Pumpkin Pie-Off

I made a pumpkin pie for a party last weekend but completely neglected to note anything about it (it wasn't an incredible feat of baking, I used a frozen crust and the recipe off the Libby's can... can't mess with a classic).  However, today at work we have two: one from Flour and one from Domenic and Anthony's in Norwood.  The D&A pie was purchased through Community Servings' Pie in the Sky program, where area bakeries donate Thanksgiving pies that are then purchased by anyone for $25, with proceeds going to Community Servings' programs (delivering meals to the terminally ill).  Great cause, great pies.

On to the battle...

Domenic and Anthony's on the left, Flour's on the right

Domenic and Anthony's was good, if a little overcooked.  Not an overly remarkable crust, but nothing wrong with it.

Not surprisingly, Flour stood out, even if this one was a little undercooked.  Superior filling -- more pumpkiny, better spices, though a little mushy -- and a flaky crust that would have been even better had it been given the time to crisp up a bit more.

Overall, both a little disappointing, but I suppose it's not too surprising given that I'm sure both of the bakeries bake hundreds of them for pickup today.  I say make your own, even if you outsource the crust.

On lunch

I count myself extremely lucky to work more-or-less down the street from Barbara Lynch's Sportello.  Not only is it a great place to go out for lunch (as infrequently as that may occur), they have a phenomenal take-out selection.  In addition all sorts of baked goods, the refrigerated case is filled with soups, salads, pastas, and polentas, and a bakery case contains the flatbread pizza of the day, in addition to more salads and sandwiches premade on mini baguettes.

 (my phone really does not do this justice)

Today I chose the amazing spicy tomato soup (in the restaurant, it's served with cheese crostinis) which came with a slice of the bread of your choice (whole grain for me; a generous amount), and wild rice salad with feta and pine nuts (and golden raisins, parsley, red bell pepper, and red onion).  Great texture with a light dressing, slightly sweetened by the raisins.

And a pistachio macaroon, of course.

I heart my coffee

This is my attempt at a mobile post... And this is my new favorite mug. Pantone forecasts colors -- suggested names for this one are red hot, post box, lady bird, and my personal favorites, roof tile and paprika.

live from Somerville...

Everyone does a stint in Slummervile, right?  Ha, really, it's fine, I'm closer to friends and have tons of little ethnic places to check out.  I'll be eating my way through Harvard, Porter, and Davis Squares over the next few months; more on that to come.

Now that I've finally settled in I've started to get back to my normal routine, which involves a lot more cooking.  I've also discovered Smitten Kitchen, which may be my new favorite blog.  Great recipes, even better photography... I love it.  I think I need a more high tech camera or sophisticated software to achieve the level of photographic greatness on so many food blogs, but for now my little point and shoot will have to do.

Meet my new roommate, Swift.  Her favorite foods include Kleenex and paper towels.  She does not, however, enjoy raw onion or swiss chard.  Shocking.

Tonight I tried a recipe from SK's archives -- Curried Lentils with Sweet Potatoes and Swiss Chard.  It was delicious; lentils cooked al dente contrasting with creamy sweet potatoes and just the right amount of curry and garam masala.  A little brightness at the end from lime juice and zest, it was a perfect fall one-dish meal that I can't wait to have for lunch tomorrow.

SK's photos are, of course, much nicer.  I tend to exclude garnish when cooking for myself unless it's a crucial ingredient, but they certainly do add to the aesthetics of the dish.  Check them out on the link below.

Curried Lentils With Sweet Potatoes and Swiss Chard
Adapted from The New York Times 11/14/07 <http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/14/dining/142arex.html?ref=dining>

Yields 8 to 10 side-dish servings; 6 main-course servings.

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 1-inch piece fresh ginger root, peeled and grated
1 1/2 teaspoons garam masala
1 1/2 teaspoons curry powder
1 jalapeño pepper, seeded if desired, then minced
4 to 5 cups vegetable broth as needed
2 pounds orange-fleshed sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into
1/2-inch cubes (about 4 cups)
1 1/2 cups dried lentils
1 bay leaf
1 pound Swiss chard, center ribs removed, leaves thinly sliced
1 teaspoon kosher salt, more to taste
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro
Finely grated zest of 1 lime
Juice of 1/2 lime
1/3 cup finely chopped tamari almonds, for garnish (optional), available in health food stores
1/4 cup chopped scallions, for garnish.

1. In large saucepan, heat oil over medium heat. Add onion and saute until translucent, 5 to 7 minutes. Add garlic, ginger, garam masala, curry powder and jalapeno. Cook, stirring, for 1 minute.

2. Stir in 4 cups broth, sweet potatoes, lentils and bay leaf. Increase heat to high and bring to a boil; reduce heat to medium, partially cover, and simmer for 25 minutes. (If lentils seem dry, add up to 1 cup stock, as needed.) Stir in chard and salt and pepper, and continue cooking until lentils are tender and chard is cooked, about 30 to 45 minutes total.

3. Just before serving, stir in cilantro, lime zest and juice. Spoon into a large, shallow serving dish. Garnish with almonds if desired and scallions.

A hiatus

The date is fast approaching -- I'm moving next weekend.  This, of course, means that all of the associated tasks and emotions begin right about now.  To that end, I'll probably take a little time off from blogging as I deal with packing and settling in my new place.

a goodbye to my apartment

 

Cooking generally isn't an activity that calms me down, except in specific situations.  Usually I'll pick a recipe that involves too much chopping, or timing, or effort, increasing my level of stress until I'm saved by something delicious at the end. 

This one is different: warm, comforting, and incredibly quick.  All it takes is polenta, a jar of spaghetti sauce, and some cannellini beans.  All pantry staples (well, maybe not if you're emptying out your pantry in anticipation of a move...) and pretty much fool proof. 

Really it's a 1, 2, 3...

1. Make your polenta:  3 parts salted water to 1 part polenta, plus butter, cheese, or whatever else you'd like to add
2. Heat up the sauce and add the cannellini beans
3. Serve and calm on down...

Bayless does breakfast

If you're at all a fan of Rick Bayless, you've undoubtedly heard about his continued takeover of the corner of Clark and Illinois in Chicago, in the form of the wildly popular Xoco (sho-ko, if you ever want to say it out loud).  Yet another addition to his empire of Mexican cuisine, this outpost serves street food -- tortas, churros, caldos -- in a casual, laid-back atmosphere.  Order at the counter and your food is brought to your table, but be prepared to wait in line, outside if it's long enough.  That people have been willing to stand outside in 40-degree weather for over an hour just for an $8 sandwich is something of a testament unto itself.

(I linked that from the Tribune's review... read it here)

I managed to avoid the crowds and go for breakfast, around 9 (oh the benefits of vacation days).  Twice, actually.  The first time I ordered the chorizo egg torta.  I love breakfast, breakfast sandwiches, Mexican food, chorizo... this really couldn't have gone wrong, but my expectations were far surpassed.  Egg, chorizo, cheese, avocado, salsa, all smushed between halves of bread and crisped in the wood-fired oven.  And Intelligentsia coffee -- a great way to start the day.

The second day I knew I was in for a big lunch, so I took it easy, ordering yogurt with granola and fruit.  I can honestly say I was blown away by this yogurt, which is something to say about yogurt, which I eat pretty much every day. It's organic and grass-fed, from Farmer's Creamery.  Really the best, creamiest, most delicious yogurt I've ever had (unsweetened, of course).  Added to it is Mexican granola (cashews, a grain I presume to be millet, just sweet enough) and berries.  A much lighter and completely different, but equally delicious breakfast.


Oh, they also grind their own cacao beans for hot chocolate, in full view of the sidewalks on the corner.  Who can't love a place like that?

North Pond

another one that was live from Chicago...

The restaurant North Pond is lucky enough to occupy some amazing real estate -- the north side of North Pond in Lincoln Park, with some serious views of downtown.  It's one of those places where I'm sure bridal parties go for pictures.


Inside the restaurant, which was first a warming hut for skaters on the pond, then a concession stand, a cafe, and finally a full service restaurant, the decor can best be described as "craftsman," reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright (according to my mother and I'll take her word for it).  Dress is classy (they ask no jeans or shorts), but not overly stylish.  All ages would feel very comfortable here; it's a homey place.

The menu (here) goes with the decor; everything is seasonal, sustainable, and local when it can be.   

Once again we were served by an incredibly knowledgeable and friendly waitstaff that was even willing to create wine pairings with our various courses, even providing different wines to each of us when they weren't consistent across the table.

Some highlights of the meal included a kabocha squash-apple soup, smooth and not sweet as squash soups can be, accentuated by a perfectly soft, creamy goat cheese gnudi, crisp, salty cubes of pancetta, and topped candied pecans.  A fitting way to begin a meal on an unseasonably cold day.  For entrees, the standout was red snapper served atop "bacon-infused" sweet potatoes.  These were so good, so smoky and bacon-y that I had to ask how they were prepared.  Cardiologists, avert your eyes:  they render bacon in cream, then fold it into a puree of squash that's been roasted in butter.  Pure heaven, I promise.

North Pond
2610 N Cannon Dr, Chicago, IL‎
(773) 477-5845‎

Blackbird

I wrote these earlier this week while I was in Chicago and am just now posting them... oops.


I'm in Chicago for a few days and have been lucky enough to have some great meals lined up.  I'll do a brief review of the highlights.


Blackbird sits just across the river from Chicago's Loop, occupying a stylishly minimalist space.  All white walls are accentuated only with grey banquettes and an open kitchen that is similarly white and stainless steel.  Atop the restaurant's bar, a large display of white daisies is the only non-booze-related item in sight.  Clean and classy, the food is what's on display.

Patrons are dressed in what I'll call business chic; men are in jackets, but it's not a conservative atmosphere.  Everyone is well dressed, including the waitstaff in suits and stylish dresses.

Speaking of the waitstaff, they're very knowledgeable, describing the seasonally-focused menu in detail with ease and providing wine pairing recommendations.  These people know their stuff and are happy to tell you all about it.

I won't rehash the menu (you can check it out here), but to give you an idea, we ordered veal sweetbreads, duck tartare, and the goat charcuterie platter to start, followed by the sea trout, pork collar, and sturgeon.  The sturgeon was my dish and favorite of the three; it was perfectly cooked and I loved the zucchini "breads" that were more like dense little croutons, providing just the right amount of crunch.

What was to follow would prove to be the highlight of the evening.  Chocolate-pistachio was a delicious chocolate mousse atop moist pistachio cake, with chocolate sorbet, but the sweetcorn bavarois really stole the show.  Cubes of cornbread pain perdu (basically, french toast) and maple sorbet served alongside a sweetcorn cake topped with corn custard, dehydrated corn, and maple syrup.  Truly phenomenal; I'd go back just for this dish.

The check arrived with freshly baked madelines.  They know how to send off guests on a high note.

Blackbird
619 W. Randolph
Chicago, IL 60661
(312) 715-0708‎

Quinoa Linguine

As I think I've mentioned, I'm making an effort to eat everything in my pantry before I move out of my apartment at the end of the month.  I've used up all the easy ingredients:  cous cous, premade sauces, spaghetti, etc., which leaves me with some oddballs.

Earlier this summer I found quinoa pastas at Whole Foods; I really love quinoa as a grain, so I thought I'd give it a shot (it is a super food, after all), leaving the store with rotini and linguine. 

The rotini was decidedly not good.  Kind of grainy, the way bad whole wheat pasta is, but worse.  Needless to say, the linguine was sentenced to the back of the pantry and not thought of again.  Until today.  When I didn't have any more normal pasta.

Throwing caution to the wind, I boiled the "pasta," which I tossed with some more pantry staples:  sauteed canned artichoke hearts, cannellini beans, pesto, leftover tapenade, and some cherry tomatoes I picked up at the grocery store.  Tossed it all together and topped it off with some grated parmesan.

And... it wasn't bad.  Really not bad, almost borderline good.  I would never compare it to fresh pasta or good-quality dried, but it was certainly better than some of the whole wheat pastas I've had.  I think the difference is that this variety is made with a corn and quinoa flour blend, where the rotini may have been strictly quinoa.  I'm not sure that I'll "never god back to 'plain' noodles again," as the package says, but I just may be a repeat customer, if I'm feeling carb-guilty.

Chalk up another one for health food overcoming the odds.

Ginger Park...

The restaurant on my corner, Banq, has recently changed names and chefs (I believe the ownership remains the same, but I'm not positive) to become "Ginger Park."  Lame name, if you ask me, but no one did.  Luckily, they've kept the award-winning interior the same (Wallpaper best restaurant design this year), and have removed the back of the bar so you can see all the way through the restaurant, a huge improvement.

I haven't actually eaten there yet, but there's been a lot of press about how it will be Asian small plates, similar to the concept at Myers + Chang, one of my favorite neighborhood restaurants.  I was reading an interview with the new chef at Ginger Park, Patricia Yeo, and when asked about the restaurant's similarity to M+C, she said, "Myers + Chang is an old Boston stalwart that I don't even really want to compare myself with. I don't want to sound pretentious."

Stalwart?  Really?  First of all, M+C was not even open when I moved to the South End, meaning it's been around for two years at the absolute maximum.  And while they have received national recognition and turn out some pretty fantastic food (Mama Chang's pork and chive dumplings may be the best I've had outside Beijing), I'm not sure I'd give them quite that much credit.  However, the match-up of Joanne Chang (Flour Bakery) and Christopher Myers (Radius, Via Matta, the late Great Bay) is one to be reckoned with.

I do appreciate the deference to a local favorite, even if I think it's a dubious business move to change your restaurant concept to one that's being executed successfully a few blocks down the street, literally.

The arrival of autumn...

I might as well admit it; fall is here.  It is the last day of September, after all.  But the temperature is really starting to drop and it's getting harder to get by with just a sweater and scarf.  Pretty soon I'm going to have to start putting the lights on my bike when I ride home from work.  Where did the summer go?!  Oh wait, we didn't really have one, or a legitimate one, anyway.

As much as I'll miss my summer produce, I really do love the comforting foods of fall.  After a summer of being reluctant to turn on the oven and add to the heat in my non-ventilated kitchen, I'm always ready to start roasting.

Tonight as my hands froze as I rode home, I couldn't wait to return to the black eyed peas with sausage that I knew awaited me in the fridge.  It's one of those meals that really needs to be made on a weekend, it takes forever (dried beans be damned), but is so worth it that next day (and the next... and next) when it just needs to be reheated on the stove.

Who wouldn't want to come home to that?

I'd like to find a way to make it vegetarian, but I think I'd lose some depth of flavor from the sausage (Lionette's has the best all-natural, free range, etc. handmade Italian sausages; not to shortchange the phenomenal lamb and apricot sausages...).  Any ideas on how I might gain some of that back from a non-meat source?  I was thinking maybe adding a beer instead of some of the water, an Octoberfest-style lager perhaps. 

I'm also on a mission to consume everything in my pantry before we move.  Tonight, that means chocolate pudding.  Not sure why I bought chocolate pudding, it's not exactly a normal pantry staple for me, but I had some whipping cream left over from the gateau last week, so....

Hysterical

“What’s the two things they tell you are healthiest to eat? Chicken and fish . . . You know what you should do? Combine them. Eat a penguin.” –Dave Attell (b. 1965), American comedian

I'm on Twitter

Follow me:  @emmmilykj


Still working on figuring this all out, but I'll probably tweet when I have a new blog post?  Or other things come my way that I want to share... in very short text.

An American in...

As I was lying in bed this morning a thought occurred to me -- there's really no reason why I can't do what David Lebovitz has done, namely, move to a new country, pay attention to what's going on around you, and write about it.  Of course, it helps if you happen to be a pastry chef with several cookbooks under your belt and are living in the country that defined the pastry, but it's not an entirely complicated concept.

I could do this.  I'd like start living a little more intentionally, not just floating through days but really appreciating what's going on around me.  This morning, I happened to be particularly grateful that it was drizzling, because despite my overall lack of sleep, there wasn't a throng of people with dogs and children standing outside on the corner at the Buttery, their barks, cries, and conversations keeping me even more awake on a Sunday morning.  It's time to start counting the little things.

To that end, maybe I don't have to go to a foreign country.  Of course, I'd love to (An American in Liguria wouldn't be a bad blog concept...), but really, can't I be an American in... America?  Who knows what I'll be doing a year from now, but at least I'll have paid attention to the changing landscape.

Gateau Therese

Late last week I got a nice surprise in my inbox -- my long wait to borrow David Lebovitz's "The Sweet Life in Paris" from the library had ended and I could come claim my book. This could not have come at a better time; I've been between books, trying to decide what to read next, and really needed something light and entertaining for the sake of my sanity.

That departure from reality came in the form of witty quips about the daily trials of being an American living in Paris, an observer from the outside. It also comes complete with numerous recipes I couldn't wait to try.

Hence, Wednesday is now cake and wine night. Gateau Therese, a chocolate cake, sounded delicious and simple, so much so that I needed to create an occasion to make it (not that I'm above making cake for myself).

I made the cake in a slightly larger loaf pan than suggested, but I don't think I lost anything aside from a few millimeters of the center (the best part). It was delicious: intensely chocolatey, not too sweet, and incredibly light despite its dense appearance, thanks to lots of egg whites. Perfect with a little whipped cream, or a big glass of milk.


I think I'll need to copy a few more recipes from this book before I return it. If you see it at a bookstore, I highly recommend paging through it; a very entertaining read and at least one great recipe (though I'm sure there are more).

If I'm going to perfect the art of something, it might have to be chocolate cake...

Epic fail to epic win

My friend had a party for her birthday last night, so I thought I'd make a cake. Still having yet to use my new bundt pan, this was a perfect opportunity. So I made the batter, baked, cooled, and flipped... tragically. Apparently I hadn't greased the pan enough because about a quarter of the cake remained in the pan. It was completely un-salvageable.



Or so I thought.

One is reminded of the wonder that is the internet when you can Google "bundt cake disaster" and actually come up with some usable results. "Leftover chocolate cake" was an even better search term and gave me a few viable options for my cake mess. I decided to go with a trifle.

Picking up a chunk of perfectly good cake and crumbling it in your hands is one of the more bizarre feelings I've experienced. It's kind of fun but yet feels so wrong. Anyway, cake crumbs layered with chocolate pudding, Heath bits, and amaretto-spiked whipped cream turns into a pretty great dessert. Really, it may have been better than the cake alone (but really, what's not better with whipped cream and toffee) and was a hit at the party, even if it was a little more utensil-intensive than I had planned. Score one for ingenuity!

The lake

There is something about the lake that I closely associate with food. By the lake, I mean my family's lake home in northern Wisconsin, where I spent Labor Day weekend. By food, I mean just that, but particularly the consumption of it: sandwiches, cheeses, wine, dessert, all in quantities generally larger than I'd normally ingest, yet somehow I never feel upset with myself. The association isn't such a mystery. I come from a family of cooks and eaters, "foodies" before the word was cool. Just a group of women (and men) who enjoy food and the preparation of it beyond the daily task of putting a meal on the table.


As you can imagine, this tends to make holiday meals pretty spectacular, but it's the simple (and sometimes not quite so), no-pressure meals at the lake that are the best. Cheese is plated and wine served generously at five, a meal cooked prior to arrival reaheated or a grill fired up at seven, served with a fresh salad and more wine shortly thereafter. And dessert. Always dessert. Stomachs full and bodies tired, few of us last much beyond the ten o'clock news.

Lunch has a tendency to come from the Eagle River Bakery, unless leftovers abound. The bakery specializes in sandwiches; nothing fancy, just a variety of combinations of deli meats and cheeses, all named after northwoods animals. Choose your animal, your bread (freshly baked), dressings, and a cookie. We generally call in our order ahead of time, picking up bags of the styrofoam containers, each complete with a sandwich, pickle, rippled chips, and the ever-ubiquitous cookie -- cranberry nut is the house favorite. There may or may not actually be anything that spectacular about the sandwiches themselves, but the fact that they're good (an unfortunate rarity in the northwoods), readily available, and are generally eaten on the boat, elevates them to a level beyond where they might otherwise reside.


Food is really only as good as those you share it with, and can always be improved by your surroundings. Here's to the lake.

Comfort Food

I'm not feeling well. Just a cold, nothing serious, but enough to make me feel a little out of commission. We're also coming into our first fall weather here in Boston, and it's just, well, cold. That said, I needed to make myself dinner, and was craving mac and cheese. I went into the pantry and pulled out that classic blue box, Kraft Mac and Cheese. Yes, the neon orange powder kind, not even the Annie's Organics variety that at least tries to appear natural. For whatever reason, after a fabulous meal at Ten Tables last night which included octopus, skate wing, and basil ice cream of all things, I wanted what is probably one of the most processed, marketed, and generally non-nutritionally redeeming meals on the planet (if you can even call it that).

Approximately ten minutes later, my box of dry pasta and powdered "cheese" had transformed itself into soft noodles covered in a still unnaturally orange sauce. I took a bite, anticipating the comforting associations of childhood sick days... and was disappointed. It just wasn't good. How this has failed to occur to me all through college and in the years since is beyond me. Granted, it's not a food I make with any regularity, but I've definitely been lazy/sick/bored enough to reach for the blue box a few times over the years. It was just incredibly disappointing. The noodles were too mushy (potentially my fault but we're not exactly dealing with a high quality pasta here) and the cheese sauce was flavorless. In fact, its only real redeeming quality was that it was warm.

Of course, this didn't prevent me from eating the whole bowl I had served myself. But, disappointed and dissatisfied, I opened the freezer to help myself to Sweet Scoops ginger frozen yogurt (possibly the best ever), straight from the pint. I'll rationalize it; I'm sick.

Granola

I wrote this a while ago but I've been so busy recently I haven't had time to write anything new! In the meantime, enjoy!


I love granola, so much so that I'm willing to turn on the oven in the late August heat so I don't have to go a morning without it. Making your own granola is so easy and is certainly less expensive, and probably healthier, than what you'd buy at the grocery store (and more environmentally friendly!). This recipe is a combination of my favorite parts of many other granola recipes I've found; it's crunchy, not too sweet, and involves lots of nuts and good-for-you things like flax seed, wheat germ, and bran. It's also very forgiving and open to interpretation -- throw in whatever nuts you like, add or subtract seasonings, use a different oil -- just keep the proportions roughly the same. I like it with plain yogurt and fresh or dried fruit for breakfast, or sprinkled on top of ice cream for dessert.



Granola

3 c. old fashioned oats
1/2 c. each flaxseed meal, toasted wheat germ, and wheat bran
2/3 c. each slivered almonds, pistachios, and sunflower seeds
a pinch of salt
2/3 c. light brown sugar
2 tsp. molasses
2 tbsp. walnut oil
1 large egg white
1 tsp. each vanilla and almond extracts

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix oats, flaxseed, germ, bran, nuts and salt in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together brown sugar, molasses, oil, egg white, and extracts. Add sugar mixture to dry ingredients and mix well (the sugar mixture will be thick, so this may take a little longer than expected). Pour onto a large, greased baking sheet and bake for approximately 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until granola is golden brown. Allow to cool and store in the refrigerator (granola will last at least a month, if it's not eaten by then!).

Inspiration

I've said that I wouldn't blog at work but it's lunchtime on the Friday before a long weekend and I had to share this:

I've stumbled upon an amazing website, Ideas in Food (www.ideasinfood.com). You must check out the photos of their creations. Incredible.

...and I learned something new today

As it turns out, my pizza dough wasn't stretchy enough because I didn't knead it enough, not that I kneaded too much. Now that I think about it, I've never made a yeast-based bread on my own before, never had to think about how long to knead (until it can be stretched to translucency without tearing, it turns out; thank you Michael Ruhlman). Lesson learned!

"The good news is: there is pizza, ice cream, and beer"

No truer words have been spoken (by our waitress at Picco Saturday night, to the man at the table next to us who asked, "What's the good news?"). To keep with the good word, last night's menu at casa de Emily was pizza, brownies, and wine.

Our first foray into 100% homemade pizza (no store-bought dough or sauce for us!) actually went pretty well. Sunday afternoon's dough making was only slightly disastrous; apparently the sides of my flour "well" were not high enough to hold the water/yeast/oil mixture, as it broke the barrier and went careening across the counter, under the coffee maker, onto the floor... basically everywhere in a gooey, yeasty mess. I was able to scoop enough of it up to create a somewhat workable ball, though I think the flooding issue caused me to over-knead the dough, resulting in a less-stretchy-than-desired consistency when we actually rolled it out last night. It wasn't bad by any means, but a created a denser crust than I would have liked; I can do better.

Sauce prep was a piece of cake! Both the dough and sauce recipes came from Jamie at Home, the sauce consisting of whole canned tomatoes (San Marzano, because I love the can design! I need to find a reason to buy diced tomatoes so I can get the purple one...), olive oil, garlic, and basil simmered over the stove. Couldn't have been easier, and it was delicious!

Combined with some farmer's market produce and delicious, sustainable sweet Italian sausage from Lionette's, we arrived at four pizza combos:

1. Sausage, mushrooms, red onions, fresh and shredded mozzarella (the crowd favorite)
2. "Mexican" pizza with corn, black beans, jalopeños, red onion, and cotija (a close second)
3. Japanese eggplant, zucchini, corn, fresh and shredded mozzarella
   
4. "Pesto/Margherita" with a pesto base (no tomato sauce), sliced heirloom tomatoes, fresh basil, and fresh mozzarella

Overall, the pizzas were a hit. I'd definitely like to continue experimenting with different crusts, toppings, etc. to perfect my craft. Luckily I think I have lots of willing test subjects...

Rachel Ray as Gateway Drug

"The road to eating at Robuchon for the majority of people goes through Rachael Ray. Ray and Fieri are the culinary versions of marijuana, the food-TV gateway drug to eating and cooking either bigger, better, and badder food, or, for lazier folks, a lifetime of the cooking equivalent of smoking really bad weed."

From: "The Grub Report: Critics and Commentators Survey the State of Our Food Union," comment by Michael Nagrant, Hungry Mag


I think this comment is interesting for a number of reasons. Aside from is humorous tone, I think it gets at a very valid point. A lot has been said about the rise in popularity of food TV (without a corresponding rise in actual cooking), but it may be the first step towards getting our culture focused on the preparation of meals as a normal part of the American lifestyle once again. It's unlikely that anyone would confuse Rachel Ray's 30 Minute Meals for gourmet, and there's certainly nothing everyday about the establishments that Guy Fieri visits in Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, but is the fact that people are actually watching and enjoying these shows a sign of a change to come?

Although Fieri's show encourages eating outside the home, the focus of the show is the preparation of the food and on the owners of the eateries themselves, promoting the lifestyle of small restaurant ownership and encouraging diners to eat at locally-owned establishments rather than the Olive Gardens of the world. Let's face it, people are busy and are unlikely to become less so any time soon; even if they'd like to cook it truly may not be an option every night of the week. In this case, wouldn't we, as a society or a city, rather that they support our local economy? This promotes the charm and uniqueness of cities and towns across America that are characterized by their local establishments, not the number of chain restaurants and big box stores lining the highways. Granted, generally the items on the featured menus aren't exactly helping to fight the obesity epidemic, but let's pick our battles.

30 Minute Meals really is a gateway for many people, from kids and college students to working adults. Sure, Rachel Ray may be irritating at times (yum-o? really?), but her recipes are a realistic introduction to the kitchen. They're simple, easy to follow, and utilize reasonably priced ingredients. Approachable may be the best descriptor. So you start at Rachel Ray, then maybe move to Mark Bittman, or maybe you've learned enough of the basics to start throwing ingredients together on your own.

Fostering an interest in cooking, or at least the knowledge how one's food is prepared, is the focus here. If that leads just 10% of viewers to actually enter the kitchen, I'd call it a success.

Danny can't keep us down

Tropical storm Danny dropped a considerable amount of water over Boston yesterday, a steady rain that started well before I awoke and continued through the evening. That didn't stop my very motivated friend Katie from going to the Union Square Farmer's Market and bringing me some amazing, huge heirloom tomatoes.


What to do with these beauties on a rainy afternoon? Make grilled cheese, of course! I had a loaf of Clear Flour Bakery's Seven Grain in my fridge from earlier in the week, so we braved the deluge and walked around the corner to the South End Formaggio in search of cheeses. The Formaggio is one of my favorite places in the city, not to be outdone by its older sister, the Formaggio Kitchen in Cambridge. The size of the South End location just makes it much more intimate.

One of the very nice guys at the Formaggio set us up with a trio of cheeses to complete our sandwiches: a Pétit Comté from Jura, France, a Pomerol Meule Duroux from Auvergne, France, and a Provolone for its melty goodness. We grabbed a box of local greens with the SEF's phenomenal housemade balsamic vinaigrette and a few rosemary salted caramels and, after sampling some cheeses and homemade hummus and ful medames (an Egyptian fava bean spread), we were out the door.

The cheeses were just as delicious on their own as they were combined. The provolone was as expected, mild and smooth, sliced impossibly thin. Next, the Pomerol. Another mild cheese, yet sharper than the provolone, with a smooth, almost airy texture and a flavor that sticks in the back of your mouth. My Google search yielded no results, though I did learn that Pomerol is the smallest wine-producing region in Bordeaux and "meule" translates into "wheel" -- you learn something new every day. The Comté was my personal favorite, a dry, salty cheese, denser than the rest with an almost grainy texture. It turns out that the buyers at Formaggio Kitchen have visited this farm; you can read about the cheese and watch a video here.


How was our grilled cheese? In a word: delightful. The sandwich itself had a perfect crunch, augmented by the gooeyness of the cheeses and juices from the tomato. The tomato became sweet, the tomatoeyness of it a testament to the quality of real produce grown the old fashioned way, vine-ripened, roots in soil. It struck me that we shouldn't have been blown away by the flavor of this tomato, that this is the way tomatoes are supposed to taste; our palates bored by countless supermarket varieties. Although I suppose if this makes us appreciate the wonder of the late summer tomato, it might be all for the better.


All in all, a perfect lunch for a rainy afternoon.

Fried Hollandaise?

I can't take credit for finding this video (it was on Eat Me Daily, a blog on all sorts of weird food related things -- endlessly entertaining), but it's incredible. The chef at wd-50 in New York has created a molecular gastronomized take on eggs Benedict, complete with cubes of fried hollandaise. NPR's Science Friday went to learn how it was done: watch the video here.

It doesn't have quite the same comforting appeal as traditional eggs Benedict, but I'd love to try it. The process of creating this dish is fascinating!

Fresh Corn Polenta

I'd read about fresh corn polenta recently, and, being a huge fan of both fresh corn and polenta, I thought I'd give it a go. After a trip to the farmer's market, I picked up some sweet corn along with tomatoes, zucchini, summer squash, and eggplants. My philosophy with roasting vegetables is that if you're going to go, go all out; there's really no reason to roast a small amount of vegetables as they keep well in the fridge and you can eat them throughout the week with minimal effort. Two sheet pans of roasted vegetables later, I was ready to make my polenta.

As it turns out, turning sweet corn into polenta is an incredibly quick process. All you do is grate your ears of corn (roughly two per person) on the coarse side of a box grater into a sauce pan (note that this makes somewhat of a mess, so wear an apron). Then simmer the corn over low heat, stirring frequently until it thickens, stir in a little butter and salt, and you're set. All in all, a 10 minute process.

The flavor of fresh corn polenta is entirely different from it's traditional counterpart. It's incredibly sweet, which obviously has something to do with the type of corn you're using, so if you can find a less-sweet variety of corn, choose that one. Coupled with the roasted vegetables that had caramelized a bit, the sweetness was a tad overwhelming. However, the polenta was great with the tomatoes that had retained some of their acidity.

Regardless of the flavor, the presentation was lovely. I'm not sure if I'll be making fresh corn polenta again, but I'm glad my curiosity has been satisfied.

Jamie at Home

This afternoon I found Jamie at Home on sale at the bookstore (my favorite, Trident Booksellers on Newbury St.) so I thought I'd pick up a copy. It's a rather large, weighty book; not really the best purchase to carry around on an incredibly hot, humid day when there were still lots of stops and a lot of walking to be done on my errand-running venture. Oh well.

Now that I'm back in my somewhat cooler apartment, I've had a chance to page through it in a little more detail. It all centers around Jamie Oliver's love of his garden, which makes me long for a living space that includes a little of the outdoors (growing herbs on the fire escape last summer didn't go as well as planned). All I'd need is a 3x3 foot box of soil, or even some large planters, where I could grow some herbs, tomatoes, zucchini, maybe even some climbing beans. I'd be able to feed myself the entire summer (and longer, if I learned how to can)! Maybe at my next place... TBD.

The book is divided into seasonal "chapters," then by each fruit or "veg" (love the English colloquialisms) with a nice introduction on each, including tips for growing and some simple preparations. Then come the recipes themselves, each carefully thought out to best showcase the star ingredient, none too complicated or fussy, just good, honest meals that you can just imagine on his dinner table in the English countryside (I picture a large, rustic wooden farm table, with long benches or vintage metal chairs, a personal favorite of my own). The photography is beautifully simple and is even more charming on thick, matte paper.

There's even a section on barbequeing in the summer chapter. It's interesting because I think that here in the US, we automatically associate a barbeque with a big grill, either charcoal or gas (or both), but always upright on legs or some sort of stand. The images here though are more reminiscent of a campfire, with coals spread on the ground, vegetables wrapped in foil and placed directly atop, or meat suspended on a spit above the flames. I've seen travel shows focused on Argentina, a very meat- and barbeque-centric culture, where giant metal "grills" are suspended high above a massive wood burning fire. Koreans grill right at the table. Cooking meat over an open flame seems to be such a primal way of preparing a meal, spanning across drastically different cultures, yet not surprisingly, the American love for tools, appliances, and convenience has provided us with the only apparatus for grilling that involves a contraption that will set you back a few hundred dollars, at the least.

I haven't yet tried any of the recipes in the book, but I'm anxious to do so. Although meat appears as an ingredient quite a bit and isn't something I eat all too much of, I think I'm going to enjoy working my way through Jamie's seasons.

Bina Osteria

It's Restaurant Week here in Boston, and while this is normally one of the highlights of the year (along with the other RW in February), this time around I haven't been feeling quite as inspired as usual. Granted, on Monday I had a delicious dinner at Rialto consisting of a salad of beets three ways (roasted, fried in thin slices, and pickled), and bluefish with a corn-tomato salsa of sorts (really, you can't go wrong with fresh corn and tomatoes this time of year, but deliciously executed nonetheless), and blueberry sorbet with a lime zest meringue (incredibly refreshing). Coupled with a table by the window overlooking the Charles Hotel plaza, you really couldn't beat this meal for $30.09.

Today's lunch, however, did not go as well. A few friends and I went to lunch at Bina Osteria, the new venture of the owners of Lala Rokh, a fantastic upscale Persian restaurant in Beacon Hill, as well as Bin 26, a wine bar/enoteca where I've never been, and haven't really heard much about in a positive or negative light. Regardless, I was looking foward to this meal. Let's just say that I, and my dining companions, were underwhelmed.

We'll start with the decor. Very clean and modern, with high ceilings obscured by some sort of large, white panels hanging at varying angles, which creates an interesting somewhat architectural look. The decor is generally white and sparse, with raw concrete support pillars in some corners and floor to ceiling windows partially hidden by sheer gold on silver curtains. Tables are covered in white cloth, with the exception of a long, high table near the back wall that was made of some tan-colored rock composite where patrons sit across from one another on bar-height stools. We almost missed the bar and low, red couches in the lounge upon entrance. In sum, not the most interesting, but nothing offensive.

On to the food. We were given a basket of three varieties of breads upon arrival, one a more traditional Tuscan, one a moist, airy bread, and the other a dense almost biscuit-like roll, served in a nice wooden bowl along with olive oil for dipping. All fairly good, yet nothing to write home about. I do, however, appreciate the variety. I read that psychologically, when at a restaurant, people will order something different from their companions, even if they all want the same thing, because in the moment, we crave variety, yet over time we could eat the same dish over and over and be perfectly happy, if not happier because over longer periods of time, variety becomes unnecessary (just think of your favorite pizza). We treat simultaneous alternatives (the bread bowl) much differently from sequential alternatives (monthly pizza night). But I digress.

Appetizers up next. "Etruscan" soup was actually quite good: a puree of chickpeas with rosemary, a drizzle of olive oil, tiny squiggles of sliced squid as a garnish in the center, and a little twisted breadstick placed elegantly across the bowl. Next time I'll remember to bring a camera, but the sight of this in a pure white bowl with a large rim was quite charming. A pleasing contrast of textures between the smooth puree and slightly chewy squid, with the hint of rosemary peeking out from the background. The tomato and mozzarella salad was fairly typical, slices of fresh mozzarella topped with halved cherry tomatoes and arugula, drizzed with olive oil. If made with quality ingredients, you really can't mess this salad up, and Bina didn't disappoint, serving it on a white, rectangular plate. So far, so good.

Entrees were a different story. "Bruschetta" turned out to mean something along the lines of "things piled on top of bread." Boring bread, basically a quarter of a dense Tuscan (i.e. no salt) baguette, but not nearly as good as any the bread we had seen earlier in the meal. My "Branzino Bruschetta" was described on the menu as having marinated branzino, fennel, and tuna bottarga (roe). Let's work in layers: The branzino was placed on top of the bread and was fine, not too salty but still a little fishy, the fennel was... fennel. I like fennel, but it was just shaved and placed on top of the fish. The tuna borgatta? Nowhere to be seen. No sort of oils, vinaigrettes, anything. Bland to look at with the muted tan of the bread (not even a nice golden crust), pale pink-ish fish, and white slivers of fennel (on a much too small rectangular white plate), and just as poor a showing in flavor. Uninspiring, to say the least. The other bruschetta contained an olive "paté" that seemed more like a tapenade, "dried" tomatoes (they were fresh), and arugula. Not exactly what was advertised, but certainly more colorful than the other dish, albeit on the same bread. Slightly better, but not much. And where to begin with the lamb? Two overcooked pieces of lamb approximately the size of Tic-Tac boxes stacked with two slices of polenta the same size. The vegetable caponata, as described on the menu, was conspicuously missing.

A case of false descriptions? Perhaps. The menu certainly made our lunch sound much better than it turned out to be. Overall, not awful, but I won't be rushing back.

A new beginning, of sorts

I am blogging. Yet another one amongst many, and writing about food, at that. No, I haven't been inspired by Julie & Julia, in fact I think I'm delaying seeing that movie to avoid just that. But nonetheless, here we go.

I've decided to write about food for a few reasons, but primarily that it happens to be one of my main interests. I have no formal education in the subject, I've never cooked for more than a party of six or so, but it's something I'm passionate about. I enjoy food -- the sights, the scents, and mostly, the taste. When I travel, visiting the local markets is at the top of my list. I've become the resident Boston restaurant expert amongst my friends and colleagues. And given the size of my kitchen, I'd say I'm a pretty good cook. Does this make me qualified to write about it? Probably not, but I'll give it a shot (Clotilde and Molly Wizenberg had to start somewhere too).

So for my inaugural post, I'll leave you with a photo of some truffles at a market in Munich, approximately this time of year in 2007. Please bear with me as I play with formats, topics, and writing styles. This will surely be an interesting journey ahead!