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.
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Coffee Drinker's Dilemma
There is a problem I address on a daily basis first thing in the morning. It can be summed up with one word:
Coffee.
If you are a coffee drinker, you are familiar with the dilemma.
How do you successfully make coffee when you have not yet had a cup of coffee?
I stand in the kitchen, bleary eyed, befuddled, clumsy, trying desperately to remember how to brew a pot of coffee.
And as I stand there, hapless and dim witted at the kitchen counter, I survey my options.
I could pour the dregs of yesterday's pot into a cup and reheat it. That would solve the brew-before-drinking problem. But then I start my day with old, mediocre coffee, when what I really want is a delicious and satisfying fresh cup .
If I'd thought ahead, I could have set up the coffee maker last night--ground the beans and set them in the basket, and poured the water into the resevoir. But that isn't ideal either, as the brew tastes best when the beans are freshly ground, rather than sitting out in the filter overnight.
I could go to the trouble of going out to get coffee. Surely there is a gourmet coffee shop or a gas station nearby. But then I have to get dressed, and find shoes, and keys, and money. And I have to navigate the outside world--before actually drinking the coffee. Again, problematic.
Most mornings, I fumble through the motions of placing a filter in the basket, filling it with ground coffee, pouring in the water, and turning on the pot. Then I stand solemnly, almost worshipfully, as the blessed beverage brews before me. Then, with a textbook Pavlovian response, I reach for the pot as soon as the indicator bell sounds and the coffee is ready.
Coffee.
If you are a coffee drinker, you are familiar with the dilemma.
How do you successfully make coffee when you have not yet had a cup of coffee?
I stand in the kitchen, bleary eyed, befuddled, clumsy, trying desperately to remember how to brew a pot of coffee.
And as I stand there, hapless and dim witted at the kitchen counter, I survey my options.
I could pour the dregs of yesterday's pot into a cup and reheat it. That would solve the brew-before-drinking problem. But then I start my day with old, mediocre coffee, when what I really want is a delicious and satisfying fresh cup .
If I'd thought ahead, I could have set up the coffee maker last night--ground the beans and set them in the basket, and poured the water into the resevoir. But that isn't ideal either, as the brew tastes best when the beans are freshly ground, rather than sitting out in the filter overnight.
I could go to the trouble of going out to get coffee. Surely there is a gourmet coffee shop or a gas station nearby. But then I have to get dressed, and find shoes, and keys, and money. And I have to navigate the outside world--before actually drinking the coffee. Again, problematic.
Most mornings, I fumble through the motions of placing a filter in the basket, filling it with ground coffee, pouring in the water, and turning on the pot. Then I stand solemnly, almost worshipfully, as the blessed beverage brews before me. Then, with a textbook Pavlovian response, I reach for the pot as soon as the indicator bell sounds and the coffee is ready.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
The Perils of Cooking in a New Apartment
After months of travelling and cooking and eating and imposing on the hospitality (and couches, air mattresses and guest rooms) of family, friends and acquaintances, I have found a little place to make my own--at least for a little while.
I should say the place found me. While indulging my culinary wanderlust, I found myself returning to one city in particular with a frequency that perplexed me. I figured I should probably stay put for a while and see what happened next. Just a few days after I made up my mind to look into finding a place, this one literally plopped itself in my lap: a furnished, one bedroom apartment with a semi-private garden and a month-to-month lease in walking distance of some of the best restaurants in the city.
Three weeks later, I moved in.
It has been a while since I've lived alone, and in general I don't care for it. Living alone just seems to me to be a collossal waste of resources: space, utilities, companionship. But worst of all is having no one to cook for, and a regularly scheduled dinner table for one. It never bothers me to dine out alone; but at home, one should never be required to eat alone.
On moving day I planned a very simple dinner. After the requisite meeting with the landlord, signing of papers, walking through the apartment, and unpacking my suitcase, it was late and I was hungry. I had a bag of groceries from Trader Joe's, and a plan.
The kitchen is sufficent with a gas range and poorly thought but abundant cabinet space. There was a set of cast iron skillets, cutlery, utensils, a toaster oven and coffee maker. Luckily, I'd brought with me a stock pot (yes, I travel with certain kitchen items) and set to work making a lentil soup.
I started by sauteing some onions in olive oil.
Less than a minute passed before the smoke detector went off.
Perterbed, I hastily found a chair to stand on and removed the smoke detector from the wall, then removed its battery. I opened a cabinet, placed both on the shelf, closed the cabinet and returned to my onions (slightly more brown than I had wanted them, so I quickly deglazed with some beef broth). While I appreciate that the law requires a landlord to provide a working smoke alarm, I do wonder why one is placed three feet from a stove. In the kitchen. Especially when another one is twelve feet away in the living room. I'm contemplating a smoke detector relocation program, perhaps to the bedroom.
I finished cooking the soup and ate it with a nice crusty bread.
Hours later I was still awake. I was not yet accustomed to the sounds of this new place, and my mind was full of all the possibilities of things to eat in the coming days and weeks. And, as E.B. White put it so well, "when your stomach is empty and your mind is full, it's hard to fall asleep."
At two o'clock in the morning, I acquiesced. It was time for toast.
I hadn't tried the toaster oven yet, and it occurred to me only when the unit started smoking that two o'clock in the morning might not be the best time.
I quickly unplugged the toaster oven and rushed it out the back door into the semi-private garden, leaving a plume of smoke behind me.
It was then that I realized the fan in the kitchen vent didn't work. And that the smoke remaining in the apartment could very easily reach the smoke detector in the living room. I grabbed a dish towel and started fanning furiously. It also occurred to me that the smoke alarm in the living room appeared to be attached to a central alarm system. I was suddenly very awake, and not at all hungry.
After twenty minutes of jumping around the apartment doing my anti-fire dance, I found myself wide awake and not at all hungry (although I did end up eating the toast with a generous slathing of good butter and some strawberry jam). The air had cleared and the alarm had not sounded. I tucked myself back into bed and decided it would be better to meet the neighbors under more auspicious circumstances than a false fire alarm in the middle of the night. Perhaps I could bake a cake. Or make another pot of soup.
Moving Day Lentil Soup
Ingredients (all from Trader Joe's)
1 large yellow onion, sliced
3 tbsp Olive Oil
3-4 sprigs fresh thyme
3 links italian sausage (fully cooked, in deli section), sliced
1 pkg steamed french lentils (in produce section)
4 cups organic beef broth
1"x2" rind of hard cheese such as parmesan
salt and pepper to taste
1. Remove battery from smoke alarm.
2. Saute onions in olive oil over medium high heat until onions begin to brown, 2-3 minutes.
3. Deglaze with about 3 tablespoons of beef broth.
4. Add thyme and sausage, then cover reduce heat to medium. Cook until thyme becomes aromatic (3-5 minutes).
5. Add lentils and beef broth and bring to a boil.
6. Reduce heat to simmer and add cheese rind. Cover and continue to simmer about 20 minutes.
7. Correct seasoning, and remove thyme stems and cheese rind. Serve hot with crusty bread.
P.S. The next morning I thoroughly cleaned the toaster oven. It works just fine.
I should say the place found me. While indulging my culinary wanderlust, I found myself returning to one city in particular with a frequency that perplexed me. I figured I should probably stay put for a while and see what happened next. Just a few days after I made up my mind to look into finding a place, this one literally plopped itself in my lap: a furnished, one bedroom apartment with a semi-private garden and a month-to-month lease in walking distance of some of the best restaurants in the city.
Three weeks later, I moved in.
It has been a while since I've lived alone, and in general I don't care for it. Living alone just seems to me to be a collossal waste of resources: space, utilities, companionship. But worst of all is having no one to cook for, and a regularly scheduled dinner table for one. It never bothers me to dine out alone; but at home, one should never be required to eat alone.
On moving day I planned a very simple dinner. After the requisite meeting with the landlord, signing of papers, walking through the apartment, and unpacking my suitcase, it was late and I was hungry. I had a bag of groceries from Trader Joe's, and a plan.
The kitchen is sufficent with a gas range and poorly thought but abundant cabinet space. There was a set of cast iron skillets, cutlery, utensils, a toaster oven and coffee maker. Luckily, I'd brought with me a stock pot (yes, I travel with certain kitchen items) and set to work making a lentil soup.
I started by sauteing some onions in olive oil.
Less than a minute passed before the smoke detector went off.
Perterbed, I hastily found a chair to stand on and removed the smoke detector from the wall, then removed its battery. I opened a cabinet, placed both on the shelf, closed the cabinet and returned to my onions (slightly more brown than I had wanted them, so I quickly deglazed with some beef broth). While I appreciate that the law requires a landlord to provide a working smoke alarm, I do wonder why one is placed three feet from a stove. In the kitchen. Especially when another one is twelve feet away in the living room. I'm contemplating a smoke detector relocation program, perhaps to the bedroom.
I finished cooking the soup and ate it with a nice crusty bread.
Hours later I was still awake. I was not yet accustomed to the sounds of this new place, and my mind was full of all the possibilities of things to eat in the coming days and weeks. And, as E.B. White put it so well, "when your stomach is empty and your mind is full, it's hard to fall asleep."
At two o'clock in the morning, I acquiesced. It was time for toast.
I hadn't tried the toaster oven yet, and it occurred to me only when the unit started smoking that two o'clock in the morning might not be the best time.
I quickly unplugged the toaster oven and rushed it out the back door into the semi-private garden, leaving a plume of smoke behind me.
It was then that I realized the fan in the kitchen vent didn't work. And that the smoke remaining in the apartment could very easily reach the smoke detector in the living room. I grabbed a dish towel and started fanning furiously. It also occurred to me that the smoke alarm in the living room appeared to be attached to a central alarm system. I was suddenly very awake, and not at all hungry.
After twenty minutes of jumping around the apartment doing my anti-fire dance, I found myself wide awake and not at all hungry (although I did end up eating the toast with a generous slathing of good butter and some strawberry jam). The air had cleared and the alarm had not sounded. I tucked myself back into bed and decided it would be better to meet the neighbors under more auspicious circumstances than a false fire alarm in the middle of the night. Perhaps I could bake a cake. Or make another pot of soup.
Moving Day Lentil Soup
Ingredients (all from Trader Joe's)
1 large yellow onion, sliced
3 tbsp Olive Oil
3-4 sprigs fresh thyme
3 links italian sausage (fully cooked, in deli section), sliced
1 pkg steamed french lentils (in produce section)
4 cups organic beef broth
1"x2" rind of hard cheese such as parmesan
salt and pepper to taste
1. Remove battery from smoke alarm.
2. Saute onions in olive oil over medium high heat until onions begin to brown, 2-3 minutes.
3. Deglaze with about 3 tablespoons of beef broth.
4. Add thyme and sausage, then cover reduce heat to medium. Cook until thyme becomes aromatic (3-5 minutes).
5. Add lentils and beef broth and bring to a boil.
6. Reduce heat to simmer and add cheese rind. Cover and continue to simmer about 20 minutes.
7. Correct seasoning, and remove thyme stems and cheese rind. Serve hot with crusty bread.
P.S. The next morning I thoroughly cleaned the toaster oven. It works just fine.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Thanksgiving--The Basics
I've never met an American over the age of eight who didn't have a specific Thanksgiving Dinner food memory.
Thanksgiving may be the ultimate "comfort food meal." Certain dishes are iconic--roasted Turkey (yes, with a capital "T"), cranberry sauce, stuffing, pumpkin pie. And while variations and "twists" on the classics abound, the classics remain classics for a reason--they are time tested, taste tested, and well loved.
This year, many friends and family members are on tight budgets, pairing down extravagances, and returning to the simple, classic Thanksgiving Dinner. There is an extra dose of comfort in what is most familiar. For those of you who have asked, I offer you these recipes straight out of my own childhood (minus the candied yam casserole topped with marshmallows--a dish I hope will be permanently retired from the menu). Just the basics.
Thanks for reading, and enjoy your holiday.
The turkey is the star of Thanksgiving Dinner. Keep it simple with a whole roasted bird. Use a fresh bird if you can, or make sure a frozen bird is thawed completely by cooking time. Prepare the bird by rinsing it and patting it dry. Lift the skin of the breast and smear with softened butter. Salt the bird inside and out. As for how to cook the bird, roast according to your regularly scheduled method, follow the directions on the package, or from your butcher, or call the Butterball hotline.
1 cup chopped walnuts (optional, but I always opt)
salt and pepper, as needed
Method
1. Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease a 9" x 13" casserole dish.
2. Break or slice bread into small pieces. Set aside in a large mixing bowl or stock pot.
3. In a large pan, saute onions and celery in bacon drippings or olive oil until soft. Add sage and thyme and saute another minute until aromatic.
4. Add melted butter and 1 cup stock. Cook another minute, then remove the thyme stems, plucking any hanging leaves and returning them to the pan.
5. Pour onion mixture over bread mixture and toss to combine.
6. Add egg, raisins and nuts and mix well. Add just enough more stock to moisten the bread, but not so much that it gets soggy or mushy. Toss well to mix.
7. Place into prepared casserole dish. Bake, uncovered, in preheated oven for 45-60 minutes until sides are nicely browned and crisp.
2. Steam brussels in a large steamer basket until tender but still crisp, about 7-8 minutes (longer for bigger sprouts). Remove from steamer.
3. In a large saute pan, cook onions in bacon drippings (or butter or oil) over medium high heat until translucent (about 3-5 minutes).
4. Add sugar and cook until onions begin to caramelize.
5. Deglaze with vinegar. Add brussel sprouts to pan and toss to coat. Serve hot.
Thanksgiving may be the ultimate "comfort food meal." Certain dishes are iconic--roasted Turkey (yes, with a capital "T"), cranberry sauce, stuffing, pumpkin pie. And while variations and "twists" on the classics abound, the classics remain classics for a reason--they are time tested, taste tested, and well loved.
This year, many friends and family members are on tight budgets, pairing down extravagances, and returning to the simple, classic Thanksgiving Dinner. There is an extra dose of comfort in what is most familiar. For those of you who have asked, I offer you these recipes straight out of my own childhood (minus the candied yam casserole topped with marshmallows--a dish I hope will be permanently retired from the menu). Just the basics.
Thanks for reading, and enjoy your holiday.
Roasted Turkey
The turkey is the star of Thanksgiving Dinner. Keep it simple with a whole roasted bird. Use a fresh bird if you can, or make sure a frozen bird is thawed completely by cooking time. Prepare the bird by rinsing it and patting it dry. Lift the skin of the breast and smear with softened butter. Salt the bird inside and out. As for how to cook the bird, roast according to your regularly scheduled method, follow the directions on the package, or from your butcher, or call the Butterball hotline.
Gravy
I'm not a big fan of gravy, but I do enjoy making it. Grandma made the gravy last, with the pan drippings while the turkey was resting after cooking. She would pour off about 2 cups of the liquid and let it separate in a large glass measuring cup.
Ingredients:
Pan drippings (the oily parts)
Pan juices (the liquidy parts without the oil)
8 oz sliced mushrooms
1/2 diced yellow onion
2 tbsp flour
water or stock, if desired
Method:
1. In a medium saucepan, saute mushrooms and onions in turkey pan drippings until soft.
2. Sprinkle with flour. Stir and continue cooking for one minute.
3. Whisk in pan juices (1-2 cups as desired) and raise heat. Bring to a boil, then simmer until thickened. Thin with water or stock if desired. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Stuffing
I prefer my bird unstuffed, and make the stuffing on the side like my grandma did (which is technically called "dressing"). Grandma also grew her own sage, which she used liberally in this dish.
Ingredients:
2 loaves sliced bread (white or wheat, whichever you prefer), dried in oven
3 tbsp bacon drippings (or olive oil)
2 yellow onions, chopped
4-6 ribs celery, chopped
1/2 cup chopped fresh sage leaves
2-3 sprigs fresh thyme leaves
3-4 cups chicken stock
1/2 cup butter, melted
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 cup raisins, plumped1 cup chopped walnuts (optional, but I always opt)
salt and pepper, as needed
Method
1. Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease a 9" x 13" casserole dish.
2. Break or slice bread into small pieces. Set aside in a large mixing bowl or stock pot.
3. In a large pan, saute onions and celery in bacon drippings or olive oil until soft. Add sage and thyme and saute another minute until aromatic.
4. Add melted butter and 1 cup stock. Cook another minute, then remove the thyme stems, plucking any hanging leaves and returning them to the pan.
5. Pour onion mixture over bread mixture and toss to combine.
6. Add egg, raisins and nuts and mix well. Add just enough more stock to moisten the bread, but not so much that it gets soggy or mushy. Toss well to mix.
7. Place into prepared casserole dish. Bake, uncovered, in preheated oven for 45-60 minutes until sides are nicely browned and crisp.
Brussel Sprouts with Sweet Onions
Brussel sprouts were my dad's favorite vegetable, and these have a dressing similar to hot german potato salad. I like to use rice wine vinegar, although I think plain white or apple cider vinegar is more traditional. These are prepared on the stovetop, so they don't have to compete with the turkey and stuffing for oven time.
Ingredients:
1 pound small brussel sprouts
3 tbsp bacon drippings (or butter or olive oil)
1 sweet onion (red or white), chipped
1 tbsp sugar
3 tbsp vinegar (white, apple cider, or rice wine)
Method:
1. Clean brussel sprouts and slice in half through the base, leaving the base intact so the sprouts don't fall apart.2. Steam brussels in a large steamer basket until tender but still crisp, about 7-8 minutes (longer for bigger sprouts). Remove from steamer.
3. In a large saute pan, cook onions in bacon drippings (or butter or oil) over medium high heat until translucent (about 3-5 minutes).
4. Add sugar and cook until onions begin to caramelize.
5. Deglaze with vinegar. Add brussel sprouts to pan and toss to coat. Serve hot.
Cranberry Orange Relish
This uncooked cranberry orange relish is best made a day ahead. It is delicious on turkey sandwiches, too. You will need a food processor or blender for this recipe.
Ingredients:
1 bag (12 oz) fresh cranberries
1 whole navel orange (with peel), cut into 8 slices
1 cup white sugar
Method:
1. Place all ingredients in a food processor.
2. Pulse/blend until evenly chopped, which may take several minutes.
3. Taste, and add a little more sugar if too tart, or a squeeze of lemon juice if too sweet.
4. Store in refrigerator. Serve chilled.
Pumpkin Pie
One secret to good pumpkin pie is getting good pumpkin. Use canned organic pumpkin if you can find it.
The other secret is the crust. My grandma taught me how to make wonderful rolled pie crusts with butter and flour, but it is impossible to pass along the method without showing it to you in person. So much of working with dough is how it feels. And a miserable pie crust simply ruins a pie, especially if it is a simple but special pie such as this one. A gingersnap crust is delicious with this pie, and practically fool proof. Pie can be made the day before serving, and should come out of the oven at least four hours before serving.
Crust:
2 cups crushed gingersnaps
1/4 cup melted butter
Combine and press into a 9" deep dish pie pan, or a 9" spring form pan. Set aside.
Pie filling:
4 oz softened cream cheese
3 tbsp butter, softened
1 cup sugar
1 can (15 oz) canned pumpkin
1 egg
1/2 cup half and half
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp fresh grated ginger (optional, but I like to opt)
Method:
1. Preheat oven to 350 F.
2. Beat together cream cheese, butter and sugar until well combined.
3. Add pumpkin and beat well to combine. Add remaining ingredients, beating well to combine.
4. Pour filling into crust-prepared pan.
5. Bake for 50-60 minutes until center is set.
6. Cool completely to room temperature. Serve with copious amounts of whipped cream.
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