This month, I had the worst fine dining experience of my life to date. The food that was edible was submediocre. The service was sloppy with hints of apathy. It was so bad, I went back again later that week, just to make sure I wasn't being punked. The second meal was worse than the first.
But you won't read details about it here.
I did spend some quality time reflecting on the experience, and typed up over nine pages recounting the the poor quality of the food, a long list of major points missed by the wait staff, and two or three "positive points" of which I had taken note (I'm a "silver lining" kind of person).
That little writing exercise was more about my venting than about reporting a dining experience, and it served its purpose. After writing it, I felt much better. But when I see writing of that type on a blog or a public comment site, I tend to discredit the writer rather than the restaurant. It is the written equivalent of a person making scene at a restaurant--yelling and carrying on because the soup wasn't hot, or the server forgot to bring more bread. The one making the scene like a child throwing a temper tantrum looks like the fool, even if everyone else in the restaurant noted that the soup wasn't hot.
Editorial of any kind fueled by rage with the intent to vent does not really serve anyone, although it may make the one venting feel better. Like the grown up throwing a temper tantrum in public, it is simply a breech of etiquette.
Instead of posting to the internet, I did what I know most restaurateurs would prefer: I contacted the restaurant directly, got the name of the manager, and drafted a letter to him with specific details of my experience for the purpose of providing a heaping dose of constructive criticism to him and his staff. I expressed my sincere hope that he would use the honest feedback to improve the service and the food. And I do sincerely hope they improve.
In a few months, I am very likely to return to the restaurant. And if I do, I will report my experience. If they have improved, I will be delighted. If they have not, I will have done my due diligence; my "shocked and appalled" will have subsided, and I will be able to recount (with emotion tempered by time and reason) for you, gentle reader, the broader scope of my dining experience with that particular establishment.
So please pause before you post about a poor dining experience and remember this: The food reader is NOT wanting to read about any one person's ire, but about the food. If one needs to vent angst, keep a journal, or call a friend, or spend some time on a couch talking to a trained professional. Anger is a valid emotional response, but the appropriate place for it is not necessarily the internet.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
The Beard Awards Semi Finalists
Announced today by the James Beard Foundation, the list of Semi-Finalists for the annual Beard Awards. I tried to access their website several times today, but it was "unavailable." I suppose it is experiencing more traffic today than on possibly any other day of the year. If you are dying of suspense, you can view the full list here, courtesty of Eater.com.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Winter Comfort
It is Super Bowl Sunday, and most of the Mid-Atlantic states are under a thick blanket of snow. I've been snuggled in for the weekend with my sister and her family, mostly because I like to cook and it works out better when there are more people hanging around to help with the eating.
Three days later, we've had beef stew, butternut squash bisque, vanilla roasted almonds, blueberry muffins, french toast and cheese omlettes, fresh squeezed orange and tangerine juice, monte cristo sandwiches, and pizza. The streets have not yet been plowed and are still impassable. My sister did the big dig to get the kids and the dog out of the house, but there is at least one more day for me to indulge in the making of winter comfort food. If the snow-in lasts much longer, we'll have to eat our way out.
And the best part--the part that brings me the most comfort--is not just doing something I love for people who I love, or getting to eat the deliciousness that is best created with an abundance of time and cold weather; the best, most comforting part is sitting across the table from my four year old niece with her mouth full of blueberry muffin, beaming at me like I'm the magical winter muffin fairy. That, my friends, is the most soul warming comfort food there is.
Three days later, we've had beef stew, butternut squash bisque, vanilla roasted almonds, blueberry muffins, french toast and cheese omlettes, fresh squeezed orange and tangerine juice, monte cristo sandwiches, and pizza. The streets have not yet been plowed and are still impassable. My sister did the big dig to get the kids and the dog out of the house, but there is at least one more day for me to indulge in the making of winter comfort food. If the snow-in lasts much longer, we'll have to eat our way out.
And the best part--the part that brings me the most comfort--is not just doing something I love for people who I love, or getting to eat the deliciousness that is best created with an abundance of time and cold weather; the best, most comforting part is sitting across the table from my four year old niece with her mouth full of blueberry muffin, beaming at me like I'm the magical winter muffin fairy. That, my friends, is the most soul warming comfort food there is.
Snow Day Blueberry Muffins
If you find yourself snug at home on a snow day, these muffins can easily be made with cooking staples already in your kitchen. Keep a package of organic wild blueberries in your freezer for just such an occasion.
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
2. Combine the following ingredients in a large mixing bowl and stir well to combine: 2 cups all purpose flour, 2/3 cup sugar, 1 tablespoon baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon salt, the zest of 1 orange (optional).
3. In a separate small mixing bowl, combine the following ingredients, mixing well to combine: 1 cup milk, 2/3 cup vegetable oil, 1 large egg.
4. Add 1 cup frozen blueberries to wet ingredients, stirring quickly to combine.
5. Pour wet ingredients into dry ingredients and fold gently just until mixture is combined. There may be some lumps. Spoon into a muffin pan sprayed with non-stick spray or lined with muffin cups.
6. Bake in a preheated 400 F oven for 20-25 minutes.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Back to Basics--Carrot Cake
Everyone should have a cake recipe that is like a best friend--reliable, easy to get along with, intimately familiar, and of whom one can be exceedingly proud.
For me, that recipe is for a carrot cake.
I have not always liked carrot cake. In my youth, I experienced a great many carrot cakes with ingredients like canned pineapple and wheat germ and bitter nuts that I did not care for. I tasted many with unctuous or cloying frostings. Early attempts to bake my own carrot cakes resulted in dry, crumbly cakes, or improperly seasoned cakes, or simply un-tasty cakes. It was disheartening.
In the late 1990's, I finally met the carrot cake recipe that was to become one of my best culinary friends. It was given to me by a lady, Inger, whose parents were from Denmark. The Danish people have a great love of pastries, cakes and desserts, and I have heard that, per capita, they eat more sweets than in any other country. (Of course, I cannot remember where I read this statistic, nor who determined it, but it is such a charming one that I cannot resist using it here.) The recipe was handwritten, and had notes written in Inger's mother's own hand--in Danish.
The recipe itself was simple enough--it called for the usual ingredients and even boasted the simplicity of the batter being made entirely in a food processor.
Unfortunately, I have never owned a food processor.
And so, this carrot cake recipe and I became acquainted by other means--with a grater, and a mixing bowl, and by spending some quality time together.
One thing that I learned immediately is that I actually LIKE the flavor of carrots in this cake. Most of the carrot cakes I could remember didn't taste much of carrot--they tasted of spices, or bitter nuts, or frosting. To let the delicately sweet flavor of carrots shine, I have found two things to be critical.
First, the carrots should be as fresh as possible, meaning freshly plucked from the ground, not a freshly plucked bag from the produce section of the local food mart. In lieu of growing one's own (or befriending someone who does), certified farmers markets or farm stands are the best places I've found to get the freshest carrots. Look for ones with their green tops still attached. The greens provide a foolproof indicator of just how fresh the carrots are. Unlike the carrot root, the greens will wilt and show signs of less-than-freshness within a few days of being picked. Carrots with the brightest, perkiest greens are the freshest you will find.
Second, carrot cake calls for the carrots to be grated, but I've never seen a recipe specify the size of the grate. I have found that carrots grated too finely become mush lost in the batter. Carrots grated too coarsely don't cook properly when baked and get stuck in one's teeth. A medium grate allows for a good texture and flavor in the finished cake.
Seasoning is a sensitive topic among carrot cake lovers. The recipe that I was originally given contained cinnamon as the only spice, which, in my opinion, is too uninteresting. After years of playing with different combinations, I have found that the addition of freshly grated ginger is a lovely compliment to the carrot and cinnamon, without saddling the cake with so many flavors that it experiences an identity crisis.
Fresh ginger can be successfully peeled with a simple teaspoon rather than a vegetable peeler, which takes a lot of useable ginger off with the peel. Simply scrape the edge of the teaspoon along the outside of the ginger, and the peel of the fresh ginger will come quite willingly.
Once the ginger is peeled, it can be wrapped in plastic, bagged and labeled, and kept in the freezer until needed for baking. Having the ginger frozen allows for easier grating, as fresh ginger tends to be rather fibrous and difficult to grate. Use a microplane to grate the frozen ginger, doing the grating just before mixing the ginger into the batter.
Another sensitive topic is the addition of raisins and nuts. Some people prefer nothing chunky in their cake. Others welcome the additional flavors and textures that raisins and nuts afford. My feelings on the topic are not strong enough to warrant an admonition to either include or eschew these ingredients, and in the recipe below I have preserved the original instruction that these additions are "optional."
For those of you who opt, I have some suggestions for your success.
Walnuts or pecans work well in this cake, and taste best when they are chopped. Rather than buying chopped nuts, which generally cost more and are more likely to be stale (the increased surface area invites oxidation of the nutmeat while it is sitting on your grocer's shelf), buy the largest size of shelled nut available. Lightly toast the nuts (to enhance the flavor) and let them cool. Chop them into evenly sized pieces about the size of an eraser on the end of a pencil. Then place them in a coarse sieve and shake out as much of the nut skins as possible. These skins become bitter in cooking and detract from the flavor of the cake, so keep them out of the batter as best you can.
As a note, one could start with the whole nut in the shell and take the time to crack and pick the nuts, but I am not so delusional as to expect only the very rare baker to have the time, patience and resources to do so. If you do happen to have a walnut or pecan tree at your disposal, count your blessing and put those nuts into your cake! (And feel free to send me some, too!)
Raisins, either golden or Thompson seedless, can work in this cake. Be sure to "plump" the raisins at least an hour and up to a day before using them. Place raisins in a bowl and pour boiling water over them. Cover the bowl and let them sit at least an hour and up to a day. Drain the raisins (reserve the liquid to use when making sweet doughs like cinnamon rolls) and gently dry them with a lint-free towel before measuring them for the recipe.
This carrot cake is serious and sophisticated enough to stand on its own. Baked in a bundt pan, it is perfect for a light breakfast, for elevensies or tea. It travels well sliced and wrapped for lunches and picnics. Baked in a nine inch round pan, it can be sliced and served as a dessert with some fresh whipped cream. It can be made into a very fancy dessert by frosting it with a vanilla butter cream or cream cheese frosting.
2 cups all purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon kosher or table salt (not iodized)
1-2 teaspoons cinnamon (depending on potency)
1 cup vegetable oil
2 cups white sugar
4 large eggs, at room temperature
1 pound fresh carrots, grated
1-2 tablespoons finely grated fresh (frozen) ginger
3/4 cup chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)
3/4 cup plumped golden or Thompson raisins (optional)
1. Preheat oven to 400 F.
2. Prepare a 10" bundt pan by spraying with non-stick spray, or a 9"x3" round cake pan by lining with a greased parchment circle.
3. Sift together dry ingredients: flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. Set aside.
4. In a large mixing bowl, combine vegetable oil, sugar and eggs. Whisk by hand until well combined, about 2-3 minutes.
5. Add the carrots and the ginger, and the nuts and raisins if desired. Fold into the batter using a rubber spatula until well combined.
6. Add the dry ingredients and fold into the batter until well combined, being careful to not over mix. Pour the batter into prepared pan.
7. Bake immediately in preheated oven 400 F. After 30 minutes, reduce heat to 375 F and continue baking for a total of 50-65 minutes until a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean. (Note: if the top of the cake begins to brown prematurely, place a sheet of aluminum foil loosely over the top of the baking pan. Continue to bake as directed.)
8. Let the cake cool in the pan at least 30 minutes.
9. Remove cake from pan and let cool completely to room temperature (about 3 hours) either on a cooling rack or a large platter. Serve at room temperature.
Optional: Frosting the cake
The cake must be cooled completely to room temperature (about 3 hours) then chilled in the refrigerator for a minimum of 2 hours before frosting. Failure to do so may result in the cake "tearing" when the frosting is spread. Attempts at frosting a warm cake will cause the frosting to melt. Word to the wise: do not skip or skimp on this step.
Because this carrot cake has a great deal of flavor on its own, it does not need to be split and filled with the frosting. Frost only the top and sides of the cake. For a fancy presentation, the sides of the cake may be coated with toasted crushed nuts tossed in cinnamon and powdered sugar, or simply combed with a cake comb. In lieu of a cake comb, get fancy with a dinner fork.
3 oz cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup (which is 4 oz, or 1 stick) butter, softened
2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1. Combine the cream cheese and butter in a mixing bowl and beat at medium high speed until smooth, scraping down sides as needed.
2. Turn off the mixer. Add about half the powdered sugar and all of the vanilla extract. Turn the mixer onto the lowest speed, pulsing the mixer on and off if necessary, to begin to incorporate the powdered sugar without having it fly out of the bowl. Increase mixing speed and beat until well combined, scraping down the sides as necessary.
3. Reduce speed again and add remaining powdered sugar in two or three additions, beating well until fully incorporated, scraping down the sides as necessary.
4. If frosting is too stiff to spread easily, add 1 tablespoon milk or cream and beat well. Repeat if necessary until frosting is still stiff but spreadable.
For me, that recipe is for a carrot cake.
I have not always liked carrot cake. In my youth, I experienced a great many carrot cakes with ingredients like canned pineapple and wheat germ and bitter nuts that I did not care for. I tasted many with unctuous or cloying frostings. Early attempts to bake my own carrot cakes resulted in dry, crumbly cakes, or improperly seasoned cakes, or simply un-tasty cakes. It was disheartening.
In the late 1990's, I finally met the carrot cake recipe that was to become one of my best culinary friends. It was given to me by a lady, Inger, whose parents were from Denmark. The Danish people have a great love of pastries, cakes and desserts, and I have heard that, per capita, they eat more sweets than in any other country. (Of course, I cannot remember where I read this statistic, nor who determined it, but it is such a charming one that I cannot resist using it here.) The recipe was handwritten, and had notes written in Inger's mother's own hand--in Danish.
The recipe itself was simple enough--it called for the usual ingredients and even boasted the simplicity of the batter being made entirely in a food processor.
Unfortunately, I have never owned a food processor.
And so, this carrot cake recipe and I became acquainted by other means--with a grater, and a mixing bowl, and by spending some quality time together.
One thing that I learned immediately is that I actually LIKE the flavor of carrots in this cake. Most of the carrot cakes I could remember didn't taste much of carrot--they tasted of spices, or bitter nuts, or frosting. To let the delicately sweet flavor of carrots shine, I have found two things to be critical.
First, the carrots should be as fresh as possible, meaning freshly plucked from the ground, not a freshly plucked bag from the produce section of the local food mart. In lieu of growing one's own (or befriending someone who does), certified farmers markets or farm stands are the best places I've found to get the freshest carrots. Look for ones with their green tops still attached. The greens provide a foolproof indicator of just how fresh the carrots are. Unlike the carrot root, the greens will wilt and show signs of less-than-freshness within a few days of being picked. Carrots with the brightest, perkiest greens are the freshest you will find.
Second, carrot cake calls for the carrots to be grated, but I've never seen a recipe specify the size of the grate. I have found that carrots grated too finely become mush lost in the batter. Carrots grated too coarsely don't cook properly when baked and get stuck in one's teeth. A medium grate allows for a good texture and flavor in the finished cake.
Seasoning is a sensitive topic among carrot cake lovers. The recipe that I was originally given contained cinnamon as the only spice, which, in my opinion, is too uninteresting. After years of playing with different combinations, I have found that the addition of freshly grated ginger is a lovely compliment to the carrot and cinnamon, without saddling the cake with so many flavors that it experiences an identity crisis.
Fresh ginger can be successfully peeled with a simple teaspoon rather than a vegetable peeler, which takes a lot of useable ginger off with the peel. Simply scrape the edge of the teaspoon along the outside of the ginger, and the peel of the fresh ginger will come quite willingly.
Once the ginger is peeled, it can be wrapped in plastic, bagged and labeled, and kept in the freezer until needed for baking. Having the ginger frozen allows for easier grating, as fresh ginger tends to be rather fibrous and difficult to grate. Use a microplane to grate the frozen ginger, doing the grating just before mixing the ginger into the batter.
Another sensitive topic is the addition of raisins and nuts. Some people prefer nothing chunky in their cake. Others welcome the additional flavors and textures that raisins and nuts afford. My feelings on the topic are not strong enough to warrant an admonition to either include or eschew these ingredients, and in the recipe below I have preserved the original instruction that these additions are "optional."
For those of you who opt, I have some suggestions for your success.
Walnuts or pecans work well in this cake, and taste best when they are chopped. Rather than buying chopped nuts, which generally cost more and are more likely to be stale (the increased surface area invites oxidation of the nutmeat while it is sitting on your grocer's shelf), buy the largest size of shelled nut available. Lightly toast the nuts (to enhance the flavor) and let them cool. Chop them into evenly sized pieces about the size of an eraser on the end of a pencil. Then place them in a coarse sieve and shake out as much of the nut skins as possible. These skins become bitter in cooking and detract from the flavor of the cake, so keep them out of the batter as best you can.
As a note, one could start with the whole nut in the shell and take the time to crack and pick the nuts, but I am not so delusional as to expect only the very rare baker to have the time, patience and resources to do so. If you do happen to have a walnut or pecan tree at your disposal, count your blessing and put those nuts into your cake! (And feel free to send me some, too!)
Raisins, either golden or Thompson seedless, can work in this cake. Be sure to "plump" the raisins at least an hour and up to a day before using them. Place raisins in a bowl and pour boiling water over them. Cover the bowl and let them sit at least an hour and up to a day. Drain the raisins (reserve the liquid to use when making sweet doughs like cinnamon rolls) and gently dry them with a lint-free towel before measuring them for the recipe.
This carrot cake is serious and sophisticated enough to stand on its own. Baked in a bundt pan, it is perfect for a light breakfast, for elevensies or tea. It travels well sliced and wrapped for lunches and picnics. Baked in a nine inch round pan, it can be sliced and served as a dessert with some fresh whipped cream. It can be made into a very fancy dessert by frosting it with a vanilla butter cream or cream cheese frosting.
So for all my friends who love a good carrot cake, especially Sherra, and Dawn and Steve, this recipe is for you. My great thanks to Inger for sharing the original with me, and to her mother, Ene Marie, who is an excellent baker, too.
Back to Basics--Carrot Cake
2 cups all purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon kosher or table salt (not iodized)
1-2 teaspoons cinnamon (depending on potency)
1 cup vegetable oil
2 cups white sugar
4 large eggs, at room temperature
1 pound fresh carrots, grated
1-2 tablespoons finely grated fresh (frozen) ginger
3/4 cup chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)
3/4 cup plumped golden or Thompson raisins (optional)
1. Preheat oven to 400 F.
2. Prepare a 10" bundt pan by spraying with non-stick spray, or a 9"x3" round cake pan by lining with a greased parchment circle.
3. Sift together dry ingredients: flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. Set aside.
4. In a large mixing bowl, combine vegetable oil, sugar and eggs. Whisk by hand until well combined, about 2-3 minutes.
5. Add the carrots and the ginger, and the nuts and raisins if desired. Fold into the batter using a rubber spatula until well combined.
6. Add the dry ingredients and fold into the batter until well combined, being careful to not over mix. Pour the batter into prepared pan.
7. Bake immediately in preheated oven 400 F. After 30 minutes, reduce heat to 375 F and continue baking for a total of 50-65 minutes until a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean. (Note: if the top of the cake begins to brown prematurely, place a sheet of aluminum foil loosely over the top of the baking pan. Continue to bake as directed.)
8. Let the cake cool in the pan at least 30 minutes.
9. Remove cake from pan and let cool completely to room temperature (about 3 hours) either on a cooling rack or a large platter. Serve at room temperature.
Optional: Frosting the cake
The cake must be cooled completely to room temperature (about 3 hours) then chilled in the refrigerator for a minimum of 2 hours before frosting. Failure to do so may result in the cake "tearing" when the frosting is spread. Attempts at frosting a warm cake will cause the frosting to melt. Word to the wise: do not skip or skimp on this step.
Because this carrot cake has a great deal of flavor on its own, it does not need to be split and filled with the frosting. Frost only the top and sides of the cake. For a fancy presentation, the sides of the cake may be coated with toasted crushed nuts tossed in cinnamon and powdered sugar, or simply combed with a cake comb. In lieu of a cake comb, get fancy with a dinner fork.
Cream Cheese Butter Cream Frosting for Carrot Cake
3 oz cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup (which is 4 oz, or 1 stick) butter, softened
2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1. Combine the cream cheese and butter in a mixing bowl and beat at medium high speed until smooth, scraping down sides as needed.
2. Turn off the mixer. Add about half the powdered sugar and all of the vanilla extract. Turn the mixer onto the lowest speed, pulsing the mixer on and off if necessary, to begin to incorporate the powdered sugar without having it fly out of the bowl. Increase mixing speed and beat until well combined, scraping down the sides as necessary.
3. Reduce speed again and add remaining powdered sugar in two or three additions, beating well until fully incorporated, scraping down the sides as necessary.
4. If frosting is too stiff to spread easily, add 1 tablespoon milk or cream and beat well. Repeat if necessary until frosting is still stiff but spreadable.
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