Hold the Raisins

Testing

2010-12-05T20:55:00.000-05:00

Just wanted to see if the blog is still functioning.

Carbonara Dreams

2007-07-01T13:38:00.000-04:00

Seems I can’t get it together to do much blogging now that I’m back in the kitchen. Working nights means I have the luxury of sleeping in every morning, and I’ve been taking full advantage of it. Each night, while enjoying a cold hoppy beverage, I prepare dutiful lists of projects to accomplish the next morning, only to find myself waking up at noon and barely making it out the door with pants on. And the dreams – endless hours of making pasta while I sleep. The worst dream is the one where I show up at work late, don’t do any prep, and the orders start flying in. Only I have no mise en place! No tomatoes, no garlic, nothing. I run about madly while the tickets pile up and I contemplate just dashing out the door and never returning. I wake up in a cold sweat, locate my pants, and rush to work full of guilt for slacking off so badly in my sleep. Although my job is completely free of take-home stress I can’t seem to stop manufacturing my own.

Update on my left hand – still a claw, my ring finger now gets stuck in a bent position and I have to use my other hand to flip it back to straight. Ouch! The 22 year old guys I work with on the line don’t seem to have this problem. My only consolation is that based on our conversations I suspect I have a much richer inner life, and I don’t waste nearly as much time running out to the dining room to verify a rumor of “hot chick on table 8.”

Zing!

2007-06-19T12:58:00.000-04:00

Dear Dunkin Donuts,

When I say DECAF, I mean it! I know it can be confusing to keep track of the myriad facets of my order, (large iced decaf with milk) but GET IT TOGETHER, PEOPLE, I am the only customer in the store. My arm hair is now standing on end (at least what little arm hair I have remaining, the rest having been singed off by close proximity to the flat top) and I’m racing around the apartment like a squirrel. I am going to appear to my coworkers like a cook with a nasty cocaine habit and my hands are shaking so much that I’m going to be dropping pans all afternoon.

DECAF!

Thank you,
Raisinhater

On another note – so far work is great. No crying, lots of tasty pastas to sample, left hand only partially stuck in claw-like formation.

Back on the Chain Gang

2007-06-11T11:22:00.000-04:00

Today is my first day back at the restaurant. They’re promoting me to the dinner shift in the hot kitchen where I’ll be cooking pasta. I’m terrified. Pasta is the toughest spot on the line; there’s no time for mistakes and you must be tough as nails. And strong. Hella strong. Considering my arm hurts from yesterday’s tennis lesson I think I have some work to do.

Embarassingly, my other fear is that I’ll cry. Because that is what I do now, apparently, when something gets to be too much, or too stressful, or too hard. I cry like a kindergartener. And that’s NOT OKAY because there is NO CRYING in the kitchen. Not when you’re trying to prove yourself in front of a bunch of big strong men. (Didn’t you read Kitchen Confidential – imagine how much worse it would have been if he were a girl, and if he cried? Ouch.)

The title of this post refers to this song, which they used to play before the beginning of the night shift when I was first starting at Garde Manger because it was at the beginning of somebody’s iPod mix. You know how each baseball player has a song that they play when he approaches to bat? Maybe this is my song.

And hey, I just watched the youtube thing and you know who cries? Chrissie Hynde. Chrissie freaking Hynde cries in this video, while she’s singing. Probably because the song was written about the death of her lead guitarist (and boyfriend?) after his overdose. If Chrissie Hynde can cry at work maybe I can too.

France

2007-06-06T12:22:00.000-04:00

We’re back from France and it was a lovely vacation. It was great just to spend time together and relax and laugh again – it felt like I hadn’t laughed in a month. A little time and distance didn’t make us forget what happened, but it provided a blanket to help us cover some of our rough spots.

I was a terrible food blogger because I took no photos of food, but I did write down nearly everything I put in my mouth. But since No One Cares What You Had For Lunch, I’ll just summarize:

Wine
Cheese
More wine
Pain au Chocolat
Just a bit more wine
Fois gras
One more glass
37 ducks
Butter
Cheese (for dessert!)

Maybe I’ll post more later about some of our meals, but here are a few of my brilliant observations about Paris:

1.) Everyone is a good driver. No, really. It’s not like Rome where you fear for your life every time you step off the curb.

2.) No one was rude. No one. No one giggled at my awful French accent, no one made snooty faces or laughed at my Old Navy fashions, no one looked at us askance as we sat sipping wine among beautiful tanned fit men at what was obviously a gay bar.

3.) People really do walk around carrying baguettes all the damn time.

4.) Meals take longer. This is a good thing. You sit for a while, you get some wine, you order, you eat a bit of this and a bit of that and drink some more wine, maybe you have a coffee or a smoke, you wander home, maybe stopping for a drink on the way. Dinner is an event.

5.) The adorable metro! Cute little green trains, only 5 or 6 cars long, and the stations don’t smell like pee (as much). The best part – there are little digital signs above the tracks telling you when the next train is coming, and they come every 6 minutes or so. No more standing on the platform waiting if perhaps the entire subway system shut down and no one bothered to mention it to you.

6.) Like any other big city, there are plenty of mediocre touristy restaurants. With just a little research you can avoid these spots and get some great food.

Thank You

2007-05-09T11:51:00.000-04:00

I’ve been trying to figure out what to write here on the blog and I’m just not sure what to say except thank you all so much for the love and support through this difficult time. I just cant tell you how much it means to me to feel surrounded by such caring people and even though I haven’t been emailing I’ve read every one of your comments over and over again.

Juan and I are doing ok, he took a short leave of absence from work so that we could be together, and we’re planning a trip to France just to get away for a while. This experience is by far the most difficult one either of us has had to go through, and we’re muddling through the best we can. I think it’s going to help me to get back to some of my normal activities, so I’m going to try to return to posting regularly on the blog.

I just want to say thank you again to everyone out there commenting or emailing or just keeping us in your thoughts and prayers.

Beth

Lucas

2007-04-18T09:24:00.001-04:00

Last Thursday, April 12, our baby Lucas was stillborn as a result of an umbilical cord accident. At birth, Lucas was 38 weeks old, weighed 7 pounds, was 20 inches long, and was a beautiful baby. We miss him very much.

Casserolling, Rolling, Rolling

2007-03-31T09:56:00.000-04:00

There is only one thing I fear more than turning into a June Cleaver-style 1950’s housewife, and that is starving to death. Throughout history, humanity has faced food shortages caused by wars, famines, mini-ice ages (yes, I’ve been watching the History channel, why?), and malfunctioning kitchen equipment. Rarely, if ever, is humanity given an opportunity to prepare for and thwart an upcoming shortage. But I, I have been given such an opportunity to avert impending starvation right here in my very own apartment.

You see, a famine is coming soon to the Raisinhater household, the famine of no-way-I’m-cooking-I-just-gave-birth. Fortunately, after the baby arrives, Mr. Raisinhater will be staying home for a few weeks because of his company’s generous paternity leave. Unfortunately, Mr. Raisinhater cannot cook. He REALLY cannot cook. I have never in my life met anyone with a greater kitchen ineptitude. He did not know we had a gas (not electric) stove until last month (we’ve lived here for three years). He orders takeout grilled cheese from the diner across the street.

I have tried. Lord knows I have tried. But we all have our strengths and our weaknesses, you can’t teach an old dog, blah blah. The truth is I don’t want to share the kitchen anyway. I'm bossy and there's only room for one chef in there. And it's too much fun to watch him struggle with the self-locking tongs. He just needs the basic tools to feed us for a few weeks. Those tools are…

Casseroles!

Check out those simple instructions. A monkey could do it! But can my husband? (He may have done 3 points better than me on the LSATs but at least I wouldn’t starve to death if we lost all the takeout menus.)

I’m putting aside my June Cleaver fears and storing up for the lean times ahead. Easy as a TV dinner, but full of tasty healthy stuff (chicken, spinach, mushrooms and onions) because I made it myself (without a recipe, so lets hope it actually turns out ok).

Anyone out there have a recipe to share – something I can make now and freeze, that Mr. Raisinhater can pop in the oven without too much difficulty? Preferably something healthy with lots of veggies?

Also, is that Rawhide song from the title still stuck in your head? Yep, me too. Sorry about that.

Same As It Ever Was

2007-03-19T21:09:00.000-04:00

The journey was treacherous – the sidewalks were icy and slushy and I stepped in dog poo – but it was so worth it…

The 2007 Shackburger!

Let the Wild Rumpus Begin

2007-03-19T10:40:00.000-04:00

Holy shit, people - rumor has it Shake Shack is opening today at noon. The official website says 11 - 6. See you there!

The Countdown Begins

2007-03-13T05:27:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I started maternity leave.* I’ve still got about 6 weeks to go before my due date, but line cooking isn’t one of those jobs you want to do right up until you go into labor. Standing 11 hours straight, lifting heavy crap, trying to move quickly (ha!), trying not to sample the forbidden cheeses – no fun. I plan to go back in August or September but, until then, I’m spending my days lounging about on the couch gestating and thinking about my next meal.

This is what I’ve been looking forward to…

That’s right – only 8 more days until Shake Shack reopens. If you find yourself in line on March 21st behind a very pregnant woman with chunky ankles, stop and say hi!

*I use the term “maternity leave” pretty loosely here, I just kinda stopped working and will start up again at some point in the future, hopefully at the same restaurant. The culinary world doesn’t typically offer a law firm-style multi month maternity leave package. Then again, I no longer work for a firm full of humorless soul sucking bastards, so I'm still regret-free in the career change department.

How To Make Your Own Blue Pizza

2007-03-05T08:28:00.000-05:00

Alas, my blue pizza didn’t take the prize, but the dough was nevertheless a winner around my apartment. I’ve had terrible trouble finding/developing a pizza dough recipe that produces sufficiently thin, stretchy, chewy, and crispy crust in my regular old oven. Finally, I found the ONE. Jeffrey Steingarten’s recipe in It Must’ve Been Something I Ate. I should’ve known the curmudgeonly ex-lawyer would come to my rescue again.

Jeffrey Steingarten’s Pizza Recipe, but Blue

2 lbs (6.5 cups) flour, half all-purpose ubleached and half bread flour (preferably King Arthur brand, which is actually pretty tough to find in both Whole Foods and the dirty Gristedes on my corner).

1.5 tsp. active dry yeast (or 1.125 tsp. SAF-Instant yeast)
1Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. salt
3.25 cups cold water
Olive oil and cornmeal for oiling/dusting
Blue food coloring (fancy professional kind from Williams Sonoma)

I halved the recipe, making enough for two medium pizzas.

First, I added the food coloring to the water until I got a deep shade of turquoise. I combined the flours, yeast, salt and water in the bowl of my mixer, stirring by hand until they stuck together in a very messy shaggy dough. I mixed (using the paddle, not the dough hook) on low for one minute and then high for 3.5, as he recommends. My dough formed a very loose ball at this stage, which I plopped on a floured cutting board to rest for 10 minutes. I divided it in half (again, I only made a half recipe), formed two balls, and let each rise on an oiled plate, covered with oiled plastic wrap, for three hours. Then I let them rise for four more hours in the fridge. I removed one from the fridge, shaped the pizza carefully, using cornmeal on the bottom to prevent sticking, topped it with sauce, mozzarella, bacon and gorgonzola and cooked it on the pizza stone in a 500 degree oven for about 10 minutes. (I preheated the oven for at least a half hour so the pizza stone got quite hot, and I think my oven temp was actually closer to 550 degrees.) The crust was thin and crisp without being too crackery, and it had a chewy bite. My next experiment - does it freeze?

Blue Pizza!

2007-03-01T17:30:00.000-05:00

I made a blue pizza for the Amateur Gourmet's Blue Food Contest, check it out...

The dough

The pizza before cooking

The finished product

Will I win tickets to see Blue Man Group? We'll see what judge Michael Ruhlman decides.

Strip Steak for Bruni

2007-02-28T10:21:00.000-05:00

That saucy Bruni is at it again! Today's one star review of Robert’s Steakhouse in the Penthouse Executive Club may have just made Jeffrey Chodorow's head explode. Part of me wondered if I should be offended at his trivial treatment of the objectification of women and the fact that my subscription money is paying for his dinner at a strip club and blah blah Andrea Dworkin blah, but I just can’t take myself that seriously.

Bruni. Makes me. Laugh.

In other news, this sandwich made my heart sing with joyful glee.

Torta Milanesa de Pollo (with black beans, jalepenos, avocado, cheese, lettuce and tomatoes) from a secret location that I will not disclose! Wha ha ha ha ha ha.

The Joys of Pregnancy

2007-02-26T14:28:00.000-05:00

Foods I suddenly can't live without...

and, of course,

Arby’s bacon cheddar deluxe with cheddar curly fries.

No pickles at 2am, yet.

Fire Up the Deep Fryer

2007-02-22T09:24:00.000-05:00

Some of you may know of my fascination with extra-large cephalopods.

The largest colossal squid EVER was caught in Antarctic waters south of New Zealand earlier this month.

Dr. Steve O'Shea, a squid expert at the Auckland University of Technology, said that "if calamari rings were made from the squid they would be the size of tractor tires."

Vegetarian Lasagna

2007-02-20T15:18:00.000-05:00

Some days you are lazy, and you don’t want to spend hours standing over simmering sauce and bubbling béchamel; instead you want to take a nap. Other days, you watch too much Molto Mario and everything must be homemade and fresh and organic and you want to spend the whole afternoon in the kitchen, teensy as it may be. Fret not, mercurial reader, lasagna is there for you whatever your mood.

It all started with this Epicurious recipe and a last minute vegetarian dinner party. Four elements – marinara sauce, no bake noodles, spinach with pesto, and creamy cheese – make up the basic recipe. In a pinch, you can easily make the recipe as written, using jarred sauces and ricotta mixed with parmesan for the cheesy layer, and it’s really pretty tasty.

If you have the time, though, this recipe is the perfect springboard for creating your own lasagna. The key to the homemade version is the béchamel or, since this dish is Italian, besciamella, sauce.

And I have something to say about béchamel. Frankly I'm just sick and tired of hearing people complain, lambasting it as some kind of deadly liquid fat, acting like it's impossible to make, moaning about cream sauce and cholesterol. Just stop it right now, because béchamel's bad rap is totally undeserved. Do the math – this lasagna recipe uses 4 T of butter, 3 cups of milk, and makes 8 to 12 servings. That’s about 1 teaspoon of butter per serving. And milk – milk is good for you! Milk is healthy. Who can argue with milk. So I say bring back the béchamel as the new health food!

(steps off soapbox)

Here's the recipe.

I started by making a double recipe of marinara and a single recipe of pesto

Dad's Marinara

2 cloves garlic, minced
1 large yellow onion, diced
3 T olive oil
1 28 oz. can diced tomatoes
1/4 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1 tsp. dried oregano
1 tsp. dried rosemary
1 tsp. dried parsley
1⁄2 tsp. salt
1⁄2 tsp. black pepper

Drizzle oil into a medium size saucepan over medium-low heat, add onions and garlic and sauté until translucent, approximately 10 minutes. Add tomatoes, increase heat to medium, and cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the herbs, salt, pepper, and crushed red pepper flakes, stir and cook for 15 more minutes (still stirring occasionally) or until sauce has reached desired consistency.

Simple Pesto

2 small bunches basil
2 cloves garlic
1/3 cup pine nuts
½ tsp salt
olive oil

Add garlic and salt to mini food processor, process until minced, add other ingredients and process until desired consistency is reached. Alternatively, mince the ingredients by hand and mix together. Mix pesto with two 10oz. packages of frozen spinach (thawed and drained).

Next, prepare the béchamel sauce.

Béchamel

4 T butter
4 T all-purpose flour
3 cups milk, scalded but not boiled
salt to taste

Melt butter in a medium sized saucepan and add the flour. Cook until bubbling and golden brown, stirring constantly. Add milk and lower heat – do not allow the sauce to boil. Keep at a low simmer until sauce has thickened and coats the back of a spoon.

I added at least ½ cup grated parmigiano reggiano to the béchamel just before taking it off the heat and then let it cool a bit (it will thicken) in preparation for assembly.

Assembly

Layer as follows:
1.) Marinara

2.) Noodle
3.) Spinach

4.) Bechamel. Repeat 3 or 4 times, ending with noodle. Add one more layer of marinara.

Bake, covered with foil, for 35-45 minutes at 350 degrees. Remove foil and top with shredded fontina cheese. Bake for 10 more minutes and then broil for 3-5, until top layer of cheese is crispy and brown. Let sit for at least 10 minutes before serving. Makes 8 - 12 servings (twice amount shown in photo above).

If you're not having vegetarians over for dinner, just substitute browned hot Italian sausage for the spinach pesto mixture and/or bolognese for the marinara.

Or Perhaps the Alien Invaders are to Blame?

2007-02-12T11:52:00.000-05:00

For the past week I’ve been eating grapefruit for breakfast and it’s far sweeter than I remember. It’s been a few years since I’ve had a grapefruit, but certainly not long enough for it to have evolved all Darwin-style into a more yummy citrus product. I am suspicious, and I’ve narrowed it down to a few possibilities…

1.) Grapefruit is actually getting sweeter.

There’s some genetic engineering hocus pocus going on and they’re cross breeding grapefruit and Skittles to create a more delicious breakfast for me.

2.) Fresh Direct has special grapefruit.

Unlikely, because I’m just buying the cheap one from Fresh Direct; it’s not even organic. For the sake of science, I’m going to purchase a grapefruit from Whole Foods and one from the dirty Gristede’s on the corner and have a little taste test. I’ll report back.

3.) It’s not you, it’s me.

Perhaps my palate has changed? Is this part of some bizarre adult rite of passage signifying that I’m now mature enough to appreciate what was once a very unpleasant tasting food? If this is the case, please send gifts. (One of those grapefruit knife/spoon combo things would be particularly appropriate.)

4.) Global Warming

I don't know how, but I'm sure it's to blame for this too.

Simple Salad

2007-02-09T08:15:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you can create pretty interesting combinations just by trolling through the fridge for random odds and ends. For example, the other night I made a surprisingly delicious salad of sliced cucumber, blood orange supremes, and basil.

Just toss together the above ingredients, along with some olive oil, salt, and lemon juice if you need extra acidity. I served it with SPICY chicken and the flavors were very refreshing. I would've subbed mint for basil but it's about negative 500 degrees right now and there was no chance I was going back outside just to spend $3 on mint.

The Sound of 2,000 Samurai Swords Crashing to the Ground

2007-02-07T09:02:00.000-05:00

There’s nothing I enjoy more than a Bruni Steakhouse Smackdown (password required). In case you haven’t made it through the Times today, Bruni gave Jeffrey Chodorow’s Kobe Club a deadly “Satisfactory,” finding that “it presents too many insipid or insulting dishes at prices that draw blood from anyone without a trust fund or an expense account.” Bruni correctly reasons that if you’re going to charge hundreds of dollars for beef and go through the foolishness of hanging 2,000 samurai swords from the ceiling, the food better be outstanding. It wasn’t, thus the dreaded “Satisfactory” (why mince words, change it to Sucks!)

While we’re on the subject of Kobe beef, anyone else out there dream of being reincarnated as a Wagyu cow ? Daily massages and ample feedings of beer to fatten up? Yes please.

Get Your Can Openers Ready

2007-02-02T13:42:00.000-05:00

Look at the treasures I just added to my cookbook collection…

And a closeup of my favorite…

A big thank you to s’kat who sent me these terrific books as part of her bookshelf cleanout project. I love old cookbooks and I can’t wait to start tearing through these.

Frankfurter casserole, anyone?

Look for the Beauty Within

2007-01-23T21:41:00.000-05:00

Oh bananas, I’m so sorry, I had such plans for you. Laying on a bed of grape nuts, enjoying healthy smoothies, a nutritious snack on the way to work. But I let you languish, alone, in the bowl in the corner. I didn’t notice you. I (gulp) forgot. My cruel husband, who frowns on even a single brown speckle, scorned you a week ago as long past your prime. Don’t despair - I can, I will, I must make it up to you. There’s still time for us…

Banana Cake!

Adapted from this recipe to include extra chocolate instead of those pesky potentially healthy walnuts. Great to bring if you’re a dinner guest because your hosts can store it and eat it for breakfast the next day rather than feeling obligated to serve it that night. If gifting, decorate the top with drizzles of melted chocolate.

Could This Be Love

2007-01-19T06:07:00.000-05:00

While watching the Vinegar/Sauerbraten episode of Good Eats I heard Alton Brown mention that as far as he’s concerned, raisins are ALWAYS optional. Could I have found my soulmate?

Trust Me, I Deserve It

2007-01-15T12:15:00.000-05:00

It’s been a nasty nasty week and a half here in the land of Raisinhater, and yesterday was my birthday, and today is my wedding anniversary, and it’s cold and rainy, and I’m pregnant. I say all this to justify the breakfast I made for myself today.

Yes, biscuits with sausage gravy.

I posted this recipe about a year ago, but reading about Mona’s breakfast at Egg started me thinking about it again. Irresistible. Almost delicious enough to wipe away the horrors of last week. Probably one more dose tomorrow and I'll be good as new.

Thank you all so much (on behalf of the whole Raisinhater family) for your good wishes and congratulations! Soon there will be quite a bit more posting and time to cook, as I'm starting maternity leave at the end of the month. It's a bit early, but the working as a line cook during my last few months of pregnancy sounds like a pretty bad idea. Instead I'll be going in to the restaurant occasionally to help out and spending lots of time at home playing around with food.

Eating for Two

2007-01-03T22:34:00.000-05:00

We Raisinhaters have been keeping a big secret for a while now. Check it out…

Those little red things are the toes of my clogs. They’re obscured by six months of pregnant belly. The worst thing about being pregnant – no gorgonzola. The best (but also sometimes worst) – the superhuman sense of smell. I can tell what the neighbors are cooking for breakfast (usually, burnt toast). At work, I can tell from across the room when it's time to take the beets out of the oven.

The young Raisinhater (a boy!) is due in late April and we’re very excited for his arrival. We’ll be hosting a wine and gorgonzola party approximately 30 seconds after he is born. You’re all invited.

Happy New Year!!

Dosa – The AntiChristmas

2006-12-28T13:48:00.000-05:00

Take away the Figgy Pudding, I’ve had enough. After days of feasting on cheeses and cured meats, holiday cookies and sausage for breakfast, I can go no further down the holiday food path. I suspect that this will be the perfect antidote…

A Pondicherry Masala Dosa (and a samosa) from NY Dosas, the cart in Washington Square Park operated by the “Dosa Man,” Thiru Kumar. NY Dosas is no undercover secret spot; the cart has been a finalist in the Vendy Awards two years running. These vegan dosas are filling but not disgustingly so, and I’m convinced the extra spicy ones have curative health powers. Go. Eat. Feel better.

Holiday Baking in a Hurry

2006-12-11T09:43:00.000-05:00

If…

you’ve been eating too many of other people’s cookies at work and you need a fix NOW because your glucose levels are dropping to dangerously normal levels,

you spent all your money on new shoes and need cheap gift ideas for your friends, doormen, and coworkers, or

you are in charge of dessert for the holiday potluck party

here’s what to do.

Go out and buy yourself one of these.

Follow the directions on the back of the jar. It takes about 20 minutes total (excluding cooling time) and looks like this right after you add the chocolate chips.

You’ll end up with FUDGE!

Cut it up, put it in fancy baggies, hand it out (or eat it all yourself). It’s far less glamorous than decorated cookies, but perfect for any of the holiday emergencies listed above. And, hilariously enough, it's low fat. Ho ho ho.

The Legislative Process At Work

2006-11-28T20:56:00.000-05:00

I sent an email to my city councilperson this morning opposing the proposed introduction of legislation banning the sale of foie gras in New York City restaurants and food markets. Just a few hours later, the Sun reported that councilman Gerson is reconsidering the legislation, and will not be introducing it at this time.

My voice was heard! I've been frustrated with the political process more often than not over the past six years - today turned things around just a teeny tiny bit.

Watch out NY, I'm quickly headed toward being the crazy lady who calls the mayor every day to complain about the potholes and saves her tinfoil to make hats for her 87 cats.

You may notice that the blog got a facelift - hope you like it.

Happy Belated Thanksgiving (With Sushi!)

2006-11-27T08:51:00.000-05:00

I hope everyone out there had a happy Thanksgiving. I didn’t cook, I just worked and ate. We had short ribs and turkey, ginger garlic haricot verts, couscous, sausage stuffing (my favorite), and more – all prepared by the Raisinhater parents. We ate and ate and ate and started watching the Top Chef marathon and some of us almost passed out on the floor from overstuffed exhaustion.

Check out what the Raisinhater brothers brought to the table…

They made their own sushi! I. I’ve tried to make sushi before and failed miserably. I ended up with sticky clumps and torn seaweed. Theirs was totally fantastic. Are you not impressed? Perhaps even jealous? Do you not wish you could make your own sushi to serve at traditional holiday gatherings? I bet you do. Thus, I will try to convince the talented R Raisinhater to join me in an instructional sushi post some time in the near future, to share his sushi wisdom with the rest of the world.

My Week in Food

2006-11-20T10:53:00.000-05:00

This week, meh. I have very little to say about this week. At least very little hat doesn't sound like a whole bunch of complaining. Instead, here's a little tidbit of fascinating food wisdom I learned each day.

Tuesday Night – The carbonara I make at home will never taste as good as the one we make at work. None of my pastas ever will, mostly because I can’t bring myself to use half a stick of butter. If you use half a stick of butter at home, your pasta will taste exceptional and people will think you are a great cook.

Wednesday Lunch – Sometimes a lunch place that looks crappy and dingy on the outside isn’t an undiscovered treasure. It’s just a crappy dingy lunch place with tough and stringy meat on the sandwiches.

Thursday Night – Chicken sausage is just not that good. Even if all sorts of tasty and flavorful ingredients are added. Buy pork, the extra calories are worth it. Unless, of course, your whole foods is like mine and is going through another sausage crisis. Fortunately I have plenty stockpiled in my parents' freezer from the last scare.

Friday Night – That pesto sauce I made and froze back in August was pretty damn good, and linguini with pesto is possibly the easiest dinner on earth. Next year I’m making and freezing 80 quarts of pesto.

Saturday Night – the Pastis Steak Sandwich is still the best sandwich in this city, and one of the only foods that can mend the wounds of a terrible day at work. New discovery – if you order ice cream they include absolutely delicious little butter wafer things.

Last Night – I would eat my own arm if it were covered in the sauce that Jubilee Restaurant puts on its Moules Provencales.

This Morning – Kashi 7 Whole Grain Nuggets are pretty much the same as Grape Nuts, with a less clever name.

From The Library

2006-11-13T10:57:00.000-05:00

I just finished one of the funniest food books I’ve read in a long time. I checked it out of the library and it was so good I actually considered buying a copy for my permanent collection. Gastronaut is a collection of irreverent essays and recipes for “adventurous” foods.

A few of the recipes aren’t totally foreign to me; at work we have a pretty “whole hog” approach to cooking. Nevertheless, some is pretty wild – cannibalism, foods that promote flatulence, aphrodisiacs – it all appeals to my fourth grader sense of humor.

I also checked out Eat This Book and, although it should be just as funny and irresistible (a tale of a year on the competitive eating circuit!), it just misses somehow. The book skips around, the characters aren’t as engaging as they could be, I’m just not sure what happened. I wanted to like this book so much, but it took me two weeks to get through it. I read Gastronaut in one afternoon.

If you’re looking to make Buckinghamshire Bacon Badger, Monkey Gland Steak, Fish Sperm on Toast, or even throw your own Bacchanalian Orgy, or if you just want to spend the next rainy day (perhaps this afternoon) curled up on the couch giggling, Gastronaut is definitely worth the $14.

A Few Words on Curry Sauce

2006-11-06T11:04:00.000-05:00

This is the worst kind of mockable blog post. What I had for lunch. But it was good. And you should try it. And so I'm going to tell you about it anyway.

Yesterday I lunched at Elephant & Castle, and enjoyed an Elephantburger.

That scary yellow substance is curry sour cream. The first time I remember loving a curried condiment was in Nag’s Head, North Carolina. I ordered coco loco chicken fingers (breaded with coconut shavings and spicy stuff then deep fried) and they came with a cup of curry lime sour cream so good I licked the last of it out of the bottom of the serving cup. In New York, I’ve only run into curry dip in British Pubs. Baker Street serves it with their fries and enormous cheeseburgers, and will give you extra if you ask.

It was scrumptious on the Elephantburger and I suspect it can be made quite easily at home by mixing curry powder and sour cream. Probably a perfect accompaniment to hot dogs and tater tots.

Sweet Relief

2006-10-26T12:48:00.000-04:00

I’m back from my short stint of constant work and travel, and I’m DELIGHTED to report that the Whole Foods at 24th and 7th is now stocking Pumpkin Spice Gelato. Thank you thank you thank you. Right now I’m torn between buying 5,000 pints to stock up for the pumkinless winter ahead, or exercising moderation in an attempt to preserve its special seasonal status in my heart.

In other news, my work schedule just changed (more days, fewer nights) and, starting on Sunday, I’ll have lots more time to cook at home and update this blog. Between now and Sunday you’ll probably be able to find me in the Whole Foods freezer aisle.

Starting to Panic

2006-10-12T11:22:00.000-04:00

Where is my Ciao Bella Pumpkin Spice Gelato?

(Photo from last year.)

I keep making up excuses to go to Whole Foods and it keeps on not being there. Yesterday I broke down and went to Cones for some pumpkin gelato. It filled the immediate need but it certainly doesn’t help me at 2am when I get home from work and need some festive pumpkin asap. Anyone in the New York area seen it?

Coney Island

2006-10-02T11:20:00.000-04:00

Although I’ve lived in New York for seven years, I’d never been to Coney Island.
Last week I went on a little field trip. It was pretty deserted.

But the weather was beautiful.

The water was a bit chilly.

Fortunately Nathan’s is open during the off-season.

Sometimes it’s worth paying a professional

2006-09-26T08:19:00.000-04:00

I was walking to work a few days ago and I spotted a gentleman in a black tank top with an interesting upper arm tattoo. He had obviously intended for the tattoo to read “Italian Stallion” over the green, white and red crest of some sort.

Unfortunately, the “t’ in Stallion was crossed a little too high and the script read “Italian Scallion.”

Due to the size of the his biceps, I elected not to snap a photo.

Surly with a side of Bland Oatmeal

2006-09-18T10:04:00.000-04:00

New York Magazine just started a food blog. “Grub Street will be updated hourly, covering everything from the cult street vendor, nameless yet venerated, to the latest temple of gastronomy, awash in renown.” Honestly, I’m not sure I can deal with another New York food blog trying to find exquisite food for under $5 or rave (again) about The Little Owl. The market is saturated. Enough already.

Or maybe I’m just grouchy because I’m having trouble with my oatmeal. (Just stop reading right here unless you’re really interested in my oatmeal trials and tribulations.)

Hi Mom.

I’ve never been a big oatmeal eater, but all of a sudden I found myself in the oat/meal aisle of the grocery store. The fact that I knew exactly what to buy and how to make it was a sure sign I’d seen this episode of Good Eats on television a few too many times. You know, the one where he pretends to be Scottish and they make haggis?

The trouble is the topping - it needs a little something to add flavor. I should mention right here and now that I’m not a chunks-o-fruit kinda gal. I don’t eat fruit yogurt, I don’t even like pulp in my OJ. (In fact, I will not drink any beverage that contains pulp. When I was younger I used to strain my juice before drinking it. Perfectly normal.) So fruit is pretty much out. I know this closes off a whole world of nutritious and flavorful blah blah blah. Seriously, I used to strain my juice. I’m not going to start tossing blueberries into my breakfast any time soon. If you like that sort of thing, go ahead. Hell, throw some raisins in there. Just don’t expect me to Mmmm and Ahhh.

I started with the classic brown sugar. Always a crowd pleaser, but lacking punch. Things improved when I started adding a spoonful of plain yogurt and a pinch of salt with the brown sugar – it may sound gross but the contrast of flavors was really quite nice.

Next I tried semi-sweet chocolate chips. Absolutely awful. Really truly dreadful. Bitter, miserable, I had to throw it away. In this case, two rights make a big fat wrong.

Butter wasn’t enough, maple syrup was too much. Should I go salty, sweet, or both? Anyone out there have any suggestions for the perfect oatmeal?

Bing-O!

2006-09-12T09:37:00.000-04:00

I’d love to say I discovered Roll and Dough all by myself, but Gothamist and New York Magazine got there a week or two ahead of me. Nevertheless, in case you haven’t heard, Roll and Dough has arrived in Manhattan! Lucky for me, Roll and Dough, located at the corner of W. 3rd St. and 6th Avenue, is right on my way to work.

Roll and Dough features bings, buns and dumplings (and assorted soups). The bings are grilled, the buns and dumplings are baked or steamed, and all are portable pockets filled with meat, vegetables, or even fruit. Curiously, their menu also features a section labeled “Public Favourite Food,” containing Ameri-Chinese fare like General Tso’s, but on my last visit this section was crossed out in ball point pen.

New York Magazine aptly describes the bing as looking like “a sesame seed bagel that got run over by a taxi.” The crust is thin and chewy, the filling is like that of a dumpling, but moister. So far I’ve tried the Spicy Pork Bing, the Spicy Beef Bing, and the Pork w. Chinese Cabbage Bun. The Spicy Pork Bing was the clear winner. Check it out…

It was like the best dumpling I’ve ever had. For an investment of under $2.00 Roll and Dough is definitely worth a try. If you order $15 worth, they’ll even deliver. You could have a bing party! A bingfest! Bingorama! Bingapalooza ’06!

Leafy Greens

2006-09-08T11:35:00.000-04:00

Leafy greens. So good for you..

My diet consists of whatever I can scrounge out of the fridge in the morning (typically yogurt) and then whatever is being served at family meal at the restaurant (typically pasta with leftover sauce). I am most likely developing scurvy. I clearly do not get my RDA of leafy greens, which apparently we should be eating with every meal so that we can be big and strong and live till 100 and have no free radicals floating about in our systems doing whatever bad things they are wont to do.

Sometimes, though, you don’t want a big old bowl of leafy greens. You don’t even want a side of sautéed spinach. The weather is getting cooler and you want comfort. A big bowl of pasta and cheese, or a duck leg confit. Or just butter, melted on whatever is near at hand. At times like this, you must trick yourself into ingesting the leafy greens while distracted by the cheese, ducks, and butter.

Some, like mustard greens, are face-pinching bitter. I like to balance this bitterness with fat. Mmmm, fat. Fat from the pig or the duck or the rich creamy cheese. Some, like kale, are just so, so leafy. This leafiness can also be successfully offset by fat, which coats the leaves with tastiness. Here’s how (I made these recipes up, so please forgive any kooky errors)…

The easy way:

Tear some kale into bite size pieces and sauté it until it is much smaller in size and not so damn leafy and unwieldy looking. Maybe 10 minutes. Cook some pasta. Bring some gorgonzola cheese and some heavy cream to a boil and reduce slightly, pour over cooked pasta (return to pasta pan and do this over low heat), add the kale, salt and pepper, toss and eat.

The slightly more complicated way:

Pasta with Duck Legs and Mustard Greens

The key to this pasta is that the duck flavors are incorporated three different ways; from the actual duck legs, by cooking the greens in duck fat, and by making the sauce from the fond in the duck pan.

2 duck legs, fat scored
1 large bunch mustard greens
½ lb pasta (I used gemilli)
1 large shallot, minced
½ - 1 cup veal stock (chicken or veg would work too)
1 T butter
olive oil
salt and pepper

Preheat your oven to 375. Season the duck legs and place them skin side down in an ovenproof pan coated with a little oil. Render the fat on the stovetop (medium high) until the skin is brown and crispy. Drain the fat into a bowl (reserve!) and flip the duck legs skin side up (still in the pan) and put them in the oven for 7 – 15 minutes or until they reached desired degree of doneness. Remove from pan and set aside. Do not wash pan.

Wash and trim tough stems from mustard greens, cut into strips approximately 1” wide. Place the reserved duck fat in a skillet and sauté the greens until partially wilted, seasoning with salt and pepper. Set aside, in pan, for finishing with pasta.

Start pasta water. Add shallots to duck pan, sauté until golden, deglaze with wine (optional), and add stock. Simmer stock in duck pan, stirring up brown bits, until reduced by half. While the stock is simmering, cook pasta and bone duck legs, slicing meat and skin into thin strips. Do not discard the tasty crispy skin – this is the best part!
Drain the pasta (reserving a little water to thin sauce if needed) and combine it with the stock, the duck, and the greens over low heat. Stir to coat the pasta, add butter, season with salt and pepper.

In other news, I bought some new tea and was looking at the tea bag tag. It was partially obscured and I misread it to say “reveal yourself” (it was “reward yourself”). Imagine tea drinkers worldwide suddenly flashing open their trenchcoats. Surprise!

The Ups and Downs of Tomato Season

2006-09-05T10:05:00.000-04:00

I am a tomato snob. I grew up in New Jersey, it is my birthright. There’s nothing worse than those mealy red orbs you find in the grocery store in December, posing as tomatoes. Every year I look forward to the real thing and mourn the end of tomato season. At least I used to.

This season, my feelings are confused; I’m in a muddle. I find myself despising beautiful red, yellow and green heirloom tomatoes, hoping they fall off the shelf and are crushed on the floor. At the restaurant, I make about 30 heirloom tomato salads a night. 45 if we serve it with buffalo mozzarella. They are slow, fussy, difficult to assemble, and break my rhythm. I find myself yearning for then end of tomato season, which is causing some kind of short circuit in the tomato-loving portion of my brain. A house divided against itself cannot stand.

Happy Blog Day 2006

2006-08-31T12:03:00.000-04:00

Today is officially Blog Day 2006, so I thought it appropriate to return to my poor neglected little food blog after my lengthy summer vacation. Hi everybody (if you’re still there) – I’m glad to be back! I’m looking forward to reading your blogs again, as well as writing this one.

On blog day one should link to five new blogs, but I’m so out of touch I don’t know five new ones, so I’m going to defer that project for a little while and get back to the business of tending to this blog.

Did I spend the summer sunning myself on luxurious beaches while drinking pink fruity umbrella cocktails? Was I whisked away on a yacht to private islands and fanned with fronds while munching exotic fruits? Did I win the lotto and spend the past two months redecorating my new brownstone and shopping for mid-century Danish furnishings? Or have I been working my ass off making food until one in the morning and then going home to scrape walnut bits out from under my nails until I pass out and wake up just in time to do it all over again.

Hmmm, if you guessed #4 you’d be correct! Yes, it is a glamorous life I lead. There is the cutting of the kale into ribbons, and the juicing of the lemons, and the breaking of the large pieces of cheese into smaller, more manageable bits. And all this before service even starts! At about 4, the making and serving of the food begins. The salads, the sardines, the beets, the octopus, the sliced meats. Escarole, walnuts, dressing, red onions, cheese. Repeat. And again.

I still enjoy my job, but I am juuuuust about ready for a promotion. I thought I was being promoted, but then I was un-promoted because of confusing reasons related to scheduling and staffing and the phases of the moon and whatnot. So now I am ready to be re-promoted. Upon re-promotion, if such an event ever occurs, I will work three days a week and two nights, rather than five nights (Wednesday through Sunday), as I do now. I will be involved in more advance preparation of food (actual cooking), although I will still be doing quite a bit of service as well. I’ll also have a chance to hang out with what’s-his-name, that guy who also showers in my apartment and has a wedding band that, for some reason, looks just like mine. So I wait. And I plan. And perhaps I sharpen my little potato peeler just in case that person whose job I may be promoted into may happen to have an unfortunate and tragic peeler “incident” that leaves him unable to perform his duties.

Working Girl

2006-07-12T13:23:00.000-04:00

Just realized that the title of my last post seems kind of weird and morbid if you’re not a Monty Python/Spamalot fan, sorry about that. My mini vacation was fantastic, I drank beer for breakfast, read trashy books, napped, and ate junk food all day. I feel a million percent better.

It’s not easy to jump right back into the working thing after my leisure time as a student. I’m working as a garde manger - I’m in charge of all the salads and other “cold” preparations (there are about 10, including sardines with fennel and saffron, beets with pistachios, etc.). The restaurant is BUSY. I work from 2pm till 1am. On a weekend night I can’t leave the station for a minute without masses of orders piling up and putting me deep in the weeds. Need to pee? Hold it. Run out of octopus? Pray that no one orders it until I can find someone to run downstairs and get more from the walk in. I’m still learning the preparations and I spend most of my time hoping I don’t serve Frank Bruni a poorly sliced overdressed oxtail salad with no pine nuts. Every Wednesday I turn apprehensively to the back page of Dining Out to make sure he hasn't written a nasty review about my food.

Despite the constant terror, I'm really enjoying the new job. The chefs are great teachers and no one screams at me or throws knives. The night goes by in a flash and before I know it it's time to clean the prosciutto slicer (not fun) and head home. The other night I got home and found a piece of prosciutto in my hair. Lovely. It's not a glamorous job, and I'm paid less than my cleaning lady, but so far it's been a huge learning experience, and much more fun than being a lawyer.

I’m Not Dead Yet

2006-07-10T09:59:00.000-04:00

Whoa, what happened there? I just checked my poor blog and realized my last entry was the 27th of June! Working full time and going to school have been pretty much kicking my butt, so most of my free time over the past two weeks has been spent catching up on sleep and basic necessities like buying toothpaste and beer. Only two more weeks till graduation.

Thank you so much for your kind words about my last post – I think I may have made the clues too easy because it seems like most people figured out the identity of my new employer without much trouble, but thank you again for all of your encouragement!!

I’m really enjoying work and learning a lot and all that good stuff, but today is my day off and I am SO HAPPY. I even skipped school today so that I could enjoy maximum relaxation.

I really don’t feel so guilty about skipping because today we were scheduled to learn about sushi. First, I really don’t think you can learn anything reasonably intelligent about sushi in one day. Second, I get my sushi from the restaurant where my brother works or, if I am totally incapacitated, one of the 18 fine sushi purveyors within a two block radius of my apartment. Third, I need to lay around on the couch drinking therapeutic beverages and snacking on non-Italian food.

As a matter of fact, I'm going to end this post right now and get to resting, but tomorrow I'll post a little more about my crazy new job.

A Real Job!

2006-06-27T19:19:00.000-04:00

There has been much excitement in the Raisinhater household this week – I did some volunteer work with some super chefs and some eating and drinking (lots of drinking) with one super chef in particular, who (here’s the really exciting part)…

is my new boss! Super Celebrity Chef (SCC) hired me to work in SCC’s restaurant. A few hints…

It’s not the chef who says BAM!
I’ll be working in New York.
Think orange.

Oops, I probably just gave it away. Here, distract yourself with this photo of Emeril...

Bombay Talkie

2006-06-17T09:06:00.000-04:00

Is it strange to dream of lamb chops? Does anyone else wake up at 4am gripped with icy fear that the waiter is on his way back to the table to tell her that they are, in fact, sold out of lamb chops? And imagine my sadness when I realized that oh, don’t worry, it was only a bad dream, there are plenty of lamb chops – BUT NONE FOR ME BECAUSE IT WAS 4AM AND WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND EATS LAMB CHOPS AT 4AM, NOW GO BACK TO BED!!

I think this is what caused the panic…

These are Bombay Talkie’s Lamb Chops marinated in ginger, garlic and yogurt, cooked in the tandoor and drizzled with a cilantro and mint spread. I think. Honestly, the description doesn’t really fit. It’s pretty easy to identify flavors like ginger, mint and cilantro, and they can even overpower a dish. But these lamb chops didn’t taste like anything but MAGIC! They were lamb chops is special secret sauce, mystery chops of perfection. The only problem (and, to be fair, our server warned us about this one in advance) was that there were five of them and two of us. Five divided by two = big fight. Other diners may have heard things like “I’ll pay the bill if you just give me that last lamb chop,” “I’m going away for ten days; you’ll miss me and regret not giving me the last lamb chop,” and even “do you really think you need another lamb chop?” (that last one is only effective if you stare at your dining companion’s waistline while you say it). If you go to Bombay Talkie, just get your own order. Best $15 you'll ever spend on lamb.

Big Apple BBQ Block Party

2006-06-11T10:38:00.000-04:00

If you live in New York City, don’t miss the Big Apple BBQ Block Party this weekend in Madison Square Park!

I went over for lunch yesterday and stuffed myself senseless. First, I enjoyed Blue Smoke’s St. Louis Ribs wit Dill Pickles.

Then, some Pulled Pork Shoulder with Coleslaw from Ubon’s in Yazoo, MS.

The ribs were a tasty appetizer, but the pulled pork won my top prize. Full of crispy bits, the meat was tender and so flavorful that I didn’t need the extra sauce. The coleslaw was light and peppery; perfect on the sandwich or on the side.

If you’re reading this on Sunday, there’s still time to dash on over and pick yourself up some ‘cue. They’re not exactly giving it away (each plate is $7), but the weather is perfect, the lines move pretty quickly, and the portions at Ubon’s are pretty huge.

Lamb Gyro

2006-06-09T10:35:00.000-04:00

I’m obsessed. Every day I try to resist and every day I succumb. What is so addictive about the lamb gyro?

I used to go to Pita Pan café on my way home, and order the gyro pictured above, until I discovered a superior version at the cart located on 23rd Street between 5th and 6th. For $3 you can order a huge gyro stuffed with crispy meat, lettuce, tomato, white sauce and hot sauce.

They slice the meat off the skewer and grill it while you wait. The meat is crispy, the pita is fluffy, the sauce is mysterious and tangy (and I suspect contains heroin or nicotine, to lure me back day after day). The man tending the cart is delightfully friendly, and has already memorized my order.

In other news, World Cup mania has reached a fever pitch right here in my apartment, and Argentina doesn't even play until tomorrow. I suspect we'll be spending a significant portion of the weekend hanging out in bars (hopefully) shouting GOOOOOOOOOAL.

Take a Peek…

2006-06-02T20:19:00.000-04:00

Sweetnicks is having a fridge fest – she’s invited all foodbloggers to reveal the contents of their refrigerator. (Speaking of Sweetnicks, don’t forget to clickety on over to Paper Palate because she’s doing a fantabulous job as our editor and we have a bunch of great writers that just joined the team!)

Here’s a look in my fridge…

And the door…

And a peek in the freezer…

The three things I ALWAYS have in my fridge:

1.) Sriracha. I could eat my own arm if it were amply doused with Sriracha.

2.) Evidently, a small jar of rendered bacon fat. I found it there in the back, I have no recollection of putting it there, but I know I add to it occasionally, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I brought it with me last time we moved. Therefore, I think it’s safe to say it has permanent resident status. (I think my mom has a jar of duck fat, which is WAY cooler, culinarily speaking, but also explains where I learned this hoarding-fat-in-a-jar thing.)

3.) Eggs. I know it’s boring, but you can do just about anything with an egg. The egg serves its best and finest purpose on a ever so slightly hungover Saturday morning when you wake up early and just need a little something easy on the tummy to help get you through till the crossword puzzle arrives at nine and you can start swearing and throwing pencils and feeling like an idiot. It’s there for you when you get home from work at midnight feeling frazzled and in need of comfort and home cooked sustenance. A carton of eggs is a brunch in a box – you can entertain the masses on student’s budget. (And they’re excellent with Sriracha.)

Three things you’ll never find:

1.) Raisins. I hate them.

2.) Prunes. Raisin is to prune as mouse is to (c’mon, think back to those SAT prep courses) the answer is RAT!! Ewwww.

3.) Peeps. Surely you’d never find Peeps in my fridge, stored away for the long, Peepless seasons ahead. Nope, not me, no way. (At least I hope you’ll never find them, because then you’ll try to eat them, and I’ll face a Peepmergency of dire proportions.)

A few things I feel like I need to explain:

You also may have notice that a small herd of veal stock filled Ziplocs is taking over the freezer area. It’s great fun when they stampede out and fall all over my feet each time I open the door. I actually think they might be breeding in there, because I don’t remember making more than a gallon of stock, but I seem to have about 87 quart-size baggies full of it. Either this is a great new business venture or I’m just very bad at math. (One gallon = 128 oz = 4 quarts = 4 baggies, no? Then why so many baggies?)

The Crisco is for seasoning my cast iron pan, I don’t actually use it to cook. (Come to think of it, I could probably just use that damn bacon fat.)

The processed American cheese slices (Can you see them? Maybe not?) and Coke belong to my husband. He has a huge weakness for sugary sodas and grilled cheese with plain old American singles (and bacon). I eat Velveeta mac & cheese with wine, so who am I to deny him his simple pleasures.

The bottled lemon juice on the door. I am lazy. Sometimes I hand squeeze, sometimes I do not. It tastes pretty darn lemony to me.

The week (or two) old white wine on the door. Yes, it is old. Yes, I cook with it. No, I would not drink it. (Yes, I might drink it if there were to be a beverage emergency, but please keep that secret to yourself.) No, I am not using a $20 bottle of wine to deglaze a pan of chicken drippings. I don’t even spend $20 on wine for my precious little mouth.

I do not keep an organized fridge. I prefer the “dig for surprises” method of cooking – it fosters creativity and eliminates time spent constantly reshelving and rotating. Also, I know I should store my herbs in glasses of water or paper bags or whatever the appropriate receptacle du jour may be, but (see above) I am lazy.

Yes, that is a mini Toblerone on the top shelf. Sometimes I like me some mini Toblerone after dinner, (shameless plug coming up) while I’m reading Paper Palate (go on, give it a click).

Book Report

2006-05-31T17:43:00.000-04:00

Even though I spend all day learning about and preparing food, I still like to read about it in the evenings. I’m hoping that speaks well for my decision to change careers (I can assure you that I NEVER spent my evenings reading about corporate transactions or tax shelters).

The Making of a Chef (by Michael Ruhlman)
Mastering the Heat at the Culinary Institute of America

When I judged this book by its cover, I was unenthused. I was expecting a pompous account of how some arrogant chef had suffered and struggled through culinary school to become the wonderstar he is today. Instead, this book is really charming and funny. The author went to the CIA for the express purpose of writing the book. He had an abbreviated schedule (I think he did it in about 9 months rather than two years) but took regular classes and was graded just like his classmates. He’s conscious of the fact that he’s playing a dual role of student and reporter, and that his teachers aren’t likely to forget it. Despite the fact that he doesn’t plan to work in a restaurant after “graduation,” Ruhlman is disappointed when he doesn’t feel he’s put his heart into the food he’s serving his teachers and fellow students. This book is a quick and fun read and gives a great glimpse at the realities of culinary school.

Insatiable (by Gael Greene)

Damn, she slept with SO MANY famous people. Elvis! Roger Verge, Jean Troisgros, Clint Eastwood, Burt Reynolds, Eric Rothschild, and a porn star. Before and after her trysts, she ate some of the most incredible food in the world (and was paid to do it!!) Insatiable is the story of a woman who devoted her life to pleasure – food and sex. This book is too much for one sitting (like foie gras, a little goes a long way), you’ll need to space it out over a few days at the beach. Every time I start to think of something critical to say about Gael Greene or her book I realize that I’m just jealous! Wouldn’t you want to spend your days sampling delicacies from the best restaurants in New York and your evenings working off the calories with Burt or Clint?

Pity Party

2006-05-23T07:00:00.000-04:00

There’s nothing like being greeted first thing in the morning by a great big dead roach on the bathroom floor. I normally consider myself a pretty tough cookie, so why does a little (well, smaller than me) bug provoke me to fits of sweating and squealing and gagging? Why do I need 14 paper towels to pick it up? Why must I first toss experimental paper towel bits at it to prove that it is really dead? Why must leap and shout obscenities while conveying the paper towel wrapped carcass to the trash? (Sorry neighbors.)

Since I’m already feeling really sorry for myself, I share with you one of my most pathetic recent dining experiences. I traveled to a small town – when I arrived, all of the restaurants were closed. Here was my dinner the first night…

Yes, that is Taco Bell. I ate it at the table in my stinky and damp hotel room. Fortunately I had the sense to bring wine. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the sense to save some. The next night was even worse. A series of meetings and events conspired to thwart my dinner plans a second time.

Dinner #2

Orange Fanta and Cheetos from a vending machine in the hotel lobby. It’s a wonder my skin didn’t break out in orange hives immediately.

Poor me. As you can tell by this post, today I feel like a miserable orphan in a Dickens novel. This morning is clearly some kind of karmic retribution for yesterday’s lovely morning, when I rode in an elevator with George Clooney. (At least he REALLY looked like George Clooney, and he was wearing sunglasses indoors. Who does that?) It took all my strength to refrain from licking his arm, and I may have drooled on my shirt a little bit.

Home Improvement for Short People

2006-05-15T15:28:00.000-04:00

This Sunday we put up shelves in the Raisinhater kitchen. See…

This may not seem like a big deal, but hoo boy it was. First of all, I am not so handy. I am decent, but no Bob Vila. J. Raisinhater, my devoted husband, is REALLY not so handy. At all. When we moved in together he had no idea what I kept in that little red metal box, and was astounded to find that I owned tools. On Sunday morning, before we even drilled a single hole in the wall, he was ready to call our building maintenance crew and beg or bribe them to come up to our apartment and do it for us. I explained that this would make us the building laughingstock for just about the next ten years. Still I had to pry the phone from his white knuckles while threatening him with the tool he soon learned was called a “hammer.”

After much sweating and measuring and sticking of tape and drilling of erroneous holes into some kind of major building support beam type thing, the shelves went up. The kitchen is 100% bigger. I now no longer have to remove 18 pots and pans from the oven and store them on the bed whenever I want to roast something. The stovetop is no longer littered with homeless cooking apparatus.

The only catch – no one over 5’7” can ever enter our kitchen.

Here's the photo I took with my hands on top of my head.

We had to install the shelves low enough that we could reach everything without a ladder. J and I are not so tall, so the shelves are less than 6 feet from the floor. Just about eye level for the rest of my family. Welcome guys – just put on this protective helmet before you go get more ice for your drink!

Chicken is Power

2006-05-12T10:16:00.000-04:00

Here I am in the kitchen of the Marriot Marquis helping make Willie Mae Seaton’s famous fried chicken for the James Beard awards. (I'm on the left, doing the breading.)

We didn’t get the elusive recipe – she prepared the batter earlier in the day under super-secret conditions, but we battered and fried about 3500 chicken wings to serve to the guests at the awards.

I manned the table for a while and we were SWAMPED – as soon as the award ceremony finished people made a beeline for our station (they’d been studying the food station map in their program) and we were cleaned out in minutes. We quickly learned one important lesson – Willie Mae’s fried chicken = power. People would trade just about anything to get special access to our chicken. We spent the night well stocked in Café du Monde beignets and champagne.

While we waited for reinforcements from the kitchen, I snapped a few photos. Here’s Ming Tsai’s butt. (I’m a little shy about asking for photos, but I’m not afraid to snap ‘em when people aren’t looking.)

And a sculpture by none other than the Ice Man himself, who showed up in leather pants and seemed to have a special fondness for my one of my classmates.

The party was enormous, the champagne flowed freely, and we stayed out WAY too late. Class the next morning was a bleary and miserable experience, especially because I had to kill and dismember some lobsters, but the experience of serving fried chicken wings to Florence Fabricant, Emeril Lagasse and the Ice Man doesn't come along every day.

Just one more sip...

2006-04-29T10:09:00.000-04:00

It’s been all wine tastings all the time around here – two in one week!

I know you don’t feel bad for me at all, as I'm over here sipping and slurping and nibbling on cheese and bread. One tasting at Artisanal involved ten wines and five cheeses - we learned about traditional and more innovative pairings of cheese and wine from none other than David Rosengarten, who's really quite funny and entertaining. The biggest surprise at the tasting was how much better all of the white wines tasted with cheese - the reds (other than one delicious rioja) pretty much overpowered all of them. I'm reserving my final judgment pending further study.

The Ice Man

2006-04-20T05:48:00.000-04:00

Today I met the Ice Man. Joe O’Donoghue of Ice Fantasies taught a class at my school and my head almost exploded. This man took a block of ice (divided into three pieces), a chainsaw, a drill, and chisel and created an angel fish swimming in seaweed, a martini glass and a horse head (along with many smaller serving pieces). In less that two hours.

It was absolutely amazing to watch him work. Here he is working on the first block…

He just pulled out the chainsaw, carved off chunks, drilled some bits…

And bingo – a fish…

The best part was that he was absolutely hilarious. He’s a born teacher. He talked about the relationship between peanut butter & jelly and the human psyche. He told a story about his friend who has a job drawing the eyes on mannequins. (You’d think it would be an easy job, until you see his imitation of a cockeyed mannequin admiring another mannequin’s shoes.) If you ever need an ice sculpture, call Joe – it’s worth it just to get the opportunity to meet with him in person.

Here he is again, working the chainsaw magic…

Making your own chicken stock – is it worth it?

2006-04-13T16:06:00.000-04:00

I’ve been roasting chickens lately because I’m testing out recipes for this semester’s final project (I’ll be putting up the recipes soon, once the testing is complete). As a result, my freezer looks like a chicken carcass burial ground – Ziploc baggies full of chicken parts and bones stuffed in every corner. The only solution - chicken stock.

One of the first things you learn in culinary school is how to make stock. Chicken and veal stock are the base of pretty much every sauce and tons of other recipes, so it’s a basic skill upon which most of our other knowledge is built. It’s easy to make stock at school – we have giant pots and huge sinks and massive strainers. But is it worth it to make chicken stock at home?

The basic recipe:

6 quarts cold water
8 lbs chicken bones and parts (take of as much skin as possible)
8 oz chopped onions
4 oz chopped carrots
4 oz chopped celery
1 sachet d’epices (tie up a bay leaf, some parsley stems, a few sprigs of thyme, some peppercorns and a garlic clove in a little piece of cheesecloth)

Cover chicken with water and bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer. Simmer four hours. Add mirepoix (onions, carrots and celery). Simmer another hour. Add sachet. Simmer another hour. Strain, chill and store. Throughout the simmering process, skim off any accumulated gunk that collects on the top of the stock.

My chicken stock:

I blanched the chicken first, to remove some fat and other unpleasantness. (I did this by washing the chicken, placing it in a pot with lots of cold water, bringing the water to a boil, then turning off the heat and removing and rinsing the chicken. It seems like a superfluous step, but it leads to a clearer stock and a lot less skimming.) I put the chicken in the pot and started the simmering.

After four hours, the liquid level dropped considerably.

I added way too much mirepoix, but it doesn’t really matter.

I like to tie the sachet to the side of the pot, like a little life preserver.

This is what you strain out.

It may look like edible chicken and vegetables, but all the goodness has been cooked out and now dwells in your stock. Resist the urge to nibble. It will taste like wet paper towels.

The final product should be clear(ish) and yummy smelling.

You should cool it down in an ice bath rather than just sticking it in the fridge, otherwise it will become a salmonella breeding ground overnight.

I normally buy chicken stock – it’s usually between $2.50 and $3.00 for a quart of fancy organic stock. I ended up with about 4 quarts of stock. (Actually 3.5, because I spilled about a half quart on my shoes while trying to strain and chill and whatnot. Dogs were sniffing my feet in the elevator.) Considering the cost of the chickens (minus the value obtained by eating the meat for dinner) and the mirepoix, I estimate that I spent about $5.00 on my homemade stock.

The verdict: Making your own stock isn’t a huge financial windfall, unless you own a restaurant and thus have an unlimited source of chicken carcasses and require gallons of stock every day. Then, I'm sure the $7.00 per gallon savings would add up quickly. Nevertheless, homemade stock makes your apartment smell great, takes very little effort, and is a great way to pass a rainy Saturday afternoon. There's also a strange feeling of satisfaction - like building your own shelves or something - that makes food just taste better when you use your homemade stock.

Please ignore this picture of raisins. Thank you.

Hot Behind

2006-04-11T22:29:00.000-04:00

In culinary school, “hot behind!” is short for “hey, I’m behind you with a pot of boiling water; one false move and I’ll scald your entire body.” We each probably say it 10 times a day in our school kitchen, and it’s become habit for me.

Yesterday, in Whole Foods, I discovered that it isn’t so much of a habit for everyone.

I hereby apologize to the startled woman in the fruit area who thought I was making encouraging comments about her physique – really I just had a huge handful of stuff. I didn’t know what to say, or how to explain, so I just ran away. I’m hoping she took it as a compliment.

Less Carrots in the Mongoose Mirepoix

2006-04-09T00:09:00.000-04:00

Mirepoix: traditionally, a mixture of onions, celery and carrots (two parts onion for one part each celery and carrots) – typically used as a flavor base for stocks and soups.

Last night I dreamed that an angry little Swedish chef admonished me for putting far too many carrots in the mirepoix for our Mongoose stew. Apparently (according to the Swedish chef) you need only ½ as many carrots when you are preparing mongoose, because it is a fictional animal.

These are the kind of dreams you’ll have if you go to culinary school.

Babbo

2006-04-06T14:39:00.000-04:00

Although I had a nasty experience at the Spotted Pig, I couldn’t hold a grudge against the Batali Bastianich Empire – I had a reservation at Babbo. Getting a reservation at Babbo can be a huge pain, especially for a weekend evening at 8pm. Think back to your middle school days when you called the radio station over and over to win concert tickets. Sort of like that.

I was so excited for this meal – I knew it was my favorite food blogger’s favorite place in New York. I ate carefully throughout the day in preparation – I wanted to eat enough to ensure that my stomach didn’t shrink up, but not enough to fill me up. Lots of bulky low calorie foods like apples.

We agreed in advance to get the regular (rather than pasta) tasting menu for a relatively reasonable $70, and we couldn’t resist the wine pairing, for another $50. While I was waiting for my dining buddies, I noticed an older man at the end of the bar receiving VERY special treatment – surely someone famous but I have no idea who.

Here’s what we ate:

Sweet Pea “Sformato” with Duck Bresaola

This miniature flan tasted like sweet young peas and was served with clover sprouts. The wine, Sauvignon, Russiz Superiore 2004, was light and crisp and tasted like grapefruit.

Pappardelle with Chanterelles and Thyme

This buttery fresh pasta was served with an equally buttery Morellino di Scansano, “I Perazzi,” La Mozza 2004; the dish was huge but I couldn’t stop eating the clearly handmade pasta.

Duck Tortellini with “Sugo Finto”

The least memorable of all the main course tasting items – it was by no means bad, if I had ordered it alone I’d probably be raving, but compared to some of the other dishes it just didn’t stick in my memory as well.

Veal Loin with Peas and Prosciutto

The best dish of the night – the skin was crispy and stuffed with herbs. I can’t explain why this veal was so delicious; it was intensely flavorful. My stomach was completely full by this point, but I had to eat every morsel of this. (Wine: um, yummy. Undertones of deliciousness. More please.)

For dessert:

Coach Farm cheese (similar to Humboldt Fog with varied textures and luxurious creaminess) served with Pink Cranberry Mostarda

Meyer Lemon Semifreddo with Huckleberries (This must not have been memorable because I don’t remember it. Or maybe I was drunk.)

Bittersweet Chocolate Crema (It really was bitter, but so so smooth and delicious. My dining companion didn’t like it, so I ate his share.)

Warm Chestnut Honey Spice Cake with Chestnut Gelato – I’m not a cake eater, so I just had a nibble of gelato and went back for more of the bittersweet crema. The dining companions reported that it was scrumptious.

I didn’t take ANY photos because I was embarrassed – I know I need to get over that. I would ABSOLUTELY go back to Babbo – the price was high but not horrifying and the food was extraordinary. The service was well timed and very accommodating, although our server did seem to want for a sense of humor. The wines were perfectly chosen to match our meal, we weren’t rushed at all, and the portions were very generously sized for a tasting menu. I would prefer one less dessert and one more small savory dish, but my dessert loving dining companions were delighted. I can’t say enough good things about this meal – I will be back to Babbo as soon as possible. Next time I’ll try to get a few photos.

Urban Sun at Dinosaur BBQ

2006-04-01T07:58:00.000-05:00

Thursday night brought the opportunity to enjoy two of my favorite things – delicious food and Urban Sun . Urban Sun features none other than R Raisinhater, my brilliantly talented brother, on the keyboard. Check out some of their songs right here, What’s Up (Coleslaw) is one of my favorites.

You may notice something missing from these tunes if you listen in. That’s my brother. He joined after they were recorded and I think he improves them one million percent. (No, I think I’m being perfectly objective. Why do you ask?) They’ll be playing this Tuesday, April 4, at the Knitting Factory at 8pm – I’ll be there dancing my fool head off.

Sadly, you all missed your chance to hear Urban Sun playing at Dinosaur BBQ on Thursday night. Ever since Mona posted about her visit I’ve been itching to go. B and I dined together, joined later by P Raisinhater, who helped us with some pitchers of their wonderful beer.

First, we had their wings (Garlic Chipotle Style, hot but not hottest). These were, no question, the best wings I’ve ever had in my life. They were huge - more like little T-Rex arms than chicken wings, and they were grilled. The sauce was thick and didn’t overpower the grilly flavor, and the dipping sauce had a little spice of its own.

For dinner, B had the Tres Hombres (brisket, ribs and pulled pork) with collard greens and fries.

I had the ribs and pulled pork platter with macaroni and cheese and an iceberg wedge. Everything was scrumptious. The ribs fell off the bone but had a crispy exterior, the pork was pulled into chunks, not little shredded bits, the sauces were fun to taste and compare, and the macaroni and cheese was divine. It managed to marry two macaroni and cheese attributes - home baked goodness and Velveeta style creaminess – that rarely come together. When they do, it is magical, and the mac ‘n cheese was a perfect combination for the spicy rich pork.

Dinosaur is definitely worth the trek uptown – it’s not hard to get there (just take the 1 train and either walk across 125th to 12th avenue and up one block to 131st (yes, one block, something funky happens with the streets) or take a cab. Beware, though, something about the location is extremely confusing for cab drivers. Tell your driver to go up to 125th, turn and head west on 125th until 12th Avenue (yes, I promise it does exist), then head north (left) ONE block.

Don’t forget Urban Sun at the Knitting Factory on Tuesday - this is your big chance to hang with the band before they become ultra superfamous and your only way to interact with them will be to fling your panties onstage at the Meadowlands.

May Cause Burning and/or Redness

2006-03-27T07:11:00.000-05:00

I saw this scary movie poster over the weekend…

She’s being attacked by Cayenne peppers? Ouch – that may irritate her skin. Terrifying!

Booooo - Spotted Pig

2006-03-23T14:56:00.000-05:00

Dear Hostess at the Spotted Pig,

You are my new archenemy. Do you remember me from last night? I was there with my brother and my mom? You said it would be a 45 minute wait. We sat at the bar. We had a beer (or two). We checked in with you an hour later, and you told us it would be another two hours. TWO MORE HOURS!

We reminded you politely that you had initially suggested a 45 minute wait. You denied it vehemently. You pointed to some people in the corner of the bar and claimed that they arrived at 5:30. But you said 45 minutes, and now you were saying two more hours, for a total of three hours? Is that what you were saying? And you were also saying that you had never said 45 minutes in the first instance, but rather had said two hours and perhaps we misheard you. Because sometimes 45 minutes sounds just like two hours if you’re mumbling or, um, if your head is up your ass while you’re speaking, or something like that.

We were sitting seven feet away from you at the bar. Would it have been so hard to mention to us that there had been some cataclysmic change of plan and that we had best eat those Tic Tacs in our purses to stave off the gnawing hunger, cause it was going to be a while? Did you think we would just be, like, ok with this? That we wouldn’t notice that you were lying through your teeth and you had somehow screwed up royally on your little list of people waiting for tables?

Your food is good (especially those tasty little gnudi), but not THAT good.

Also, your ass looked huge in that peasant skirt. Just thought you’d like to know.

Sincerely,

Your New Nemesis, the Raisinhater

Breakfast of Champions

2006-03-19T10:34:00.000-05:00

If you are a superfantabulous movie star in NY, here's your breakfast.

Yep, an omelet station. The omelet chef is somewhere inside that silver truck warming up, but if Meryl Streep were to stop by and require an omelet he’d be right there on the sidewalk whisking and flipping. Actually, Meryl Streep probably has an omelet fetcher who does the pickup and delivery – you rarely see superfantabulous movie stars hanging around the omelet station. Here’s a closeup at a very weird angle.

I walk past an omelet station a few times a week on my way to school. Sometimes there are big towers of muffins and pastries on the table too, along with carafes of coffee and tea in various flavors and states of caffination. I don’t normally have a criminal bent, but I often have to put my hands deep in my pockets to keep from snagging a muffin or a handful of cheese and making a run for it. There’s just something about stealing from the stars that doesn’t register on my moral compass. So if you don’t hear from me for a week or so, I’ve probably been arrested and am sitting in the big house nibbling on a handful of green peppers and cheese, or a chocolate chip corn muffin.

Roux - I'm Not Afraid of You (anymore)

2006-03-14T20:29:00.000-05:00

I made a roux! You accomplished chefs out there may be snickering into your napkins. “Oh, I make roux every day, ha ha, it is no challenge!”

I was intimidated by roux, with the constant admonitions against burning and the stirring requirements and whatnot. But I had a bunch of andouille sausage, some peppers, red beans, onions and rice, and I figured I could create some sort of quickie gumbolaya beans and rice-ish mishmash. In the past, my Cajun mishmash has been watery and excessively tomatoey; this time I wanted a soupy gravy full of tasty bits that could be served over rice. It had to be a roux!

I should also mention that this week is soup and sauce week at culinary school, and I wanted to have a little practice before facing on the spot rouxmaking.

I melted 4 T butter in a saucepan and added 4T flour (roux is typically made with equal parts fat and flour). I stirred. And stirred.

They are right about the burning – you need to keep on stirring that roux or it will turn nasty in a flash. Even if you’re doing it right it will develop the smell of burnt popcorn. Be not afraid though, this stinkyness is normal.

Finally I got my peanut butter colored roux…

I added it to onions, garlic and peppers (pre-sweated) and a bunch of cold chicken stock. (As we just learned in school, you need to add hot roux to cold stuff, or cold roux to hot stuff – if both are hot the whole magical process doesn’t work.) I tossed in the beans, sliced andouille sausage, and a random mix of spices (oregano, parsley, cayenne, granulated onion and garlic, paprika, white pepper and a little chili powder), brought it to a boil, and then simmered while the white rice cooked for about 25 minutes.

I served it mixed with white rice. The result – quickie Cajun Sausage Mishmash. It wasn't beautiful, but it was delicious!

Hot Brown

2006-03-11T10:06:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I found myself in Lexington, Virginia. Not much changes in a place like Lexington. The old Harris Teeter grocery is now a Kroger (actually, I believe it was originally a Kroger anyway, before it became Harris Teeter), the bookstore changed it’s name and got a new cat (gray, short hair), and a bunch of new chain restaurants popped up on the outskirts of town to accommodate the tourists who don’t know any better than to eat at the Applebee’s.

It’s hard for me to go back to Lexington. I lived there for seven years and I feel like I knew EVERYBODY in town. It’s strange to walk around and have people give me that look, like “we know you, right? Did you used to live here?” That’s why I always go to The Palms.

I probably spent two of my seven years in Lexington at The Palms. When I wasn’t waitressing I was sitting at a booth with my friends, eating long lunches that more often than not slipped quickly to evenings with pitcher after pitcher of beer. At The Palms, they remember my name, they hug me, they know I want a Hot Brown with potato kurls and an extra side of ranch dressing.

Roast beef, mozzarella, onions, hot peppers, ranch dressing, bacon, lettuce and tomato on a toasted sub roll. The Palms didn’t invent the Hot Brown, but their version is all I know, and it’s my sandwich nirvana. Other people have grandma’s chicken soup, mom’s special meat loaf, dad’s roast beef – for me, a Hot Brown tastes like home.

Vegetarians – Avert Your Eyes!

2006-03-08T14:05:00.000-05:00

In class right now we’re learning to fabricate (butcher) meat. Today I cut up a whole rabbit! (Really, vegetarians should not be reading this.) The other day I went to a lamb class, where a master butcher cut up an entire lamb

into many cookable pieces.

Then we dined on an enormous lamb feast. I didn’t really think I’d have a big problem with the concept of butchering, I’ve always been very comfortable with the fact that the meat I eat comes from whole animals. What I find most interesting about the process is learning about the many cuts of meat I tend to avoid, just because I didn’t know what to do with them. The tougher pieces (typically from the shoulder of the animal, and other parts that get a lot of exercise) need to be cooked on low heat for a loooooong time to soften up the muscle. These cuts are often the most flavorful (and least expensive!), perfect for feeding a crowd.

I have to miss poultry butchering class this Friday, so I’ll need to practice on chickens at home. By the end of the weekend I’m hoping to be able to bone an entire chicken without reducing it to chicken paste – I’ll post pictures of the process. For the vegetarians out there, perhaps I will also slice up some tofu into attractive shapes?

No Cooking, Some Learning

2006-03-05T11:55:00.000-05:00

I haven’t been doing much blogging about culinary school because the first two weeks have been, uh, pretty unblogworthy. As you would expect, they don’t just hand you a knife and demand a perfect hollandaise – there is much to be learned before you even set foot in the kitchen. We learned vegetable and fruit identification (I can spot a horned melon a mile away), basic nutrition, equipment identification, and food safety. Tomorrow is our first quiz – herb identification (we’re allowed to nibble) and restaurant food safety practices (terrifying how much can go wrong).

Our Chef/Instructor has a STRONG preference for organic foods, grass-fed free range meats, and natural ingredients (no high fructose corn syrup). Part of each day is spent discussing how eating industrially produced meats and artificial ingredients will rot us on the inside. He supports his positions with newspaper and magazine articles, and the facts are actually pretty terrifying. Soooo, JF and I are going to be trying a little harder to eat locally, avoid scary meat laced with antibiotics, and stick to products with ingredients we recognize. The only drawback is the cost, so I guess we’ll be eating a lot of organic rice and beans.

I’m off to Whole Foods to review my fresh herbs for tomorrow’s quiz. After the quiz we begin meat fabrication (butchering) – hopefully they let us take some for homework!

Manti!

2006-03-01T15:37:00.000-05:00

Last night I made Manti, from the March 2006 issue of Saveur (page 20). Magically delicious! These little Turkish lamb-filled dumplings topped with yogurt sauce took a loooong time to assemble but were well worth the effort.

First, I made the dough by mixing together 2 eggs, 1 2/3 cup flour, 1 tsp salt, and ¼ cup water. I stirred and then I kneaded. For 10 minutes. I am not an accomplished kneader and those 10 minutes seemed hours. At first, the dough was crumbly and unappealing; not all of the flour mixed in during the stirring process. After the eons of kneading, though, the flour mixed in, the dough became a little stretchy, and I panicked a little less. I cut the dough into four equal balls to rest for 30 minutes.

Next, I made the filling. I combined ½ lb. ground lamb, 1 small onion, finely chopped, 2 T chopped parsley, and ½ tsp each of salt and pepper. Easy.

Then, the rolling commenced. The recipe directed me to roll one of the four dough balls into an 11” by 11” square, trimming off any uneven edges. This was the best I could manage after A LOT of rolling.

Then, as instructed, I cut the “square” into 1” by 1” pieces. Sort of.

I placed 1/8 tsp of lamb on each square. (1/8 tsp is a trickily small amount of lamb to work with, by the way.) The recipe instructs: “Fold 2 opposite corners toward the middle of the square, leaving a bit of filling exposed. Fold 2 other opposite corners toward the middle. Pinch all 4 corners together to secure dumpling, leaving about 1/4 “ of the filling exposed and poking out.” This makes no sense, although it does seem to accurately describe the dumplings pictured in the Saveur photo. They are somehow magically sealed on the sides and open on top. I couldn’t master this technique, so mine looked like little envelopes.

I baked them at 400 degrees for 30 minutes in a buttered dish, meanwhile bringing 4 cups of stock to a boil. I pulled them out, dumped in the stock, covered them with foil, and put them back in for another 30 minutes. The recipe calls for some extensive chicken stock making procedure involving clove and cinnamon and a whole bunch of skinless chicken pieces. I skipped this entirely and used regular old chicken broth, to no noticeable detriment.

During this time, I made a yogurt topping of 2 cloves garlic, crushed with salt, mixed into 2 cups strained Greek yogurt (Fage, full fat). I sliced some mint, and I pulled out my packet of Urfa chili flakes, purchased that afternoon at Kalustyan’s on 29th and Lexington. I browned about 4 T butter for 10 minutes in a pan on medium heat.

When the dumplings came out of the oven, most of the broth had been absorbed. They looked like this.

I scooped them into a bowl and topped them with brown butter, Urfa flakes, and mint.

And then tons of yogurt sauce.

I wasn’t expecting much from Manti, mostly because it was so far out of my realm of experience. It was fantastic. The butter was almost sweet, the yogurt was tangy, and the dumplings were really really good, despite their not-so-perfect appearance. I’m already wondering when to make this dish again – I can't get the taste out of my head.

Culinary School!

2006-02-23T16:23:00.000-05:00

I'm officially a full time student – this is my first week of culinary school! Here I am in my uniform…

This week we learned all sorts of orientation-type stuff, and then practiced vegetable, herb, and cheese identification. Tomorrow we get our knives! I think I’ll be blogging a lot more about this in the near future, although it’s hard to know how much I should gab on. I never know who’s checking out this blog – theoretically even my chef/professor could be reading it. I’m going to try to retain a certain level of anonymity to avoid a Dooce scenario, but I suspect I wont be able to resist sharing at least a little of what goes on in school. Hopefully I’ll have a lot more to post very soon.

A Letter from My Kitchen

2006-02-21T17:59:00.000-05:00

Dear Raisinhater,

Where are you? What have you been eating? I see the takeout pizza boxes and the can of Pringles and I worry. There is food in here, tasty food, just waiting for you to come and give it a little time and attention. Why don’t you want to spend time with me anymore? Shallots are rotting, the lettuce is wilting, and I think I saw you eating Hershey’s kisses. For lunch.

If you don’t change your ways soon, you’ll get scurvy, or a goiter. What happened to all the good times we had – the soups, the cookies? Weren’t you going to learn to make your own bread? I’m here, please come back to me.

Faithfully,

Your Kitchen

Last Argentina Post

2006-02-16T12:13:00.000-05:00

Today will be the end of my lengthy Argentina saga. I was initially thinking about a whole post on Argentine beef, how it compares, how it tastes, but that’s starting to sound a bit more like a massive and well researched magazine article, and today I am too lazy for that. Instead, here’s a picture of some tasty beef…

We were sitting next to a super-famous Argentine soccer person; JF was so excited he could hardly eat. I had no trouble helping him with this fabulous beef.

And a list of other things I noticed/ate on my trip.

Napkins – the napkins in Argentina are bad. At nice restaurants there is no difference, but the napkins in sandwich places are far more like wax paper donut pickup things in the grocery store than anything you would use to try to remove food residue from your face or hands. They just smear it around. Young capitalists – seize this opportunity and reform Argentina’s cheap napkin industry before someone else snatches up this idea!

Salsa Golf – salsa golf is the Argentine condiment of laziness. It is ketchup and mayonnaise mixed together. JF asserts that there may be some extra lemon juice in there too, but I’m not sure if I believe him. It’s on the table at cafes and you can purchase it in the grocery store right next to the ketchup. It’s just as orangey as you’d expect. We ate it on fries and even sandwiches, but it apparently shines on palmitos (hearts of palm) which are a fairly common pizza topping. Once, I even saw a guy order a pizza covered in palmitos and mounds of salsa golf. I never was able to learn why it is called salsa golf (translation: golf sauce).

There is no pepper on the tables, only salt. I found that, generally, Argentines don’t like spicy foods.

Milanesa – Milanesas are pieces of beef or veal pounded flat, breaded, and fried, not unlike chicken fried steak. Sometimes, milanesa will be served Neopolitan style, topped with ham and cheese. I had a fantastic milanesa napolitana at El Obrero in La Boca. Milanesa is also served on sandwiches, like this…

The trip was fabulous but it’s time for me to get back into my own kitchen and start cooking.

Things Are Not Going Well

2006-02-14T10:25:00.000-05:00

This is my sink…

But that is not my soap! Every day around, oh, 10am or so, a giant mass of bubbles comes wildly frothing out of my sink drain and fills up the entire sink, stopping juuuuust shy of overflowing all over the kitchen floor. Why is this? Fellow apartment dwellers – do you have this?

And I fell. The great blizzard of ’06 + pomegranate margaritas = me sliding down the steps at the Lexington/53rd Street subway station and landing on my left hip. I jumped right up and tried to pretend nothing happened, but by the time I got home I had a huge lump. I would take a photo and share the horror right here on the internet, but it would be nearly impossible to photograph my hip without also photographing other parts of me that I would prefer not to share with the internet at large. (Mom – did I just hear a sigh of relief?) So use your imagination -- It looks like I have a third butt cheek, a purple third butt cheek, growing from the side of my hip.

Sorry about that disgusting mental image I just shared with you. Here is a photo of some empanadas to help you cleanse your mental palate.

Argentina - Cordero (Lamb)

2006-02-10T07:43:00.000-05:00

From Ushuaia, we flew to El Calafate. We stayed there briefly and then drove to the Torres del Paine National Park in Chile. It was fabulously beautiful.

But the food was absolutely atrocious.

JF warned me that Chilean food was nothing like Argentine. He was right, the food was awful. Every bite of food I ate in the country of Chile was bad bad bad. It is important to note that we were in a national park, hundreds of miles from anything, so the three restaurants were VERY limited with respect to ingredients, chef talent, etc. This did not excuse the badness of this food though. One of the worst problems – the descriptions were excellent. My most depressing meal was a thin sliced steak sandwich topped with avocado slices, melted cheese, and mayonnaise. How can that be bad? Ooooh, but it was.

There was just no love in the food. Not one bite of anything I ate in Chile was prepared with care. That food had been disrespected, and it was fighting back.

Fortunately, the astonishing beauty of the place compensated for the vittles, and at least I ate a lot of fruit!

Then, we headed back to the lamb country of Argentina to visit the Perito Moreno glacier. (NOTE TO CHILE – at this hotel we also stayed in a national park and the food was ABSOLUTELY AMAZING.) We visited an estancia (farm) and ate lamb cooked on a spit around a fire – and they even let me tour the kitchen! We had dinner at our hotel overlooking the glacier, here was our view…

Here’s a photo of the Upsala glacier...

The food at the hotel was astonishingly good. We ate mostly traditional Argentine dishes dressed up with some international variations, and I think we ate lamb at least once a day. My favorite was a soft stew-like lamb terrine topped with mashed potatoes and crispy fried potato sticks. Here’s a cross section…

Next, we head to beef country!

Argentina Part Dos

2006-02-07T16:48:00.000-05:00

In my mind, our Argentine honeymoon should divided into three phases: Centollo (king crab), Cordero (lamb), and Bife (beef).

After we landed in Buenos Aires, we flew directly to Ushuaia, where we learned about centollo.

Ushuaia is a little town that grew too quickly into a city of 60,000. The infrastructure has not caught up with the population growth and the city has a dingy drizzly feel and that permanent sense of foreboding that comes from being surrounded by mountains. Although the surrounding areas are breathtaking, the city itself is not a pretty place.

It is also remote. Waaaay remote. Stuff gets to Ushuaia the hard way, by truck (a four day trip from Buenos Aires), boat or plane. It’s not a place where you’d expect to find cilantro in the grocery store. The local specialty is centollo, or king crab.

(Photo courtesy of the Kaupe website – more on Kaupe later in this post)

When you think of Argentine food, king crab is probably just about the last thing that comes into your mind, right before tofu and right after lingonberries. I had no idea, until we arrived, that it is the local specialty in Ushuaia.

We ate it every night. Our first night in Ushuaia we arrived late and exhausted, and had our first taste of centollo in our hotel restaurant. This meal was unremarkable, so I’ll skip right to our next dinner, at Kuar, a bar owned by some friends of friends of JF.

We weren’t expecting much (when we arrived we didn’t even know Kuar served food), so we were delighted to find a light fettucini with centollo topped with an extremely mild white wine and ricotta sauce. The pasta was surprisingly delicate, and not the overcreamy mess I had feared.

Delicious, but the best was yet to come.

We were surprised to learn that Argentina’s YPF guide selected Kaupe, a cozy little restaurant in Ushuaia, as one of the two best restaurants in the country.

(Photo courtesy of Kaupe website)

Dinner at Kaupe

Ernesto Vivian (pictured above holding the king crab) is the chef and owner of Kaupe, and he was also our waiter. When we arrived he came out to take our order; he offered wine and dinner suggestions and then disappeared into the kitchen to prepare our food.

Because we are disgusting gluttons, we ordered three appetizers for two of us. First, we shared a fantastic scallop ceviche. It was light and tasted of citrus and spicy peppers; I had a difficult time sharing the last few.

Next, JF had naked king crab with lemons and mayonnaise.

And I enjoyed carpaccio covered with long noodles of cheese.

For dinner, we both had king crab kaupe, a sort of creamy flavorful soup full of crab.

At this point, our server (the chef/owner/waiter’s son) caught me taking photos and expressed what sounded like consternation. My Spanish is limited – he also could have been asking if we wanted dessert. JF said something about internet and blog and our server was instantly filled with delight. The chef came out to shake our hands. I smiled and nodded and pointed at my crab and smiled and nodded some more.

Dear friends at Kaupe, I hope you didn’t think I was working for the New York Times. All I can do is promote your delicious restaurant right here on my corner of the internet…

IF YOU GO TO USHUAIA, EAT AT KAUPE! IF YOU KNOW SOMEONE GOING TO USHUAIA, TELL THEM TO EAT AT KAUPE!!

Back from Argentina!

2006-02-02T13:25:00.000-05:00

It is hard to blog when there’s too much to tell!

We got married on January 15th and spent the last two weeks honeymooning in Argentina, where we traveled through the Patagonia for ten days and then celebrated the wedding a second time in Buenos Aires with JF’s family.

Argentina is beautiful and different. People do not wait in line; they clump up. Argentines are serious about dinner, but they are in no hurry about it. There’s nothing unusual about eating out at 11pm and enjoying coffee and wine until 2 in the morning. The Patagonia is expansive and full of wind and sheep and long open dusty roads and big pointy snowy mountains. Buenos Aires is a vibrant gritty city that stretches out over miles and has more neighborhoods than you could explore in a year. Two weeks was not enough.

I can’t resist blogging about the whole adventure, but it’s going to take me a few days to recap the whole thing.

Part One – The Flight

The flight to Buenos Aires is nearly 11 hours – we left at 10 pm and flew overnight. For the first time in my life, I sat up front. Yes, the plushy wide seats, leg room fit for Shaq, the little travel kit with booties and toothbrush, and the personal dvd player – first class. JF flies all over for work, so we used our miles (no, we did not buy the $8,000 tickets) to get an upgrade. I will never fly coach again.

Ok, that’s not true unless I win the lotto, and even then I don’t think my thrifty nature would allow the $8,000 ($8,000!!!) expenditure, but I sure did enjoy it this time. If you’re the kind of person who flies first class all the time, this post is going to be really dull, and you’re going to think I’m some kind of bumpkin, so just skip on over to another blog. But if you’ve ever wondered who those people are who get to board first and enjoy drinks and warm nuts and expansive space in the overhead compartments while you line up with the smelly man and the sticky child and try to force your carry-on under the seat because the overhead bin is full of knapsacks and coats, stay with me.

In first class, you cut the line of eager passengers and board calmly with the ladies in fur. They take your fur (or, in my case, polarfleece hoodie) at the door of the plane and hang it up for you in the special closet. When you sit, a lovely attendant comes over and brings you a beverage to enjoy while the masses shuffle in. I chose champagne. If you drink it fast enough, you can enjoy a second beverage before the plane even takes off. The coach passengers will glare at you. Resist the urge to say “we used miles, really, we never get to sit up here, and we just got married, please don’t hate us!” That is not first class behavior.

During takeoff, you must sit quietly and not recline or use the tray or walk about the cabin, and you must suffer drinkless just like the coach passengers, but once you reach cruising altitude, the delightful attendant is right back with you.

“Another beverage? Hot towel?” (I’m not sure I fully understand the hot towel, but I appreciatively rubbed it all over my face and hands. I noticed that the other passengers tossed theirs aside for the attendants to pick up with tongs, while I placed mine on the attendant’s tray using my very own fingers. Perhaps this was also not first class and was yet another indicator that we were mileage-upgraders.)

Then it is time for wine and warm nuts. The pistachios are the best.

Next, the attendant comes around and introduces him or herself – “I’m Donna, please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.” Donna gets your names, which she will use throughout the remainder of the flight. You review your menu. If you are first class, you do not discreetly slip the menu into your purse to take home as a souvenir.

You choose between “Salt and Pepper Crusted Beef Fillet enhanced by a Kalamata Olive Demi-Glace,” “Salmon and Halibut Bundle wrapped in Zucchini, topped with Olive Tapenade,” and “Ravioli stuffed with Brie and Asparagus topped with Mushroom Cream Sauce and Parmesan.” Donna brings you a cloth placemat and a napkin bundle containing many many forks and knives.

First, you enjoy a salad of king crab, smoked salmon, and marinated shrimp with a garlic mayonnaise. You do not think of all those people who get food poisoning eating shellfish on planes. That does not happen in first class.

Next, there is a mixed green salad with roasted tomatoes and fresh mozzarella, served with creamy garlic dressing.

Then the ravioli.

After dinner you eat your ice cream sundae with the toppings of your choice. Donna whisks away the evidence as soon as you take the last bite.

You set up your personal dvd player and settle in to watch March of the Penguins, reclining the enormous seat all the way back with the knowledge that you aren’t even slightly impinging on the legroom of the passenger behind you. Donna pulls the window shade down so quietly you barely notice her doing it, and she brings you a little more wine. After the movie, you pull on your eyemask and stretch out nearly horizontal.

After five hours of sleep, you pull of the eyemask. Donna is there immediately, offering your choice of “Fluffy Omelette prepared with Cheese accompanied by Turkey Sausage with fire-roasted Peppers and a Potato, Scallion and Sour Cream Timbale” or “Croissants with Yogurt and Fresh Fruits.”

Once the plane has landed, you disembark calmly, with no pushing or shoving or being stuck behind people who cant seem to manage to get their crap out of the overhead bin. Donna hands you your fur coat at the door and you emerge into the 90 degree heat of Buenos Aires.

Because it is your honeymoon, you hold hands in the taxi, even though PDA is not at all first class.

Raisinhater on the Road

2006-01-19T20:04:00.000-05:00

Sorry about the brief absence, I got married and ran off to Argentina!

Right now I'm on my honeymoon in Ushuaia, Argentina, the southernmost city in the world. Picture South America – Ushuaia is a city located at the very bottom pointy part, near Antarctica. I arrived two days ago, exhausted after 24 hours of transit.

Yesterday was my first real opportunity to eat non-airplane-food. Here is my first Argentine beef…

It was tender and mild tasting. Beef isn’t aged in Argentina the way it is in the US, so it has a sweeter taste than what Americans are used to. Argentines in the United States often find our meat to be gamey or leathery tasting because they are accustomed to different flavors.

I was so excited that I gobbled this right up, hopefully next time (dinner today?) I’ll have a better opportunity to savor and reflect and say smart sounding things about cows and whatnot. Or at least take better photos. No promises though, because we're headed into some pretty remote areas and internet may not even be available.

In the meantime, here is a lovely photo of the Beagle Channel. Note the snow capped mountains, even though it is the middle of summer!

Play With Your Food

2006-01-10T12:05:00.000-05:00

We all heard it growing up – “Stop playing with your food!” This Sunday’s New York Times Magazine encourages us to do the exact opposite. The recipe for Poached Scrambled Eggs is all about morning fun.

To make poached scrambled eggs, you strain out the thin part of the albumen (egg white) before mixing the eggs in a bowl, and then you add the resulting mixture to a spinning vortex of salted lightly boiling water. Cover the pot for 20 seconds, remove the lid, and MAGIC! You have an almost cooked scrambled egg.

After (very carefully) pouring off most of the water, place the almost scrambled eggs in a strainer, where they finish cooking for a minute or so.

Is this the fastest, simplest way to make scrambled eggs? Probably not, because you have to wash the strainer. Is it the tastiest? Yes. The end product is soft and fluffy, greaseless, and perfect on an English muffin with a little cheese and sausage.

One Good Way to Ruin Your New Year’s Resolutions

2006-01-07T17:08:00.000-05:00

Late on Thanksgiving Eve (or perhaps early Thanksgiving morning), R Raisinhater and I were lapping up the last of the wine and reminiscing about some of our finest breakfasts. Emboldened by drink, we vowed to recreate one of our favorites, biscuits with sausage gravy.

We aren’t Southern, we have no background in this, no family tradition to draw from, but Mom or Dad remembered spotting the recipe in the New York Times Heritage Cookbook (probably 15 years ago) and dug out the volume.

Sausage and Cream Gravy over Biscuits

1½ lbs sausage meat (we used both breakfast sausage and Italian sausage with no noticeable difference)
1/3 cup flour
½ cup water
2 cups heavy cream
Salt and pepper to taste (I used only pepper, and lots of it)
6 hot biscuits, split

Break sausage into small pieces and fry in a heavy skillet until brown and cooked through. Remove and drain.

Remove all but 1/3 cup fat from the skillet. (We used fairly lean sausage and ended up with only 2-3 T fat in the skillet, this was sufficient.) Sprinkle the flour over the fat in the skillet and mix, gradually add water, stirring constantly.

Stir in the cream, bring to a boil, turn down heat to a rowdy simmer, stirring constantly until flour clumps break up (this may take a while, but they will dissolve eventually).

Return sausage to the skillet and continue simmering and stirring until desired consistency is reached. Serve over split biscuits.

I suggest serving with Bloody Marys.

The recipe suggests that you should shape the sausage into patties and serve them over biscuits topped with gravy, but I prefer crumbling the sausage into the gravy, because that’s the way they do it at the Lee Hi truckstop in Lexington, Virginia.

The first time we made this, we were quite concerned about the flour clumps. Mom Raisinhater got in there with an immersion blender and sprayed all of us with hot cream, but the clumps resisted. Apparently they just like to take their sweet time about it.

It was so good we had it again on Christmas Day. Perhaps this is the birth of a new tradition. As you eat this, you will feel your arteries stiffen. You will not care, because you will also feel your hangover magically disappear. You also may need a nap.

Macaroni and Cheese

2006-01-04T23:19:00.000-05:00

Recently, I admitted my weakness for Velveeta Shells and Cheese (with bits of “real bacon”). Despite this torrid little relationship, I maintain a strong and healthy affection for the homemade kind featured in today’s New York Times, the kind with the crusty top that you make in the oven in a big dish. I’m sure the New York Times recipes are nice and all, but the Raisinhater family has been celebrating Christmas Day with macaroni and cheese for a really long time, and Dad Raisinhater is a bit of an expert.

Dad Raisinhater’s recipe, from James Beard (Beard on Pasta, 1983).

This recipe produces a gooey and rich dish using a base of béchamel and a ton of sharp, flavorful cheddar. The cheese on top should be burnt and chewy. If you’re the cook, it’s perfectly acceptable exercise your “chef’s privilege” – just pull the crispy bits off and eat them before sending it out to the other diners.

4 T butter
4 T flour
2 c milk
1 dash black pepper
½ tsp Tabasco, or more to taste (we use Sriracha)
½ c heavy cream or crème fraiche
¾ lb grated cheddar
½ lb macaroni elbows or, for more fun, double elbows

Preheat oven at 350 F. In a heavy saucepan over low heat, melt butter. Add
flour, stir with a wooden spoon for 3 minutes or until roux is frothy &
taste of raw flour is gone. Heat the milk in another pan and gradually stir warm milk into roux, stirring hard all the while.

Turn up heat, stir until sauce is just at boiling point. Turn down heat, let simmer
a few minutes. Add pepper & Tabasco (“don’t be afraid of the Tabasco it will help to bring out the taste of the cheese”) Stir in heavy cream & simmer a little longer until flavors are blended. Cook and drain the macaroni. Stir 3/4s of the cheese into the simmering sauce until melted. Combine sauce with macaroni, pour into baking pan and sprinkle with remaining cheese, bake for 20 - 30 minutes or until bubbly & light golden. Serves 4.

The New York Times also reviewed a number of boxed and frozen brands. In the interest of science, I decided to see how their reviews measured up.
For lunch, I had Whole Foods 365 Organic Macaroni and Cheese (frozen). This mac and cheese heats up quickly in the microwave and a serving (the whole box) has only 321 calories.

New York Times: “like the other frozen brands, the frozen Organic noodles were softer and soggier than the ones you cook yourself (if you don’t overcook them, that is), but the sauce was creamier, if, in this case, a bit pasty.”

MeBeth: Dear New York Times, get over yourselves, we know how to cook our pasta thankyouverymuch. Al dente snobbery is so 1985. My Organic noodles were firm and relatively chewy for a microwavable frozen box meal. The cheese was mild (so mild, in fact, that I added a bit of Sriracha to spice mine up) but is creamy and has a rich consistency without tasting gluey. 365 Organic makes no pretense of a crispy topping, but does firm up into a casserole-like consistency when allowed to cool for two minutes after microwaving, although the cheese did develop a slightly grainy consistency. One drawback – this mac and cheese didn’t have the decadent feel. Maybe it was the package size, maybe because I knew it was organic? Either way, it was a delicious lunch, but not sufficient for a full on dinner-size mac and cheese craving.

For dinner, I had Velveeta Shells and Cheese with bits of bacon. One box allegedly contains 2.5 servings (at 360 calories per serving) but really, that is just crap. One box = one serving, best eaten by solo diners in pajamas while watching trashy television.

New York Times: Velveeta Shells and Cheese was one of the least appealing mac and cheeses sampled. “Velveeta, with its characteristic pouch of squishy cheese, was like pouring Cheez Whiz or, well, Velveeta, on pasta. But, if you could get past the slightly sour and harsh flavor of the goop, you might be able to enjoy the satiny texture.”

MeBeth: Wrong. All wrong. First of all, you wouldn’t have that sour/harsh flavor problem if you bought the kind with “real bacon pieces.” Second, pouring Cheez Whiz on pasta is exactly the point of store bought macaroni and cheese.

It should remind you of coming home from the college bars at 2am and gathering around with your roommates to rehash the night over hangover-preventing bowls of the stuff. (Constrained by poverty, we sometimes made ours with noodles and regular Kraft singles). It should taste not exactly cheesy, but more sharp and Yellow, somehow. I ate the whole box for dinner and it was scrumptious (in that gross, artificial flavor kind of way). It gets gluey in about 30 seconds, so eat fast. For me – it’s comfort in a bowl.

Are You Well Fed?

2006-01-03T19:19:00.000-05:00

The Well Fed network is up and running! Well Fed is a “blog network” – basically a collection of blogs, each written by multiple bloggers. It’s a compendium of food writing on a variety of topics. Right now, the Well Fed network includes the following five blogs:

Growers & Grocers – a blog about the food industry, from pig to plate;

Paper Palate – what’s hot and what stinks in all those magazines and newspapers piled up next to the couch;

The Spirit World – Mmmm, drinks!

Sugar Savvy – I bet you have room for just one more bite…

Well Fed’s Main Site – Your gateway to the Well Fed blogs.

Check it out!

Why, you ask, should I read the Well Fed network? Perhaps you say “hey, I read a lot of food blogs, I don’t need one more!”

First of all, if you’re family, you better march right on over and start reading ASAP! That’s right. Go to Paper Palate and look for the articles about the San Francisco Chronicle, because I wrote them. And keep your eyes peeled for Bon Appétit and Cook’s Illustrated. I wrote those too. What, don’t you love me? If you loved me you’d go read them. And by the way, you guys could leave me a comment now and then, eh?

Everyone else - just head on over to Well Fed because it’s good writing about good (and bad) food!

Creative Writing 101

2006-01-02T20:11:00.000-05:00

Frances was already yelling at Boo and it wasn’t even 5:30. Boo and Frances didn’t normally cook together, but it was Friday night and there was a horse show in town. Speedy never showed up to prep, so I was covering my tables and running back to the kitchen whenever I could, to chop vegetables and slice lemon wedges skinny enough to fit inside a Corona bottle.

“Get your big black ass away from my flattop and go chop me some peppers and onions for these steak sandwiches,” she bellowed, poking at his forearm with the hot spatula.

“Frances, you just cant leave the chicken on like that - you’ve got to keep turning her or she’ll burn her skin.”

“Boo, if you don’t shut your fat mouth and get the hell away from me I swear I’m going to put rat poison in your burgers and kill half this town.”

I watched him retreat; the yellow bandanna print headscarf was the only part of him visible over the slicers and fridges that lined the walls of the prep area. Frances glared at me through beady eyes and muttered something about too many cooks. Her black eyes flashed and her freckled skin reddened. I grabbed table six’s chicken fingers, by the time I got there the cadets were staring longingly at their empty mugs and they dove into the pitcher as I sloshed it down onto the table.

It took nearly a half an hour to get an order from table eight - two sticky looking little girls in pink jumpers who requested that none of the food on their plates touch any other food and an old grandmother who had a list of dietary restrictions a mile long. I gave the granny our blue-hair special: grilled chicken breast, mashed potatoes and boiled cauliflower. Everything on the plate is colorless, tasteless and safe for diabetics, epileptics, phenylketonurics, insomniacs and even hypochondriacs. The girls got chicken fingers. Everyone under the age of 12 gets chicken fingers if I have any say in the matter. I bring them about eight different dipping sauces and the kids love me. Usually that guarantees at least 15%, especially because there’s no extra charge for the dipping sauces.

The couple at table ten smiled as I coaxed their little girls through their order. The wife looked like a local with her corduroy jumper and duck print turtleneck. Her accent confirmed it; when she ordered white toast for her turkey club, the letter “h” came out long and breathy. She grew up a townie, but her family had money. Most likely her father was a professor at the military academy. I turned to her husband to get his order and I gagged a little on my pen cap when he looked up at me.

“Good evening, Ms. Raisinhater” I pulled the slobbery cap out of my mouth, hoping he couldn’t see. The light blue “Palms” t-shirt brought out my eyes. I was wearing my short khaki skirt rather than the ugly denim one I wore only on Monday nights.

“Good evening, Professor Lawrence, can I take your order?”

“I didn’t know you worked here - must be tough to see your classmates in here drinking while you wait on them?”

“It’s not so bad. As their sole means of access to $3.50 pitchers, I am always the most popular woman in the room.”

“Understandably,” he chuckled.

Oh please dear Lord let that be some kind of innuendo. Please let him mean “understandably” in the sense that he finds me stunningly attractive, not unlike a ripe peach, rather than “understandably” in the sense that he got my dumb beer joke and perhaps wants me to hurry the hell up and bring his Sam Adams.

I ran the order back to the kitchen and found that Boo had replaced Frances at the flattop and was flipping about a hundred burgers and sticking little color coded toothpicks in them. I heard Frances cursing from the storeroom.

“Dammit Boo, where the hell is the damn chopper. How the hell can I be expected to keep this place running when you cant even keep track of the damn chopper for more than fifteen frigging seconds.” Marlboro smoke wafted out of the storeroom and we heard the sound of vegetable crates being overturned. Boo grinned at me and pointed to the chopper lying on the block where Frances had left it.

As I delivered the drinks to Professor Lawrence and his brood, I noticed his hand on his wife’s knee and I felt a stab through my heart. Actually it was more of a twitch in my ankle, probably from wearing heels to a job where I spend nine hours in a row standing up, but I attributed it to heartache. I knew he was married when I signed up for a second semester of administrative law; I was happy just watching him from the back row. His slick jeans, the sloppy oxfords with orange t-shirts underneath, brown sandals and sometimes even flip flops, the kind with the foam sole with rainbow strips along the outside. He was tan and lean and looked nothing like a law professor. He looked like an archeologist and I found myself sighing loudly every time I thought of him.

A horrific clanging came from the kitchen. Frances was clearly back in control and was ringing the bell for my pick up. As I grabbed the cadets’ sandwiches I glimpsed Boo and Frances, hip to hip, at the flattop. She was shoving him out of her way hard as he was deliberately splattering bacon drippings onto her veggie combo.

“You dumb shit, get away from that combo.”

“Frances, I’m just trying to get this bacon done. I hold no malice toward your damn veggie sandwich.”

“If that combo tastes like bacon fat you can be sure some skinny little bitch out there is gonna send it back to me. If that happens I can assure you that it will be you undertaking the chopping of a whole new batch of vegetables.”

Boo gave his Zen-man look and slid his big butt just a little closer to the center of the grill. I turned away because the cadets were again looking over with lust, this time at the tray of burgers they suspected were coming their way.

Happy New Year

2006-01-02T10:50:00.000-05:00

The holidays were full of silly hats, wild debauchery, and lots of gifts for me.

As you can tell by my red cheeks, the holidays were also full of wine.

But now it's 2006 and time for sobriety and resolutions and all that awful stuff.

I’m not a fan of resolutions, and I’ve never had much success at anything involving willpower. One glass of wine and I’m craving the smokes. If there’s cheese in the fridge, it’s not there for long. Eventually I discovered that, for me, the most successful resolutions involve enhancing my life rather than depriving myself of something.

I don’t actually remember what I resolved to do last year, but let’s just pretend that it was “run the marathon” or “start a food blog” because I actually ended up accomplishing those things.

Like many food bloggers, I have a few new things I’d like to try and work on in 2006…

Bread – Learn to make it using my own starter.

Dessert – I don’t usually eat dessert, but that doesn’t mean the dinner guests aren’t sitting there craving something sweet. I need to expand my dessert repertoire beyond crepes, chocolate chip cookies, and ciao bella ice cream.

Scary Foods – I need to use up or throw out some of those old scary foods and condiments lurking around the fridge before I poison someone.

Fish – It’s delicious (and sometimes even healthy), so why do I never cook it? If I could make the perfect fried fish tacos I’d be contributing significantly to my quality of life.

Wine - I love it so much, but I experiment so little. In 2006 I hope to find many new and affordable wines to add to my list of favorites.

I know there are more – I’ll add them as I remember them.

I'll be blogging more frequently in the next few weeks, so see ya tomorrow.

Happy Holidays!

2005-12-23T15:58:00.000-05:00

I hope Santa brings you everything you asked for...

Happy Holidays everyone - see you next week!

Fondue Party - Continued

2005-12-22T22:05:00.000-05:00

The fondue party was a great success!

My special (and only) guest came home at 8, devoured some fondue, and retired promptly to bed. I didn’t expect the festivities to last long, he’s been up for 36 hours straight (24 hour take home exam + full day of work) but plenty of melty cheese and a mini-party thrown in his honor was the perfect thing after such an ordeal. We dined in pajamas (those piggy toes are his, not mine)...

And after he disappeared to bed, I had lots of leftover fondue (and wine!) all to myself.

I made Smoky German Fondue with French bread and kielbasa for dipping.

1/2 small onion
1 cup light ale
3 cups shredded smoked gouda
1 cup shredded Emmentaler
1 T cornstarch
3 T milk
1 tsp mustard

Rub inside of fondue pot with onion. (I skipped this step, it seemed wasteful.) Add ale to pot and heat on medium till bubbly, turn heat to low and stir in cheese, heating until melted.

In a small bowl, blend cornstarch with milk and add to cheese. Blend in mustard and continue stirring until mixture is thick and creamy.

I serve with cut up french bread and sauteed kielbasa. I can never get the consistency of this fondue quite right. It's always a bit thick and the cheese doesn't fully melt. This doesn't affect the process though, and it's always a crowd favorite because of the smoky taste (and the fact that it's served with sausage). I actually added a little chicken broth midway through to thin it out a bit. Next time I may double the milk, omit the cornstarch, and use the cheeses in equal amounts.

We determined that the best dipping method is to stab a piece of kielbasa, stab a piece of bread, and then dip the entire bundle. Imagine this, but all together on one fork...

I'm not sure if you can tell, but I have a nonstick electric fondue pot. Perhaps the simplest and easiest fondue setup on earth. It doesn't have that authentic 70's flair, but the convenience is irresistable.

Thanks, Bill, for hosting a great fondue party!

Fondue Party!

2005-12-22T18:57:00.000-05:00

Twelve Two Two Fondue is hosting a Fondue Party! (I found his blog through dooce and have been reading it ever since.)

My guest of honor arrives at 8 - will I make it?

I just brought the fondue pot down from its hiding spot in the cabinet behind the blender.

Stay tuned...

Brussel[s] Sprouts

2005-12-19T16:48:00.000-05:00

Brussels sprouts were first cultivated in Belgium, and are therefore named after its capital, Brussels. I don't know why this name connection never occurred to me, but I have been walking around saying "brussel sprouts" rather than "brussels sprouts" for just about my entire life until last Friday.

Until last Friday, I'd never cooked brussels sprouts at home. But there they were, looking all cute and mini-cabbagy at Whole Foods, practically begging to come home with me. And S'kat has made such nice ones recently, I thought I'd give it a try.

All of the recipes I found online were far too complicated, so I made up my own.

Brussels Sprouts with Shallots

Trim dirty ends off brussels sprouts and cook them in a pot of boiling water for 3-5 minutes, until they turn a more vivid shade of green and start to soften up. Remove from heat and drain. Once Brussels sprouts are cool enough to touch, slice them in half. Heat 1 T or less of oil in a pan over medium high heat. When oil is hot, add brussels sprouts, cut side down. After a few minutes, add three T of minced shallot, stirring to brown. Once the shallot has softened and browned lightly, and the flat sides of the brussels sprouts are starting to brown, add a few T of chicken broth. Cook (stirring frequently) for 1-2 minutes, until broth is reduced. Salt and pepper to taste. If you're feeling decadent, stir in a little butter too.

Tag – I’m IT!

2005-12-15T15:51:00.000-05:00

S’kat tagged me for the You Are What You Eat meme created by Ruth of Once Upon a Feast.

I used the desert-island philosophy. If I were stuck on a desert island, what foods would I miss the most. Not so much what 10 foods would I bring with me - that imposes certain dull and practical considerations. This was an analysis of what foods I would spend my time dreaming of.

Pork Roll

Huh? Unless you're from Philly or Central Jersey you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Pork Roll is the ultimate breakfast meat, and is best sautéed till crispy and served on a toasted English muffin with a fried egg and a melted American cheese single. I like to top mine with regular ketchup, Dad Raisinhater prefers a spiced pepper relish. I suspect you'll hear more about pork roll this January, maybe even from a special guest blogger!

Stinky Cheese

I'm not sure I can ever have children because I don't think I could tolerate 9 months without stinky cheese! I eat it plain, melted into sauces, and tucked into my omelets. My fridge always has at least two stinky cheeses hanging around (sadly unphotographed).

Dumplings

American-style Chinese takeout fried pork dumplings. In high school I used to sprint down to the Sichuan Garden for dumplings every winter afternoon before play practice. I love stuffed pockets of food (empanadas, spinach and feta triangles, tamales)and the dumpling, for me, is the ultimate expression of this genre.

Sushi and Sashimi

I spent 7 years living in a sushi-less town and the deprivation took its toll. During that time, I tried to make my own cucumber and krab maki but there's nothing like going out for dinner and ordering this…

Staff Meal Chicken

I've said it before and I'll say it again, this spicy chicken recipe is one of my desert island foods.

Sriracha

Sriracha, I love you. I love you with mayonnaise, I love you on hot dogs and pizza, I love your squeezy bottle and your cute green cap, I love your cheap price and economy sized container. I will love you forever, you spicy devil.

Oysters

The food of lust. A lust for more oysters. Fried in a po' boy or just like this.

Tacos

I'll eat any kind of taco you put in front of me. Make them with the Taco Bell dinner kit – love 'em. Fill them with mystery meats from a strange cart on the corner of 96th street? Bring it on. I've traveled far and wide (or at least way uptown) in search of super special tacos and, if there were no tacos on my desert island, I would somehow find the strength to swim all the way to a more taco-friendly land.

Skirt Steak

Any time there is skirt steak on the menu, I am compelled to order it. I love all beef (see below) but I have a very special place in my heart for skirt steak, especially served with chimichurri sauce.

Cheeseburgers

During my brief flirtation with vegetarianism I had vivid dreams of huge bacon bbq cheeseburgers from the Palms. Right now I'm sort of obsessed with mini-cheeseburgers. See...

I'd love to tag someone, but I fear the entire food blogging community may have done this one already. Do you have a food blog? Consider yourself tagged!

Weekend Cookbook Challenge – Susan Branch

2005-12-12T17:34:00.000-05:00

Alicat from Something So Clever and Sara from i like to cook are hosting the Weekend Cookbook Challenge. This month, they challenged participants to cook something from the cookbook they've had the longest. For me, it had to be Heart of the Home by Susan Branch.

Where did I get this cookbook? I have no idea. I think Mom Raisinhater must have received 2 copies one Christmas and passed one along to me. It was published in 1986, and I remember reading it in early high school, so we're likely talking about the late 80s here. Imagine me reading it, hair held back in a scrunchi, oversized Outback Red sweater from the Limited, pegged pants tucked into my socks, and plenty of sparkly blue eyeshadow and frosted pink lips.

I think maybe Susan Branch was the Ina Garten of the 80s - living the charmed life on the Vineyard, extolling the virtues of locally grown produce and locally caught seafood, and hosting gracious lawn parties where all the guests get their own picnic basket. But you also get the idea that she didn't mess around and, like Ina, was probably a fairly shrewd dealer.

Most of Susan Branch's books are handwritten and include her own watercolor art. See…

If I were the author, this would land me straight in the mental hospital. Seriously, she hand wrote and painted every page.

For the challenge, I chose two recipes from Heart of the Home, spinach soufflé and cauliflower casserole.

Spinach soufflé

First, I think it is a bit of a stretch to call this a soufflé. According to the all-knowing wikipedia, a soufflé is "a light, fluffy baked dish made with egg yolks and beaten egg whites combined with various other ingredients and served as a main dish or sweetened as a dessert."

This recipe did include eggs, but there was no separating of yolks from whites, nor fluffing of whites. I would say it was definitely more of a crustless spinach quiche or, better yet, a smooth frittata. Nomenclature controversy notwithstanding, this recipe was SO EASY.

Here's what I did:

Toss the following ingredients into your blender:

1 c cottage cheese,
3 oz. cream cheese
2 eggs
3 T flour
2 T butter, melted
3/4 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. pepper

Blend until, well, blended. Add the contents (thawed and drained) of one 10oz package of frozen spinach. Give it a quick mix, and stir remaining bits in with a wooden spoon. (Don't go crazy blending once you've added the spinach, or you'll destroy all the spinachy texture.) Pour into a buttered casserole and set the casserole into a pan filled with hot water.

Bake at 350 for 80 minutes (the recipe said 70, but mine needed 80).

See, it doesn't puff like a soufflé, it just sort of gently inflates like a frittata. Now comes the hard part. The recipe sort of glosses over this part, saying something like "remove and serve."

Not so much. I wanted to retain a little of the puffy appearance, so slicing for removal was not an option. I tried to just pop it out with a knife, but nooooo. Next, I inverted it over a plate. Turning the casserole dish (still wet and quite heavy) onto a plate while wearing mittens is not easy. I have no idea how, but (perhaps because I am a clumsy ass) I actually burned my neck, of all places. Yep, my neck. And once the "soufflé" was liberated from its dish, it instantly lost the puffiness that I had scalded myself in an attempt to preserve.

Here it is:

I think it was perhaps a little to floury, and the cheese was extremely mild, but it did have a nice fresh spinach flavor. I used a new brand of organic frozen spinach – not sure if that could've made any difference.

I also made Cauliflower Casserole. (You'd think I was preparing for a church basement potluck supper with these recipes I chose, right? In reality, I was feeling the scurvy coming on and needed some veggies after yesterday's meatfeast.)

The Cauliflower Casserole was easy enough for a monkey, and then I made it even easier by using canned tomatoes.

1 head cauliflower.
1 14 oz can of diced tomatoes, drained
1 cup shredded chedder/jack mix
½ cup parmesan
1/3 cup breadcrumbs (panko style)
Pepper
2 T butter, melted

Steam one head of cauliflower until just tender, and lay in a buttered glass pyrex dish. Top with the tomatoes. Mix together the cheese and breadcrumbs, sprinkle over cauliflower. Drizzle with butter. Cook at 375 for 30 minutes or until brown.

Meh, it was tasty, cheesy, and crispy, but not earth shattering. I like my cauliflower roasted with garlic.

The Weekend Cookbook Challenge was great fun, and gave me a terrific opportunity to peruse little-used volumes while doing some disturbing time-travel back to 1988. Ali and Sara – thanks for hosting!

Field Trip

2005-12-11T18:36:00.000-05:00

R Raisinhater and I decided yesterday was the perfect day for a lunchtime food adventure. We met in Jackson Heights – international food capital of the world. In a four block radius you see dozens of Indian buffets, falafel, tacos, even…

But we were yearning for meats, so we headed over to La Porteña for an asado.

I love the cheesy Argentine decor at La Porteña. Saddles and spurs on the walls, gaucho waiters with neckerchiefs, signed photos of argentine sports heros, even a signed photo of The Donald. Tango plays in the background and the service is quite good, the waiters always manage to turn up just when you need something.

First, we had some empanadas (or, as they call it, gaucho pie). They were deliciously moist (unlike mine, which often get a bit too dry in the middle) and, my favorite, provoleta.

Provoleta is a plate of melted provolone cheese, seasoned with herbs and salt, with a crispy brown underside. We sliced it into wedges and stuffed them in our mouths! With a glass or two of wine and some chocolate for dessert, provoleta is the single woman’s ideal dinner.

But my brother and I were nowhere near done – there was parilla was on the way. We sipped our wine and sat up straight, trying to encourage digestion and make space for the meats. We were perhaps a little bit intimidated when it arrived.

Why did we order parilla for two! One serving would have been enough to feed the two of us and the family two tables over. We got skirt steak, sweetbreads, chorizo, morcilla (blood sausage, my favorite!), and short ribs, all served with chimichurri sauce.

Afterwards, we were so meat-drunk we had to go back to R’s house and sloth on the couch, drinking beer and playing scrabble. We were joined by R’s fantastically portly feline, Norman, who entertained us all by trying to stuff himself into a little wicker basket.

Me? Eat What?

2005-12-09T14:58:00.000-05:00

Everybody has a few, right? Those secret guilty pleasures? Those foods you know are gross but can't seem to resist?

As I was looking around my kitchen I noticed a few things that would horrify most food bloggers.

Here are a few of the foods I eat when no one else is looking…

Velveeta Shells & Cheese. With real bacon (artificial smoke flavor added).

Nope, not real cheese. Yep, I could make my own homemade macaroni and cheese gratin. But sometimes I yearn for that bright yellow artificial cheese taste and sticky consistency.

Wait, what's that hiding behind the Shells & Cheese? Oooh yes, Lipton Onion Soup Mix, used for making the famous Lipton California Onion Dip.

I actually ate this for dinner last night, on pretzels. One of the pretzels was a yogi.

I think that is tree pose.

There may also have been some buffalo "chicken" nuggets with Wish Bone blue cheese dressing.

And worst of all – what's that hiding in the microwave?

Aaaaaaaaaaaah – taco flavored Hot Pockets!! Disgusting.

But no meal is complete without dessert.

Served on a spoon.

Have I lost all credibility as a food blogger? I cant be the only one, can I? Anyone else out there hiding anything?

C'mon – show the world all those gross things you eat when you think no one's looking!

The Road to Crazy is Smooth and Slick

2005-12-08T15:30:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Wednesday and I didn't cook anything from the NY Times - I was far too busy feasting and wine-guzzling with some Raisinhater kin. Hopefully I can get to it tonight.

But here's a creepy picture for you.

He's saying "Yummy Sushi is to Die For." I walk past Yummy Sushi every morning on my way to work and every morning this window catches my eye. I'm not a vegetarian and I am not squeamish about the idea that my food comes from dead animals. I don't care if there is a fish head on my plate. In fact, I think it's important for all carnivores to acknowledge the fact that an animal died for their dinner. C'mon, people, its ok if your food looks like an animal!

But that Yummy Sushi fish freaks me the hell out.

What kind of message is he trying to convey? Is he a Christ figure? A kamikaze fish dying for his cause? Is he making an anti-vegetarian statement (see, the fish like it)? A misguided teenage fish that doesn't know any better, all elbows and knees under his black fishy trenchcoat?

The worst part is that Yummy Sushi is dreadful. Poor Mr. Fish, sacrificing himself for low grade takeout spicy tuna rolls.

And so every morning I walk past, feeling sad for a picture of a fish.

Loaves and Fishes

2005-12-06T17:17:00.000-05:00

How do 8 hungry Raisinhaters dine in New York City for under $10 per person?

On Saturday night I hosted the full Raisinhater family plus B Almost-Raisinhater and the lovely Miss K. Eight people for dinner in a one-bedroom apartment with a galley kitchen can be a tricky proposition, especially on a budget. (They brought the wine and cheese - thanks guys!)

We had staff meal chicken, potato gruyere gratin, and sesame broccoli. Not a thrilling or even particularly sophisticated menu, but it is fabulous for two reasons. It is CHEAP and all of the work can be done WAY before your guests arrive.

Here's how your day looks:

I suggest you start with the gratin. You can make this early in the day, stick it in the fridge, and throw it in the oven before the guests arrive. As an added bonus, it makes your apartment smell really good (provided you like the smell of melty cheese). The recipe is from Epicurious. If you're on a diet, avert your eyes.

Potato Gratin with Gruyere and Crème Fraiche

3 pounds russet potatoes, peeled, cut into 1/8-inch-thick rounds
1 1/2 cups crème fraîche
1 1/2 cups (packed) grated Gruyère cheese (about 6 ounces)

Slice your potatoes. A great excuse to use the mandoline if you have one!

Butter or spray a 13x9x2-inch glass baking dish. Arrange half the potato slices (overlapping so there aren't any big spaces), sprinkle with salt and pepper, spread with half the crème fraiche, sprinkle with half the cheese. Repeat process to make a second layer. At this point you can cover it and stick it in the fridge for a while (maybe even overnight, but I've never tried it).

Next, make your Staff Meal Chicken marinade. I know I've talked about Staff Meal Chicken before but I just want to reiterate - it is scrumptious!

Marinate the chicken as follows:

Mix together the following ingredients in a large bowl:
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 heaping tablespoon granulated garlic (not garlic powder)
1 heaping tablespoon granulated onion (not onion powder)
1 tablespoon plus 3/4 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper
3 tablespoons paprika
2 tablespoons kosher salt
1/8 to 1/4 cup hot red chili flakes
1/2 cup olive oil

Here are the spices, waiting eagerly for the lemon juice, oil, and chicken.

Add 8 – 10 skin-on (important!) bone-in (also important!!) chicken thighs to the bowl, toss to coat. Marinate for a least an hour in the fridge, turning occasionally. I actually doubled the recipe and marinated it in zipper bags in the fridge.

Once the chicken is done, you can start on the broccoli. I adapted the sesame red pepper sauce from this Epicurious recipe. I simplified it quite a bit because I didn't think all of the spice grinder and sauce on the side nonsense was necessary or beneficial.

Trim and wash the broccoli and cut it into normal big-bite pieces, set aside. Toast 3 T sesame seeds in a frying pan until lightly golden. Remove from heat and add 3/4 tsp each of kosher salt and crushed red pepper (or modify to taste). Set aside.

Now, you're done until it's time to eat. See how easy!

Have some cheese. And maybe a little wine. Go on, you deserve it.

Whoops, maybe not that much, its only 3 pm. Take a nap.

Zzzzzz___________________________

Time to cook! When you're approximately 1.5 hours from dinnertime, preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Once preheated, add your gratin. Cook for 30 minutes at 400.

After that time, turn the temperature down to 385 (yes, this is weird, but it works) arrange the chicken thighs on foil covered (important!) baking sheets and add to the oven for another 30 minutes. (Yep, the gratin is still in there too.)

After that time, turn the temperature down to 335, set your timer for 20 minutes, and cook your broccoli. You can do this any way you want, some people steam it, I just throw it in a pot of boiling water till it turns bright green, drain it, rinse it with cool water, and set it aside. (If you really want, you can even do this step way earlier in the day, just let your broccoli come to room temperature before dinner.)

Once your timer goes off, remove both the gratin and the chicken from the oven. They both need to rest for 10 minutes. Here's the chicken…

The gratin was lovely - imagine lots of crispy melted cheese.

Put the broccoli in a big festive bowl and drizzle over 1 tsp of sesame oil and sprinkle on the sesame spice mixture. Toss with your hands. Eat!

Expiration Date Mandate

2005-12-03T12:18:00.000-05:00

I heard a strange sound when I got home from work last night, a sort of chanting banging noise. Was it coming from the kitchen?

"Eat. Us. Up. Eat. Us. Up. Eat. Us. Up."

There was the clanging of tiny tire irons and the "swip" of switchblades flipping open. I opened the fridge.

Eeek – the food was going bad!

The broccoli was clustered on one side, snarling and baring its stems at the broccoli rabe. So sad when brother turns against brother that way. The gorgonzola was throwing stinkbombs, the bacon was just laying, limply, wounded, trying to avoid the fray.

What to do? Could this food be saved? Born again in a new pure form? The situation was pretty dire.

Here’s what I had:
2 heads of broccoli
1 bunch broccoli rabe (wilty)
2 portobello mushrooms (slightly soggy)
1 wedge cheap gorgonzola (furry)
Gemilli
Garlic and heavy cream

In advance – I trimmed the broccoli rabe by chopping off the stems halfway and threw it in a pot of boiling water for 4 minutes or so.

After I pulled it out I drained it and, when it was cool enough to touch, I chopped it up a bit and set it aside. I sliced the mushrooms, removed the fur from the gorgonzola and crumbled it. I cooked the broccoli for later use in another dish.

The actual recipe…

First, I started the pasta water. Next, I cooked the bacon in a large skillet till crisp and brown and pulled it out to drain on paper towels.

I put a small saucepan of heavy cream (1/2 cup?) on the back burner to simmer slowly.

By this time, the water was boiling and I threw in the gemilli. I turned down the heat slightly and, without draining the skillet, sautéed the garlic until fragrant.

I added the crumbled gorgonzola to the simmering cream (stirring often), and added the sliced mushrooms to the pan of garlic (and bacon fat) and cooked them till they FINALLY relented and got soft. This took much longer than expected. All the while, be sure you’re stirring your gorgonzola and cream, or it will get icky.

The pasta was almost done, but not quite. I added the broccoli rabe to the mushroom garlic pan and, once it was thoroughly warmed, I crumbled in the bacon.

Now, time to drain the pasta. After draining, I put the pasta back in the pot, added the mushroom, bacon, broccoli rabe mixture, and added the gorgonzola cream sauce. I stirred it all up, added a LOT of ground pepper, and here it is…

This was a surprisingly delicious dinner, especially considering the fact that it was made with food that was on the verge of total collapse.

C is for Cookie

2005-12-01T22:36:00.000-05:00

That's good enough for me.

I have tried. Lord knows I've tried. Sugar cookies. Molasses lacy cookies. Banana nut cookies. Almond crescent shaped cookies. Macaroons. Those cookies with Hershey Kisses in the middle. Shortbread. Gingersnaps. Is it me, can I not bake good cookies?

Or is there really no cookie better than the chocolate chip?

They are good. They are always good. Even if I mix up the ingredients 6 different ways they are good. And right out of the oven, they are heaven. The secret, I say, is the salt.

Yes. Eeeew. I add lots of salt to my chocolate chip cookies. I do not wish to brag, but I must. Men have loved me for these cookies. Also, three months later, houseguests have called for the recipe. But I will repeat. Men have loved me for these cookies.

Do you not want the recipe?

Here it is.

Chocolate Chip Cookies of Love (sometimes takes up to two weeks to blossom)

Preheat oven to 375.

Cream ½ cup softened (not melted) butter. Add ½ cup light brown and ½ cup white sugar and mix in thoroughly. Beat in one egg and ½ tsp vanilla.

Stir in 1 cup & (almost) 2 T flour, ½ tsp (plus a little (or big) extra pinch) salt), ½ tsp baking soda. Mix thoroughly.

Add one cup chocolate chips.

Drop in (almost) tablespoon sized clumps onto a greased cookie sheet (or silpats) and bake for 10 minutes (longer for the first round, less for the others, preferably near the top of the oven). Cool on racks. Eat before cool.

This is the old Joy of Cooking recipe. My modifications are in parentheses. Also, the original recipe called for ½ cup each of chips and walnuts. This is silly. If you want to add walnuts, go ahead and sprinkle them on top or something, but definitely use a full cup of chips! Finally, do not use a mixer. These must be made entirely by hand, with a wooden spoon. Why? I do not know. Do not question the magic.

Updated to add: Oops, I forgot to mention that this is my entry in the Holiday Cookie Exchange!

Potato Soup with Sour Cream and Bacon

2005-11-30T21:38:00.000-05:00

It's Wednesday, and that means I make a little attempt to cook a something from today's NY Times. Today’s recipe was…

Roasted Potato Soup with Sour Cream and Bacon

Here’s the recipe (courtesy of the New York Times)

4 thin-skinned medium potatoes, Yukon Gold or Carola, skin on, sliced ¾-inch thick
2 teaspoons olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 bay leaf
6 thyme sprigs
6 slices bacon, coarsely chopped
½ cup sour cream
2 tablespoons minced chives (optional).

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Toss potatoes in oil and ½ teaspoon salt. Spread on a rimmed baking sheet and bake uncovered until tender, about 35 minutes. Transfer to a pot with a tight-fitting lid. Pour 1 cup boiling water into baking sheet and swirl to deglaze, then pour into pot with potatoes. Add bay leaf, thyme and 5 cups boiling water, cover tightly, and set aside for 1 hour. Remove bay leaf and thyme sprigs. Using a hand blender or working in batches in a blender, purée soup until smooth, adding more boiling water if mixture is too thick. Season with salt and pepper, keeping in mind that the bacon garnish will be salty.

2. Just before serving, cook bacon in skillet over medium-low heat until crisp but not hard. Set aside, reserving fat. Reheat soup over low heat.

3. Pour hot soup into bowls and gently place a dollop of sour cream on top. Spoon about ½ teaspoon bacon fat on top and sprinkle with bacon bits and chives, if using.

I halved the recipe and skipped the chives. The potatoes looked great when they came out of the oven.

Here they are, after steeping, and right before their trip to the blender.

And after the blender, looking thoroughly tamed, bebaconed, and sour creamified.

Note that I actually added way more sour cream that the above picture would have you believe, it just sank to the bottom. After tasting, I added some salt and plenty of pepper. The end result was pretty yummy, but the predominant flavor was definitely THYME! It was a hearty and warming soup, good for cold icky days.

If I made this again, I’d definitely find a way to make it, somehow, more bacony. I thought the bacon would really stand out, especially with the addition of the bacon fat. It added some flavor and crunch, but in my (bacon loving) opinion, it could have been much stronger. Also, I think I’d add either some minced green onions or even frizzled leeks to give it a little zing for contrast. Or maybe I’d even roast a head of garlic while the soup steeps and squeeze (lots of) bits of roasted garlic in as part of the garnish.

Raisinhater Thanksgiving Traditions

2005-11-29T16:34:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I was a little too overwhelmed and overstuffed to tell you in full detail about our Raisinhater Thanksgiving celebration. In fact, I think it’s a bit too much for one post, so you may not get it all today. What I will tell you about today is the newest Raisinhater family tradition.

When the Raisinhaters get together, they fire up the deep fryer. Last Christmas, C Raisinhater gave the Raisinhater parents this deep fryer as a gift. We immediately commenced frying. For our first season, we were fairly reserved. This year we took things to the next level. Cheese, leftover mashed potatos, leftover turkey - we fried it all. Here are a few of our greatest hits.

We started with onion rings. C Raisinhater made his traditional batter of flour, 1 egg, and enough coors light to create a thick sticky paste. Flour the rings, and coat them in the batter.

Toss them in the fryer.

Delicious.

As the weekend went on, we got more and more adventurous. We made coconut shrimp…

Clean and butterfly the shrimp, coat them in flour, then egg, and, finally, a mixture of breadcrumbs and shredded coconut. So easy, and delicious despite the dreadful photo!

Our frying finale was red snapper with spicy mango citrus salsa. I don't have pictures, but I do have a makeshift recipe.

Reduce equal parts (1/2 cup each?) orange juice and water in a small pan on medium heat with a teaspoon of cornstarch until thickened to the consistency of light syrup. Remove from heat. Add 1 teaspoon honey, a few small squirts of sriracha, one finely diced green or red bell pepper, one diced mango, and soy sauce and rice wine vinegar to taste (I probably used 2-3 T each). Stir together and set aside.

Cut snapper into small chunks and coat in flour and batter (same batter as used for onion rings above, but slightly thinner consistency created by extra coors light). Fry till lightly browned. Salt and serve with salsa. This salsa would work with non fried fish too, if you're feeling healthy. Feel free to email me for better recipe details.

Deep frying isn't our only holiday tradition. We drink pomegranate margaritas specially mixed by C Raisinhater, bartender extraordinaire.

We play the annual Gobbler Classic golf tournament

Even in very threatening weather

And sometimes we even drink a little moonshine…

Grilled Turkey

2005-11-28T21:40:00.000-05:00

The Raisinhaters, they do not mess around on Thanksgiving. I went home to New Jersey for a four day festival of food and wine. We had turkey and short ribs and mini cheeseburgers and deep fried everything. Biscuits with sausage gravy and chocolate chip pancakes. I ate more in four days than I have in the past month.

It's too much to tell at once, especially today as I try to recuperate. So for now, I’ll just show you the turkey…

This year we grilled our turkey and it was fantastic – smoky flavored and tender. It was about a 13 pound turkey – we grilled it for 2 hours or so, replenishing the charcoal halfway through. Just put a drip pan (disposable!) in the grill to catch the fat, and arrange the charcoal in a ring around the outside of the drip pan. Here it is right before we ate it!

Cheese Straws

2005-11-23T17:41:00.000-05:00

I love the suspense of waiting for the Wednesday paper, knowing I’ll have to cook one of the recipes. Will it be something I cant manage, like a pig roast? Will it be something with crazy ingredients, like live eels? Last week was Quinoa (keen-wah) – I didn’t even know what that was until last Wednesday morning!

And the keen-wah was lovely (albeit oniony) but I just cant tell you how happy I was to open the paper this morning and see CHEESE STRAWS!

Here’s the recipe from today’s NY Times

1/2 lb grated Cheddar
1/3 lb grated Parmesan
2 cups all-purpose flour
Pinch of cayenne (I used far more, probably ¼ to ½ tsp)
1 stick chilled unsalted butter, cut into chunks
Ice water
Coarse salt.

As instructed, I added the flour and cayenne into the food processor and pulsed to blend. Every time I pulsed, little puffs of flour shot out the sides onto me, the countertop, and the floor. I added the butter chunks and pulsed again. So far, so good. Then, I added the cheese. How big is Mark Bittman’s food processor anyway??

I pulsed to mix, and ended up with cheesy powder!

The recipe says to “turn out on counter and knead by hand, adding a few drops of ice water if necessary.” I double checked the recipe. Perhaps I had missed the part where you were supposed to add some liquidy something. Nope. I turned out (into a bowl) and tried a little kneading. Powdery bits flew around. I added a few drops of ice water. Nothing. Two tablespoons of ice water. Nothing. Two more. Nothing. Four more. A little stickage. The rest of the bowl of ice water. Eureka! I squished the dough together and plopped it out onto the board.

I stuck it all back together to form a cheesy blob.

At this point, I got frustrated. I wrapped the dough in saran wrap and had a glass of wine. After my soothing beverage, I rolled (smooshed) out the dough, cut it into strips, laid them on a cookie sheet, and salted them generously. I baked at 450 for 7 minues and, despite how bleak things looked two or three photos ago, they turned out to be extremely tasty.

Chutney Begone!

2005-11-22T21:04:00.000-05:00

I’d like to take this opportunity to speak on an issue about which I feel strongly.

Fruit and meat.

Evil together.

Yes, all meat. Even chicken and turkey and that tricky “other white meat,” pork.

Turkey sandwiches with cranberry relish? Blech. I know, oooh, pork and apples, I’m missing out. But I don’t like it. Not one bit. Fruit is for breakfast, with cereal. For snacktime, with cheese. As a supplement to a sad and meager lunch. And, most of all, for dessert with, yes, perhaps a bit more cheese.

I don’t mean to offend. I have no greater moral or philosophical objection to the pairing of meats and fruits. I think it sounds like a really flavorful and healthy meal, I just don’t like it.

I do make a few exceptions. First, fruits in disguise, such as the tomato. If nobody really believes it is a fruit in the first place, then I grant it vegetable status. Second, melon and prosciutto. Third, citrus. Lemon chicken? Delicious.

But then, on the flip side, there are those things that aren’t fruits, but taste like fruits. Also evil! This includes sweet potatoes, yams, and any of their nasty kin.

Beware! The holiday season is especially hazardous. Meat + fruit can creep up on you unexpectedly in the form of pot pie, “festive” sandwiches, ham with pineapples (why?), and hodgepodges of leftovers. Only through careful scrutiny and perseverance (and feigned allergies, if necessary) can you avoid the scourge that is meaty fruit/fruity meat during this season. Good luck!

Leftover Frittata

2005-11-21T18:17:00.000-05:00

It isn't uncommon for my leftovers to turn on me. I routinely open a stray Rubbermaid container to find furry tofu or stanky veggies. Once, I even found RED mold on some leftovers. Vampire death mold!

I'm just cheap. I cant bear to throw away those last two bites of pasta. "I'll eat it for breakfast," I tell J. But it never quite happens the way I plan, and so the leftovers linger in the back of the fridge until they've reached the point of inedibility and I can, with slightly less guilt, throw them away.

On certain special and rare occasions, though, I eat up those leftovers, and get to spend the rest of the day with a self-satisfied smirk. With Thanksgiving approaching, it is doubly important to clean out the fridge and make some room for the turkey (or, in my case, six pounds of Artisanal cheese).

So this weekend, while trying (and failing) to complete the crossword puzzle, I made my old standby, Leftover Frittata.

MeBeth's Leftover Frittata

First, I preheated the oven to 350. I fried a handful of chopped onions in an ovenproof pan and added some diced cooked chicken (about 1/2 chicken breast) and crushed red pepper flakes.

Next, I threw in a few large spoonfuls of spinach, bacon and artichoke dip. Normally I just add whatever veggies are lurking in the back of the fridge (leftover broccoli is a good one) but I had some leftover dip, the ingredients were just right, and the sour cream melted nicely.

I removed the pan from the heat and added 4 eggs (pre-whisked).

I put the whole thing in the oven for about 15 minutes. Once the top got puffy and semi-solid, I coated it with some shredded cheddar and a little parmesan.

I threw it under the broiler for 3-5 minutes and the top came out crispy and golden, and I sliced it into wedges and served it with a salad.

Hay, Hay! Dulce de Leche!

2005-11-19T16:08:00.000-05:00

Today’s entry is a twofer – a Raisinhater favorite as well as a post for the Hay, Hay! Its Donna Hay event hosted by Winos and Foodies.

For my first attempt, I used the recipe posted by Nic.

The cupcakes looked delicious …

But tasted nasty. Oooh so nasty. Thick and tough with a weird flavor. Sort of like Irish soda bread. I can only guess that I used baking soda instead of baking powder by mistake? Or forgot the sugar? Blech. They were dreadful. J licked the nutella off the tops and I threw them away.

I made another attempt, this time with Dulce de Leche instead of Nutella.

Dulce de Leche is a creamy caramel-like spread originally from Argentina, and is a Raisinhater favorite.

Things seemed to be going well until the cupcakes were in the oven for a few minutes. A delicious caramel smell wafted through the kitchen and I peeked in the oven…

GAH, Dulce de Leche melting and dripping everywhere! Gooey sticky mess!! Caramel forever burned on to the bottom of the oven (or until I clean it, which will be never). But with a little cooling and a little shaping I was able to salvage them.

This batch was far tastier and cupcake-ier, but still a sticky mess.