.

Least favorite?

The mava. See despairing list above.

Did you mess up any parts of this recipe?

Yes. I almost forgot to add the eggs. So I put in the flour mixture and milk before the eggs. I think it was ok.

If you were going to serve this to one of your friends, who would you choose?

I already served it to drunk friends, high from the joys of Mexican cage thumb wrestling. It was a pretty appreciative crowd, but not the sort of appreciation where praise comes without you asking for it. What I mean to say is that I had to ask people if they liked it and then they said they liked it a lot, but I prefer to make things where people tell me they like it without me asking, you know?

For sober people, I would serve it to people who think they don't like sweet things. Because this is so dense and borderline savory that I think they could be tricked.

Bacon Jam

2009-09-24T11:04:00.000-07:00

I feel kind of silly posting about something as trendy as bacon, it's like I'm jumping on the bacon bandwagon. I love cured meat as much as the next person, but the omnipresence of bacon is kind of overwhelming. But, of course, I succumbed because bacon is so so delicious and after watching Kevin from Top Chef make some bacon jam a couple of weeks ago (and hearing the judges go crazy over it) I really couldn't help myself. I was intrigued. As a side note, after last year's somewhat lackluster season, I'm happy that Top Chef has some super talented contestants. I'm a big fan of the chubby hipster chef contingent (Eli and Kevin. And mostly just Kevin, but I think their friendship is cute).

This is definitely one of those recipes that is awesome in theory (i.e. before the reality of the nutritional value and the intricacies of preparation set in). So midway through the cooking process, when the massive quantity of fat was rendering from the bacon, I definitely had a "what have I done?!" moment. Also, I got the recipe from the Top Chef website and it was very confusing, particularly because there was conflicting info from a video prepared by Kevin on the same website. So, I definitely did some improvising and my version was just not doing what the recipe said it should be doing.

But oh my god. This is good.

I made a bacon jam sandwich with fontina, apple, and roasted red pepper on sourdough. Again, this was very good (and I got to use a cute sandwich maker my brother gave me).

Here it is out of the sandwich maker:

Yum! And now I'm off to the gym.

Bacon Jam
adapted from Top Chef here and here

Due to all the hot bacon fat this recipe is a bit dangerous. Not only to your arteries, but also as a burn risk, so be very, very careful. Also, due to the fact that I fiddled a bit with the cooking process on this recipe (not so much the ingredients) that the cooking times might be a bit imprecise.

Ingredients

1 lb bacon, cut into 2” X 1” X 1/2” pieces
half of a yellow onion, sliced lengthwise
3 tablespoons brown sugar
salt and pepper to taste
1/4 tsp hot sauce (or to taste)
1 tablespoon honey
2 cups chicken stock
1 tablespoon butter, unsalted

Preheat the oven to 500 degrees.

Place the uncooked bacon on a large (oven safe) saucepan. Over low to medium heat, cook the bacon on the stove top. Adjust the heat as necessary so that the fat begins to render but the bacon does not get crispy. After it looks like most of the fat has been rendered (it took me about 1o minutes) add in the sliced onions. Saute the onions with the bacon and bacon fat until they are a light golden color. Stir in the brown sugar, then add 1 cup of chicken stock.

Place the saucepan in the preheated oven and let it hang out there until the chicken stock reduces out. This step took me 35 minutes, though the original recipe says 5-15 minutes, so keep an eye on it so it doesn't burn.

Remove the saucepan from the oven and stir. Add the remaining cup of chicken broth and return to oven to reduce (again this step took me about 35 minutes -- but keep checking on it). When you remove the pan this time, the mixture should be a deep amber/almost brown color.

Season with salt, pepper and hot sauce. Let the mixture cool slightly before putting it in the blender or food processor. To blend, scoop out the bacon bits trying to minimize the amount of fat that goes into the blender. Start to blend the bacon and add fat to get the consistency you would like. Discard the remaining fat (or better yet, save it for another cooking project).

Return the mixture of the pan (removing any excess bacon fat), add the honey and cook over the stove top to darken the mixture ever so slightly. Remove from heat and add the butter (or skip this step). Again, you'll need to let this cool before you can enjoy it without risk of burning your tongue. It was great in a sandwich and would perhaps be even better on chocolate chip pancakes.

Calabacitas

2009-09-21T18:12:00.001-07:00

I'm a little embarrassed to admit how late in life I came to know calabacitas—you know, because I'm from Tucson and am well-versed in northern Mexican food and am myself a self-respecting half-Mexican—but I don't remember ever eating them until after I had already started going to college.

There are a couple of things I could blame this tragedy on, but I'm just going to go ahead and blame one: my mom. She never made them! And then, all of a sudden, circa 2000, she started, and my eyes were opened to all the calabacitas in the world. Like the ones on my parents' dinner table. Or the calabacitas burrito at Micha's, enchildada style—if you go eat it on a Friday night when there's a deafening mariachi band you'll wonder why you ever left this fine city.

Since I doubt my mom wants to take all the blame for this—assuming she cares that I'm blaming her, which is unlikely—I'll also admit that I went through a period of my youth where I was under the impression that zucchini were bad. I was wrong.

You may notice that I can't cook anything without tequila these days. This is part of my campaign to accept my adulthood by identifying behavior that can be classified as "grown up." Example: I go to class even if I don't always like it because I'm a grown up. I wear a bicycle helmet even though it messes up my hair because I'm a grown up. Here: I cook with booze instead of drinking it because I'm a grown up. I learned this trick from my friends Natasha and Steve (the tequila, not the growing up), and it does add a subtle deliciousness to the vegetables.

Calabacitas

1 onion, chopped
4-6 medium zucchini, sliced
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 ears corn, with kernels taken off the cob
2 anaheim or poblano chiles, roasted and sliced into strips
cumin, coriander, salt to taste
2 tbsp tequila (optional...but you know what the right choice is)
as much shredded cheese as you want

This recipe takes a little while because onions and zucchini aren't the quickest-cooking vegetables and, if you take the time to make them nice and brown, the end result will be fantastically gooey—in a good way.

First, in a large skillet over medium-high heat with a little bit of oil, cook the onion. Stir occasionally and cook until it's on the way to getting brown, about 10 minutes.

Then add zucchini and garlic. Covering the pan at this point is optional, but it'll go a lot faster. Use aluminum foil if you don't have a cover big enough. Stir occasionally, so nothing gets burnt to the bottom.

When the zucchini and onions are nice and brown, add corn and chiles. Also add the cumin, coriander, and salt. I use about 1 tsp coriander, 3/4 tsp cumin, and 1 tsp salt—but I prefer coriander to cumin and maybe you're not like me. (?)

Add the tequila and take the cover off for a bit, to let it cook off. Sprinkle cheese on top, re-cover, don't stir!, turn off heat, and let sit a few minutes until the cheese melts. ¡Buen provecho!

Plum tequila ice cream

2009-09-15T22:14:00.001-07:00

So, you remember in my last post I said I had big plans for the combination of plums and tequila? Check me out on my follow-through! Plum tequila ice cream.

I just tasted some to remind me what I wanted to write and what I want to write is that it tastes good, the tequila is subtle, there's cinnamon and vanilla and that's not a bad thing, the texture is nice. But it's not the sort of ice cream where you can taste it blindfolded and name the ingredients. And, when I thought about it, I realized that I kind of like ice cream that you can taste blindfolded and know what's in it. This ice cream isn't bad, but I'm not going to pine for it.

Anyway, a foray into ice cream is never a waste because if you start off with the basic custard recipe, you won't go wrong. The basic custard recipe is like a golden ticket to a very agreeable land.

So, here's how it went.

Plum tequila ice cream (with basic custard instructions mixed in)

For the basic custard:

3 cups dairy (I used whole milk, you make your own choices)
1 cup sugar
8 egg yolks
pinch of salt
1 tsp vanilla extract or vanilla bean

Here are some things to keep in mind:

On the milk, because I know a lot of us don't keep whole milk on hand, I've heard that you can freeze the milk and, after thawing, it's still suitable for ice cream making. So buy the half gallon or whatever, use what you need, freeze the rest.
The egg yolks—what to do with the egg whites if you don't have time to make meringues or macarons or angel food cake? The internet tells me that these also freeze well. I'll tell you if that's true or not when I use the ones that are sitting in my freezer.
You may say, hey, Mariana, you're sneaky but I can't be tricked! Your recipe says 8 egg yolks, but that picture very clearly has NINE. And to you I say, good eye, but sometimes you have a crazy lucky day and get two egg yolks in just one egg.
Make the custard well ahead of when you want to make ice cream. You make the custard and then cool it down in the refrigerator and then make the ice cream, it's not a hugely work-intensive process but it does require a bit of planning.

To the basic ingredients above I also added:

4 ripe red plums, cut in pieces
1 vanilla bean, split
1 cinnamon stick
1/4 cup silver tequila

First, whether you're doing basic or fruit-added, you bring the dairy to a boil. If you're using fruit, put the fruit in the pot while bringing the milk to a boil—you want to infuse the milk with the flavor. I also added the salt, vanilla bean, cinnamon stick, and tequila at this point. If you're using vanilla extract, don't add it now. Add it at the very end, so all that flavor doesn't cook away.

But, look! The plums made my dairy all mealy and watery:

To fix this, I strained the dairy after it came to a boil. Then I found that I was down to only two cups of a dairy so I added another cup of milk, brought that to a boil again and, once all that business was done, continued on my way.

First thing on my way: let the dairy cool down to room temperature. Why? Because the next step is adding the yolks and if the milk is hot, the yolks will curdle and curdling does not make a smooth custard.

Once the dairy is at room temperature, beat the yolks and sugar together until they're a smooth paste. Add that to the dairy, put your pot on medium heat, and stir until the mixture is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. I hope you're listening to something interesting on the radio, or maybe talking to a friend on the phone. Maybe you're calling me, even though I haven't been good about returning your phone calls!

If you're using vanilla extract, add it now, once the custard has been taken off the burner. Strain all this through something to get rid of all those incidental curdles which might happen even if you are very adamant about your constant stirring, and let it sit in the fridge for a while.

Once it's cool, make it into ice cream! In your ice cream maker! I thought the flavor of mine was nice, but not too exciting, so I crumbled up some amaretto cookies and added that once the ice cream was fairly solid.

Ice cream ghost!

Chickens, Eggs, and More Corn

2009-09-14T15:15:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, I got to visit my friend Elizabeth's family in The Gig (aka Gig Harbor, Washington). Elizabeth's mom, Leslie, is kind of amazing. Among other things, such as being a prolific canner and impressive gardener, she raises beautiful chickens for their eggs. Below is a slightly motion sickness-inducing video that I took of these chickens (besides the amateur quality of this video, it requires an additional caveat. I accidentally hit a chicken in the head with a piece of bread. This was not on purpose! Sorry cute little chicken -- I was just trying to get the food as close to you as possible!)

Leslie sent me home with some gorgeous eggs:

Obviously, I had to make something special with these eggs. In addition to setting aside the pale green/blue ones for pickled eggs (yum!), I decided to make something called Corn Pudding Souffle from Vegetarian Cooking For Everyone by Deborah Madison.

Fresh eggs, some of the tastiest farmer's market corn I've had all year, and goat cheese, baked into a souffle-like pudding with a nice crispy top. Basically this recipe couldn't be bad. It does, however, strike me as the kind of recipe that will improve each time you make it -- getting the right oven temp (mine is a little off), adding herbs, and changing the cheese around to suit your own taste will only improve this already delicious late summer recipe.

Corn Pudding Souffle

adapted from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison

Ingredients

2 cups corn kernels (I used two large ears of corn to get this amount of corn)
1 cup milk (I used skim which was fine, though the texture of this dish was slightly off and it might have been improved by higher fat content milk. For now, however, I'm blaming it on my unpredictable oven temperature)
1 finely diced shallot
3 tablespoons flour
1/2 cup goat cheese (Madison also says you could use feta or cheddar. I think gouda might be tasty as well)
salt and pepper (I used regular pepper, but if you have white pepper hanging out in your cabinet, you can use that too)
3 eggs, separated

Putting this recipe together goes fairly quickly, so it is helpful to have all the prep done. In addition to preparing the above ingredients, preheat the oven to 375 degrees and butter a 6-cup souffle dish.

Puree 1 1/2 cups of corn with the milk -- I used an immersion blender for this, but a food processor or blender would be fine. Puree/process/blend for a full three minutes and then pour it into a bowl through a fine strainer (possibly lined with cheese cloth if you don't have a super fine strainer) to remove all corn so that all remains in the bowl is a corn-infused milk. Press the liquid out of the corn left in the strainer and discard.

Saute the shallot in the butter for one minute. Add the flour and stir to remove lumps. Add the corn-milk and cook for 5 minutes, stirring constantly. This mixture should become thick, almost like a paste. Remove from heat and add the remaining corn kernels, cheese, 1/2 tsp salt, and pepper to taste. Scoop a 1/2 cup of this and add it to the egg yolks (to warm up the yolks so they don't cook when they are added into the hot mixture). Then, add the yolk mixture to the pan, whisking constantly.

Beat the egg whites till they hold firm peaks and then fold them into the other mixture. Pour this into the prepared souffle dish. Set this dish in a baking pan with boiling water so that the souffle dish is halfway submerged in water. Bake for an about an hour -- the top should be nice and golden brown and the pudding should be firm. Madison suggests serving it with pesto, salsa verde, or cilantro salsa -- this next time I make a roast chicken, this is going to be the side dish!

Plum galette

2009-09-11T09:28:00.000-07:00

Last week I went to the grocery store, saw the plums and nectarines, and decided to make a sort of rustic pie with them, the kind where you just fold the crust over the fruit and call it a day. (Rather like the blood orange tart, except without the disappointment of the blood oranges.)

Then I got creative, and learned a lesson about why it's good to have at least half a plan when you start making something.

First, I wanted to make the crust like the crust for the blood orange tart, but wanted to have some cornmeal in it. So, I just took out some of the flour from the recipe and substituted cornmeal. And then, since I once had a good experience with earl grey shortbread cookies, I decided to take a couple teaspoons of earl grey tea and put that in the crust too.

Crust done and resting in the refrigerator, I turned to the fruit, thinking I should do a little research because, since the pie won't be in a pie pan, I didn't want the fruit to be ridiculously juicy and ruin the crust. For Thanksgiving I had a recipe from Cooks' Illustrated that put tapioca powder in with the fruit to do a bit of soaking-up of juice—but there are only tapioca pearls in my house and, after consulting with my coffee grinder, decided that I didn't want coffee-flavored tapioca or tapioca-thickened coffee. Tapioca was not the solution to my particular problem.

Then I turned to a book that my mom gave me for my birthday, Bake Wise, a book that tells you why things work in baking and why other things don't. For instance, you wrap a crust in plastic and let it sit in the fridge before rolling it out not to make it cold—although that's very handy—but so that the moisture gets evenly distributed throughout the dough! Who knew? Don't skip that step!

Anyway, the book didn't help me with fruit. But! The September issue of Cooking Light has a recipe for plum galette with armagnac cream (which may have been the unconscious idea behind my whole thing), and this recipe told me to slice up my fruit, cook it until the fruit was soft, and then put that in the pie. This sounded good: fruit gets cooked which means my oven didn't have to be on for as long, liquid bubbles away, flavors get concentrated—perfect.

Here is where I got lucky: not having any cognac in my house, I consulted my liquor supply which currently consists of whiskey, gin, and tequila. Tequila won. So I'm cooking together, on medium heat:

3-4 c. stone fruit
1/4 c. tequila
1/4 c. brown sugar
2-4 tbsp white sugar
dash of salt

It's smelling pretty good, but not quite good enough and then luck struck again and I thought to add half a cinnamon stick to the mix, at which point it started smelling fantastic. I also started thinking what a shame that I had added that earl grey tea to the crust because this wouldn't be that great together—but that's the price you pay when you start off with a hazy plan.

After 10 minutes, the fruit was starting to lose some of its structural integrity but juice was still prevalent, so I poured all the liquid off from the fruit and and continued reducing that until it was thick and sticky. Then I added about a teaspoon of vanilla extract and reunited the fruit and liquid. I didn't add the vanilla while it was cooking because, since it's mostly alcohol, I thought most of the flavor would evaporate.

Then pie construction happened, along with about 35 minutes in a 375º oven, leaving me with a sloppy-looking pie that was a little embarrassing to me.

What a lot of work for a mediocre pie! But, Katie, the filling! Tequila straight is kind of a brute: the smell is pungent, the swallowing may bring tears to eyes. Tequila cooked, so that all the alcohol has burned off? My friend, it is elegant and sophisticated and you wouldn't know it's anything more than a distant relative of a shot of liquor. And with the plums, cinnamon, and vanilla—together they were smooth and, somehow, creamy. I have big plans for plums and tequila.

Sweet Corn Pancakes

2009-09-06T20:06:00.000-07:00

I'd been looking for a recipe for sweet corn pancakes for a while, but I had something specific in mind. I didn't want dense, heavily-fried, or cornbread-like pancakes, instead I was looking for light fluffy pancakes with little bursts of delicious sweet corn in them. This recipe was what I was looking for and, after six months of waiting for corn season, I tried it this morning. It was just what I had hoped for -- an otherwise typical pancake slightly sweetened by tender kernels of corn.

Since I followed the recipe closely, I just included a link here. The recipe calls for milk and I used nonfat which was perfect for a weekend breakfast, but I imagine that if you wanted something for a special occasion whole milk would be nice (but, really, not necessary). Also, the next time I make these pancakes, I'd like to serve them with a nice slice of ham and some homemade applesauce, but they were pretty tasty with just maple syrup.

A kind of vegetable pie

2009-09-05T14:26:00.000-07:00

My friend, I am nothing if not brave. Check it out: I baked a PIE in TUCSON in AUGUST, in a house with only two measly window AC units! I was serious about making this pie! And it paid off, look:

That's a good looking pie, right? Handsome, almost. Even better, it's full of summery goodness, like tomatoes and corn and Hatch chiles. I got most of the idea from Smitten Kitchen but didn't want to copy it exactly. While generally I stay away from making things more Southwestern—terra cotta, kokopellis, you know what I mean—I did the exact opposite here, substituting queso fresco for cheddar, putting some chipotle in the mayo sauce that goes in the pie, adding the chiles. My only regret is not getting a melty-er cheese; I was really shooting for Oaxacan cheese, but couldn't find it at Safeway and didn't want to go to another grocery store and settled for the queso fresco. I kept the biscuit crust, which was a little strange, but kept the entire thing from falling into extreme Southwesternness, which it would have if I had substituted some sort of cornmeal crust.

Anyway, it's good both hot and cold and was worth heating my house to extreme temperatures.

Tomato and corn pie
This makes a 9" pie

For the crust:
2 c. flour (I used half white and half whole wheat pastry flour)
1 tbsp baking powder
3/4 tsp salt
3/4 stick butter
3/4 c. milk (SK uses whole, I used 2%)

Whisk the dry ingredients together.

Cut the butter into small cubes. In a food processor, process the flour-baking powder-salt mixture with the butter until it looks mealy. Add the milk and process until a ball has formed.

Mine looked overly moist, so I added another 2 tablespoons of flour—that fixed it.

Divide the dough into half. Form each half into a disk, wrap in plastic, put in the refrigerator until you're ready for it.

For the filling:
Here's where you can do whatever you want. Peeling the tomatoes and chiles is a little fussy, but worth it.

4 beefsteak tomatoes
3 green chiles
3 ears corn
2 c. cheese—your choice, obviously
1/3 c. mayonnaise
2 tbsp lemon juice
1-2 tbsp of the liquid that surrounds the chipotles in a jar of chipotle chiles
2 tbsp butter, melted

First, peel the tomatoes—this is one of my favorite kitchen tasks, behind peeling beets. Score a big X into the tomato, boil some water and, once boiling, pour it over the tomatoes. Don't let the tomatoes sit long because then the outer part of the tomato flesh will cook, making it mealy—2 minutes is more than enough. Drain and now the tomato skin peels easily off, leaving you with naked tomatoes.

Roast the chiles until black, place in plastic bag until cool, then peel them.

Slice the tomatoes, removing the seeds and mucousy inside parts—this pie is juicy enough without it.

Cut the corn off the ears.

Slice the chiles and cheese, if not already shredded.

Mix together the mayonnaise, lemon juice, and chipotle sauce together.

Roll out one disk of your biscuit pie crust and place it in the pie pan.

Now, layer the ingredients. I went, from bottom to top: tomatoes, corn, chiles, cheese, repeat. Once all vegetables are inside, pour the mayo sauce on top. You may even want to put some of this sauce in the middle, before you start the 2nd layer of tomatoes, because I found that the sauce didn't really penetrate the entire pie. And the sauce is delicious.

Roll out 2nd disk of biscuit dough, place on top of pie, cut vents, and brush with melted butter.

Bake in 375º oven for 30-35 minutes. Place the pie on a baking sheet, maybe even lined with foil, because the pie will bubble over.

I love Paseo. And I am procrastinating from writing my thesis

2009-08-30T17:05:00.000-07:00

Mariana -- I'm curious to hear more about how your summer went...how did you like your job and enjoy L.A.? Did you have any exciting adventures, and, probably most relevant to this blog, did you find any special places to eat? That's one of my favorite things about living in new places -- sleuthing out new favorite spots to eat. In Portland, I'm currently semi-obsessed with a place my friend Allee introduced me to -- The Waffle Window. They serve a waffle with bacon, brie, and basil. This is perhaps one of the greatest combinations involving a waffle that I have ever eaten (other than perhaps Roscoe's fried chicken and waffles -- in my mind that is debatable though). I think I hear some people in Belgium crying in jealousy.

The flip side of this is that it is always sad to leave beloved places behind. One of my favorite places in Seattle is a tiny sandwich shop called Paseo that sells an amazing pork sandwich. It has delicious pulled-pork, cilantro, jalapenos, caramelized onions, garlicky mayonnaise, romaine lettuce and crispy, crunchy bread. I'm pretty sure that I took you there when you visited me in Seattle. Since I can't regularly enjoy this sandwich, I decided to attempt to recreate it in Portland.

Before recreating it I, of course, had to do some research. I'm definitely not the first blogger to attempt this recipe. A friend pointed out this version to me. And this blogger went so far as to measure the sandwich and count the onions. I admire such attention to detail.

My attempt went pretty well -- I made a tasty sandwich, though it didn't fully capture the magic of Paseo -- the flavors were a bit off. I adapted a recipe for Cuban-style pork from Cook's Illustrated. Unfortunately, my kitchen is sadly lacking both a usable dutch oven and a bbq, so I had to adapt this to my crock-pot (this recipe is in someways similar to crock-pot carnitas). It worked fine though! Really though, I realized I just need to take a trip to Seattle to enjoy the original -- for the time being, that is, at least until I crack the recipe code.

Attempt #1 at Paseo's Cuban Roast

My attempt at this sandwich was pretty loosey-goosey in terms of the non-meat components. I suspected (and continue to believe) that the meat is going to be the hardest part for me to replicate and wanted to focus on trying to get that right this time round. So, I don't have exact preparation methods or proportions for the other ingredients (or the meat really -- I prepared three pounds of it and snacked on it for the rest of the week). I think this is fine as everyone likes slightly different proportions of the ingredients on their assembled sandwich(es). As a warning this meat is not very labor intensive but it takes a while -- there is an overnight brining and a slow cooking in the crock-pot.

Components of the Cuban Roast Sandwich from Paseo

Cilantro (to taste -- probably about 7 or so sprigs per sandwich)
Jalapenos (to taste)
Caramelized Onions (again to taste)
Aioli (I used this recipe and thought it work pretty well, though I added some relish and hot sauce. I put about a tablespoon on each sandwich)
Romaine Lettuce (probably about 2 lettuce leaves per sandwich)
1 Baguette (I used Grand Central bread and it worked really, really well)
Cuban Style Pulled Pork (my adaptation below)

Cuban-Style Pork Roast

adapted from Cook's Illustrated, August 2006

Pork and Brine

6 quarts cold water
3 cups sugar
2 cups table salt
2 medium garlic heads (separate the gloves and gently crush them)
4 cups orange juice
3 pound hunk of Boston Butt pork

Mix the first 5 ingredients together in a large stock pot, making sure to dissolve the sugar and salt. Cut 1-inch-deep slits in the meat (seperating them by about 2 inches) and place the roast in the brine. Let it hang out there at least overnight and up to 24 hours (this long in the brine + the crock-pot might make the meat too tender though).

Garlic-Citrus Paste

12 medium garlic cloves, peeled and coarsely chopped
2 tablespoons ground cumin
2 tablespoons dried oregano
1 tablespoon salt
1 1/2 tsps ground black pepper
6 tablespoons orange juice
2 tablespoons distilled white vinegar
2 tablespoons olive oil

Process the first 5 ingredients in the food processor. Pulse until these ingredients have formed something resembling a coarse paste. Add the liquid ingredients (starting with the orange juice) while the processor is running. Once all the liquids are added, the mixture should be a smooth paste. Set aside.

Remove the pork from the brining solution and cut into 2-3 inch chunks. Coat the pieces of pork with the delicious smelling garlic paste and place in crock-pot. Cover the pork with water (only add as much water as necessary to cover the pork -- about 4 cups) and cook on low for 8-9 hours.

Remove the pork from the crock-pot, let cool slightly, and pull apart using two spoons. In order to get a nice, crispy texture on the pork, fry the pieces of pulled pork in a medium-sized pan (If, like I did, you plan on eating sandwiches throughout the week, only fry up what you are going to immediately use).

Once the meat has nice and crispy parts go ahead and assemble the sandwiches to your liking. Yummers!

Not a recipe

2009-08-28T08:30:00.000-07:00

Katie, we're being lazy bloggers. My excuse is that I just got home to Tucson last week, where I was greeted by a refrigerator whose circuit had blown days earlier—gnarly! And by "gnarly" I mean disgusting, gross, and disappointing after an 8-hour drive. I cleaned my refrigerator with bleach, then with Meyer's, then filled it with baking soda, and it STILL smelled horrible. I was a little afraid to put food in it and then to eat that food. That's only excuse #1. Excuse #2 is that school started this week and things are a bit hectic.

I found a solution to my smelly fridge problem, thanks to the internet: ground coffee. Take about a cup of ground coffee, put it in some sort of cloth—I used cheesecloth, but a clean, old sock would also work—put that in your fridge and, magic! No more smell!

I feel like smelly refrigerators are something that maybe other people suffer through but don't talk about because it seems so shameful and secret—but if we don't talk about our smelly appliances, how are we going to share solutions for getting rid of the smell? This blog, my friend, should be a safe space for kitchen secrets and shames. My name is Mariana and I had a smelly refrigerator, full of rotting meat and maggots. My refrigerator has been cleaner than ever for five days.

Also, since I've been talking about sausages and hot dogs all summer long, I want to share an article that finally gives Sonoran hot dogs the props they deserve. I like the girl who says, "The problem with American hot dogs is that they're American." What she really means is American hot dogs are boring compared to the glory of the Sonoran hot dog. Sonoran hot dogs one-up the American hot dog and make a mediocre thing wonderful—but let's not forget that without the solid foundation of the American hot dog the Sonoran hot dog wouldn't have been possible. Couldn't we use the Sonoran hot dog as a manifestation of that melting pot ideal of America that is so often praised but so rarely seen? Can the Sonoran hot dog be a metaphor for what it means to be American?

What's going on with your vanilla extract?

Cookie Cake Pie!

2009-08-17T22:47:00.000-07:00

Mariana -- have you heard of cookie cake pie?? I hadn't until I saw a picture of it on my friend Winnie's facebook page a month or so ago and I've been so intrigued by it ever since. The name basically explains it all -- a layer of cookie dough baked in a pie crust and topped off with a layer of cake, frosting and sprinkles.

I think you can imagine why I was so curious about this creation -- my curiosity about this cake was almost child-like. This is the kind of dessert that had I stumbled across it at 8 years old, when I loved kittens and the color pink, I would have not been able to stop eating. It would have been requested at all holidays. (By the way, this is also the age that I bet my parents $50 that I could eat a dozen donuts -- unfortunately, I ate only two and a half before admitting defeat).

While it isn't as heavy as you might expect, there is no escaping the fact that this is pretty ridiculous. I'm pretty surprised this creation hasn't taken the world by storm, so I'm doing my part to spread the word. The original recipe is posted at the blog CakeSpy and I've posted the link here. I definitely recommend checking out this link, as my hurried pictures don't do this dessert justice.

When preparing it myself, I made a few changes from the original recipe, in part due to tips from Winnie. Though I love under baked cookies, I'm not a fan of underdone cake (and in the blog photo the creation looks a bit undercooked), so I baked the cake separately and placed it on the baked cookie/pie dough. I realize some people might consider this to be cheating, but I was happy with the results. I got the cake recipe from smittenkitchen and used my favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe; both recipes can be halved, though I just froze the extras. Though as Winnie pointed out, the variations on this cake are endless -- different flavors of cookies and cakes can be mixed and matched.

Guest Post: Mariana's Mom's Trifle

2009-08-16T09:43:00.000-07:00

*My mother's first guest post on our blog. Thanks, Mom!

For a get-together on a warm summer day in Tucson, a trifle always seems to be a great compromise between refreshing and luscious. Trifle is one of the very few great cooking successes of English cuisine.

The basic part of a trifle is the pound cake. You can either take it easy and buy one in the grocery store (not highly recommended), or buy a cake mix (not too bad), but I decided to go all the way and make my own. After hunting around on the Foodnetwork web site for a little while, I ran across the following recipe of Purely Pound Cake, based on a recipe of Gale Gand. It actually turns out to be basically the same recipe of a cake my mother pretty often makes, named quatre quarts, which means four quarters. The name comes from the fact that you use equal amounts (by weight) of butter, flour, sugar and eggs. Looking at this recipe, it explains why a pound cake is called a pound cake, something I never knew: it uses one pound of butter, one pound of sugar, one pound of flour and a dozen eggs! This recipe makes two pound cakes. You add of course some little extra things like a pinch of salt, some brandy, vanilla, whatever you want.

I decided to make only one pound cake. I used the following ingredients:

• 2 sticks of unsalted butter, softened at room temperature
• 1 cup and a couple of tablespoons of sugar
• 6 eggs, separated
• 1/8 cup of brandy (I used Mandarine Napoleon)
• Pinch of salt
• 1 ¾ cup flour, sifted 3 times

Preheat oven to 325 °. Butter 1 loaf pan and line with parchment paper.

Cream the butter using a mixer until light and fluffy (takes about 10 minutes). Add the sugar and continue mixing. Add 2 yolks at a time, mixing well after each addition. The mixture should still be fluffy. Add brandy and salt (the authors also added some nutmeg, but I didn’t like that idea). Add the flour in 3 batches and mix just enough to mix.

In another bowl, whip the egg whites until stiff. Add to the batter and mix well. This takes quite a while, and I did this by hand.

Pour the batter in the loaf pan and even out the top. Place in the oven for 70-80 minutes, until golden brown and a toothpick stuck in the middle comes out clean. Let it cool a while and remove from the loaf pan, continue cooling.

I made the pound cake on the day before I used it. It could be made earlier, just wrap it in plastic wrap to prevent it from drying out too much. I tasted the pound cake and found mine a bit too dry, so maybe I baked it a bit too long.

The trifle itself is basically a mixture of pieces of pound cake, vanilla pudding, whipped cream and fruit of choice. I use a trifle bowl, which is a container with straight sides on a little pedestal. The whole thing looks very elegant. About the different elements of the trifle:

• I slice the pound cake into 1/2 inch slices and coat one side with some jam, in this case I used raspberry jam, but apricot is very delicious too. Cut in cubes.
• Use real whipping cream
• For the vanilla pudding, I use the simple packages you buy at the grocery store, but I always use the vanilla pudding that you have to cook (not the instant stuff) and the one that contains real sugar.
• For the fruit I used a mixture of berries: strawberries (sliced), blueberries, raspberries and blackberries. Use whatever fruit looks good at the store, but I would suggest to stay away from bananas as they tend to turn brown and mushy.

To assemble the trifle, start with a layer of pound cake pieces, then some pudding, fruit and whipped cream, and continue until the bowl is full, or you run out of ingredients. End with whipped cream and decorate with some fruit. Refrigerate. You should make this several hours ahead of serving so that the layers penetrate each other.

To serve, just use a big serving spoon and let your guests serve themselves in bowls. Usually they come back for seconds. Awesome English invention!

Vanilla Extract x 2

2009-08-09T20:56:00.000-07:00

Again with the blog slacking on my part. It is probably fairly representative of my cooking pattern though -- sometimes I can't get enough of it, while other times it falls to the wayside. I continue to spend quite a bit of time thinking about what I want to make but ultimately don't prepare anything worthy of a blog post.

I'd been thinking about (and gathering the ingredients) to make vanilla extract for over a month. This last week my Aunt Helen pointed out that Cook's Illustrated also published a recipe for vanilla extract in their latest issue. I was intrigued by this recipe as it utilized a different method to prepare the extract (the vodka is heated) and a different vodka to vanilla bean proportion than other recipes I had read. Also, the extract is ready to use in one week, whereas other recipes take 2 or more months. This was also handy as I am currently out of extract. So, for the sake of scientific method, I decided to make both recipes.

I'm going to have a lot of vanilla extract -- almost 4 cups in all (I'm not much of a vodka drinker, so I figured I might as well use it all!). The smaller jar holds the Cook's Illustrated recipe (with a 1 vanilla bean to 3/4 vodka ratio) while the other holds the recipe I got off the lovely Joy the Baker blog. This recipe, like many many I have read online, uses a 3 vanilla beans to 1 cup vodka ratio. I used semi-cheap 80 proof vodka for both recipes, though the guy at the liquor store suggested Everclear. This might be genius. Everclear vanilla extract, however, will have to wait for my next extract adventure.

Vanilla Extract

From the October 2009 Cook's Illustrated (This is a tasty looking issue -- I definitely recommend picking it up)

Ingredients

3/4 cup vodka
1 vanilla bean
1 clean, sealable jar or container of some type

Using a sharp knife, split a vanilla bean down the center and scrape out the tiny seeds inside. Place both seeds and bean in the container. Pour the hot vodka into the container (a funnel was super helpful in this step). Let the mixture cool to room temperature. Close the container, then place in a cool, dark spot. Gently shake the mixture one time per day. In a week it (should be) ready to use -- I'll let you know how my batch turns out.

A small sampling of other sources for vanilla extract recipes:

My mama told me...

2009-08-09T18:56:00.000-07:00

She told me that sardines are good. So did David Lebovitz. And—it's completely true! Taking my mother's advice, I made an open-faced sandwich with toasted sourdough bread, sardines from a can (in soybean oil), and heirloom tomatoes; it was fantastic.

I have to admit, I was pretty wary of canned sardines even though (1) I know I like fresh sardines (especially fried, especially in Spain) and (2) I know I like other, canned fish (like tuna and anchovies). But I was still afraid that the sardines would be...fishy. And! They're not! I mean, they're fish, obviously, and taste like fish, but not in a smelly way. Rather, they taste like a different version of canned tuna, but meatier. And, sardines are a rather ecologically sound choice, compared to tuna or other, fancier fish.

Am I being ridiculous with my amazement over the goodness of canned sardines? Did you know about it? And, if so, why didn't you tell me?

Chiles rellenos, not fried (?!)

2009-07-29T21:20:00.001-07:00

A few years ago, my mother got a deep fryer and I started thinking of all the wonderful things that could be made in it, even though I didn't live at her house anymore and was not specifically invited to use it. Why did it take my mother so long to get a deep fryer? What kind of Belgian is she? A real Belgian would not only have a deep fryer, but use it, and often, and how!: french fries, croquettes...well, those are the two main things, but what? A person can live a full and beautiful life with french fries and croquettes being the only uses for a deep fryer.

But I digress. My mother got a deep fryer and this led to me going to her house to make chiles rellenos—the kind that are breaded and fried. So I did exactly that. And then I thought: well, never doing that again. Because, you know, they were completely edible, yet lacked all the glory that is a chile relleno: the crisp of the outside, the smokiness of the roasted chile, the gooey, oozy cheese on the inside, all contained within the self-sufficient universe of the chile itself. (Important side note: I don't have a favorite chile relleno in Tucson but if you happen to live in Chicago and you happen to be at the California stop on the Blue Line (the northern California Blue Line stop), I urge you to get off the train, exit the station, cross the street, and go eat a chile relleno taco at Taqueria Moran.)

These grilled chiles, my friend, are different. Granted, they aren't breaded or fried and, if that's what you're expecting, that's two points against these grilled chiles rellenos. But, in their favor, they're easier and (somewhat) healthier and (somewhat) less fussy.

Grilled chiles rellenos
Adapted from Bon Appetit

6 fresh poblano chiles (if you live in a place, like Tucson, where you can go to a grocery store, like Food City, and buy them already roasted and you don't want your house to smell like roasted chiles, you might want to do that—except you don't want to do it really because Food City is having some unfortunate issues with an ongoing organizing campaign, especially down on Valencia, so, in the spirit of solidarity, you should probably buy your chiles elsewhere and roast them yourself anyway)
12 ozs. potatoes —this makes about 2 1/2 cups of potatoes cut into cubes, use a type of potato that falls apart a bit when it's been boiled
1 1/4 c. shredded cheddar cheese, white or not, your choice
1/4 c. sour cream (optional, I had it lying around and it worked out well)
1 tsp. cumin
1/2 tsp. coriander
salt and pepper
a grill (full disclosure: I used a George Foreman grilling machine, it worked fine)

First, and well before you want to serve the finished dish, roast your chiles. Wash them, put them over a flame and let them get nice and black. Now your house smells delicious, hooray! Once blackened and while still warm, put them in something airtight, like a ziploc bag or tupperware container just large enough to fit them comfortably.

Once the chiles have cooled, you can peel the blackened skin off easily. And you should do exactly that.

Bring a large pot of water to boil and cook the cubed potatoes about 8 minutes, until tender. Drain.

To the warm potatoes, stir in the cheese, cumin, coriander, salt, pepper, sour cream, whatever else you think might be a good idea. Bacon? Sounds ok. Corn? Yes. Anchovies? Probably not, but who am I to say?

Now, prepare those peeled chiles—this part is annoying. Cut a slit into the chile and extract whatever strings are inside and especially the seeds. You'll never get them all but you can put in the amount of effort that you wish, depending on how spicy you want the finished product to be.

Once your chiles are empty, they are now ready to be filled. Carefully. Patiently. It may take some maneuvering to get all the possible space in the chile filled, and the chile's skin may be on the delicate side, depending on how long you left them over the flame. (I thought there was no way to overdo the chile roasting—I was also completely wrong.)

Top with cheese, if desired, and grill. If you're using a real grill, try having it at medium heat. Grill until the cheese melts, or the chiles seem warmed through, about 15 minutes.

Goat Cheese and Sour Cherry Blintzes

2009-07-26T14:32:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the little break from blogging, I was feeling a bit lazy. A horrible excuse, I know, and it is not entirely true -- I've been busy and it's been hot -- but those are even more pitiful excuses. There is so much wonderful food in the farmer's markets, my imagination is going crazy with ideas of things to make...but somehow I'd just rather lounge around and eat popsicles for dinner.

Sour cherries are nice in this recipe, but raspberries, blackberries and other types of fruit would be just as tasty. By the way, I didn't use the fresh sour cherries I posted about recently -- those ended up in my stomach and a sour cherry sauce -- instead I opted for jarred sour cherries.

I made these blintzes for friends a while ago and perhaps they aren't the best summer fare, especially when prepared in a non-air conditioned studio apartment. They are, however, tasty, fun, and a great use for the jarred morello cherries from Trader Joe's.

Goat Cheese and Sour Cherry Blintzes
adapted from the Tavern on the Green cookbook

Ingredients

Crepes
18 crepes made from your favorite recipe. The only (very slightly) tricky part about the crepes in this recipe is you only cook them on one side. Here are some ideas for crepe recipes if you don't have a favorite up your sleeve (note that you may need to double or triple the recipe to yield sufficient crepes):

Filling

8 ounces cream cheese (at room temperature)
8 ounces goat cheese (at room temperature)
1/2 cup ricotta
1/4 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon fresh squeezed lemon juice
1/2 vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 cups sour cherries that have been stored in water or a light syrup (drained)

Additional Ingredients

Butter for frying the blintzes
Powdered sugar for serving

For the filling: Mix the cheeses, sugar, egg, lemon juice, vanilla and cinnamon in a large bowl. Add 2/3 of the cherries (or whatever fruit you decide to use).

My strategy for preparing the blintzes: Set up two large, clean surfaces to convert the crepes and filling into blintzes -- I used a large cutting board to assemble to blintzes and transferred them to a large pyrex dish (about 9x13) to hang out before getting fried up.

Place the crepe or crepes (depending on what size surface you are using) cooked side up on the surface; place two tablespoons of the filling in the center of each crepe. Fold the crepe like a burrito -- that is, fold the top and the bottom edges over the filling to meet in the center; then fold the outer edges over to meet in the center, taking care press down the seam to seal the blintzes as tightly as possible. Transfer the blintzes to the other dish and repeat the process until all the blintzes are assembled. These blintzes can be covered and refrigerated for the next day or the final steps can be taken immediately.

Heat up about 1 tablespoon butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Place as many blintzes -- seam side down -- in the skillet as possible without crowding the skillet (so leave a couple of inches between each blintz). Cook for about five minutes, then, as delicately as possible, flip them over and cook for another five minutes. Monitor the heat carefully to assure that they don't burn. Once cooked on both sides, transfer to another platter and resume cooking the remaining blintzes, adding butter to the skillet as necessary.

To serve, garnish with the remaining berries and powdered sugar. Whipped cream or sour cream might be a nice addition here!

Cold Zucchini and Summer Squash Soup

2009-07-19T10:42:00.000-07:00

People in Los Angeles think it's hot—this is debatable. Hot is not 85º. 85º is warm, certainly, but if we start calling that hot, then what do we call 105º? Regardless, it's still warm enough out to make me:

turn the AC on in the car, which makes me feel like a wimp
go to a movie during the day. I went to see 'Public Enemies.' And, you know, it would have been a great movie except that John Dillinger led a pretty interesting life and the movie tried to get it all in there—overambitious. I thought studios were all about sequels these days and, yet, here's a movie that is asking to be made into separate parts and no. No sequels for you, John Dillinger.
want to eat cold soup that's not gazpacho. I've already made gazpacho once this year and that's my limit.

Enter: cold zucchini soup. And, since it was in my refrigerator, shaming me for buying it at the farmers' market and waiting a week before I remembered it, summer squash.

To explain my relationship with zucchini soup, let me start off by saying that my grandmother makes soup better than your grandmother. Or mother. Or my mother. Better than anyone I know. We can fight about it if you feel strongly about it—that's how strongly I feel about it. My grandmother's soupmaking is so ethereal, though, so hard to pin down, she just looks at what she has in the fridge or freezer and puts some stuff in a pressure cooker and does other things and then, all of a sudden, the immersion blender is in use and the soup is done. So, even if I pay close attention and stay in the kitchen with her during the entire morning, I'll never get an actual recipe out of it because she does it so casually and so interspersed with other things that I hardly notice the soupmaking portions of the process that is making lunch. (Also, I don't stick around the kitchen because (1) I often get fussed at and (2) if someone is willing to make me lunch, who am I to ruin it by helping too much? I'll do the dishes afterwards instead.) And, the soup is different all the time, depending on what's on hand. Still, zucchini soup makes appearances often.

Of my grandmother's many talents (which include, but are by no means limited to, identifying fevers before the sick person feels like they have a fever, learning and speaking languages, making one feel ashamed of oneself for not doing a task that one is supposed to do and having that shame prompt the task to get done, and talking to strangers), soupmaking is one of the ones from which I benefit most. There is soup at her house daily, even if it's warm out. I can't bring myself to eat hot soup in warm weather if it's not being served to me, but I really like zucchini soup and now is prime zucchini season. This is the answer.

Cold Zucchini and Summer Squash Soup
Adapted from Bon Appetit and my grandmother

2-3 tbsp olive oil and maybe some butter, if you have it and aren't afraid of it
1 medium onion, sliced or chopped (Katie, I used a Walla Walla sweet onion in your honor)
2 garlic cloves, sliced or crushed, your choice
6-9 medium zucchini or summer squash, or a mix
4 cups broth
sour cream, for garnish

*You'll need a blender or an immersion blender for this. Because you will be blending everything smooth, it doesn't matter how well you slice or chop the vegetables—great, right? But, large chunks still probably aren't a good idea because that will affect cooking time. What I'm saying is: do a mediocre job at chopping, but not a sloppy one.

In a large pot over medium heat, cook the onions and garlic in the olive oil and/or butter until they're brown. It sounds pretentious but, if you are patient and cook the onion until it's really brown and delicious, that taste will infiltrate the rest of your soup and it's totally worth the extra time.

Add zucchini and summer squash, toss with the onions. Add the broth and bring to a boil.

Once boiling, cover, lower heat to a simmer, and cook 10 minutes, until zucchini are tender.

Let cool to lukewarm and blend. Serve lukewarm or cold. Garnish with sour cream—it's kind of great because the soup is somehow, mysteriously, creamy and the sour cream adds a nice tanginess.

Also, I found I didn't need to add any salt to this, but I think it's because the store-bought broth I used had salt already. If using homemade, don't forget.

My grandmother sometimes puts very small meatballs in her soup, Bon Appetit suggests shrimp. I added sausage so that it was more of a meal; this wasn't a bad idea either.

Pissaladière Niçoise

2009-07-12T10:57:00.000-07:00

Checking out at the grocery store, I decided to be proactive about cooking and bought August's issue of Bon Appetit. And it worked! I cooked! Although, sidenote: it has been years since I've actually looked at a copy of Bon Appetit, since my mother stopped subscribing, I think. I was a little intimidated by its hipness, especially the photography. Also, August's issue has a list of the best hot dog places in the USA. First mention: El Güero Canelo in Tucson, AZ! Other things mentioned: The Linkery and Hot Doug's—sound familiar?

What this magazine showed me, apart from the recipe(s), is that we are about to be innundated by Julia Child. This is fine with me. I grew up watching her cooking show on PBS and liking it. (Along with The Frugal Gourmet. Remember that?) There's this movie coming out on August 7—which I'm excited to see—and, because of this movie, there's a lot of Julia Child popping up. The feature in Bon Appetit, for example, that provided this recipe. And there's this interactive virtual tour of Julia Child's kitchen, which has been transplanted from its original home to the National Museum of American History. And, just to prove my point, here.

Anyway, the recipe. Bon Appetit overestimated how fussy I wanted to be about this recipe, so this isn't quite what's in the magazine—but it basically is. This is the version for people who don't want to make their own pastry dough or herb bouquet or do blind baking but do want to add some cheese, even if the result is inauthentic.

Pissaladière Niçoise
Adapted from Bon Appetit

4 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp butter
2 pounds finely chopped onions (I used 4)
2 tsp chopped garlic
4 sprigs parsley, not-chopped-up so that it's easier to remove after cooking the onions
1 tsp Italian seasoning
1/2 tsp salt
frozen puff pastry
8-12 anchovy fillets*
1/2 c. black olives
1 c. shredded mozzarella (optional, not in Julia Child's recipe, but I had it laying around)

In a large skillet, heat up the olive oil and butter over medium heat. Add the onions, garlic, parsley, Italian seasoning, and salt. Now strap yourself in for a long lesson in patience: those onions are going to be cooking for a long time. Like an hour. What you'll want to do is stir them every 5-10 minutes—more at the end—and maybe lower the heat at some point. Your goal is brown, delicious onions. You'll know when you get there.

Once the onions are done, remove the parsley sprigs because by now they're unsightly. Let the onions cool while you defrost the puff pastry.

Put your oven to 400º. Now you can assemble everything. The nice thing, I feel, about the puff pastry is that you don't need to do this in a tart pan—a cookie sheet is fine. I spread half the onions, then put on the cheese, then the rest of the onions, then the anchovies and olives. Then fold over the edges of the puff pastry—which is possible because you have only spread things in the middle of the dough, leaving about 1-2 inches on each side—and you have this.

Bake 15 minutes. Enjoy.

*I realize some people may be intimidated by the anchovies. Your pissaladière niçoise will not be overwhelmed by fishiness—rather, you may get some extremely salty fish taste in a few bites. More salt than fish. I find that kind of enjoyable but if you don't, leave them off.

Strawberry Picking with Nicki + Sour Cherries

2009-06-28T15:45:00.000-07:00

Mariana -- I hope your bicycle inflicted injuries are healing well. Though I certainly haven't had to deal with the obstacles you have recently, I can identify with a lack of motivation to cook. Frequently, that lack of motivation (or laziness) stems from a lack of time and/or lack of inspiration -- nothing quite captures my interested or creativity. But then sometimes, especially after weekends like this previous one, I have wayyyy too many things I want to attempt and not enough time or eating ability to polish everything off.

Nicki and I went strawberry picking today and picked up some tasty and tiny, raspberry-sized strawberries.

We also picked up some lavender (including a type grown for "culinary purposes"):

And finally, this last week I located sour cherries at the farmer's market. Yay! I love eating sour cherries plain (they remind me of a less tart version of sour candies), but I picked up an extra pint so that I will hopefully have left over cherries for baking.

Pea Tortilla with Mint and Yogurt

2009-06-26T22:09:00.000-07:00

It is interesting to me that there seems to be sort of a food blogging zeitgeist. I have a long list in my head (not to mention an even longer spreadsheet) of recipes that I'm excited to try, but most of the time there are one or two dishes that are front runners. These front runners are items that I'm particularly motivated to try out, things I'm so excited to make and share. Frequently and tragically, I will be browsing other food blogs only to find that someone has just recently pounced on my idea before I've gotten a chance to attempt it (and usually prepared it with more skill and pizazz than I possess). It's like they've somehow read my mind.

This week, Mariana, you were the culprit. I had been preparing to post on an egg dish only to have you beat me to the punch yesterday with your Swiss chard omelet. Though are dishes are not overwhelmingly similar (often the similarities between the dish that I was intending to prepare and the dish someone has already blogged about are striking), I still feel a bit like a copy cat.

Instead of an omelet, I used the eggs to make a Spanish tortilla and instead of Swiss chard and cheese, I prepared my egg dish with mint, peas, potatoes and Greek yogurt. While I'm certainly not an expert on Spanish tortillas, the original version of this recipe (which called for no potatoes) seemed somewhat untraditional compared to the other olive oil-drenched, onion- and potato-filled tortillas I've tasted. I did add some potatoes that I had laying around and the addition of peas, mint and yogurt were a refreshing change. I was somewhat suspicious of the yogurt, but definitely recommend it -- both in the egg mixture and as an accompaniment to the tortilla.

Pea Tortilla with Mint and Yogurt
adapted from Food and Wine

There are at least two methods for cooking a Spanish tortilla. This one uses what Lynn Rosetto Casper identifed on "The Splendid Table" as by far the easier version -- that is to cook it first on the stove top then pop it in the oven for a bit so that the top of the tortilla can finish cooking. The other method calls for you to cook it on the stove top, flip it out of the pan and then return it to the pan on the stove top to continue cooking -- yikes!

Ingredients

4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup cooked sliced potatoes, lightly salted
1/2 pound frozen baby peas (I ran hot water over the frozen peas and then thoroughly dried and drained them. You could also use fresh peas!)
1 1/2 cups plain Greek-style yogurt
8 large eggs
1/2 cup coarsely chopped mint
1 teaspoon kosher salt (I have to say, this dish was perfectly salted...usually I can find that a bit tricky with egg dishes)
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

Preheat the broiler. Make sure an oven rack is 6 inches from the heat source.

Beat the eggs adding 1/2 cup of the yogurt, mint, salt and pepper until well combined. Set aside.

In a large, ovenproof, nonstick skillet (though I used a 9 inch non-nonstick skillet) melt the butter. Add the already cooked potatoes; warm them through. Then add the peas and cook over moderate heat until warm, stirring to evenly distribute them among the potatoes.

Pour the egg/yogurt/mint mixture over the potatoes and peas and cook over moderately high heat for about 4 minutes. While the tortilla is cooking, use a spatula to gently pull the partially cooked eggs on the outside edge of the pan toward the center and at the same time tilt the pan so that the uncooked eggs flow towards the edge. This will help to assure an evenly cooked tortilla. Transfer the skillet to the oven and broil for about 3 or 4 minutes, until the top of the tortilla is set.

The next part is the tricky part -- slide the tortilla onto a plate. If it doesn't slide out easily (especially if you are like me and didn't use a nonstick skillet) run a knife around the edge, place a place on top of the skillet and flip it over so that the tortilla comes out of the plate. Garnish each slice with a couple of tablespoons of the remaining yogurt and any extra mint you've got hanging around.

Oh, Swiss Chard!

2009-06-25T20:30:00.000-07:00

Props to Oliver for his grilled salmon post! And his post got so many comments! By mysterious, anonymous people! Maybe he can be our Man Correspondent, bringing us stories about grilling and smoking and other things men cook. While we bake cakes and cut crusts off of sandwiches. In frilly aprons. Barefoot! We can stage a comeback for gender roles!*

Cookingwise, the past few weeks have been tough. There was my post about how I don't really want to cook in LA—kind of whiny. Oh, I don't want to cook in a strange kitchen! Sigh, I'm so lazy! Eek, Korean groceries are largely incomprehensible to me! And then the post about the bike accident and subsequent chewing problems—good news on that front, the healing is going well. Still, a bit of a pathetic post, right? (Although rightfully so.) I'm hurt! I can't chew! Poor me, make me pudding!

Anyway, last Sunday was a tough situation: I kind of wanted to get out of the house, after having been kind of cooped up for recuperation for a few days, but I kind of didn't want to be in a crowd, but I really wanted to get some more of those fantastic plums from the farmers market and I kind of knew that I should cook something so that I wouldn't have to eat ramen or take out, I was kind of tired of feeling sorry for myself, but found it kind of hard to stop. Ambivalent, conflicted me! But those plums, they were mindblowing. Mindblowing enough to resolve my conflicts, getting me to the farmers market, where I found this excellent swiss chard.

The chard was fresh and green, and it was all, "Hey. You know I'm better than spinach. Don't mess my entire life up by doing a lot of things to me." And I said, "OK." So I cut it up, put some garlic in a pan with olive oil on medium heat, threw in the chard once the garlic had cooked a little bit, and let it wilt. And then I made this excellent omelette.

It looks juicy and runny and I realize that this, along with the egg texture, won't be so appetizing to some people. You'll just have to trust me that it was great.

There's no recipe here, but there is a point: I think I was overthinking cooking. (Is that sentence meta-cognition?) I always had an idea of what I wanted to make, and wanting that thing to be a bit complicated. Sometimes I forget that food is delicious without too much preparation. And maybe all the intense preparation is distracting and has the potential to burn me out—even though I make recipes that are more complicated than not in order to have exciting things to post on this blog. Because who wants to read about an omelette I made?

YOU. Hopefully. Anyway, tying it all up: I was in a period where I was cooking to have a delightful product at the end, instead of thinking about how delightful the original thing can be. Easy doesn't mean worse, most of the time.

*Joke.
Except about Oliver being our Man Correspondent.
And the mysterious, anonymous commenters. We love the comments, so much! But if we know you, could you sign your name?